“You fight when others would submit…you helped me when I was dying, even when I didn’t deserve it,” Mekkra continues. “You are worthy of freedom—even if you don't become my mate.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I’ve been looked at in lots of ways in my life.
Desired, judged, objectified…
But I don’t think anyone has ever thought me worthy of anything.
I shift my weight, suddenly aware of how close his body is to mine. Those waves of heat that radiate from his fur warm my side.
“I could just take the ship and leave,” I tell him bluntly.
“You could.” His words come out clipped. "And I still wouldn't take anything back."
“You’re giving me a way to disappear forever.”
“Yes.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Why would you want to do that?”
He considers me for a moment, with that same look when he said I was worthy.
“Because if you stay, it should be because you choose to,” he finally says.
I’m not a prisoner here.
I can leave whenever I want.
“If you’re planning on staying, I think the repairs will hold long enough for us to continue with our mating ceremony.” His eyes are hopeful, but guarded.
Mekkra fishes something out of his pocket and sets it on the table with a soft click. He gives meone last look—wary—then turns on his heel and leaves.
I take a breath and step forward. It's small and circular. I lift it, rolling it in my palm for a second before I slide it onto my ring finger.
It fits perfectly.
Bone, his bone, carved. A thin strip, shaved from the spine. So delicate that the pieces bend like thread in a tight, intricate braid. It reminds me of Victorian mourning pieces—hair woven from the dead, worn close to the skin.
I turn my hand, watching the pale strands catch the blood red light of the station.
Beautiful.
A piece of him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I don't leave. In fact, the next morning I'm being laced up by Starcroft into a bright red gown. The back goes all the way up to the nape of my neck, but I assume that's to make up the difference for how low cut the front is. Two stiff vees of fabric extend upwards, covering the peaks of my breasts with their petal shapes. But the entirety of my sternum is exposed, and the opening stops just before my belly button.
I kick at the ruffled layers of the skirts as the droid’s hands work. For as open as the top is, the skirts are heavy. I turn my head and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The ball gown's width is giving fairy-tale princess.
The gown feels out of place in space. It feelshuman.For the first time since my abduction, human doesn't feel like a dirty word.
It feels worthy.
"Starcroft, can I ask you something?" I tap my fingernails on the stiff, corset-like bodice.
"Of course!" he chirps behind me.
