"Did I say something wrong?" Mekkra asks, swiping the moisture from my cheeks.
"No…I just, I had the wrong idea of you—I was wrong, you're not some terrible beast. You're a victim of circumstance, just like me."
Something darkens behind his eyes.
"No, you're wrong. I've done horrible things, I've killed my kin. I let my need for power, for control over this shipping lane take precedence over finding my mate. I paid the price. I can't change my past, but I can only try to make the future, our future, better."
"You can't fight your biology, but you wouldn't be the first person to try. We're fixing it right now. Tell me the words to say," Between the tears and my determination, my voice sounds desperate.
Mekkra locks in, shifting me to my side. He puts a hand on the small of my back, pulling me closer.
"Repeat after me," he breathes. We're so close that the whiskers of his mane are tickling my nose. "Stars may burn and die…"
"Stars may burn and die." My voice shakes.
"Planets may crumble, and dread hoards lost…"
"Planets crumble, hoards lost," I whisper.
"But you will always be mine, and I yours."
"…always mine, and I'm yours."
With that, he leans in, his mouth hovering just above mine—so near I feel the warmth of hisbreath. Yet, he doesn't touch me, like he's afraid none of this is real.
I wet my lips, ready to close the distance myself.
But before I can move, the far side of the room erupts.
A violent burst of yellow sparks showers across the chamber. Mekkra moves faster than thought, throwing himself over me, his body shielding mine as metal screams somewhere beyond the walls.
Sirens wail through the station.
The deck jolts beneath us—another impact, farther away but no less terrifying.
From his discarded datapad, a cold voice cuts through the chaos.
“Forceful boarding attempt at cargo bay. Lock seventy-five percent breached.”
Mekkra’s eyes widen. For a heartbeat they’re clear—then the familiar haze of battle madness slides over them like a storm front.
“No—” I grab for him. “Kiss me.”
He’s already moving.
In one brutal motion, he’s on his feet.
A sharp click—panel sliding open—and a hidden cache spills into view, blasters gleaming in tight rows. He grabs a bandolier, slings it over his shoulder in one clean pull.
No hesitation. No glance back.
The door hisses wide.
He’s already moving.
Immediately the station computer blares again.
“Lock breached. Enemy boarding.”
