Gark locked his fingers behind his head. “Did I hurt you?”
If he had, he’d exile himself. Nobody would need to send him away; he wouldn’t be able to bear it if he had hurt her.
“No.”
Gark sagged, releasing a long breath.
“But you wouldn’t let me leave.”
He grimaced, face heating, and sat up to meet her eyes. She reached out with one hand, and he stared at it until she wiggled her fingers. He slid his larger hand into hers, swallowing her small fingers and palm.
“Tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out.”
What if he had hurt her? She was so much smaller than him and he could easily have killed her with one hand. He felt sick.
“Enough of that, Gark.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face, and he jerked. “No feeling sorry for yourself.”
His lips twitched, but he nodded. Nobody ever spoke to him like this. And if anyone else had, he’d have them off the ship at the next stop without a second thought. But she was his mate. He was conscious of every breath, every twitch of a muscle, every sound that she made.
He felt that he’d know where she was even on the other side of the universe. That he was connected to her in a way that he’d never been connected to another. And would never be connected to another person ever again.
But he forced himself to focus on her words and listen as she told him of their trip back to The Lady, of how he’d wrappedhimself around her and refused to let anyone near. Well, anyone except Dylan. Somehow, he’d known his mate’s sister was kin.
She told him, with an amused note in her voice, of how when she’d gotten him to his quarters he’d been so fevered he had lifted her shirt and pressed his cheek to her stomach and refused to move. Of how she’d had to sponge-bathe him to keep him cool, and take instructions from Klath over the comm because Gark wouldn’t let him in the room.
The one time Vox had tried to deliver some food in person, Gark had flown into a rage and pulled everything out of the storage lockers in the room.
“That explains the floor.” He grimaced, and Aletta snickered.
“Yeah, you should have seen the look on Vox’s face.”
Gark’s lips twitched, and then settled back into a frown. He’d been so driven by his biological desire to protect his mate, to keep her from all others until his claim had been accepted. That was clearly what he’d been doing. But how come he was now able to control himself?
“So what’s changed?”
Aletta looked away, the most delightful shade of pink spreading up her neck and over her cheeks. She rolled her lips inward, then looked down at their joined hands.
“I accept your claim.”
Gark froze. He must not have heard her correctly. “Can you repeat that?”
She swallowed. “I was afraid. My whole life, I’ve been the one in charge. I looked after Dylan after our parents died. I sacrificed my own future so she could have hers. And I did it willingly. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. She deserved the best education, and we could only afford that for one of us, and even then barely.” She looked down at the floor. “But somewhere along the way, I became so used to being the one who looked after everyone else, I didn’t know how to look after myself. I didn’t know what Iwanted.” She shook her head with a snort. “It sounds silly, but I didn’t want to rely on anyone. Every time I’ve relied on someone, they’ve died, or left. And then Dylan was gone, and I was all alone. If I let you in and you left me too—” Her voice broke. “And then we almost died getting off that transport—death was so close, too close—and I realized that you only get one chance at this. And it was worth the risk. You were worth the risk.”
Gark’s heart pounded so hard he thought it would beat right out of his chest.
He tipped a finger under her chin. “You are the bravest of women. The most self-sacrificing and strong woman I’ve ever known.”
She smiled sadly. “I’m not brave, Gark. I’m terrified. I’m so scared that things won’t work out, and that you’ll leave me, too. But I’m more scared of not trying.”
“Nothing is certain, Aletta. But I can tell you that a Gnaggarian mates for life. Nothing can break the bond between mates. Not even death.” He lifted a hand to smooth a lock of hair behind her ear. “I wouldn’t want anyone else, even if I could have them. You are perfect, just as you are.”
She smiled. “Thank you, you’re pretty damned perfect yourself.”
He laughed at that. “Me? No?—”
She snorted and laughed. “Did you not hear me?”
He frowned.
