I stand. I feel the weight of the armor press like promise. I draw a breath, rich with cold metal scent, with the faint tang of incense, with the warm thump of Pepper’s heartbeat beside me.
“Liora?Rin,” I say, voice low, deeper than the studio mic can reach. “You are mine.” A pause. I glance at Pepper, her eyes shining. “And this” —I sweep a hand toward her— “this is my blood and bone. Anyone who would dare harm my family will pray for death long before he touches a hair on their heads.”
Silence. The air thickens. I smell sweat under my armor, hear my boots’ heels press into the floor. I expect anger. The Solari lords of peace may squirm. The human guests may gape.
Instead… laughter. Soft. Warm. Genuine.
Miles grins wide. “That’s the look,” he whispers to his camera operator. The crew chuckles. Friends applaud. Liora laughs. Pepper giggles.
I’m puzzled. I glance at Liora—her lips curved, eyes bright. She leans into me. “Welcome to married life,” she whispers.
I exhale. Relief. Gratitude. Something new: belonging.
Liora looks up at me, her lips parted, her eyes full of something I don’t deserve but want anyway. The officiant—a bored-looking man with too-white teeth and a voice like a dying synth—says something ceremonial, but I don’t hear a word. My pulse is roaring in my ears. My claws twitch at my sides. I reach for her face.
“You may now?—”
I don’t wait. I kiss her.
It’s not sweet. Not careful. It’s not some polite press of lips meant to appease old traditions and nosy drones. It’s possession, reclamation, reverence—all wrapped up in the shape of her mouth and the way she melts against me. Her fingers twist into the front of my chestplate. My other hand slides to her waist, then lower, anchoring her to me like gravity itself demands it.
Someone wolf-whistles. Someone else coughs awkwardly. A few studio crew members murmur, “Damn,” like they weren’t expecting front-row seats to this kind of fireworks show. One of the drones hovering overhead beeps like it’s flustered.
I pull back a fraction of an inch.
“You still taste like salt and defiance,” I murmur against her lips.
Liora’s grin is crooked. “You’re not exactly mint and roses yourself, Reaper.”
She leans in again and kisses me a second time. This one’s different. Slower. Deeper. Like now that it’s done, now that she’s mine and I’m hers, we can afford to savor it.
Pepper clears her throat behind us. Loudly. “Mommy? Are you gonna kiss all day? ‘Cause the cake is getting warm.”
Liora bursts into laughter against my mouth, and I can’t help it—I laugh too. A real sound. From my chest. It feels alien and right at the same time.
We break apart, breathless. My hand finds hers again, and she laces our fingers tight. Pepper wedges herself between us and wraps both arms around our legs.
“You two are weird,” she says matter-of-factly. “But I like it.”
“You’re stuck with us now, pup,” I rumble, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.
And then, as if the gods of timing wanted to test our joy, the IHC rep makes his entrance. Slim, pale, with a posture so stiff it looks painful. His badge flickers red and gold at his chest.
“I’m here to contest this union on grounds of?—”
Pepper turns around slowly. Her little chin lifts.
“Who are you?” she asks, all innocence and curiosity.
The IHC rep squints. “I’m here on behalf of Earth immigration oversight and?—”
That’s when it happens.
Pepper’s image inducer glitches. It’s just a flicker—one heartbeat. But it’s enough. Her eyes shine silver. Her skin shifts. Black traceries dance across her arms like bioluminescent circuitry. The room goes still. A drone whirs closer, recording every pixel.
Someone gasps.
The IHC agent’s face drains of color. “She’s… she’s…”
