Presumably he’s thinking the same thing, given I’m in a Ntahal ship, and I can’t imagine the nevver has come looking for me.
“Where is the nevving comm?” I snarl out loud.
If he disables the ship, I will not be happy. And I know how Darax operates.
Finally, a light appears on a console, and I stab at it with a claw.
“Is that you, you nevver?” I roar into the comm. “If you nevving shoot this ship, I won’t attempt your death with a spoon. I’ll use a bucket.”
There’s a silence which seems far too long. Ahead of me, I see the pulsar cannons trained on my ship, poised for the kill.
Darax could shoot me for the fun of it. And he probably would.
The silence drags on. I search the various consoles for weapons, but there are none. Presumably the Ntahal ship felt they weren’t necessary.
Which, in this galaxy, seems rather reckless.
“Deus?”
The voice which echoes around the empty bridge is like nectar. It is the most perfect thing I have ever heard.
“Lydia.”
Her name on my lips seems strange. For all the time I was with the Ulep, there was a part of me which thought she might be gone.
Because I drive mates away, either to the ancestors or into the hands of my enemies.
But Lydia is not with my enemies, nor is she with my ancestors. Instead she is with my brother. Which is a whole other thing I will need to deal with in time.
“Why are you in a Ntahal ship?” Darax says through the comm.
I release a large growl.
“I took it from them. They attempted to purchase me from the Ulep, and now they are locked in their own hold.”
Typical Darax, still suspicious.
“Stay where you are. We’re going to board you.”
“I’m coming to you, nevver,” I reply. “Stay where you are.”
“Can you both stop this?” Lydia says through the comm. “Pick one and get on with it.”
There’s a strain in her voice I can hear, and I dislike it very much.
“Board me,” I snap at Darax.
The nevver takes his time, his flagship coming alongside me and one of his pilots shouting instructions, which I ignore.
Eventually, I hear the hiss of the airlock, and I wait. My wings and tail are going nowhere, and neither am I until I have my Lydia in my arms again.
The door rolls open, and she races through, stopping on the empty bridge and looking around wildly.
It’s then I have her, buried against my scales, her face wet, her arms around my neck as I attempt to kiss her over andover, but she is kissing me and our kisses meet, finally, so I can luxuriate in having her and only her close to me.
I inhale deeply, sucking her scent into me like I might never scent her again. Because I might not, and I don’t ever want to forget her.
“I was beginning to think we’d never find you,” she says when I release her a tiny bit.
