21 The Language of Commitment

Maren

I’m scrubbing the last of the sludge off the equipment when the gate to the storage area in the stables slams hard enough to rattle the shelves.

Rhett storms in, his face twisted—not with hurt, but with the kind of fury that comes from being contradicted. “You,” he spits. “You’ve been talking to people. Telling them not to stand with me. Not to fight.”

My stomach drops. I knew he’d find out, but I had hoped to make it through my last day down here provoking him into doing something reckless. “Rhett—listen—”

“I don’t need your warnings,” he snarls, stalking toward me. “I don’t need you sabotaging me. You think you’re better than the rest of us? You think you can tell them their lives don’t matter?”

“That’s not what I said.” My voice sounds small even to my own ears. “I said we would lose. All of us. I’m trying to keep people alive until we find a better path. The people here are all that’s left from the United States, Canada, and Central America. I’ve seen the numbers from here and the other bases. We aren’t more than a few thousand here.”

“You’re a fucking traitor.”

“No, you are, because you’d waste a bunch of lives for your own selfish death wish. If you want to die in vain, do it, just don’t take others with you.” I took a step back. The basin hits my hip. There’s nowhere to go.

His anger spikes like a snapped cable. And I see it—the moment he stops listening. The moment he’s about to break.

“Rhett—stop. Please—”

He lunges.

Instinct slams through me. My hand snatches the first thing within reach—a hooked metal scraper used for cleaning out feed troughs. He’s almost on me when I swing. The crack of metal against skull rings through the room, sharp as a snapped bone. Rhett’s momentum cuts, and he crumples sideways, hitting the floor in a boneless heap.

My breath trembles out of me. My hand is still raised, knuckles white around the scraper. And that’s when I hear it. A voice unfurls from the shadows behind me, deep enough to chill the lantern flame.

“Good.”

I whirl.

Korath steps into the lamplight, shadows peeling off him like dark cloth. His gaze drops to Rhett’s unconscious body, then rises to me, slow and assessing, as though cataloging every tremble, every shallow breath.

“I’m pleased you didn’t wait for someone to save you. Though it would’ve satisfied me immensely.”

My pulse jerks. “You—you were here? How did you know?”

He tilts his head, as if the answer should be obvious. “I watch what is mine.”

Heat slips through my chest at the same time my legs nearly buckle. Whether he meant to disarm me or not, it worked. “I can handle myself. Been in plenty of fights. I wasn’t going to let him hurt me.”

“Me neither, if it came to it.” A glimmer of something like pride sharpens his eyes. “You put him down cleanly.”

Rhett groans faintly. Korath’s expression cools into something predatory, and he steps forward, but I lift a hand. “Don’t. He’s done.”

“He touched you with intent. Took advantage of your vulnerability working the past two weeks.” Korath’s voice holds no heat, only certainty. “That requires consequence.”

“He hardly touched me,” I whisper. “Are you really going to kill him over a few bruises?”

Korath studies me for a long, unbearable moment before his shoulders ease a fraction. Only a fraction. He closes the distance between us, cupping my cheek with a gentleness that steals my breath. “I would, and can,” he murmurs, but I feel the vibration in my chest. “You shouldn’t have to feel fear in these walls. Not while I’m Commander.”

“I’m not hurt,” I stubbornly state again.

“Not because of him.” His thumb traces a faint smear of dirt near my jaw, almost reverent. “Because of you.”

I swallow. The room feels too small for his presence, too warm for the cold brush of adrenaline still clinging to my spine. “I meant what I told him,” I manage. “I’m just trying to keep people alive.”

“And I meant what I told you.” His gaze flicks to Rhett, then back to me. “You don’t face threats alone anymore. Not while I draw breath.” Rhett begins to stir. Korath’s eyes narrow, but this time he doesn’t move. “He will wake fearing you,” he says quietly. “As he should.”

I shouldn’t like the way that coils through me, warm and strangely safe.

As we leave, he says something to one of the overseers, and they jog their way into the stables. I look up at Korath, and he seemingly knows what I’m about to ask. “They are throwing him back with the others. Unharmed.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

He grunted, a heaviness invading his yellow eyes. Their hue deepened as the sunset reflected in them. “Come. Your punishment is complete.”

Maybe so, but Rhett’s plans were fresh in my mind. Whether I was down working or not, he was going to do something stupid. I just hope I had knocked some sense into him; otherwise, I was about to get in the middle of a revolt between my people and the one I cared the most for—Korath.

---

Korath

It had been two days since Maren’s punishment concluded. I ordered her to rest for that at least that, if not more, to hydrate and mend from her days of work.

Seeing her depleted state, Maren had used it to persuade me to assess the conditions of the slaves and improve their living conditions to maximize their efficiency. It was a hard argument to reject as she spoke it through cracked lips, waving bruised limbs at me.

So, I began with their nourishment.

Maren spent her time devising a list of expendable resources to allow them to start a garden to grow their own food, and suggested the elderly or injured be assigned to kitchen duty. No longer would I need to feed them in exchange for pots and firewood. The compromise was received well by all sides; the humans got fresh, familiar food, and my people got more productive work out of them. More importantly, it made Maren smile.

One evening, I returned after a long meeting with the Council, flopping down at the table while Maren chatted away. I didn’t hear any of it, but just grunted and nodded along with her as she finished whatever she was cooking. The news they shared was… critical to my future plans. My head throbbed from the choices placed before me until a throat across the room cleared, grabbing my attention.

Maren studied me as she approached the table, a nervous sort of pride flickering in her expression. “It’s not perfect,” she said quickly, setting down two plates. “I had to substitute half the ingredients, and guess at the cooking time… but it’s edible. I think.”

Steam rose from the food. I recognized little of it, but the colors were striking—soft yellow grains, something green and fragrant on top. “A human dish,” I observed.

Her lips curved. “From memory. It’s what we call ‘comfort food.’ I’m glad I made it too. You look like you need it.” She paused, watching me stare at it, as I fought my mind for concentration. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”

I picked up the fork. “I do. My mind just hasn’t stopped working yet.”

Her shoulders eased slightly. I took the first bite, chewed, and frowned in concentration. The flavor was… unusual. Gentle, yet savory. Nothing like the fuel-paste that sustained us. It felt alive and aptly named ‘comfort food.’

Her eyes were on me, wide and uncertain. “Well?”

I swallowed. “It is different.” When her face fell, I added, “In a way that is… pleasing.”

The relief that crossed her features made my chest tighten. She laughed, soft and disbelieving. “You really need to work on your compliments.”

“Perhaps,” I admitted. “But I meant it.”

We ate in companionable silence for a few moments — a rarity for us these days. I watched how she moved, how she handled each utensil with the quiet precision of someone reclaiming a forgotten ritual. She wasn’t merely feeding herself; she was remembering who she’d been before the war took everything. And somehow, she’d invited me into that memory.

When we finished, she leaned back in her chair, studying me. “You said earlier you had a meeting with the Council. Is that what kept you out so late?”

“In part.” I wiped my hands and leaned forward slightly. “There will be changes soon. The Council has approved the construction of permanent dwellings for the stationed forces. The surface colonies will no longer be temporary.”

Her brow furrowed. “You mean… you’re staying? All of you?”

“Yes. Many of us will be bound to this planet for years, perhaps lifetimes, due to how rich in resources it is. Earth will not return to what it was.” I paused. “This is to be a second home.”

Her gaze dropped to the table, fingers tracing the rim of her cup. “For you, maybe. For humans…” She let the thought die. Maren’s eyes darted about, and I knew that to mean her mind was racing. “Do you think you’ll like it? I mean, if you’re planning to stay here? I imagine they have other worlds for you to conquer still.”

“As of now, they do not require my soldiering.” I paused, considering her—the way her shoulder-length brown hair caught the low light, the quiet determination in her posture even at rest. “I find little reason to complain about my station, so long as my quarters remain as they are.”

She looked up. Her eyes met mine with that spark she never seemed aware of, the one that always struck me. “Because I’m in them?”

There was no hesitation. “Yes.”

Something shifted. A breath between us that carried more truth than either of us had managed to say aloud. It settled in the space like soft gravity, pulling everything closer. This wasn’t attraction, it was commitment.

“I asked you before to stay with me here,” I continued, “but… if I were to request permanent assignment to Earth, would you—” The words tangled for a moment. Her eyes were too bright, too full of possibility, and it nearly unraveled me. “Would you stay with me?”

Her answer came like a heartbeat. “Yes.” There was no doubt or questioning in her choice, just the tightening of the fabric of the universe.

She rose then, gathering the plates. Mundane movement, except that nothing between us felt mundane anymore. I followed without thinking, drawn forward by that invisible thread that had tied itself to my chest the moment she’d arrived on this broken world.

Her back was to me as she set the dishes aside, but I could feel her tension like warmth radiating through the air. When she turned, we were too close—close enough that I felt her breath catch, brushing the space between us.

“Korath…” A whisper, unsure about our direction.

“I know.” The lie was soft. The truth was simpler: I didn’t know. I didn’t understand any of this except that her nearness steadied every fracture inside me. She made the idea of a future feel like something tangible.

I lifted a hand, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek. She didn’t flinch. She only drew a sharper breath, as if preparing for the floor to give way beneath us.

“Do you still think this is a good idea?” she asked, voice trembling at the edges.

“Why?” It came out rougher than intended, too close to the bone.

“Because it feels too easy,” she murmured. “And nothing about this should be.”

I leaned in just enough for her to feel the answer in the warmth between us. “It feels easy,” I said, “because it is right.”

22 The Language of Pleasure

Maren

It was ridiculous, really.

Dinner, laughter, and the quiet glow of his quarters had all felt like something out of a human romance novel. A date, if I let my mind wander that far. And when he told me about the new, permanent dwellings being built, the words had slipped through my head in a whisper I didn’t dare say aloud.

He asked me to move in with him.

Of course, he hadn’t. Not really, but what else did one call it when a seven-foot-tall alien war commander casually told you you’d be living with him indefinitely? In human terms, that was basically the “meet the parents” stage. I laughed softly at myself, pressing a hand to my heated face.

It was absurd! A human and an Eksese couple, and yet… Korath had a way about him. That quiet gravity. His blunt honesty and the way he watched me sent shivers up my spine. The way his voice softened when it was just the two of us. The sharp lines of his body that weren’t human, but managed to hold a strange kind of rugged beauty.

Before I knew it, I was sprawled across his bed, his scent still clinging to the pillows. My mind betrayed me, conjuring up how our bodies felt pressed against each other and how it always seemed like we wanted more. Of the ways he touched me the past weeks with gentle care, but never far enough. My heart thudded embarrassingly hard, a warmth crawling through me. I shifted, restless, trying to think of anything else.

The heat pooling between my thighs, however, refused to let it go. How long had it been since I felt safe enough to give myself a simple pleasure?

Others didn’t care about privacy, but I did. I had been in tents, camps, and most recently, cells where individuals didn’t care about doing such acts in view of others. Anything to feel something other than fear and despair. I never blamed them, but I never joined them.

Now, in the quiet of the room with my impure thoughts, my hand dove beneath the waistband. Korath wasn’t going to be back for another few hours, so there was no danger of getting caught…

The second my finger brushed the wet bud and folds, it made me jolt, so unused to the sensation. But, God, it felt so good.

I flung my clothes off, the heat of my core too much to trap in them. Spreading my legs wide, there was nothing to stop me from grinding into my hand, but as amazing as the foreplay felt, when my mind thought of Korath and his body pressed against mine. Immediately, my fingers thrust inside me.

My head fell back with eyes closed, piecing together all the times we’ve lain in this very bed naked, feeling each other. Fusing it with the memory of seeing him hard that time I walked in on him mating, had me unraveling fast. His cock was large, growing thicker toward the base. Its head was more mushroom-like and looked like a three-layered heads on one armored shaft. I imagined what feeling all those ridges would feel like entering me, completely stuffed—completely forbidden.

I swallowed hard as I felt that otherworldly release approaching—

That was, of course, when the door hissed open.

I threw the cover over me.

“Why are you in bed?” Korath’s voice was curious, not sharp, but it hit me like a thunderclap all the same. He stood in the doorway, still wearing his field uniform, a trace of dust across one temple. He took in the sight of me, cheeks flushed, hair mussed, and his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you unwell?”

“I—uh—no!” My voice came out too fast, too high. “Just… tired!”

He stepped closer, and I prayed he couldn’t hear my pulse. “You are red,” he said, tilting his head in that maddeningly analytical way. “Your temperature is elevated, and there is a scent—.”

My sticky hand wedged between my legs was like a smoking gun. “I’m fine, really,” I squeaked, yanking the blanket up to my chin like that might swallow me whole.

Something unreadable passed through his expression. A faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, as though he was amused. I realized then, he was looking at my discarded clothes on the floor. “I came for this.” He picked up a slate he had forgotten that got shuffled in with my books and tablet. “You may continue… resting.”

My lips parted, but I couldn’t manage any words. He knew. He fucking knew… and could smell me. I don’t know which is worse.

With a glance back, he left me again to the quiet of the room, though my heartbeat was pounding in my ears. Jumping up, I rushed into the bath—a cold bath—ready to wash myself of any incriminating “scents.”

---

By the time Korath returned that evening, the cabin was warm with the smell of seared root-spice and roasted grains. I’d spent most of the day scouring the Eksese database for recipes, determined to make something aromatic that would make him forget all about earlier.

He stepped through the door, pausing mid-stride. His gaze flicked from the table, which was set neatly for two, to me. I tried to look unfazed, but the slight draft he made as he walked reminded me his t-shirt was the length of a cocktail dress—a short, thin cocktail dress. The faintest ripple crossed his composure.

“You cooked,” he said, voice low, almost careful. His nose lifted into the air, trying to place the scent from his memory.

“I did,” I said, unable to hide my grin at the low, pleased rumble in his voice. “An Eksese dish. It’s supposed to be a favorite, though I had to improvise on the spices. Some were described similarly to ours. It’s Kropi—um, Kropioa—”

His eyes narrowed slightly, leaning over my shoulder. “Kropiorana?”

“That one! It’s a freakin’ mouthful to say.” I lifted the lid so the fragrant steam rose between us. “I thought… maybe you’d like something that reminded you of home.”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Just looked at me. Slowly. His gaze slid down the curve of my hip where the shirt flared out from my hips, then lower—a flicker of curiosity and something warmer before he cleared his throat. “You should not have gone to such trouble.”

“I wanted to,” I said lightly, though my heart was racing. “It’s what humans do when we care about someone. Now, go sit.”

He sat—a silent concession—and picked up the spoon in eagerness. I slid the bowl in front of him, too aware he was staring at me, not the food. The first taste made his jaw tighten. His expression gave nothing away, but when he finally swallowed, he inclined his head slightly. “You… did not fail.”

“That’s it?” I teased. “Not ‘amazing,’ or ‘divinely seasoned?’”

“Kropiorana is not an easy dish,” he interrupted, that faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Even some of my kind fail to make it palatable. You have done well.”

“Well enough for seconds?”

That earned a quiet huff of laughter, a sound that always felt like a secret. “Perhaps.”

We ate in companionable quiet for a while. The tension that had hung since the night before and earlier today seemed to have softened into something quieter, deeper. Now and then, I caught him glancing at me, not in appraisal, but in that fascinated way he did, as if he was still trying to understand the strange creature who had invaded his solitude.

When we finished, I leaned back with a small, pleased sigh. “Hey, Korath?”

He looked up, eyes soft but alert. “Yes?”

“Would it be possible for me to visit Kavya soon? Just for a bit.”

The shift was subtle—a flicker in his expression, the faint tightening of his posture. He looked at me for a long moment, unreadable. “You find my company insufficient.” The quiet way he said it caught me off guard. It was not quite an accusation, not quite wounded, but close enough to both.

My chest tightened, and suddenly I was up and moving, settling onto his lap. “Oh, no, Korath. It’s not that at all,” I said quickly, cupping his face. I tried to bite back a grin at the fact that his battle-hardened conqueror might have just been wounded by little me. It also spoke of his growing attachment to me, which, if I was honest, gave me butterflies. “It’s just… humans like to talk with their own sometimes. Especially women. It’s called ’girl talk.’”

He frowned faintly, as though turning the phrase over in his mind. “You require this?”

“Sometimes.” I gave him a small, teasing smile. “It’s how we keep our sanity. You’re out and about all day commanding, while I’m here alone.”

“If this ‘girl talk’ is necessary for your well-being,” he said, “then I will arrange it.”

“Thank you.” I pecked his cheek with a kiss, then hopped off his lap to top off his stew. The blush on my face, realizing how bold I had been, heated my cheeks. Yet, it felt so natural.

He nodded once, but the air between us lingered, charged—his eyes finding mine again, softer this time. “Kropiorana stew,” he said, almost to himself. “I had not tasted it since I last visited Ekse.”

I smiled, heart tugging. “Then I’m glad I made it well enough for seconds.” My cheesy grin won him over, and I ladled some more into his bowl.

“You did.” His voice dropped lower. “More than right.” And this time, he didn’t look away, saying it as if there was more meaning beneath the words.

When we finished, he insisted on helping me tidy up, logically arguing that he should do it or at least help. My counter-argument was that I had my own system for where things went now and didn’t want him messing it up. How very domestic of me.

We worked side by side at the small basin, the steady rhythm of water and quiet movement oddly soothing. I could feel his warmth beside me, the low rustle of fabric whenever he shifted. Every so often, his arm brushed mine—barely there despite his size, but each time, it sent a small pulse through me that I couldn’t quite ignore.

And I wanted more.

He was focused, as always, but there was a stillness about him tonight. Not the kind born of discipline, but something gentler. Like he was content just to be here.

“You’re quiet,” I said softly.

He glanced down at me, drying his hands on a cloth. “You prefer noise?”

“No. I just… like when you talk.”

That earned a small exhale that might’ve been a laugh. “You speak enough for us both.”

“True,” I teased and laughed at my own expense. “But I don’t know what you think about when you go all stoic and silent.”

He considered that. “About duty. Tomorrow’s agenda. Supply routes. And…” His gaze drifted toward me again. “You.”

The word hit like a pulse through the air. He didn’t look away, didn’t even seem to realize what he’d said until my breath caught audibly. Then his expression shifted, but he didn’t retract it.

“Me?” I asked innocently.

“Yes.” He said it like a truth, simple and unadorned.

The space between us felt fragile now, the quiet too intimate. I reached for another plate, mostly to do something, but my fingers slipped against the slick ceramic. Korath’s hand shot out, steadying mine before it could fall. His grip was firm and warm, enveloping.

Neither of us moved.

“You are trembling,” he murmured.

I smiled faintly. “That’s your fault.”

He tilted his head, brow furrowing slightly. “I have not done anything.”

“That’s the problem.”

For a moment, the silence deepened. His thumb brushed the inside of my wrist—whether by accident or curiosity, I didn’t know. The movement was small, but it unraveled something low in my stomach.

“Is it also why I found you bare in bed earlier?” His head tilted further as if trying to peer into my brain.

My breath caught, but the slow burning in my core was clouding my judgment. “Yes.”

“What were you doing?”

I swallowed hard, but didn’t shy away. I wanted to know—needed to know what he thought of it. “I was… pleasuring myself.” It came out breathy, my heartbeat running away from me.

“It smelled… good.” He was practically whispering, and his brow furrowed, “I smell it now.”

“I can’t help it, it happens when you’re near.” And he was, all but inches from each other.

“This is a response to me?” I nodded, and he took a sharp, but deep inhale. “Maren—”

I shushed him, pressing two fingers to his lips. “It doesn’t mean you have to do anything.” I smiled sadly, unmeaning to. I knew the complications that such a thing would cause, more so for him. Nor did I want to pressure him when he was just getting used to kissing.

Korath nodded. “Do you… wish to pleasure yourself now?” My jaw dropped, like I’d been backhanded silly. Before I could answer that loaded question, he added, “I’d like to watch. If that’s permitted?”

So many thoughts began flying through my head. The dishes went forgotten in an instant, the wetness more prominent between my legs than my hands.

At my shocked silence, he spoke again, “Should I not have asked? Was it wrong to?”

Giving myself a mental shake before physically doing it with my head, my voice came out breathy, “No, not wrong… just are you sure you want to be intimate with a human? With me?”

“You aren’t just a human to me, Maren, you are… peace. Warmth. Home.” My heart melted, because my endearingly honest Korath wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it.

I pulled his face down to mine, kissing him, and leading him by the hand over to the bed. I guided him to sit, then stood between his legs and stripped. Then, I lay down at an angle so he could watch my hands and I could see his face.

My hands started at my collar, running the length of my body as it arched up. On the next pass, I teased my nipples, watching his gaze darken to amber. I knew he had deep-buried emotions, and part of me wanted to push this and see how far I could go before he snapped.

The thought drove me on, no longer doing it for myself but for him.

“Kor,” I moaned, one hand plunging low to my heat. “This is what you do to me.” As my finger swirled on my clit, Korath’s pupils dilated, as if I had also stirred my personal aroma into the air. My eyes were glued to him. He swallowed thickly, and his nostrils flared. A tension grew in his body, muscles and veins bulging like he was readying for a fight… but I knew it for what it was.

I held out my clean hand, “Come here.” He obeyed immediately, as if thankful I wasn’t confining him to spectator. “Would you like to touch me?” I bit my lip, writhing against my hand, soft moans escaping me as he hovered.

His hand landed around my throat first. All power. All dominance.

His avian eyes devoured my every reaction, from the pulse at my neck to when I pulled my lips through my teeth. His large hand lingered for a minute before venturing lower to my breasts. I pushed on up into his palm, arching, closing my eyes when he began exploring my nipple.

The more he kneaded, the more desperate I was becoming. “Kor, keeping going… I… I need to feel you inside me.”

Quietly, his hand trailed down my stomach, mine still on top of his. When he reached my mound, he hesitated, his heavy eyes meeting mine. Guiding his fingers to explore the bud and petals, even showing him where to enter. I gasped wantonly as our fingers slid in and out together.

Soon, I let go, and the rough friction of his hand replaced mine. It was utterly intoxicating. I had forgotten how it felt to be touched by another in a world where most were only out for themselves. To feel safe enough to just let go.

“Oh, God, don’t stop…”

His pupils dilated. “Maren…”

I grabbed his shirt, needing to anchor myself to something, while his thick, partially scaled finger probed me. “Add another… finger.” When he did, I nearly lost my sanity. Between the friction of his fingers and it simply being him doing it, devouring the sight of me, I teetered on the edge of orgasmic bliss. “Oh, Kor… I’m gonna—”

I cried out, nearly tearing up, having been finally ripped from reality for one searing moment. Everything melted away, but the feel of his presence beside me as I floated in euphoria. Coming down, I gently took his creamy hand from me, panting.

He studied his hand, testing the substance coating his fingers. “You were wet.”

I breathily laughed. “Yeah… It’s what happens when I’m aroused.”

“It smells good, and distinctly you.” Korath brought his hand to his mouth, eyes locking on mine as I lay there recovering. He pressed them into his mouth with a hum. I felt my eyes widen, and I pressed up on my elbows. He licked his lips and fingers with effortless casualness, like he didn’t notice how he just lit me on fire.

“Korath—”

“Kor,” he interjected, “I liked it when you said my name like that. No one has ever called me that.” He slowly crawled over me on the bed. My arms looped around his neck, feeling the tension in his shoulders easing. “That was… exquisite.” His lips captured mine, more aggressively than he ever had before. I expected to taste myself on his tongue, but he greedily swallowed it all.

After a minute, he pulled me up and sent me to clean up. I did so quickly, wondering in the quiet of the bathroom if I’d gone too far. Or not far enough. Did he need attention now?

I pulled on one of his shirts and went back into the main room. Korath was in bed waiting for me. Naked. Seeing that, I threw off his shirt.

So, I didn’t go too far, too soon. Good to know.

Crawling into his embrace, the weight of his body was comforting, as were the large arms that wrapped around me. His face looked contemplative, and I couldn’t help but ask what was on his mind.

“You,” he answered, “What it must feel like to possess such overwhelming emotions.” His yellow eyes met mine. “It… really was something to witness, Maren.”

My fingers drew shapes on his bulging chest. “Something good, right?”

He nodded. “Having helped you reach such a state was profound for me. Eksese women do not rely on males to pleasure them, only to mate.” I listened intently, finding his hand beneath the blanket. “Connection, such as you showed me, is rare, as it’s seen as a weakness. We all have our place in society and a duty to each other as a collective species. Males and females only differ in anatomy; eons ago, we had gender roles as humans do, but we evolved to make ourselves more efficient. No social constraints meant freedom, but now I wonder what we’ve lost in the process.”

“What do you mean?”

“Aside from my mother, I have no family bonds. You’ve become closer than anyone, even Malrik.” My heart jumped a beat. “I felt nothing for the females I’ve mated with. They just choose strong males to sire offspring; other than that, they are independent. They do not need or want me as you do.”

“Maybe that’s what confounds you about me. About humans. We rely on each other differently than Eksese does. We may be weaker, but we will fight harder for those we care about. You fight hard instinctually, but… maybe you’re realizing you want something more. Something deeper than efficiency. You’ve seen so much war, maybe it’s beginning to wear on you.”

He scoffed, insulted. “I am not so weak of mind to be ineffective at my job.”

“Never said that, Kor.” His features softened hearing his new endearment. “I just meant, after all the violence you’ve seen, conquering planets and people, maybe you’re looking for something softer,” I slid his hand down my body, “and sweet.”

A deep rumble came from within his chest. “You may be correct in this instance. Your companionship has changed me. Made me think. After all that’s happened on this campaign, I don’t think I could go back to Ekse and live like I never met you.”

I kissed him softly, then pulled back, murmuring against his lips, “So don’t. You’ve shown me a different kind of hope in this new reality. Stay with me.”

“I already asked you to.”

“So? Can I not ask you too?”

“It’s a bit redundant—”

I pressed my front against his, chuckling. “Just tell me you do!”

“I do.”

“See? Was that so hard?”

Korath gave me a pointed look, ready to retort, but before he could, a low vibration stirred beneath us—the ship’s systems shifting gears. Korath’s brow furrowed slightly.

Then came the sharp hiss of the door.

He was up before I could even process what was happening—fast, disciplined, a soldier again. The soft light caught the sharp lines of his torso as he turned toward the intruders.

Malrik stood in the doorway, flanked by a young aide whose scales gleamed an anxious pale green. Both froze when they realized the Commander was occupied—and that I was very much not supposed to be nestled in his bed, clinging to the sheet.

“Forgive the intrusion, Commander,” Malrik said, his tone far too formal to be genuine. His gaze flicked from me to Korath and back. “But there’s been an incident.”

23 The Language of Command

Korath

I laid beside her in awe and deep contemplation.

Maren was the embodiment of life. How she hadn’t broken into pieces under the sheer force of her pleasure was beyond my comprehension. And I felt it in every way. The feeling of her pulsing at my touch, responding to it, crying out for me, wanting me…

My mind compared my experiences with Gulima and Maren. I had actually been mating with Gulima, and she had not shown me a shred of desire, unlike my human, who even wanted me by simply thinking it when I wasn’t present. The way she writhed beneath me like she didn’t care where I touched, just that I did, as if I was just as vital as the air she breathed.

But that was then.

Now, I had my Captain and his aide standing in my quarters, with Maren hiding behind me. The two of us are undeniably and incriminately naked.

“Speak.” The teeth didn’t part, only my lips.

Cadoc, Malrik’s aide, was young, and this was his first assignment away from Ekse. He wasn’t used to my temper, as his superior was. “The human—one of the males—assaulted a guard. The men are demanding discipline,” the aide stammered.

“Rhett,” Maren whispered, as I turned my head toward her. Our eyes met in a single, wordless exchange that said everything. The serenity between us shattered like glass.

“Secure the human,” I ordered curtly. “I’ll be down presently.”

“Yes, Commander.” Malrik’s tone was smooth, but his eyes lingered on me a beat too long, taking in the tousled sheets, the dishes half finished, and the warmth still in the room. He didn’t need to say a word; the judgment was there.

When the door closed behind them, the silence felt colder.

I exhaled slowly, shoulders drawn tight. “You will stay here.”

“No! Korath, let me—”

“I cannot let this be about you,” the order rolled from me with a low rumble. “I will do what I must, but whatever happens, the consequences will not be made personal.”

Maren threw off the sheets, making me instantly regret having to leave her now. She stood on her toes, her hands reaching up my chest. “Just… promise me you’ll think and not just do what’s expected of you.”

I pulled away and began to dress. Maren could hold on to her hope, but I knew an example would need to be made to keep order. “That depends on the prisoner and the damage done to my guard.”

“Kor—”

I rounded on her more aggressively than I meant to, my mind already having made the switch to Commander. “Maren, I will do what is expected of me to maintain discipline. You cannot sway my judgment in this.” She crossed her arms, glaring at me. “I’ve already allowed improvements to their living conditions. Would you rather I take that all away?” Her lips mashed together in that way that told me she knew I was right, but she’d not admit it. “I will not grant leniency for those who wish to rebel.”

Dressed and armed, I left Maren to her pouting and made for the holding cells.

Malrik was waiting for me outside. Alone. “Have you mated with it?” He made a face as if he stepped in Sholta waste, making my brow draw down. “I need to know you will not let sentimentality cloud your command.”

“I will not.”

“So, you did mate.”

“No. We did not mate.”

“Will you?”

I stared at him hard. “It is not forbidden.”

“No, but is a privilege of the elite, not warriors who’ve made rank. You and I come from dust, and no rank will erase that.” His words held truth. Military rank was one thing, blood was another. “What will your soldiers think? She is the enemy.”

“We’ve won. There is no ‘enemy.’ There is only colonization now. The taming of the frontier and filling cargo ships back to Ekse. They will not care if their bellies are full.”

Malrik’s grimace softened. “I’m doing my job as your second and friend. I do not wish to see you compromised by her. Everything you have worked for could be taken, including your pet. Do not lose sight of our objective. We need the humans for labor. You favor one, but soon you’ll favor all.”

“If you are referring to the improvements to the slaves’ diet, that is to boost their efficiency.” Malrik did not look convinced. “There is only one Maren. It will stay that way. The fires of the sun may take the rest of them.”

“Good. Let us deal with the prisoner then.”

We made our way down in silence and few witnesses. Most were in their sleep cycle, keeping out of the chill of the night.

Inside, the atmosphere was chaos contained. One guard clutched a bleeding forearm, another stood rigid, forcing himself not to look ready to kill. And at the center of it all, as Maren had guessed, was Rhett—shackled, breathing hard, like a predator pacing its cage.

The moment his eyes locked on me, he spat. “Where’s your pet, Commander? Did she tell you I’m not housebroken enough for her new master?”

The guard moved to silence him with a strike, but I raised my hand to stop it. “We do not speak of unimportant beings. But if you think I don’t know the threats you’ve made over the past weeks, you are even more unintelligent than I believed. Especially from the human who was in charge of winning battles.”

Rhett’s sneer deepened. “Unimportant?” he laughed, sharp and broken. “That’s rich, coming from you. What do I have to do to get in your good graces like Maren? You rearranged an entire work rotation for her. You fetched her after each day of her punishment personally. You think we don’t see it?”

I stepped closer. The guards stiffened, weapons half-raised, but I did not look away from him. “You attacked a guard,” I said evenly, not taking his bait. “You drew blood. That is the crime for which you’ll be punished under Eksese law.”

“Fuck your laws,” he spat. “I don’t recognize your authority.”

The injured guard made a sound, half snarl, half wince. Another shifted, clearly ready to finish what Rhett had started. I lifted my hand again, and the room obeyed, but the silence stretched, thick and dangerous.

I felt it then, too. The pull to end this. To tear the problem out by the root and be done with it. My hands curled slowly at my sides.

“You give yourself too much importance,” I stated. “I am the authority here on Earth. You seem to be the only human who does not understand that.”

“Liar. There are two of us.” His eyes burned, fever-bright. “Your pet. She’s in your bed, in your head. You think she’ll side with you in the end? She’s human, and always will be human.”

That was enough.

I moved so fast the chains jerked him forward. I gripped his face, uncaring of the way my claws bit into his flesh, and forced him to look at the injured guard. The room went utterly still.

“Your failures are your own. Do not put them on your people.” I growled, voice low, carrying the promise of violence.

“Maren’s already chosen you,” he said hoarsely. “That’s the real crime. She chose the monster over her people.”

My fist tightened on his jaw until I heard the bones crack, and he let go of a scream. “Enough. As stated in our laws, attacking a guard as a non-citizen of Ekse is punishable by death.” The males around me took a step closer, anticipating the coming blood, and nodding in affirmation of my sentence.

My eyes never left Rhett’s as he squirmed in pain, breathing heavily. The timbre in my voice turned lethal, “The details of your death, human, are left up to me.” The bravado of his facade faded to pain. “You wish to cut our kind, then we will cut you.” I released him and turned to address the room, “Bind him in the yard. Any Eksese who pass will do their duty and issue punishment until death.”

Malrik gave me a nod like I had surprised him, while the others saluted me before growling at the prisoner.

“Death by a hundred cuts. Let it be a warning to the others of what happens to those who oppose us. Who oppose me.”

“Yes, Commander,” my Captain resolutely went about arranging Rhett’s transfer to the center of camp.

Passing them as I left, no one knew that my decision was easier than having to face the emotionally charged human waiting in my quarters. Rhett had crossed a line that could not be ignored, and this time, I would not allow her to temper the beast. And even though I tried to keep Maren’s name out of it, Rhett may have just gotten his revenge after all.

---

Maren

I knew before he ever came back.

There are truths that settle slowly, like ash after a fire. You don’t feel the heat anymore, but the damage is already done. Rhett wasn’t going to survive this. How could he? He’d pushed and clawed at a system that only tolerated obedience. Worse, he’d get other people hurt. Guards, yes, but also us. Every outburst rippled outward, sharpening tempers, after Korath had agreed to better rations, Rhett still chose chaos.

You don’t get to do that and live.

I sat on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up, wrapped in one of Korath’s thick linens. The room was quiet, humming softly with ship systems and distant boots. Comfort surrounded me in ways that would have horrified the woman I used to be. Warm water. Clean air. Privacy. Safety. Intimacy.

Survival had twisted into something unrecognizable.

Korath didn’t belong to me; I was his, and I wasn’t in charge. I had influence, yes, but only because he allowed it. He was still the Commander. Still, the one who decided who lived and who didn’t. He had 60 years of experience, and in human terms, that was a lifetime of experience. I needed to trust that.

When the doors finally opened, he came in like a storm that hadn’t yet decided whether to break. His armor was gone, but the tension clung to him all the same. His shoulders were set, jaw tight, eyes sharp with the readiness for conflict.

He was braced for me to fight him, but I didn’t. I stood and crossed the room, hugging the sheet to me, slow and deliberate.

I could feel his confusion before he spoke. “Say it,” he said, voice low. “If you are angry, say it now.”

I looked up at him, really looked. At the weight he carried. At the lines etched deeper into his face than they had been weeks ago. “It was Rhett then?” He nodded. “I know you did what was best. He was trying to die.” I said quietly.

His brow furrowed. “Yes.”

“There was no version of this where he stopped,” I continued. “No speech. No warning. He would’ve kept going until someone else paid for it.”

Something in his stance shifted. Not relief exactly, but recognition. “He forced my hand, and he tried to use you as a weapon.”

“My throat tightened, but I pushed through it. “And you didn’t let him.” I reached for him, my fingers curling into the fabric at his waist, grounding us both. “You punished one human,” I said. “And protected hundreds more. That’s the bigger picture.”

His breath left him slowly, like he’d been holding it since the doors closed behind Rhett. “You trust me,” he said, not gentle, not soft, but absolute.

“I’m learning to,” I replied. “I’m not supposed to, but I’m also not supposed to like it when you touch me.”

His hand came up, cupping the back of my neck, forehead resting briefly against mine. “You will always be safe with me,” he said, the feeling of our bodies pressing together speaking louder than words. And not because Korath was gentle, but because he was decisive.

“And you with me.” I dropped the sheet so my arms could circle his neck. His eyes popped open, and he went to logically retort, no doubt, but I didn’t give him the chance. I rose onto my toes and pressed my mouth to his, stealing the words straight from him.

Our minds were still speaking the language of resistance, but our hearts weren’t in it any longer.

24 The Language of Diplomacy

Korath

A chime cut through the peace we fell into after being awoken in the middle of the night. Malrik’s voice came through the comm, clipped and already irritated. “Commander. Councilor Jorek is requesting an immediate audience.”

My eyes forced themselves open, and my breath came hard through my nose in warning. I pulled on pants and moved to the console. “Put him through.”

Jorek’s image resolved in the air above the console, robed and immaculate, his eyes bright with the kind of interest I had come to recognize too well. He smiled as if we were old allies rather than predators circling the same prize.

“Commander Korath,” he said smoothly. “I trust your… domestic affairs are in order since last we met.” I did not respond, but my silence was apparently amusing to him. “In two Earth days’ time,” he continued, unbothered, “I expect you to attend the summit at Ocean Station. Commander Vyrn will be present. We will finalize colonization plans for Earth’s territories.”

That much was inevitable. I inclined my head once, “I will attend, Councilor.”

“And,” Jorek added, his gaze sharpening, “bring your human. Your lovely pet. I find myself… longing to see her again before I depart for Ekse. One last time. Commander Vyrn and the Princess will have theirs in attendance as well. I assure you she will not be lonely.”

My jaw tightened. I could already feel it, the ancient, dangerous instinct stirring in my blood. Possession. Protection. The need to remove anything that dared to look at what was mine and imagine it theirs.

“She is not a diplomatic asset,” I stated evenly.

Jorek laughed softly. “Everything is an asset, Commander. Especially what you guard so closely.”

The channel cut before I could reply, and the silence rushed back in, heavier than before.

I braced myself on the surface slowly, every muscle coiling as if for battle, as I stared at the darkened console. Oceanic Station. Two days. Enclosed space. Vyrn and her sister watching. Jorek studying us more closely than any of them realized.

And Maren…

Since last night, since the way her mouth had found mine without hesitation, since the way she had trusted me not as a conqueror but as a male, the idea of Jorek’s attention felt like a blade pressed to my throat. I would take her because refusal would only sharpen his interest. We would go because power was often safest when faced head-on and not in the shadows.

But I would not let him touch her. Look too long at her. Speak to her as if she were his to appraise.

I turned toward the bed, where Maren slept curled on her side, unaware of the storm gathering around her. My chest tightened at the sight. Two days, I told myself. Then he leaves for Ekse, and if Jorek tried to claim even a fragment of her, there would be consequences no summit could contain. Everyone would find out just how lethal Ekse’s greatest commander could be.

Has Maren dulled my edge? No, her presence at my side ensured I was a serrated edge, honed by sixty years of battle that finally found a female worth the blood that’d spill.

Maren stirred as I turned away from the console, the faint shift of her breath changing first, then the slow slide of her hand across the sheets, reaching for my empty spot.

“What was that?” she asked, voice still thick with sleep.

I froze for half a breath. Not because I did not know how to answer, but because I did.

She pushed herself up on one elbow, hair falling over her shoulders, watching me with that quiet, perceptive focus that saw through me. “You don’t stand like that unless something’s wrong,” she added. “And you don’t look like that unless someone’s messing with your command.”

I exhaled slowly and crossed the room back to her. Maren yanked me down my belt to sit in front of her. “That was Councilor Jorek.”

Her body went still, the fingers playing with my waistband freezing in place. The warmth between us cooled a fraction, replaced by alertness. “What does he want?”

“He wants me at a summit,” I said. “It’s being held at the Oceanic Station two days from now. Commander Vyrn and Princess Orissa will be in attendance.”

“And?” she pressed, already knowing somehow there was more.

I sat close enough that my knee brushed hers. I did not touch her yet. If I did, I might not stop. “He specifically requested that you come as well.”

Her brows knit together. “Requested,” she repeated. “Or ordered?”

“Both.”

She swallowed, gaze dropping to the sheet gathered at her waist. “Why?”

“Because he is fixated,” I replied, my voice hardening despite myself. “And because males like Jorek mistake restraint for weakness.”

Maren looked up at me then, searching my face. “There’s no other option?” The question cut deeper than any accusation.

“No,” I said honestly. “But you will not face him alone. I will be with you at all times.”

Her mouth tilted into something wry and tired. “You say that like you’re bracing for a fight.”

“I am,” I admitted. “Just not the kind fought with weapons.”

She studied me for a long moment, then reached out, fingers curling around my forearm, grounding and warm. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Then we go, together, and I stay on you like a fly on glue.”

The words settled between us, heavier and more intimate than any vow.

I covered her hand with mine, my thumb pressing into her pulse. “Two days,” I murmured. “And then he’ll be galaxies away from here.”

She nodded, though her eyes didn’t quite believe it—and neither did I.

---

The transport hummed like a held breath as we lifted off, Earth shrinking beneath us into a smear of natural hues. I felt like I was admiring a Boss Ross painting as the speed of the transport blurred the sharp lines into streaks like brushstrokes. I sat strapped into the seat beside Korath, hands folded tight in my lap, spine straight. If anyone was watching, I would look calm and composed.

Yet, inside, I was forging myself into something harder and unbreakable.

The Oceanic Station, what they called OS-W40 over comms, loomed ahead hours later, all glass and steel curves suspended above a restless expanse of dark water. The Eksese loved their symbols, and this one was unmistakable. Control without land, stability without roots.

Korath hadn’t said much since we departed. He stood close when protocol allowed, his presence a steady gravity at my side. He touched me only when no one could see, brief brushes of fingers at my arms, a heavy, unguarded gaze that made my heart thump. Enough to promise his affection, but not enough to satisfy.

It made my nerves sing.

Councilor Jorek would try to unmake me—again. I knew it the way prey knows the shadow of a hawk. He would smile, speak softly, and circle. He would assume I was something to be claimed, passed, and taken.

He was wrong.

Korath didn’t know the full shape of my resolve. He thought he was shielding me, standing between me and danger like a wall of blue-scaled iron and teeth. What he didn’t know was that if Jorek reached for me, I would bear mine. If Jorek wanted me, he would learn quickly that I would break before I bent. That I would die before I submitted.

But with Korath, it was different.

For him, I would kneel without being asked. Not out of fear, not out of ownership, but because I chose him. Because every restrained touch, every careful distance, every look he cut short had wound me tight as a drawn wire. He had touched me, yes. Held me and protected me, but he hadn’t taken me.

Yet.

The station locked onto the transport with a metallic shudder. I felt Korath shift beside me, sensed the predator sharpening behind his stillness. I turned my head just enough to catch his profile, the hard line of his jaw, the controlled violence of him barely leashed. Having first fallen for his mind, now his physical features were becoming more and more attractive by the day.

I reached for his hand and squeezed once.

Whatever waited for us inside the Oceanic Station, Jorek included, would learn something important; I belonged to no one who tried to break me. And the one I chose had no idea just how far I was willing to fight and bend for him.

Moments later, the bay doors peeled open with a hydraulic sigh, and there he was. Councilor Jorek stood at the center of the receiving platform, robes immaculate, posture relaxed in the way only men who never fear consequence can manage. The ocean beyond the glass walls churned dark and restless, waves lapping up the pylons around the station.

“Commander Korath,” Jorek said smoothly, eyes sliding past him to land on me. They lingered too long, and I saw the way Korath shifted a step to the right to block me. “And Lieutenant Serral. Welcome to the Oceanic Station.”

Korath inclined his head, formal, cold. “I felt the heat in him anyway, a restrained violence that made the air around us feel thinner. Serral stood just beside, expression sharp but diplomatic. Malrik’s absence was a weight I noticed more than I expected.

Jorek clapped his hands once. “You’ll both be escorted to your quarters to refresh. The summit begins at 1100 tomorrow, Earth time. Tonight is… informal.” His smile curved. “I trust you’ll find the accommodations suitable.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He never did.

Aides moved in with practiced efficiency, guiding us through gleaming corridors that smelled faintly of salt and sea. The station felt different from our home base; less martial, more indulgent, like everything was designed to make you forget where you were standing.

Our quarters were spacious, all sweeping windows and low, white, elegant furniture anchored to the floor. The ocean filled the view, endless and deep, like the room was just floating on the surface. As soon as the doors sealed, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

But another chime sounded.

An aide entered, rolling in a narrow rack draped with garments, fabrics shimmering softly under the lights. Dresses of every shade swung slightly in place. All of them are exquisite. All of them deliberate.

“A gift from the Councilor,” the aide imparted, eyes fixed carefully on the wall rather than me. “For this evening.” Spinning on their heel, the doors shut behind them, leaving the rack standing like a challenge between us.

I turned slowly to Korath. “Well,” I said lightly, even as my pulse ticked faster. “He certainly has opinions.” I stepped over to the rack, fingering some of the dresses apart. “Gaudy ones.”

Korath’s jaw tightened. “He presumes far too much.”

My hands brushed over silks and metallic weaves that caught the light like water. “Help me choose, then.” I glanced back at him over my shoulder, letting a little warmth bleed into my smile. “Pick one you like.”

His eyes snapped to mine as his hands stopped their unpacking. There it was again, that pause. That moment where the Commander recalculated everything he thought he understood. “You ask dangerous things,” he said quietly.

“I know, but I trust you with any and all dangers.” My words made him growl, but not in the menacing way, rather in the way a cat purrs in satisfaction. It was something I noticed him doing more frequently when I complimented his ego—no, masculinity.

I remembered what he said about female Eksese versus humans, and wondered why such a warrior like him, who had seen multiple worlds, chose me—someone who needs him. And not in the way his people need him to conquer worlds, but in the way females have sought strong males since man’s early days. Suddenly, many things about him made sense…

He approached the rack like it might detonate. One by one, he pushed aside garments, his movements precise, assessing not just color and cut, but implication. Finally, he stilled.

He drew one free.

The dress shimmered softly in his hands, rose gold-hued and asymmetrical, one shoulder bare, the fabric catching the light as if threaded with distant stars. It wasn’t modest, but it wasn’t submissive—it was bold. Power and confidence woven together into something tangibly beautiful.

“This,” he said, voice low. Certain.

I looked at it. Then at him. A slow smile spread across my face. “Good choice, Commander.”

Something eased in his chest at that, just barely. I took the dress from him, our fingers brushing, a spark passing between us that made his breath hitch before he mastered it. Rather than go into the other room to change, I did it right in front of him. You’d think he’d be used to my nakedness by now, but the way his rigid jaw flexed each time he saw me spoke of something deeper churning inside him.

And I had a hunch I knew what it was…

25 The Language of Sex

Maren

I reached for the dress but stopped short, my head swiveling toward him. “You know, we don’t have anything to do for hours.” I walked over towards the windows facing out to the sunset over the Atlantic. There was something freeing in watching the water and fish nude, like a version of being one with nature—with the universe.

A cool presence stood at my back, watching over the view over my shoulder—or I thought so, until I spun and found his head craned down at me. The sharp ridge of his bony crest mirrored the sleek angle of his jet black mohawk. My hands found his torso, feeling my way down the hard planes of his body blind, not breaking eye contact.

Korath let go of a large breath. “Maren, I should not pleasure you here.”

I shook my head. “Not me, us. Mate with me, Kor. Now.” Ever the strategist, his mind went to his calculations, but I grabbed his face, forcing his eyes back to me. “I know what you’re doing, in that head of yours. If you don’t want the Chancilor to touch me, then claim me first. Let me help you feel like the alpha you are. The apex predator. The Supreme Commander.”

Korath was staring at my lips like he wanted to bite them off. Like I poured the rocket fuel and gave him the lit match.

“Let me feel you,” I whispered, fingers grazing the bulge growing in his pants.

His voice was low, like grating gravel, “This isn’t how the mating ritual is done—”

“No, we’re doing it the Maren and Korath way.”

The rule follower he was, raised his eyebrows and crest with them. “And how is that done?”

“Any way we want. Whatever feels good. Whatever feels right.”

And that was it. That was all the permission he needed; his restraint was finally gone as soon as we threw away expectations.

His uniform was gone in a flash, and I guided him toward the bed as he shed the layers. Pushing him down, I climbed on top, kissing him as hard as I could. His claws dug into my sides and waist, but the sting was only translating into the pleasure of being marked.

Pushing away and straddling him, my lips descended down the scaled trail of his chest, finding the chiseled V of his hip,s and sat back to admire him. He looked at me with blazing curiosity, and I knew all I’d have to do was give him a bit of guidance before he took control—and God, I wanted him to.

Korath’s cock was weeping with precum, its ridges glistening temptingly. My hands gripped him—and I needed them both to hold him—pumping and feeling each lip. I bent to the tip slowly, breath hitching, watching his chest heave, and ready to—

“What are you doing?”

“Tasting you.”

He pushed up to his elbows. “Show me.” By his response, I assumed this was a new experience. If Eksese females just lay there during mating, dry and dead as a desert, then it was safe to say they weren’t giving head.

My lips slipped over him, tongue swirling around his tip. Korath choked out a growl and dropped to the bed like he was shot. I chuckled around him before popping off, “You okay, Kor?”

He panted. “Your mouth is a weapon.”

I smiled, taking it as a compliment. “I’ve been told that before, but not in this context.” I sucked him again, watching the rugged, 7-foot Eksese warrior helplessly writhe at my ministrations.

After another minute, fighting through the pleasure, Korath sat up like he was at his wits’ end, and threw me beneath him. “Enough. Your males let you do all the work when you mate?” His brow was drawn tight in disapproval.

“Not always, lots of women like it. I like it.” He growled at my answer, and I slapped him. Not hard, but enough to stun him. “Less talk, more mating.” My legs grappled him closer, and I grabbed a hand, placing it on my breast. He kneaded it, and a moan escaped me when he pinched it.

“Maren, I’m losing control. I think—”

“Don’t think. Do. You won’t hurt me.” Our eyes held each other. “I want you.”

Korath’s instincts kicked in, and he quickly positioned himself at my entrance, looking more like he was going to fight me rather than fuck me. Before he did, he reached up and unlatched my collar, flinging it across the room.

“You make this choice not as my pet, but as my female.” Time stood still. I felt my face flush and lips curve. Even if it was behind closed doors, even our love had to be kept a secret, we’d never let the labels of others define us. “Will you bond with me, Maren?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I’m yours.”

When he pushed in, I felt the stretch. I felt the ridges. I felt him. I threw my head back, gasping his name as he fully seated himself inside me. He stilled and closed his eyes, sharpening the feel of our bodies having connected. Impatient as I was, I slowly rolled my hips like it was a dance, which came as a surprise to him, because again, Eksese females didn’t move during sex.

“You don’t know what that does to me. Seeing you want me.”

Oh, but I was starting to.

His rutting fell into a rhythm of precision, but I didn’t want methodical; I wanted Korath unleashed. I grabbed his face, bringing him down closer, his hips unrelenting. Clinging to him, he sat up with me straddled in his lap. His thrusts slowed to adjust.

“Don’t stop,” I moaned breathily, before planting kisses along his jaw to his ear. I grabbed it with my teeth, making him grunt. Bouncing me in his lap, partially away from him, I found those intense avian eyes trained on me, assessing my game. I smirked back, “What are you gonna do about it, Kor?”

With a growl, his mouth found my jugular, making me arch back with a wicked laugh. I felt his teeth run over me, then sink into the junction of my shoulder. I gasped at the pain and pleasure mixing, knowing that this was exactly what I wanted. My fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him down harder on me, letting him know how I felt about it.

Korath’s hand on my back and ass steadied me as I arch into him, grinding down on him deeper, and hitting that magical spot. My inner walls fluttered, friction building deliciously until stars exploded behind my eyes.

I cried out, and he slowed, pulling away from his feasting on my skin. “No! Don’t stop! Harder!” I was nearly screaming.

Korath placed me back down, freeing his arms to help propel himself into me fast and deep. My orgasm dragged on, as did my praise, until warmth exploded inside me. A strangled roar escaped him, bracing on hand on the headboard as his release wrecked him.

In the quiet that followed, our soft breaths mingling, I watched him as he came back down to Earth. The hand on the headboard retreated with a slight tremble, as his body gave out, flopping down beside me. Our lower bodies were so slick from lovemaking that we just slipped against each other. My hand found his ridged cheeks, making him seemingly jolt back into his body.

That low growl like a purr came out again. “Maren, what in the stars did you do to me?”

I smiled, chuckling. “Did you like it?”

“I felt so connected with you… It was unlike anything I’ve experienced. Like two souls swimming in a sea of light.”

My heart swelled, kissing him deep and long. He could be tough in front of everyone else, but for me, he could explore his emotions. “I felt it too.” I slowly and sorely sat up. The mess we made of ourselves and the sheets was of epic proportions. “We’d better get cleaned up, Kor.”

His lightness faded into something quieter, heavier, as reality seeped back in. Korath stilled, his gaze drifting past me toward the viewport, where the ocean pressed endlessly against the station’s glass. I felt the shift before he spoke it. The Commander was returning, the weight settling back onto his shoulders.

“The Councilor will be expecting us soon,” he said at last, voice steady again, though his thumb traced an absent pattern on my back. Not letting go. Not quite ready to.

“I know,” I answered, wishing we could freeze time right here.

His jaw tightened. “And he will look for weakness.” He sat up, thumbing the place on my shoulder bearing his teeth marks.

I reached up, threading our fingers together. “Then let him choke on it,” I murmured. “Because whatever he thinks he has over us… he doesn’t.”

Something fierce and approving flashed in his eyes. He pressed his forehead to mine, just briefly, as if sealing something unspoken between us. “Stay close to me tonight,” he said. Not a request. A vow.

“Always.”

We cleaned up in companionable quiet, as was our way, the water washing away the evidence but not the charge between us. When we finally parted to dress, it felt less like separation and more like preparation—two people stepping into armor of different kinds.

I emerged moments later, clothed in starlight and resolve. Finding my collar, I placed it back around my neck, finishing the look. “You approve?” I asked softly.

His gaze dragged over me, reverent and restrained all at once. “You are… formidable.”

“And you,” I took in what had to be his decorated military uniform, “look like a true conqueror.” Its sleek black design with cuts of yellow accented his eyes perfectly. His chest was thankfully large enough to hold all of his accommodations and ribbons. “Ready for one last battle, Commander?”

“For you, always.”

26 The Language of Dominance

Maren

If intimidation could be tailored, Korath would be its finest garment.

He stood beside me as we waited for Serral outside the lift, immaculate in his black dress uniform, the yellow accents catching the light every time he moved. Medals and commendations lined his chest like quiet warnings. I’d seen him in armor, seen him soaked in blood and fury, but this version of him felt sharper somehow.

And then there was me.

The dress clung like a second skin, rose-gold and shimmering as if it had been spun from sunset and starlight. One shoulder bare, the fabric draping diagonally across my body in a way that felt deliberate. Exposed, but not vulnerable. When I shifted, the material caught the light and scattered it. I didn’t look like prey tonight. No, I looked claimed beside my Commander as I ran a finger over my collar.

Serral joined us moments later, gliding rather than walking. Her long gown was a deep slate color that faded to black at the hem, her midnight-purple hair swept to one side along the spines of her crest. She assessed us both in a single glance, eyes sharp with professional curiosity.

Then her gaze landed on me, clicking her tongue softly. “Commander,” she said, “should I anticipate another incident this evening, or has your pet decided to behave?”

Korath didn’t look at her. “She will do neither,” he replied coolly. “She will observe.”

My lips curved despite myself. I leaned just slightly into his side, feeling his comfort through the layers. “I’ve already destroyed one command deck,” I added sweetly. “I’m trying not to make a habit of it.”

Serral’s crest flicked, unimpressed. “Let us hope your restraint holds. However, I commend your choice of dress tonight. I’m certain no Eksese could wear that color.” Her clawed, lithe fingers combed through my wavy hair. Even unstyled, it fit the look perfectly.

From my periphery, I could see Korath’s mouth pressing together… If he were human, I might just think he was suppressing a smile. However, it didn’t last when we at last reached our destination and the doors slid open.

The banquet hall was vast, all polished glass and hanging light structures that refracted like prisms. It was the kind of place that made your every move feel seen. Long tables curved through the space, already filling with dignitaries and their aides. They were specialists in their fields, here to discuss the efficient running of Earth. And at the far end, elevated and unmistakable, sat the Councilor’s dais.

And clustered near the right side of the hall, separate but visible, were the human pets. My chest tightened, like being the new kid at school.

Korath’s hand brushed my lower back once, firm and grounding. “Go,” he said quietly. “I will be here, but watching. Always.”

I nodded, then stepped away from him and into a space I hadn’t known existed until now. They noticed me immediately, watching my approach with measured but congenial expressions.

A tall man with sharp features and graying temples straightened first. He was the type who looked like he just came off a Men’s Health magazine cover. “You’re her,” he said, British accent crisp. “Maren Colt. The American cowgirl.”

I replied cautiously. “Who’s asking?”

“James Whitaker,” he said, offering a small, ironic bow. “Former Royal Engineer. Current… ornament of Commander Vyrn.”

A dark-haired man with long hair and a beard beside him snorted. “You make it sound refined,” he said in a thick Turkish accent. He was a large, beast of a man, though with soft brown eyes. “I am Emre Kaya. Vyrn likes to parade me as proof she conquered ‘fighters.’” He glanced at my dress. “You must be very special.”

An Asian woman stepped closer, studying me openly alongside Emre. “Li Na,” she said. “Formerly of Shanghai and pet to Orissa. Did you really take out the Supreme Commander’s control deck?”

“It wasn’t planned, but… it had to be done,” I admitted with a satisfied smile.

Her eyes widened with something like awe. “They talked about you for days, especially when we heard you still lived.”

The African woman, who was last to introduce herself, smiled gently, though her eyes held exhaustion. “Amina Okoye,” she said. “Nigeria. Orissa’s pet… and fashion doll.” She gestured to her clothing, which looked like a hodge-podge of African patterns haphazardly wrapped around her.

“I’ve never met other pets before,” I said honestly. “Korath just keeps me. I didn’t even know—”

“That there were categories?” James supplied. “Assignments? Rotations? They see one of us they like, and we are like toys. Played with until they tire of us. Many of us in the Eastern Hemisphere compete for their attention, for even if it’s temporary, we at least live in luxury for a time.”

“And some of us don’t ‘stay’ long,” Amina added quietly.

I glanced toward the dais. Councilor Jorek hadn’t arrived yet, but his presence already felt like a stain on the room.

“Orissa and Vyrn let theirs live,” Emre said under his breath. “They get bored, but not cruel.”

“And Jorek?” I asked.

The group exchanged looks. Li Na lowered her voice. “Jorek’s pets disappear.” My stomach dropped. “No reassignment. No transfer. Just… gone.”

Amina’s fingers tightened in the fabric of her gown. “You hear them scream. Beg. That’s the worst part.”

I swallowed hard and looked back across the room. Korath stood exactly where he’d said he would, posture unyielding, eyes already scanning the hall like a battlefield. When his gaze found mine, something unspoken passed between us. Possession, yes—but also stout vigilance.

Emre followed my line of sight and let out a low whistle. “That’s him, then. The conqueror of planets.”

“Yes,” I said, quietly but firmly. “That’s him. Korath.”

Li Na flipped her long black hair over her shoulder. “He’s the largest one I’ve seen. Quite handsome too, as far as Eksese go.”

James tilted his head. “And he hasn’t disposed of you for a time or threatened to?”

“No,” I whispered, feeling the ache tightening between my legs where he had just been. “He hasn’t.” As much as I’d love to tell them the whole truth of it, I wasn’t sure I could trust them. They could turn around and trade our secrets for a few more days in luxury.

Amina studied my face, then smiled faintly. “Then perhaps you are not just a pet after all.” I had the sinking feeling that tonight, everyone in this room was about to learn exactly how dangerous belonging to Korath truly was.

Before I could answer, the lights dimmed slightly. A hush rolled through the hall like a held breath. Councilor Jorek had arrived.

The Councilor entered from the upper dais with the confidence of a man who had never once been denied anything he wanted. His robes shimmered in layered golds and greens, heavy with wealth and status. His pale metallic eyes swept the hall slowly, indulgently, cataloging bodies the way a collector might appraise artifacts.

When his gaze landed on the human cluster, it lingered.

On me.

My spine went rigid, muscles tensing like waiting for the first hit in a fight.

“Easy,” Emre murmured beside me, not looking away from his drink. “He likes fear. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

I spoke by moving my lips. “He’ll get none from me.” I looked away, but not before seeing Jorek smile. It was the same smile I remembered. Thin. Knowing. As if he’d never stopped thinking about me since the last time we’d stood in the same room. My eyes landed on Korath then, menacingly watching the display like he was the one about to cause an incident like Serral warned me about.

He raised a hand, and the low murmur of the banquet faded into silence.

“Esteemed commanders and dignitaries,” he began, voice smooth and resonant, amplified just enough to command attention. His eyes flicked, deliberately, over to the cluster of pets. “And our most… fascinating acquisitions.”

A ripple of unease moved through us.

“I trust you all are enjoying our new planet,” he continued. “Earth has proven more… resilient than anticipated. A quality I admire.”

Korath hadn’t moved, but I felt him watching; I felt the invisible bond stretching between us. I resisted the urge to turn toward him, to seek his reassurance, because tonight, I needed to stand with him, not behind him.

Jorek descended the dais steps at an unhurried pace, stopping to exchange pleasantries with the two commanders and Princess Orianna. He then moved to the dignitaries—those lower in the Eksese pecking order, yet still above the aides. They sought Jorek’s attention, letting his hand linger too long on their shoulders and conversing long enough to seem familiar.

Then he reached us, the ones wishing to avoid his attention.

“Ah,” he said softly, stopping just short of my group. “Maren, famed pet of our beloved Supreme Commander.”

James and Li Na stiffened. Emre swore under his breath in his native tongue. Amina’s hand brushed mine briefly, a silent show of solidarity.

I stepped forward before anyone else could, feeling more emboldened by my fellow human’s words that I was special—albeit foolish.

“Councilor,” I said, dipping my head just enough to be respectful without submitting.

His brows rose slightly. “How refreshing. Most pets struggle to speak in my presence.” His gaze traveled over me openly, lingering on the bare line of my shoulder, the shimmer of the dress. “You look radiant. I have excellent taste.”

“The Commander does,” I replied evenly, “He chose it for me.”

Something sharp flashed in his eyes. “Tell me,” Jorek continued, circling slowly, making the other move back, “do you enjoy your arrangement?”

I met his gaze. “I enjoy surviving.” Again, I felt the urge to rub it in his face how Korath claimed me hours ago. How we were bonded, and there wasn’t a fucking thing he could do about it.

A soft laugh escaped him. “Honest. I appreciate that.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You’ve caused quite a stir, little human. I hear you inspire… loyalty.” His sharp nose twitched, and his eyes narrowed. “You smell of him,” the words were low and venomous.

Before I could answer, a shadow fell across us.

Korath stepped in.

“Councilor,” he said calmly, his presence immediate and overwhelming. “Your guests desire your attention.”

Jorek straightened, clearly displeased at the interruption. Even as powerful as he was, Korath’s stature couldn’t be matched; the lethality coursing through him with every scar, and his augmented shoulder thrummed with challenge tonight. No doubt, he’d much rather settle things with Jorek using brute force, but Jorek occupied a different battlefield.

“Commander Korath. Always so vigilant.” His smile sharpened. “I was merely reacquainting myself with your pet.”

Korath’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “You treat pets like they’re your guests. How progressive.”

“No,” Jorek found the jab amusing. “But she is part of tonight.”

His gaze flicked to me one last time. “Enjoy the evening, Maren.” He turned and moved away, the crowd parting before engulfing him.

Only when he was gone did I realize my hands were shaking.

Korath didn’t touch me, but his voice, when he spoke, was low and unmistakably dangerous. “Stay with the others. Do not wander.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” I said, with a wan smile.

His eyes searched my face, something fierce and protective burning behind them. “Good.”

As he turned to rejoin Vyrn and Serral, I caught Amina watching him with new understanding. “He looks at you like the universe would collapse if you were taken from him,” she murmured.

I swallowed, my pulse still racing. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Across the hall, Jorek raised his glass, his gaze locking with mine once more. And in that moment, I knew this dinner was about more than diplomacy. It was a test.

And no more than a minute later, an Eksese attendant approached us, posture rigid, eyes sharp. “Pets,” she said coolly. “You will serve drinks. The Councilor’s guests require refreshment.” The words landed like a slap.

I felt the others tense, instinctively starting forward, but I stayed rooted in place.

“No.” I met the female’s stare unblinkingly. My voice cut through the space between us, steady and clear.

Every head in the immediate vicinity turned.

The attendant’s eyes narrowed. “You will obey, human.”

I took one step forward, lifting my chin. “I do not take orders from the Councilor. Or his aides. I answer only to Commander Korath.”

The other pets froze completely. I could feel their fear like static against my skin, and I couldn’t blame them. They didn’t want to be associated with a troublemaker like me.

James mumbled at my back, “Easy, cowgirl.”

The aide’s hand lifted with clear intent.

“I would reconsider—”

She swung, I didn’t flinch, but a large steel-blue hand caught the aide’s wrist. “Enough.” Korath’s voice cracked through the chamber like thunder. The aide recoiled as if he had shocked her. Korath didn’t care or even bother to look at her, releasing her and placing himself between us. His gaze was on me now, bright and unreadable. One word left his mouth, calm and absolute. “Come.”

I didn’t hesitate, I just followed him across the room. He didn’t reach for me, nor did he need to. I turned and stood behind his chair, hands clasped loosely, spine straight.

Jorek watched us with open interest, a slow smile curving his mouth. He did it purposely. He wanted to force Korath’s literal hand publicly, thinking he’d outmaneuver him into showing neutrality when it came to me.

Well, we were ready for this.

Korath joined some dignitaries at a table discussing Earth’s flora and fauna. He sat and motioned for me to the arm of his chair. I didn’t question; I just followed his command, knowing just how many eyes were on us. Perched at his side, a plate was brought to him, and he began to eat while conversations started back up around the room.

I glanced over at the other humans, giving a wink and enjoying watching them hide their shit-eating grins.

“Maren,” my mate handed me a piece of what looked like bread with Sholta meat and gravy smothered on it. I took it daintily, making sure I didn’t drip any on my dress. Kornth turned back to the conversation, “Maren of Earth has lived and worked on a ranch. If you have questions, I’m sure she’d agree to answer them.”

I continued to eat, trying to ignore their stares. Korath had thrown a gauntlet down in my name. It was a huge risk…

A male with a spiked crest and teal skin cleared his throat. “I’m curious, Maren of Earth, about the feasibility of potentially mass-producing Earth’s livestock for Ekse…”

I sighed at the question, looking to my mate, who simply raised his eyebrows as if saying ‘well?’ And just like that, I was invited—finally—to break that first public cultural barrier. And even as we made progress on that front, the cold eyes of Jorek were still on us, and the evening was far from over.

27 The Language of Victory

Maren

The room had settled into that dangerous lull where the drinks’ effects were in full force, and power forgot to whisper. Apparently, the Eksese version of drunk was them loosening up from their stoic, logical nature—and honestly, it was a bit of an improvement for most of them.

Korath hadn’t been drinking unless social etiquette dictated it in order to stay sharp, but he didn’t need to be tipsy to cozy up to me. His hand openly rested at the small of my back, helping to steady me on the arm of his chair as our discussion with the scientists continued. I was able to speak on several questions they had, but I was a former ranch hand, not an industry expert.

Councilor Jorek lifted his glass, eyes cutting through the gathered bodies until they found me. His gaze lingered, slow and proprietary, as he’d already decided how tonight would end. When he interrupted our discussion, the Eksese bowed their heads, and I turned into my mate—not from fear, but the desire not to engage with him.

“Commander, I’d like you both to join me in the adjoining room. The Princesses will be joining us with their pets.” Jorek kept gliding past, his suffocating cologne and presence following him out of the hall.

I whispered to Korath, “Whatever he’s planning, he doesn’t want a big audience this time.”

The Commander growled in agreement. “He’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants.”

“Kor,” our eyes met with shared concern, “you need to trust me on this. I think Jorek needs some human-style rejection. I need to show him what he wants he’ll never get from me.”

“How?”

“I won’t know until we get in there, but when I start, just… follow my lead.”

His lip curled slightly. “I don’t like this.”

In that moment, I wanted to kiss him in reassurance, but I could only squeeze his solid arm. Then I leaned closer. “I know, trust me as your mate then.”

At that, his breathing pattern changed, and upon separating, the tactical Commander’s mask was in place, and we were walking toward the side room. The guards outside let us pass, and the doors opened to a darker chamber softened my silks and drapes. Only the ceiling was open to the heavens, dotted with stars and the occasional patrol ship.

The others were already lounging and conversing, but stopped once we entered. The Eksese were spread across lavish furniture, while the humans were seated on a large pile of floor pillows. Orissa was scantily clad, having Li Na massage her long, slender limbs. Emre was seated in front of Vyrn as she petted his head, her fingers threading through his dark, long locks.

“Korath, good to finally be able to speak with you without your adoring fans out there,” Vyrn stated with a hardly-there smile.

My mate moved to the one empty seat, a chaise lounge-looking chair, while I fell in with the other two pets. They gave me knowing looks and nods as I settled into the pillows with them.

“Actually, Vyrn,” he answered, “we were having an interesting discussion about mass producing Earth’s native proteins for—”

“Are you ever not working?” The sisters laughed airily between themselves. Vyen leaned down toward Emre, humming as she looked him over. “I wonder if he even knows how to use his pet?”

Orissa chimed in, “Perhaps, we ask it.” I straightened as the princess addressed me. “You there, pet, does your master leave time for leisure?”

I bowed my head respectfully. “Very little, but…” I glanced at Korath, whose eyes narrowed slightly. “He enjoys when I cook and experiment with mixing Eksese and human dishes.”

The room looked to him, and cool as ever, the Commander shrugged slightly. “Ask any warrior, the first thing we often miss from home is the cooking. Maren is an adequate cook.”

“Adequate? I find it hard to think the great Commander would choose anything but the best.” Jorek crooked a finger at me. “Come,” he said mildly. “Let us see if the Commander’s pet remembers how to obey.”

The word pet landed harder that time. Around me, the other humans went still. No one breathed.

I didn’t obey. Instead, I turned my head, but not toward Jorek, but toward Korath. It was a small motion, but it carried everything. A question. A trust. A choice.

Korath didn’t look at me right away. His attention stayed fixed on Jorek, yellow eyes bright as cut metal. When he finally spoke, his voice rolled through the hall, deep and unhurried. “She obeys one, and Maren does not move, unless I ask.”

A ripple passed through the room, as everyone began to wonder which form this duel was about to take: words or fists. However, I saw it for what it was: Korath was the star of Ekse for his service, and Jorek was the one who took from him to feel powerful, like a schoolyard bully. He wanted Korath to be his bitch, and show everyone the conqueror of worlds yielded to him.

Jorek laughed, sharp and humorless. “You allow a human to decide?”

I closed the distance until my shoulder brushed Korath’s arm, until the figurative heat of him soaked into me. I felt his hand come down on my back, firm, anchoring, unmistakably possessive.

“No,” I said, my voice steady despite the way my pulse thundered. “I obey for him.”

For the first time that night, Jorek’s smile faltered. Commander Vyrn’s attention sharpened, and Princess Orissa’s lips curved, intrigued, as the moment stretched, taut as a wire.

Jorek recovered quickly—he always did. He took a measured sip of his drink, eyes never leaving me. “Then perhaps,” he said smoothly, “you will grant me a private audience before I depart as a courtesy. One last look at the human who caused so much… disruption and curiosity amongst her betters.” The words were polished and reasonable—a command dressed as civility.

Before I could speak, Korath pulled me down to whisper, “This is the part where I trust you.”

Trust between an Eksese and a human.

My heart swelled, and I felt as though the stars had aligned in that moment, showing me that we were meant to be. I pulled back slowly and gave a nod, stepping away as if he had given an order. Korath’s eagle eyes were zeroed in on the Councilor, a primal violence shining in them.

Jorek was standing, ready to guide me further into the room. A heavy curtain fell behind us, and Jorek pressed something on the gauntlet he was wearing. “This is so the others can’t hear us. We wouldn’t want to be interrupted, now, would we?”

“I hope, Councilor, you don’t mind if I speak freely?”

“Not at all. In fact, why don’t you treat me as you do your Commander.” I snorted out a laugh. “Something amusing?”

“You are not Korath. You’ll never be like Korath.”

The words made him freeze as they sank in. Then he smiled wickedly, sitting on a long bench that curved around the small space. “Protective, aren’t we. Once would think there is something more than master and pet between you.” He stared at me for a few more beats, seemingly learning more than I was willing to share. “I thought so. Come, I don’t mind my humans broken in.” His hands fanned his robes out to showcase the long ridgeline just beneath his thick belt.

It also revealed an elegant dagger sheathed on his right.

Bile rose in my throat, but I stepped closer anyway, every movement measured. The dagger gleamed like an invitation. Jorek watched me with open amusement, certain of the ending.

I reached him, climbing into his lap and holding his eyes, pretending to obey. All the while, my fingers brushed the hilt at his side, light as a lover’s touch. His attention flicked down for a heartbeat, but that was all I needed.

The blade slid free in a whisper of metal. I turned it on him in one smooth motion, the point hovering just beneath the soft ridge of his jaw. Close enough that he stilled. Close enough that he felt it. For one perfect second, silence held.

Then Jorek laughed, rich and indulgent. “If you think killing me will free you,” he said mildly, his ornate crests shaking like a buck’s antlers, “you are even more naïve than you look. You would not survive the attempt.”

“I know,” I answered, voice empty of emotion and full of intent. His laughter faltered as I reversed the dagger, pressing it to my own throat. The edge kissed skin, cold and honest. I felt my pulse leap against it, like a bucking bronco. “I would rather die than let you use me to hurt him.”

Jorek’s eyes narrowed, like his mind was trying to catch up to my game. “Dramatic,” he drawled. “You think that threat moves me?”

“I don’t bend for you,” I went on, voice unwavering now. “I bend for Korath. Only him. And if you try to take me, there is no breaking, no parading me about. There is only this.” I pressed just enough to make the point unmistakable, and a warm, thick drop of blood fell, catching on my collarbone.

For the first time, he looked uncertain.

“Do it, then,” Jorek snapped, irritation flashing through his composure. “Kill yourself. You think your Commander will thank you for it?”

I smiled, not pretty, but like a cat who caught the canary. “No, but he will avenge me.”

That landed like a nuclear bomb.

“He will tear this station apart,” I continued quietly. “My mate has conquered five planets, Councilor. I was on the receiving end of his wrath once, and let me tell you, he does not forgive losses. Imagine what he’d do for his mate.”

“You presume much.”

“I know exactly what I’m worth to him,” my voice steadied, and I stood back, not wanting to feel him beneath me any longer. “And what you’ve just given him.”

His gaze sharpened, wrapping his robes back around him like glittering armor. “Explain.”

“You handed Korath a planet,” I smirked. “Complete with a hardened army loyal to him. If you think Ekse will protect you from a Commander of his ilk with Earth at his back, you are the one presuming too much.”

The room felt smaller, like the air was being sucked out. Jorek studied me for a long moment, calculation stripping the last of his indulgence. When he spoke again, his voice was colder. “Did the Commander put you up to this?”

“He has no idea what I’m saying to you, nor will he,” I replied, lowering the dagger at last, but not offering it back. “If you leave us be. Indefinitely. Korath’s loyalty has never wavered, so go back Ekse with your reputation, ships full of resources, and stories of victories. We’ll be here, validating them.”

Silence stretched. Then, with clear and brutal reluctance, Jorek inclined his head a fraction. Not a bow, but a concession. “Very well,” he growled. “Keep your beloved Commander. One insignificant human isn’t worth a civil war.”

I took a slow, deep breath in partial shock that my ploy worked. I knew Korath’s abilities were legendary, but now I knew how well-founded they were, seeing Jorek’s reaction to a threat of a civil war. My mate was a force in the universe, and he was tasked with safeguarding his people; he trusted me to safeguard him.

I bent down close to the Councilor again with a sly smile as I reached around him for the dagger sheath, taking it from him. Driving the dagger home where it belonged, my hands remaining steady despite the echoing thunder in my chest. I shook it between us, giving him a wink. “Thank you for the gift, Councilor. Next time, I’ll be careful not to cut myself.”

His stare went flat, but full of annoyance. “Yes, clumsy human. Now, leave me.”

I strode to the curtain, spinning back. “Remember this moment,” I told him softly. “Because next time, I won’t come alone.” I turned and left him there in the quiet he’d thought he controlled.

For the first time since Earth fell, I knew something had finally been taken back.

28 The Language of Possession

Korath

The moment Maren emerged from her audience with the Councilor, and I saw the streak of red crawling down her neck, my body felt like a weapon. I shot up from my seat, on a collision course with Jorek.

Perceptive as always, Maren cut me off before I could get around her. Her hand tugged hard on my jacket, garnering my attention. “You didn’t tell me your Eksese knives were balanced differently. Look, I cut myself trying to show off.” Her laughter was too airy to be genuine, but I had promised to follow her lead. “The Councilor was generous enough to gift me this knife to remember him by.”

The blade carried status and the Empress’s favor. My eyes narrowed in question on my mate, for Jorek would never part with it willingly.

“That is… incredibly generous of you, Councilor. Isn’t that the gift from my mother, the Empress, for your 100 years of service?” Vyrn asked what the rest of us were thinking.

Jorek stepped over to his former seat, leaning an arm on the back of the seat. “It is,” he stated flatly with his lips pressed into a line.

The veiled words smelt like restraint, and every instinct in me wanted blood.

I slid an arm around Maren’s waist, not gently, not for show. Possession is a language my people understand instinctively, and I spoke it fluently now having someone to protect. I drew her closer until her body fit the hard line of mine, until anyone watching could feel the boundary she stood behind.

“Careful,” I murmured, lowering my head just enough that my breath brushed her ear. “Eksese blades are honed for balance and intent. They punish with certainty. It is fortunate you only just broke skin.”

Her fingers curled onto my sleeve. A silent thank you, I answered with pressure, grounding her against me.

Jorek’s eyes lingered on the knife in her hand, then climbed her throat, the thin red line already beginning to dry. I catalogued every fraction of his attention like targets on a scope, resorting to shielding her with my body from him.

Vyrn’s gaze sharpened, also sensing the tension between us males. However, Orissa’s crest lifted a notch, like she was waiting for more. Jorek may have the status, but he was soft from his life of privilege. Only his word and the war I’d bring upon myself and Maren were keeping my violent urges at bay.

“You honor me, Commander,” Jorek said lightly—too lightly—as I turned slightly back to him. “Allowing your human to keep such a… relic.” His shifty metallic green eyes locked on her, peering around me. “When you gaze upon it, pet, let it remind you of me. Perhaps, if we meet again, you will be more proficient with it.”

A ripple moved through the room. It wasn’t an outright challenge, and judging by the razor-sharp glares they volleyed back and forth, there was a secondary meaning behind them.

Maren tilted her head up at me, playing her part flawlessly. “I did tell him I’d rather learn properly than embarrass myself, and you, again.”

I looked down at her, let my hand slide from her waist to the back of her neck, thumb brushing deliberately over the place where the blade had kissed skin. My touch was careful and reverent, yet furious beneath the surface. As my fingers trailed to the other side to inspect that there was nothing I had missed, my fingers tugged at the fabric, revealing where I had marked her with my teeth.

The memory and reassurance lingered for a moment before I returned to the present—as did the stares when I made no move to hide it. “You will,” I said, covering the healing skin with her shimmering dress. “I’ll teach you myself.”

Jorek’s smile thinned. “I’m sure she appreciates such… attention.”

“She does,” Maren replied before I could answer, her eyes never leaving mine while leaning into me with casual intimacy.

I let my grip tighten just enough to be unmistakable. “She does,” I echoed.

Silence fell, thick as gravity, as we closed ranks together. Maren and I were as one, reacting accordingly and unapologetically to Jorek’s taunts. I had thought such admittance and show of affection would be our undoing, but my strategy was being proved wrong. Each retort only proved that she and I were as resilient as an energy shield. Stronger together in body and mind.

Vyrn’s gaze flicked between us, something like approval glinting there. “For as long as I’ve known him, Korath has always been decisive,” she observed smoothly. “Earth will benefit from that. My mother can rest easy that her colony here will allow our people to thrive. I will tell her this myself when I finally return home.”

Jorek straightened, adjusting his robes. “Of course, as his continued cooperation with directives from Ekse will make it so none need to suffer.” His eyes never left Maren, and mine never left him.

Something transpired between the two of them, and Maren emerged with the lone evidence of it, scored on her neck.

“I’m committed, Councilor, as I have always been.”

“Excellent, then perhaps I’ll finally be able to settle down on Ekse for good with our new planet, and its inhabitants, in good hands. I miss civilization, and its comforts.” Jorek partially directed it at Orissa, who nodded in full agreement. “I should check on the others. I will return.” Striding out like his pride had been wounded and needed mending, the other room welcomed his emergence with the gusto we lacked.

As the gathering resumed around us with the princesses looking to their humans, I bent my head again, voice pitched for her alone, “You are trembling.”

“Adrenaline,” she replied, steady despite it all. “I’m fine now.”

“You are not,” I corrected, lightly tapping her cut.

Her head swiveled up to me. “I really did do it myself, but I believe the Councilor got the point. He’s come to the realization that there is nothing here for him.” Maren’s smile was mischievous, her hands trailing down my chest and disappearing between our bodies.

I guided her back to my seat, but made her sit with me, not willing to allow her to be more than an arm’s length away now. Maren leaned into my side as if I were a giant pillow, with her legs tucked up and fingers playing with the accommodations on my uniform.

One of the humans approached with a tray of food for us to pick at. His eyes were trained on her, though, like he wanted her attention.

“Speak, if you must,” I mumbled, surprising them both.

“Kor, this is James.”

The man nodded respectfully at her introduction. “An honor, Commander.”

I held a hand up at the unnecessary praise. “You wish to speak to Maren?” He nodded. “Then do so freely, if she wishes it.”

With a smile, she sat up straighter and turned to the human male. “What is it, James?”

His eyes darted from Maren to me, his heart rate elevated. James swallowed past his hesitation, “I just wanted to say… you’re lucky, Maren.” The man’s despair showed through his eyes in the way Maren’s used to.

She held his gaze for a long moment, and I looked away, feeling like I was intruding on a sacred rite. Her hand reached out with a gentle touch and even softer voice, “James, there is always hope.” He nodded with a wan smile before walking off, leaving us alone. She watched him for another quiet minute, then peered softly up at me. “Thank you for giving me hope.”

The simple phrase made my heart beat harder. I didn’t need to ask her what she meant, for I knew.

“Thank you, Maren, for making me understand.”

Her warmth crashed into me like the waves around us. Her hands held onto me, hearing everything I left unsaid. I pressed my forehead to hers, our noses nudging and eyes blazing with that newfound fire between us. If the others were watching, I was unaware and uncaring.

Turning her head to press her cheek to mine, she whispered in my ear, “I want to mate.”

“Again?” She bit my ear in response, and I growled, unused to being wanted by such a sensual creature. “My quarters,” I added, already getting up. “Now. Before I forget myself.”

Her fingers laced with mine as we moved, the knife secure at her side, the room instinctively hushing around us.

Let them watch.

Let Jorek remember.

---

My body felt like a ticking bomb primed and ready to explode by the time we reached our quarters. Maren closed the door, leaning against it with that smirk that said she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

My mate unsheathed her prize dagger, smoothly cutting through the air between us. “Shall I show you how well I can actually use this?” Something beautiful and dangerous crackled in those brown, earthen eyes. Maren tossed and flipped the dagger, catching it with ease.

A low growl left me, and I subconsciously removed my suit jacket and shirt. If my human wanted to fight, I’d not let her get close to dominating me. I was her protector. Her male. I’d not give her a reason to doubt my strength.

“Will you use it as you did on the Councilor?”

She chuckled, shaking her brown locks about. “I only took the knife from him. I turned the blade on myself, Kor.”

“Why?” The word shot out harsher than I intended.

“Jorek needed to know he could never have me. That I’d die before he could. That I won’t bend for him, only you.”

I stared long and hard at her. “You told him that?”

Nodding, that spark of mischief ignited again. “Among other threats.” Maren slowly sauntered toward me, running her fingers over the blade. “I mostly spoke of your strength and how he couldn’t compare. I think I made him feel… inadequate.”

Maren didn’t stop when she reached me. She circled, slow and deliberate, like she was assessing a weapon she already knew how to wield.

“And it was true,” she continued softly, voice lowering, warming. “Everything I said about you.” The dagger traced the air near my chest, never touching, but I felt it anyway. “Your presence alone silences rooms. You don’t have to posture or threaten. You decide, and the universe adjusts.”

My breath thickened. My instincts strained against restraint and the pressure surging low.

She lifted her gaze to mine, unafraid, reverent in a way that had nothing to do with submission. “Jorek wears power like a costume,” she stated unapologetically. “You wear it like skin. Like it was carved into you by war and choice.”

Her free hand slid over my shoulder, down my arm, fingers splaying over muscle she knew well now. “You stand there,” she murmured, “and every part of you says mine to protect, mine to command, mine to take. He couldn’t touch that. He couldn’t even understand it.”

The dagger lowered, forgotten, but I caught the handle.

“You think I didn’t notice?” she went on, stepping closer until there was no space left to breathe without tasting her. “The way the room bends around you. The way you hold yourself, like you could tear the world in half but choose not to.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “That kind of masculinity isn’t loud, it’s inevitable.”

My control frayed quickly, tightening my grip on the blade. “If you continue,” I warned, my voice rough, unsteady, “I will not stop myself.”

Her smile was slow. Knowing. Triumphant.

“Good,” she purred. “Because I didn’t say those things to scare him, Kor.” She leaned in, lips brushing my jaw, close enough to scorch. “I said them because they’re true and I wanted you to hear them.”

The tension snapped tight between us, humming and alive. With expert precision, I sliced the dress off her. Maren gasped when I ripped the rest off her. Her milky, perky breast bobbed and hardened, now exposed. She jumped into my arms, and I sat us on the bed, which had had its sheets changed in our absence.

Her mouth was on mine before I knew it, pressing and grinding our clothed sexes together, but I was unwilling to allow her to lead this time. Not after all she said.

My hand came up on her throat, pushing her down on the bed beneath me. I quickly threw the collar and her undergarments away, holding her down where I wanted her. Naked now, the smell of her arousal infiltrated my senses, calling me to it.

I lowered my head, my mouth opening, salivating… but I paused. My eyes flickered up to hers in question.

I had never done this before, never wanted to until now. But if she could put her mouth on me—

“Go on.” My mate’s words gripped me. “Taste me.”

29 The Language of Love

Korath

My hands found her firm bottom and lifted her a few feet to my mouth. She arched and moaned melodically when I speared her with my tongue. I devoured her like a Sholta at the vat, completely overtaken by her sweet juices. The tip of my long, pointed tongue explored her womb, making her cry out and pull at the sheets—which by now I knew was a good sign.

When I was satisfied having tasted her, I cleaned her entrance… and she writhed and twitched violently.

“Fuck! Oh, my—” A sweet, tangy gush of Maren filled my mouth as she screamed out in pleasure. “—God!”

Something entirely primal came over me. “Not God. Me.”

She smiled through her ecstasy as I went for the bud of nerves that I found. “Korath,” she gasped, then chanted my name, half-moan, half-scream. Her fingers dug into hair, hips rolling. I studied the way she reacted and found the spot, flicking and sucking it, until she appeared to have zero control of her body.

The tension within her surged and then released again. “Fuck!” her cry was broken, but never defeated. She pushed my head away, gasping for air. “You’re unfairly good at that for your first time,” her praise was broken by her pants.

“It’s easy when you like everything I do to you.” A fact I cherished, and pulsed testosterone through me with a vengeance. Her want was a drug I was already addicted to.

Maren laughed lightly, leveling me with a sly grin. “Cocky much, Kor? Well, I guess I’ll have to resist you better.”

When she sat up, her limbs were trembling faintly, and her eyes were heavy. She crawled over to where I knelt on the bed, using her hand to pull herself up my body. She didn’t speak, but stared into my eyes as deeply as her breaths were now coming.

The fasteners clinked open as her hands rubbed me through my pants. Soft, warm hands met slickness, massaging my shaft and balls. A low sound echoed from my chest, making me briefly close my eyes. My cock ached for her, to be buried in her heat, connecting with her on a deeper level.

As soon as she unleashed me, I grabbed for her, but she spun, turning her back to me. “You dare turn your back on me?”

Maren looked back over her shoulder, hiding that smirk of hers, “What ever will you do with your disobedient mate?” she sassed.

I lunged at the challenge, and she tried to crawl away up toward the headboard, but I caught her, pulling her back against my front. Maren shivered like she always did when my cool skin met hers—though it was always unclear whether it was the temperature or my presence. Her arms grabbed my head, pulling me into a kiss, pushing herself back at me.

When she bit my lip, I growled, shoving her forward. Maren caught herself, the pink of her heat now splayed before me on her hands and knees. Instincts took hold, and I surged forward, rolling my pelvis into her.

“I will do what I was made for.” Her breath hitched as I came to dock inside her, stretching her around me. I bent over her back, close to her ear, “Conquer.”

I set off at a punishing pace, accelerating thrusts into her until all she could do was open her mouth in a soundless scream. Maren’s hands held the headboard like it was her only tether on Earth—and she was mine. The heat of her skin created an aura, trickles of sweat trailing down her back.

I grabbed her hair and spun her, bringing her face-to-face with me. “Do you surrender?”

My mate’s breath was hot, fanning my chin, and her eyes blinked lazily in a haze of pleasure. A smile curled on her lips, and she licked them, like she was made for this—for me. “What are your terms, Commander?”

“Unconditional.”

That grin turned wicked. “No.” Her hands circled my neck, and she pressed her breasts into me. She knew how to push me—knew what I wanted to hear.

A growl escaped me in response to her challenge. I gripped her throat with authority, not cruelty, bending her back flat on the bed. Her limbs were already trembling, and her back arched when I penetrated her once more.

“You enjoy provoking me.”

“I enjoy unleashing you. Being claimed by you, even when everyone says we shouldn’t be together.”

Stars above, the way she spoke and how her body responded to my every touch was driving me to surrender. Not the battlefield kind, but the kind that rewires a man forever. I slowed my thrusts to a reverent pace, capturing those rich brown eyes of hers. Something shifted between us, subtle and immense, like a constellation realigning.

The words came without permission, carved straight from truth. “I’ve been to other galaxies, have met over a dozen species, but none has sought to connect with me as you did. You stepped across lines your kind fears, and you did it without asking me to change.”

Her expression softened, wonder blooming there. “Kor…”

I continued, unashamed, “Maren, you make my chest feel heavy and tight. You consume my thoughts, and when we mate, the universe falls away. Nothing else matters than being here with you.”

A small, twinkling tear fell from her eye. “T-that’s what we humans call love.” The word felt fragile and sacred in a half-whisper.

“Then,” I said simply, reverently, “I must love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, as a vow whispered across impossible distance.

She moved with slow intention, her hands tracing my chest, over scars earned in service to causes that suddenly felt… smaller. Her touch lit my augmented shoulder, the glow a quiet confession of how deeply she affected me. She drew me down to her lips, not hurried, not desperate, but achingly gentle.

Just before our mouths met, she whispered, “Make love to me, Korath. Not as a commander or a weapon.” Her forehead rested against mine. “Just Kor.”

For the first time, duty loosened its grip; Love outweighed allegiance, and against all odds written into the cosmos, I was not alone.

The inferno between us simmered, but the instinctual need to mark, scent, and fill her was ever present. Maren’s moans were soft and lulling, but her hands were everywhere, raking down my muscles. Tension—not the unpleasant kind—grew everywhere, and I growled like a beast resisting yielding to my mate.

Maren gasped, that flutter in her muscles warning me of the coming eruption. And I was right there with her, waiting for her to smother my cock.

She cried out wantonly, and I couldn’t help but mark her, moving to bite her unmarked shoulder. Maren gasped in surprise, but as before, pressed my teeth against her harder, like she knew I needed it. Seconds later, I was pushing up with a roar as I spilled into her. Each jolting thrust overflowed her womb with my seed, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t savoring the sight.

I watched her in a timeless moment, spread beneath me. Her skin was flushed, breasts still pert, and her newest mark was bruising already.

“W-what?” My mate smirked at me, completely spent. Her chestnut locks splayed about the sheets wildly.

“I enjoy the sight of you so claimed.”

“I enjoy being claimed by my mate.”

I gathered her close, drawing her against my chest where my heart still thundered with newfound love. I didn’t feel weak for it, as I was conditioned to think, but empowered. I felt blood coursing through me and the certainty that no matter what, Maren would be by my side. Outside these walls waited enemies and duties sharpened like blades, ever watching for me to make a mistake. But here, in the quiet aftermath, none of that could touch us.

Let the galaxy remember me as a conqueror. Let history carve my name into monuments.

But in her arms, I was simply Korath, and I was home.

---

Maren

The next day dawned bright over the station, a sign of hope from the celestial heart of our solar system. I stood with the other pets as the summit convened, our line set slightly apart from the central dais. Close enough to witness history, far enough to keep appearances intact despite the hidden evidence on my body—for which I was grateful, the summit attire was business, wearing my altered uniform.

Jorek would never be allowed the satisfaction of seeing how closely Korath and I were bound, not here, not in public. The Councilor stood at the center, his posture rigid, his expression carved from obligation and restraint. Every line of his spoke of concession.

“By decree of the Empress,” he announced, voice amplified and cool, “and by my authority as Councilor, command of Earth and its allied defensive forces is hereby transferred to Korath, Supreme Commander of Earth.”

A low, thunderous resonance rolled through the chamber, a ritual acknowledgment that vibrated through the floor and into my bones.

Korath stepped forward.

Even from where I stood, flanked by James and Emre, with Li Na and Amina just behind me, his presence dominated the room. I had seen him in battle, ruthless and incandescent with purpose, but this was something else entirely. He stood tall, shoulders squared, black uniform immaculate, yellow accents catching the light like a fallen star.

When Jorek placed the sigil of command onto Korath’s uniform, I watched him pat his fingers on it with calm certainty. No triumph. No gloating. Just acceptance.

Earth was his now.

Our planet. Our people. Our future.

Korath turned to address the assembled military and diplomatic staff, his voice carrying effortlessly. “Earth will not be ruled through terror,” he said. “It will be defended through strength, cooperation, and loyalty earned. I expect discipline. I demand honor. And I will give my life to this command if it is required. The planet has enough resources to sustain our people for a thousand years if we manage it properly and protect it fiercely.”

A ripple moved through the chamber of approval, awe, and belief.

My chest ached with it. That is my mate, I thought.

As new officers stepped forward to receive their assignments, Korath moved among them with decisive grace, already shaping the future with clipped orders and measured authority. They listened and trusted him, ready to serve him.

Beside me, Emre exhaled softly. “He’s different from what they say. I thought he’d be a brute without brains.”

Amina glanced at me, her deep brown eyes sharp and knowing. “You’re proud.”

I didn’t deny it, I just gave her a knowing look.

When the formalities finally loosened their grip, we drifted toward the viewport, the five of us gathering where the ocean spread endlessly before us. For once, the four of them looked hopeful, and they took that back to their people.

“I think things might change now,” Li Na said quietly.

“They will,” I promised.

“Good luck, Cowgirl. If our fortunes improve, we’ll know who was behind it.” James and I exchanged a smile, knowing that when I did, I’d remember this moment.

Our goodbyes were gentle and somber. The kind shared by people who had survived something no one else would ever fully understand. All of us would remember our time here, but whether we’d meet again was in the hands of the universe.

30 The Language of Hope

Maren

Home didn’t feel the same when we returned. The mountain base was still carved into stone and steel, still humming with defensive systems and buried weaponry, but something fundamental had shifted. Earth was no longer a prize being monitored.

It was his to command—all of it.

Officers and aides accosted us—well, him—for attention the moment the hatch door of the transport ship opened. When we reached our corridor, he roared, silencing the deck, then told them to send requests to his queue. With a knowing look, we retreated into our quarters.

Korath didn’t even remove his gloves before activating the holotable. There was a contagious energy about him leading operations on Earth, and even though he had dismissed his people, there was plenty for us to discuss now in private. The familiar terrain of the Rocky Mountains bloomed between us, jagged peaks and deep valleys glowing in layered projection.

“This base remains,” he said, fingers moving with decisive precision. “Its elevation, isolation, and defensive advantage are unparalleled. It will continue to serve as Earth’s shield.”

I leaned against the table, watching him work, watching how naturally authority settled into his movements. “But its not the heart.”

His eyes flicked up to mine, approval glinting there. “No.”

The projection shifted through transportation lines, population density, and climate zones.

“We need accessibility,” he continued. “Trade routes. Agricultural support. Proximity to new major population centers without placing them directly under military occupation.” The image settled over a wide stretch of land farther east—lower in elevation, greener, and open. “I want Earth to breathe,” he replied. “Not cower.”

I smiled before I could stop myself.

He noticed the faintest satisfaction shining through his stoic facade. Korath dismissed the map and finally turned fully toward me. There was something deliberate in the way he studied me now, not as a commander evaluating terrain, but as my mate weighing a decision.

“Maren.” That tone—controlled with intent lacing through it.

“Yes?”

“You are being assigned a position.”

My brows rose. “I didn’t realize I was on the roster of new positions appointed.”

“You are not,” he said calmly. “Officially.”

Of course.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice though no one else was present. “I cannot alter the Council’s designation of human status. Not yet. Not without consequences that would ripple beyond Earth.”

The familiar knot of reality tightened in my chest as I nodded. I understood that part. Change didn’t occur in a day; Korath and I were proof of that.

“But,” he continued, eyes sharpening, “I control everything from infrastructure to resources, labor allocation to housing to medical oversight. So, I hand it to you to oversee them,” he said. “The labor force, their conditions, assignments, and grievances. You have access to all my data and reports, so you can make informative decisions.”

I stared at him. “Korath…”

“You have already done this without a title,” he interrupted. “This merely gives you reach.” The holotable flared again, this time showing new housing schematics outfitted with communal areas and medical bays. “Humans will have better food,” he added. “Privacy where possible. Rotational labor instead of perpetual exhaustion and no Council auditors lingering in the shadows.”

My throat burned. I thought back to when I had first arrived, compared to what Korath was willing to allocate now. Yes, we were still slaves, but we had hope. We’d lay the foundation to maybe one day live together in peace.

“You’ll be their welfare officer,” he finished. “Unofficial, but absolute within my command.”

For a long moment, I couldn’t speak. I reached for him, fingers curling into the front of his uniform, pressing my cheek to his chest. Solid. Steady. Unyielding in all the ways that mattered.

“You’re changing things,” I whispered.

“I am securing my new home,” he replied, his hand settling at my back. “All of it.”

I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “I’ll do it. I’ll fight for them every way I can.”

A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth. “I would expect nothing less from the one who stands beside me.” Walking to his clothes rack, he finally disarmed, signalling the end to the day.

Grateful for the return to normalcy, I cooked, we dined, and then relaxed in the bath after a few trying days of keeping up appearances. Even as we listened to the chimes of the comm pinging off in a steady rhythm, we took a moment of peace for ourselves. Despite the calm of the space, I could feel our energies spiking with restless purpose.

The water cooled just enough to remind me that time was passing. I reached for a towel, half-expecting Korath to stop me, to insist we rest. Instead, he rose at the same moment I did, towering and thoughtful, that familiar crease between his brows already forming.

We dressed in silence, slow and unhurried—not avoidance of what came next, but anticipation.

I caught him glancing at the desk where our slates rested, then deliberately looking away, as if resisting the pull. I smiled to myself and trailed a finger along the glass, then hesitated, suddenly unsure. We’d just returned and were supposed to breathe. Just be… us.

Across the room, Korath cleared his throat. “We should rest,” he said carefully, eyes flicking to my slate.

I laughed softly, the sound breaking the tension. “Should we?”

His eyes snapped back to mine, searching. “Shouldn’t we?”

I smirked. “Kor, neither of us is going to relax if you don’t answer some messages and I don’t get my ideas down on that slate.”

Something warm and relieved spread across his features, loosening the tight coil in his shoulders. “I feared you would think I was impatient. That I could not simply exist here with you without turning everything into a campaign.”

I crossed the room and pressed my forehead to his chest, feeling the steady strength beneath. “This is us existing,” I said. “This is what we do. Together.”

He exhaled, deep and satisfied, then lifted his slate at the same time I did mine. The moment felt ceremonial, like a vow spoken without words.

We sat side by side on the bed, shoulders brushing, knees touching, screens lighting our faces with plans instead of stars. He pulled up terrain maps and transport routes. I opened population logs and labor schedules, already annotating changes, improvements, possibilities.

Every so often, we leaned into each other, comparing notes, finishing thoughts the other hadn’t spoken yet. No hierarchy or hesitation, just two minds moving in tandem.

Tomorrow, the work would begin in earnest, but tonight, this was the laying of a foundation—not conquest, not survival, but creation. Human and Eksese were fighting together now, whether they felt the change or not, it was beginning.

---

A month later, Korath tells me we’re taking a detour.

That alone is suspicious.

He won’t say where we’re going, only that it’s “within reasonable travel distance” and that I should “wear something comfortable.” The way his mouth keeps twitching like he’s holding back a smile gives him away. The great, fearsome Commander of Earth, undone by a secret he’d hardly kept contained.

We leave the mountain base behind, trading steel and neon lights for open land. Pines thin into rolling green, the air warmer, softer. When the transport finally slows, I lean forward, peering through the viewport, and then stop breathing.

Outside, a house sits nestled against the rise, half embraced by the land instead of carved into it. It was both alien and familiar in design; the shape was bold and foreign, but it had broad windows catching the light and the spectacular landscape. A wide porch wrapped around the front, already shaded by climbing green that hasn’t fully taken root yet. Beyond it, a garden stretched out in careful rows, dark soil turned and waiting.

“Oh,” I whisper, like the word might break it.

Korath watched me instead of the view as we landed. “You once told me about your ranch, and I about Ekse. This was the best compromise between our worlds as I could make.”

I turn to him, stunned. “You remembered?”

“I remember everything about you,” he replies, simply.

He leads me down the ramp, one large hand warm at my back, not pushing, just guiding. The grass is real under my boots. Not curated. Not simulated. Real, spring, sweet grass untouched by war. When we reach the porch, he pauses, suddenly… uncertain.

“This is ours,” he says. “Close enough to the base for security, far enough to breathe.” He gestured for me to go inside. “The kitchen was designed to your specifications. I consulted the archived human measurements and… outdated technology, but I thought you’d prefer something familiar, in this case.”

I laugh, a little watery, eying the equipment I used to long for. “You even remembered my cooking rants? Just when I was getting used to Eksese stoves.”

“Yes,” he says solemnly. “They were extensive, so a modern kitchen was out of the question.”

Inside, the kitchen opens wide to the living space, sunlight spilling across long counters, a deep, polished, metal sink awaiting dishes, shelves already ready for jars and the messes of life. There’s space to move, to create, to argue with recipes and win. I run my hand along the counter, grounding myself until I reach the stove—it was electric, not Eksese. It may not be modern for him, but for me, it was human perfection.

Moving to the back windows, he pointed out the garden, and beyond it, a small stable.

My breath catches.

One stall is clearly built in human-style, scaled for a horse. The other is reinforced, broader, marked with subtle Ekse sigils of bonding and respect.

“So we can ride together,” Korath says, softer now. “I’m having my Dakus sent for to live out his senior years. He served me well on three planets and deserves to die knowing peace.”

I stared at him in awe, for every day I was falling in love with him again and again. The Korath I first met back in the woods, I don’t believe, would care so much for peace then. He went on about the difficult care of such beasts, but I was too busy taking in this warrior who had finally found his own slice of peace after a lifetime of war.

“…I know the warbeasts can be intimidating, however—”

“You’re magnificent,” I murmur as my throat tightens. “You did all this for me?”

“For my mate,” he corrects, stepping closer. “For the future we are building. I wanted you to have a place that was not high command or obligation. A place where you could simply be.”

I press my cheek to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his uniform. “No one has ever thought of me like this.”

His arms come around me immediately, firm and protective. “Then they failed you,” he says. “I will not.”

I pull back just enough to look up at him, smiling through the ache in my chest. “You’re spoiling me, Commander.”

His mouth curved subtly, but I knew it was proud and unrepentant. “Good.”

Korath bends, brushing a kiss to my hair, lingering like he’s imprinting the moment. And standing there, surrounded by earth and sky and the promise of something lasting, I realize this isn’t just a house.

It’s a declaration—not of ownership—of devotion.

We continued the tour, the home having all the ‘usual’ rooms, and in the center was a tube-like glass elevator. We stopped on the second floor, where there was a small wing that had two spare suites.

“What are these for, Kor?”

“Guests, if we want them. You have a friend who mucks stalls. Invite her when you please for girl talk. Or your friends from the summit.”

I bit back another teary chuckle, trying like hell to keep it together. “Or Malrik?” Korath’s brow shifted in surprise. “I promise I’ll make him my new best friend. No screaming, on my honor. I don’t think he has forgiven for that yet.”

I held up my hand like I was taking an oath, but Korath moved quickly, pinning it—and me—against the hall wall. I lifted my chin at him, enjoying the fact that domesticity did not soften his edges.

“I don’t want you close to any other males. They might discover what a rare mate I have, then I’d have to kill them. Even Malrik.”

I hummed low, that coil in my belly beginning to twist. I arched my body into him, watching his gaze darken. “Show me our bedroom.”

Pulling me along back into the elevator, we ascended to the third and final floor. And clearly he had saved the best for last…

Our bedroom was hexagonal with an all-glass ceiling. The sleek spire caught the setting sun, bathing the room in amber light. At night, I knew the stars would spill in unchecked, a private galaxy pressed just above us.

The bed dominated the space, wide and low, layered in fabrics that begged to be touched. Eksese design softened for human comfort. Clean lines warmed by texture. Built-in lighting traced the walls in a faint cool blue glow, like the room itself was breathing. There were doors I didn’t open yet, but I sensed what they hid, like storage, a bathing alcove, and a life planned, nothing temporary.

“Oh, Kor…” The words slipped out, reverent, helpless.

“It has your approval?” he asked, but his voice carried tension, as the answer mattered more than he would ever admit.

I turned to him slowly, taking him in as I had the room. The powerful set of his shoulders. The careful stillness, as if bracing for judgment.

“This isn’t a bedroom,” I said softly. “It’s a promise.”

His eyes darkened at that. “I intended it to be.”

I crossed the room, bare fingers trailing along the edge of the bed, feeling the give of it. I imagined mornings here. Late nights. I imagined choosing him every day.

When I looked back at him, he was watching me like prey again.

“You built me a home,” I said, unable to help my wide grin. “How could I not approve?”

Relief hit him like gravity easing. He stepped into my space, one large steel-blue hand coming to my waist, grounding, claiming without force. “Then it is complete now with you here,” he murmured.

I smiled, slow and deliberate, my hands sliding up his chest. “Almost.”

The sunset deepened outside, the first stars pricking through the darkening blue. Pushing him down on the bed, I climbed onto his lap. I leaned in, brushing my mouth close to his ear, letting the moment stretch, letting him feel exactly how pleased I was.

“I think,” I whispered, “we should christen it properly.”

His answering sound was low, unmistakably satisfied, as his arms came around me and the world narrowed to the sky and the home we’d just begun.

Epilogue

Maren

One year later…

“I can’t believe I’m going to see India! My parents had told me about it when I was young, but we were too poor to ever visit.” Kavya smiled to herself; that human twinkle of hope had returned. “And it’s all thanks to you, Maren. This work rotation to other stations around the world was a great idea. I get all expenses paid to travel around the world in exchange for work. Things could be—and were once—much worse.”

I felt a satisfaction in hearing her say that. Kavya has been a tried and true friend this past year, spending two weekends a month with me at the house. The other weekends were reserved for just Korath and me, since I threatened to travel to base and destroy his new command station if he didn’t spend a few whole days with me.

And my coming with him to work had not been very productive…

Malrik had walked in on us mating, to which he promptly asked the Commander to remove his eyes in dramatic fashion. Korath couldn’t get my scent off his desk and ended up vaporizing it, as it prevented him from being his efficient self. But all in all, no eyeballs were removed, Korath can once again tolerate his office, and we never spoke of it again… though the sex was great.

“I know the road to freedom is long, but I hope to lay the groundwork for hope of it in the future.”

“Even if people don’t know it’s you doing it? They know you helped with some of the changes, but they don’t know the half of it, Maren.” Kavya squeezed my hand sympathetically. “Don’t listen to what they say; if they knew, they wouldn’t be so cruel.”

I gave a joyless laugh. “Well, to be fair, I am sleeping with the Supreme Commander… so they aren’t entirely wrong.”

“But they also haven’t seen you both as I have.” She gave me a knowing look. “The Eksese may be hard to read, but that alien adores you.”

My cheeks grew hot. “Well, I adore him back.”

“Good,” came a deep male voice I heard in my dreams.

We spun to see that Korath had returned.

“Oh! Is it that late already? I’m going to miss the curfew if I don’t leave now.” Kavya sprang up and gathered her things, then grabbed me for a quick hug.

Korath was tapping away on his gauntlet. “I’ll have our pilot take you back and let the overseers know of your delay. You’ll not be reprimanded.”

“Thank you, Commander.” We hugged again because it’d be a few months until she returned to the continent.

“Tell me all about India when you get back,” I murmured into her shoulder before parting.

“You’ll be the first.” With that, she jogged out the door in a flurry of excitement out to the landing pad.

I watched her ship disappear into the twilight until a cool, scaly hand pulled at me. Instinctively, my arms came up to circle my mate’s neck, and my body pressed into his hard planes.

“How was girl talk?”

I chuckled. “It was good to see her before she leaves. I’ll miss her.” I leaned into him, breathing him in, the familiar heat and something uniquely Korath that always made my knees soften. “Seeing her excited again. Seeing people plan more than a week ahead wasn’t possible before.”

His thumb traced slow circles at the small of my back. “Hope spreads quietly,” he said. “Like roots beneath stone.”

I smiled at that, resting my forehead against his chest. “You’ve gotten poetic.”

“I live with a human,” he replied solemnly. “It was inevitable.”

I laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, and let him draw me back toward the house. The lights inside came up automatically, bathing the space in soft silver and blue. Home. Still a word that startled me sometimes.

We walked past where my collar hung beside my jacket. My eyes lingered on it, and Korath’s gaze followed the motion, darkening. The collar had its place—public and political—but here, within these walls, I wore nothing that marked me as owned.

His hand came up, fingers brushing the bare skin where the collar had been. “A necessary evil,” he murmured.

“You know who I am. And I know who I belong to,” I answered softly.

A sound rumbled out of him, low and pleased, his arm tightening around my waist. “Say that again.”

I tipped my head back, meeting those molten gold eyes. “I belong with you, Korath. Not because I must, but because I want to.”

That was it. Whatever restraint he’d been pretending at since walking through that door snapped.

He lifted me with ease, my back hitting the wall as his mouth found mine, fierce and reverent all at once. I felt his tongue against my lips, felt the way he paused just long enough to breathe me in, like he was grounding himself in my existence.

“You are my victory,” he murmured against my mouth. “My future.”

“And you,” I whispered, fingers threading through the ridges at the back of his neck, “are everything I survived for.”

He carried me into the elevator, setting me down to ravage my neck. My hands tried to find purchase in the glass tube, but between its movement and him, my hands only slipped about. When the doors opened on the third floor, I pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it into the hall.

Like the predator he was, his eyes tracked it, and I used the distraction to slip by him. Korath’s eyes narrowed like a raptor, taking two slow steps after me. I bit my lip and ran for the bed, all the while knowing happily I was going to lose this chase. I hit it and rolled onto my back, gazing up through the glass at faraway stars and worlds I couldn’t fathom. The door to our bedroom slid shut behind him, sealing out councils and histories written in blood.

Here, there were no titles. Only two souls were stubborn enough to choose love in the aftermath of conquest.

His voice dropped, rough in that wreck-me register. “Come here, my mate.”

I did, gladly, already smiling as the night claimed us and our bodies spoke the language of love.