16. Epilogue

4years, 1 month, 4 days, 21 hours (EST) later "I think he's teething," Mari said.

"Teething?" Crey repeated, examining his son's mouth. "Is he supposed to do that or is that something we need fixed?"

"It's normal. He's fine. Here, you hold him. You promised to give me another flying lesson anyway."

Her husband took Piers from her, and the traitor immediately stopped crying. "Your mother is exceptionally demanding. Even when I am finally taking her to our escape planet, she insists on learning how to pilot a ship, instead of relaxing." Crey bounced his son on his knee and was rewarded with a gummy smile.

Uh huh. Like she was the one who couldn't relax. Crey took his duties seriously. When he'd suggested this trip to the dark system, just to get away for a bit, she'd agreed immediately.

No more talk of vengeance or Thalarins or his job as the first General of the Gaiian Order. Many of the couples they'd fought alongside to destroy the faction within the Allegiance, and, then again, during the war, were now living the quiet life on a far-off planet. Some were having children—creating new families.

She'd never have guessed the rumored "monsters" were the "good guys" back then, nor had Mari been aware that she already knew one quite well. She had no idea, at the time, how deep the corruption ran in the Allegiance or what it would take to exterminate that damn faction. Hells, Mari had even participated in a high-level political assassination. In big and little ways, she, Crey, and their allies had changed the universe forever.

Soon, they would be passing Lyatan, Predator Planet. Those people she'd met at the "after-party" were now more than just names. Some had died. Many had found mates. She even had close friends among them.

Since that first clash in Lyatan's orbit, she had experienced so much. Mari had explored a multitude of fascinating planets, studying their flora. She'd expanded botanical databases with rare entries, some found in the middle of battlegrounds. While she dug in the dirt, Crey had stood guard, muttering under his breath about his "mehthin taugh." General Crey still occasionally fussed about her dangerous job. It was cute.

People did know her name, both as a xenobotanist and as wife and mate to the most amazing man in the universe.

Now, there was Piers. Life did not get better than this.

"I can take him." A crib automaton rolled forward at Wanda's behest, stopping invitingly near Crey's elbow. "He's four Earthen minutes and twenty-three seconds late for his nap."

Crey carefully placed their son in the padded crib. The automaton zoomed toward the nursery they'd added on the ship. Piers babbled happily and even waved as he sped down the corridor.

"Piers doesn't have to be on that strict of a sleeping routine." Mari continued to address her comments to Wanda upward, despite all Crey's amused glances. She had to direct her words somewhere.

"Who has read more parenting books?" Wanda asked.

"You have," Mari admitted. "But, I can't help that I'm limited by a sentience classification of a high 8."

"And, I don't hold it against you," Wanda said.

Yeah. Right.

"You do," Crey said—before Mari could. "All the time." He cleared his throat. "Wanda."

"Fine, I'll go watch over our baby while you screw each other on the control panels again. I've temporarily disabled artillery. We don't want another incident. I've also turned on proximity warnings to a higher sensitivity, because we must remember Gytha 5."

Mari remembered Gytha 5—slightly differently from Wanda. It had been a very sexy time.

Silence and privacy descended.

Crey sent her that untamed, hungry look of his. "Come here, Earthen, and I will teach you how to handle a stick."

Mari laughed, but got to her feet and went to his side. "Oh, I'd love a lesson in handling your stick."

Crey drew her astride him. "There. There is where you belong, and thus begins your lesson."

"Yes, General Crey, sir." Mari wrapped her arms around her mate's neck. "Tell me what to do, and I will try my hardest to do it."

"Mm. I do enjoy when you follow instructions—for the short duration your compliant mood lasts."

"Instruct me." Mari used her best "come hither" voice. "Instruct me so hard."

Crey smiled. "Very well, I will. Step one, adjust your seat, both forward and backward," His hands caressed Mari's back and pulled her close.

"Like this?" Mari moved against him.

"Yes. Uh. Yes. That is…correct. Very correct." That gruff sound to his voice and the stammering was sexy as hells. She wasn't the only one affected to this degree. The heat of Crey's body and his skin's scent still drove her wild.

"I can keep practicing." She was enjoying the practicing. So was he.

"Only if you want to end with step one."

"How many steps are there?" Mari kissed his neck. Mm. She bit his neck lightly before licking his skin.

"As many as I can last."

"Mm." They'd been known to do it the "Gaiian way" occasionally, especially after a battle with her on artillery.

"I can see you have dressed appropriately for ease of movement." Crey untied her sundress's straps.

"You did suggest I would be safe enough to wear a dress today before I even got out of bed." Her husband loved seeing her legs.

The bodice of her dress dropped to her waist.

"Step two. Know the right buttons to push." He was already breathing heavy. "Mari, your garden."

"Your garden," she corrected him, leaning back, so he could get a good look at the vines covering her chest. "I gave my garden to you a long time ago." She'd even added a fern tattoo on her side that matched one of those bastards on Predator Planet. Her other ink was of things she liked—this was essentially a kill stamp for all those evil ferns she'd defeated.

Crey had a glazed expression on his face, and he'd barely touched her.

She was the same way. Her body was a needy mess.

"Step three?" she asked.

"Step three, know how to set the controls to autopilot." Crey leaned in and pushed buttons behind her.

Mari took the opportunity to remove his tunic and press her chest against his. "Autopilot?"

"Step three is the most important. It is the last step you take before you pick up your beautiful, brilliant wife and move to your quarters to screw her against the door." Crey rose with her in his arms.

"Against the door?" Mari wrapped her legs around him.

"The bed then, bayantar." Crey rubbed his hands up and down her naked back. "I can make it there, if you quit digging your nails into my neck—you know what that does."

It got her screwed against the door, and she loved it.

"I do like your bed," Mari said. "And, I like that you sometimes sleep in the bed beside me."

"I love you in my bed, but, moreover, I love you in all other locations."

That deserved hot, deep, wet kisses—kisses so deep that Crey dropped against the wall beside his door, and it recognized his biosignature. The door to his quarters slid open.

"Mmm, I'm not really in the mood for the bed," Mari said when they came up for breath.

"No?" Crey lifted his eyebrows.

"The door."

"Not very…inventive. Fast. Hard. Often quite loud."

"Stop teasing me and do it."

"Do it?

"Do it the Gaiian way," she said. "I love when we do it the Gaiian way."

"I love you also, bayantar. Mm, we will do it your way and then—"

"I also love when there's an ‘and then.'"

"Then, my sweet Marigold, I will lay you on our bed and show you the mated Gaiian way, which is all other ways, and it is done exceptionally well."

Mari smiled and pulled him close. Their love was intense. Their love was all-encompassing. Their love was the happily ever after that a badass xenobotanist and her green warrior deserved.

She had never been so content.