Epilogue

Three beautiful years had passed since the first day I’d stepped foot on Osheania, and I still couldn’t believe my luck. That I could be here—in this place that belonged in a children’s story book, and not real life.

The skies were a pale mint green. And the grass was pinker than cotton candy. Somehow, even pinker than my mate’s surface was. With a temperate climate, lavender sunsets, and a metropolis full of people so friendly they seemed unreal, this place truly was paradise.

The best part about Osheania had to be how easy it was to find translators. At least—that’s what I told Roark when we’d entered the visitor center to register me and the rest of the humans with the government, and the first thing they’d done was hand us all headsets.

I still wanted the permanent one, like Briar had, and I told Roark as much. To which he’d said he’d “take care of it.”

It was…humbling honestly, his care and devotion.

Especially when it began to sink in that I wouldn’t have to give him up. And that my newfound freedom was mine to keep.

When we’d left the center, it had been with strict orders to visit the Capitol next. The other humans and I needed to turn in our registration so that we could gain the citizenship that would give all of us—the unmated too—access to healthcare and government housing.

Roark and I had been at the head of the procession. And the Sahrks that did not have families of their own on the planet accompanied us. It seemed the crew had become quite attached to the humans during their time on board.

Some had even offered lodgings for a few of them.

It was a long day.

Roark and I hadn’t finished the paperwork till well after what I’d assumed was “midnight.” And by the time we did, most of the humans in the lobby were fast asleep in their seats. The receptionist had been as fascinated with them as most of the Sahrks I’d met had been, and she’d offered us a pile of blankets that we divied out.

The Capitol building wasn’t all that friendly. Which was to be expected. I wasn’t sure what the stone it was carved from was called—only that it reminded me of marble back home. Solid and chilly as Roark and I curled up with the others on the floor, too tired to do more than succumb to sleep.

I didn’t see our new home until after we’d made sure all the humans had places to stay. Permanent places, that were not the cold floor of the Capitol. By the time we’d entered the shuttle that would take us to Roark’s house, we were both running on fumes.

“Huu-goh,” he’d said softly, stroking over my cheek with one, careful claw.

“Mmm,” I’d mumbled, leaning against his shoulder as the city below us sped by. It was my third time in a shuttle—and it was no less cool than the first—but I was genuinely so fucking exhausted it was hard to maintain excitement.

Tall, round buildings swam beneath us.

W’aevel, the capital of Osheania, where Roark lived was massive. Easily the size of New York City—or maybe larger, if I guessed based on square footage. The buildings were as tall as the ones on Sha’hPihn, but as Ushuu had promised—much friendlier-looking.

Sahrks were kind.

That was the first thing I’d noticed as I was introduced to the population outside our little bubble. Everyone we’d met had been gentle and curious. We were not met with suspicion, despite being the first “aliens” that most people on the planet had ever seen.

Roark told me they didn’t travel often, and that was true.

The reason his vessel was so large was because he was the main—and only—transporter for the tech and birthing pods that were difficult to build on the planet. And those sparkly gems I’d fallen in love with at the mines? Fueled them, among other things. Roark had filled me in with military precision, while we were in the lobby at the Capitol. He’d explained a basic history of the planet, a history of the species as a whole, and why exactly his job was important.

It was all stuff I’d wanted to know—but never had the chance to ask. And I hung on his every word as he filled out the piles of import and citizenship paperwork. Apparently, to immigrate and find asylum on Osheania you needed a sponsor. Roark had offered to sponsor every last one of the humans, but his crew had stepped forward to help.

That in itself was not boggling.

You know what was?

The fact that the Sahrk species had females .

Which was…a shock to discover—as I’d never seen one before. They were far larger than their male counterparts, easily standing at fifteen, maybe even twenty feet tall. And they were far less colorful. Most were a beige-y pale shade that made them stand out even more in a city so full of pastels.

The first time I’d seen one, I’d literally tripped.

Roark had informed me that there weren’t many of them left after The Great Calamity had struck. There’d been a mural on the wall at the Capitol that showed what had been the saddest depiction of hunger and sickness I’d ever seen. He’d told me that was why the birthing pods had become more and more important as years passed. That once, they had been a viable option—and now they were integral to the planet’s survival.

Before we left, Roark had made sure that every last human was vaccinated against the illness—and others—that were common on planet. And I’d finally received the check-up he’d been so desperately wanting me to get.

Apparently, I was no longer malnourished—because of the bambuu Roark had been feeding me. It had been good news. Which I was more than a little glad for. Roark had insisted the doctor be as thorough as he could, and I couldn’t be angry.

Not when only a day previously I’d spent a good chunk of the day handling poison.

Only when I was in the clear had Roark relaxed and decided it was time we went home.

I’d been exhausted—my arm sore from being injected—but my head was full of fun new facts as we’d made our way across the city. Below us, I’d sleepily ogled the balconies that decorated all of the residential buildings. Sahrks swam inside the pools that took up the entirety of them. Pool toys, parties, celebrations exploded colorful and bright wherever I looked.

It seemed the whole city was celebrating the safe return of their captain and his crew.

I hadn’t realized what a big deal Roark was.

Not until he’d explained the purpose of his supply runs.

And it was with new respect and admiration for him that I’d snuggled into his side and admired the place that I now called home. Creatures that resembled fish and Roark called “Feesh” floated in the air—as high up as we were—fanning their fin-like wings as they flapped along by the windows.

“Tired?” Roark had asked me, still gently stroking my cheek.

“Yes,” I’d agreed, melting into him even more. “So tired.”

“Excited?”

“So excited!” I’d jerked a little, and the translator I wore nearly fell off. It was a little finicky up in the air like this. But the city was equipped with signal towers that gave most places access to the devices. Roark had told me that fact genuinely surprised him, considering they rarely, if ever had space visitors.

I was too grateful to question it though, glad that my luck was still looking up as the shuttle paused at our stop, and Roark rose to offer me a hand up. I was so tired I swayed, and he’d scooped me into his arms so I wouldn’t have to walk.

Down the street we went. A quiet street. So close to the edge of the city that it didn’t feel like a part of it at all. Tall drooping lavender trees lined the peaceful cobblestone drive. A few fat frogs—biggest fucking frogs I’d ever seen, omg, the size of bulldogs—hopped across the road. Roark had barked out a laugh when I’d jerked upright, staring at them in fascination.

They were as shiny and as pastel as everything else here. Roark, because he was Roark, had allowed me to watch them hop until they disappeared inside the pink bushes. Everything was opposite here. All the “greenery” seemed to be comprised of a variety of pinks and purples of varying color intensity.

When we’d reached the end of the driveway, Roark’s home was not what I’d expected.

It was bigger, for one.

More of a mansion than anything else.

At least—that’s what I’d thought as we approached a building that was easily six stories tall, but was clearly not an apartment building like the others we’d passed in the city. It was made of what looked like baby-pink stucco, and there were bulbous purple vines trailing up the front. The structure itself wasn’t too dissimilar to what you might see on Earth. It was less round than some of the other buildings I’d observed, and there were doors and windows.

It was more than a little relieving, I’ll admit that.

Not that I’d mind a super alien-looking home—I just…I mean…

It was nice not to have to adjust to one more thing.

I’d quickly realized that while this was Roark’s house—it would not be where we were staying. At least, when the front door opened and fifteen or more full-grown Sahrk’s spilled out. Following after the adults had to be the cutest creatures I’d ever seen. Children—my first Sahrk children—scurried between their legs, thumping across the lawn to greet us.

A lot of the kids were my size, which was embarrassing to say the least, but no less fascinating as the group of people crowded around us.

There were so many of them I’d lost count.

It was a testament to how tired I was that it took me as long as it did to realize that the adults were Roark’s siblings. The other children that had been raised at the orphanage. And he…fuck. My big softie had built a house for all of them to raise children of their own.

Roark grunted in greeting, as stoic as ever. He’d shared a few words, but that was it. A simple handful, as he butted snouts with a few of them, before saying his goodbyes and promising to properly introduce me after we’d had some rest.

The children were as curious as Earth kids were. Because a few of them latched onto my toes, their spots green. I didn’t fault them, in fact, I chuckled as their snort-y little noses puffed hot air on my legs, teeth far too close for comfort.

Roark rumbled, a low menacing warning, and the children just continued to giggle. They clearly were not afraid of him.

When the fanfare had ended, the crowd watched on as Roark led me around the back of the large home and through what had to be the prettiest garden I’d ever seen. Full of blossoms so large they could’ve been melons—striped and lovely.

There was a cottage past the garden.

Much smaller than the main house, and with a lovely cobblestone path of its own. It lay tucked between a smattering of large trees. Their leaves were so pale and puffy they looked like cotton candy as they swayed toward us, the twinkling of a little waterfall trickling into the small pond right outside the front door.

One of the frog-like creatures had sat on a lily pad in the center of the pond. It blinked one eye, then the other, its tongue launching out to catch a fat bug, before pulling it into his mouth.

“I love him,” I’d told Roark immediately, totally captivated.

He’d laughed. “I knew you would,” he’d said softly, adjusting his grip on my body as we climbed the little steps to the front door. The house was far bigger than a cottage on Earth would be to accommodate his size. But it was cozy.

Cozy and perfect—exactly the kind of home I’d always wanted.

When we’d entered it was clear that one of Roark’s “siblings” had been maintaining it while he was away. There wasn’t a hint of dust in sight. Nor was there any clutter. Just like his room on the ship, however, constellations and posters lined the walls—making it obvious how much of a space-nerd he really was.

I’d taken it all in with astonishment, though my eyes were already drifting.

Roark was simply…comfortable.

He always had been.

“Rest,” he’d hummed, leading me through the front room, down a hallway, and to the back where a large, lovely bedroom lay. In the center was a bed—just like the one on the ship—and beside it was a nightstand, again, just like the one on the ship.

Roark was a creature of habit after all.

He’d stripped down and didn’t even take us to the shower before we snuggled into the mattress, the long journey behind us. As my eyes had drooped, and Roark’s steady breathing lulled me into a sense of calm, I’d gazed at the pool that took up half the room, and melted.

For the first time in my life, I’d found a home.

A real home.

And someone that loved me just as fiercely as I loved them.

Our wedding ceremony had been the stuff of fantasies.

Everyone had come.

And by everyone—I mean literally everyone .

And yet Roark only had eyes for me the entire night.

He’d swung me around the dance floor, as awkward as he’d been at the ball we’d attended during our travels. And neither of us had cared what a mess we made of the steps—as we’d mimicked the others and enjoyed the festivities the night had to offer.

Apparently Roark had been preparing our ceremony before we’d even left Sha’hPihn.

Which was…flattering to say the least.

There were a lot of cultural things I was still getting used to at that point. And I’d been pleasantly surprised that the wedding ceremony itself hadn’t been all that different than an Earth ceremony. Later, I’d found out that was because Roark had done his research.

Even going so far as to contact A you are all my dear friends. And most of all, thank you to the reader, because without you, the creation of this story would have been meaningless. I write the words, but you are the ones who bring the story to life. Each and every one of you is priceless. Thank you for falling in love with these characters alongside me. I love all of you so much.

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Happy Holidays, and I’ll see you in 2025!

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