Chapter 4

I’m doing it again.I can’t help it. I can’t stop. That other male at the settlement touched him. The man practically scented him—my Jace. Was I supposed to pretend I didn’t see it? That it didn’t disturb me?

Jhevase is ignoring me, or at least doing a good job of convincing me that he’s forgotten my presence. I’ll be glad to see the last of Vattla. Later. Always later, he says. I have the feeling this confrontation that’s been building between us will have to happen now, but although part of me dreads the reckoning, the rest of me welcomes his anger. I know how to fight. This stubborn uncertainty is what sets me on edge.

We’re almost back to the shuttle. I draw ahead and press my finger to the lock panel first, and then I open the side hatch. I turn enough so that I can watch him approach, then I dip my head down so my horns don’t catch on the entryway when I move inside the shuttle. I fit, but only barely. Most spacefaring crafts aren’t designed for species of my stature, but I manage well enough.

I move over to my seat. I can hear the rustle of his clothing as he settles in beside me. The hatch closes, and Jace starts up the engine. The familiar hum makes the shuttle feel like a living thing. At this point, my body is more accustomed to such artificial environments than it is to the unpredictability of planet-side living.

The need to speak aches and claws at my chest, but the words won’t come, either in my own language or his.

“Well, strap in. I’m not taking off until we’re both locked in,” he says.

I chance a look in his direction, but his eyes are on the control panel, not me. Irrational anger burns through my veins like magma, thick and all-encompassing. I want to make him look at me. He should feel it without me having to tell him—the force of my need for him should have him staring right back. He draws me like a magnet. He leaves me powerless. If he doesn’t feel it too, if he can ignore the charge in the air between us…I don’t think I can bear it. My control is slipping. I need him to give in some way, to prove he still sees me the same.

His eyes close and he inhales through his pointed human nose. “Just give me a minute. I promise we’ll be talking, but I don’t want to do it here.”

I can’t summon words, but I release a low, keening sound in acknowledgment. The slight tremor that vibrates through his shoulders on down makes me want to growl. Even when he didn’t know who I was, he couldn’t help but respond to my voice. I love watching his body sing for me.

I check my restraints as he lifts his hands towards the control panel. His pulse jumps, and I can see it move beneath the delicate skin of his neck. I want to taste him there, to claim the very beat of his heart. The entirety of space should know that he belongs to me, and that he’s Jhevase and Jace no longer.

The shuttle jerks a little as it lifts from the ground.

“Stop that,” he says, still resolute in his determination not to turn towards me.

“What?” My voice is a rough purr now, and I curl my fingers around the narrow armrests on either side of my seat.

“You know what,” he mutters under his breath.

I breathe in the air. It’s faint, but I catch the scent of his desire despite the filters and cleansing protocols. I will it to grow stronger. I want to drown in it, in him.

“You can’t distract me like that. Hum away all you want.”

I cut off the soft rumble I didn’t even realize I was releasing. “I don’t want to distract you,” I tell him.

He grunts and busies himself with the shuttle. He engages the power drive to get us up through the atmosphere, and I force my fingers to unclench. As he says, it won’t take long for us to return to our ship. The mission was largely uneventful. Our debriefing will only be a minor obstacle before we can retreat to our—my—cabin.

He sighs heavily as he switches the view back to opaque and Vattla’s valleys fade away. “It’s almost New Year’s,” he says.

I take it as the peace offering it is. “Yes. We never had that vacation. Where do you want to spend it, Jhevase?”

His lips shift before he flattens them. “Haven’t thought about it much. I’m happy enough to stay on the Queen. Our celebrations are never dull.”

I settle when I hear the warmth return to his voice, even if it isn’t meant for me. “The food is certainly interesting,” I reply.

Jace’s good-natured scoff is another sign that perhaps he’s not as upset with me as I’d feared. He shakes his head, but he doesn’t speak again.

We leave Vattla’s atmosphere behind, and I stretch my neck, letting my head fall back until my horns bump the back of my modified seat. It’s narrower than Jace’s with room for my wings to drape behind me.

“Almost home,” he says.

I lift my head and look at Jace. An uncomfortable duality exists within me when I hear him say those words. I want him to think of our ship, our cabin, in that way, yet it’s discordant.

Solena.That’s my word for home, and it’s a place that lies dormant in my blood, threaded through sinew and muscle, a place that clings to my very bones. For the first time since I left, part of me longs to feel that familiar stone beneath my feet and for my hide to absorb the rays of a long-forsaken sun. I can imagine him there, too, walking where no outsiders are allowed to tread. Something I thought long buried attempts to stretch its way free, enticed by the image of him there in my homeland. I start cataloging the controls on the panel in front of us, emptying my mind.

“Here we go,” he says, brows drawing together as he focuses on bringing us in safely.

I shift my gaze ahead. The side of the Medway Queen is directly ahead of us. The shuttle bay’s outer hatch opens as we approach. Jace’s piloting is as smooth as ever. We slip into the bay and come to a stop, then wait for the hatch to close behind us. He’s half smiling, pleased with himself, and he should be. He excels at many things, my Jace.

I watch him submit the airlock request, and it doesn’t take long before the alarm wails and the second door lifts. We glide further inside, and the shuttle locks into place once he guides us to its berth. He immediately unfastens his restraints, but I’m a few seconds behind. I have to be careful when I step out of the shuttle. The equipment here isn’t built for me, and everything makes me feel too large and clumsy—my wings tend to feel like the most ridiculous accoutrement of all. Here in space, Jace’s form is superior.

I know it’s wrong, but there are times I wish we’d never left the planet. There’s a part of me, a sliver deep down, that regrets our rescue. At least there he was entirely mine.

“Aren’t you coming?”

On their own, the words aren’t comforting, but the way Jace looks at me is. His pale eyes say I’m waiting for you. They promise I don’t want to go without you.

“I’m right here. Let’s go.”

I fall into place behind him, exactly where I’m meant to be—the shadow at his back, his wings if he needs to fly.

Jace is the one to knock on S’ahveki’s door. Our captain wasn’t on the bridge or in the training room, and with the lounge completely empty, it was the only obvious option left.

The door moves aside under a rough shove. S’ahveki’s clawed hand curls around the edge, and the faint scale-armor that grows thicker on the outside of his hands and over his back and shoulders gleams iridescent beneath the ship’s lights. We circled around each other for a good half a year before I joined his crew. There’s no forgetting S’ahveki’s a predator, a threat, however much I might enjoy his company now.

His lips slide aside, revealing a lazy, sharp-toothed smile. My teeth may be pointed, but that’s the only similarity between us. I’m blunt stone and brute strength. S’ahveki’s steel wrapped in satin, slipping on illusion as easily as breathing. I hate deceit, but I can’t help but admire how well he can carry it off.

“Jace, Sohen,” he adds, giving me a nod. “Come in, come in. The Skipjack reported a successful delivery, so I’m not anticipating a long debriefing, but you know I like to keep thorough records of each off-ship mission, so let’s get this done.”

He pushes the door the rest of the way open with a swift glance at my oversized frame. I wait for Jace to enter first. Once we’re both inside, the captain’s cabin immediately feels small and cramped, our bodies too big for the limited space.

Jace doesn’t bother looking for a place to sit, even though S’ahveki motions for us to make ourselves comfortable. He stands there with his hands clasped behind his back, chest up, feet spread shoulder-width apart.

“According to the settlers I spoke with, there are no real problems on Vattla. We’ve got a few humans who like to feel important, but the others told me it’s all posturing and no one pays it much mind. They’re happy enough down there and don’t wish to change things.” Jace pauses for breath and his body loosens, even if it’s only to an infinitesimal degree. “The Soovil woman leading the farming seems capable. She told me they’re doing fine on supplies and producing well.”

When it’s clear that Jace doesn’t have anything further to add, S’ahveki tips his head forward before he fixes his hard gaze upon me. “Thoughts, Sohen?” he asks.

It would be easy to tell him that Hernandez is a troublemaker and should be cut loose on the nearest third-rate space station, but in an act of staggering self-control, I restrain myself.

“I concur with Jace’s assessment. Although I wouldn’t choose to remain in a place like Vattla myself, the group seems content enough with their circumstances,” I reply.

S’ahveki laughs, and it’s a bright, brilliant sound, so crisp it hurts. “You have a way with words, Sohen, truly, you do.” He smiles and leans back in the seat he took, setting his hands to face each other so that his fingers meet and form an arch. “I’m glad to hear there are no major complications. Now that we’ve discussed the settlers, I need to know if either of you had a problem. Do you need to talk to Pavok? I need you both to be honest. It’s almost expected that you would’ve experienced some residual trauma from the Sannaveh incident.”

Jace practically growls in his throat, tension locking up his powerful frame. “I’ve done enough talking to last me a decade. The mission was fine. No flashbacks or issues with piloting or landing. It felt good to get out there. Don’t keep us stuck aboard the Queen—not unless you really do want to drive me out of my mind.”

I extend my right wing slowly so it won’t make as much noise. I don’t actually touch him, but if I lifted it quickly, I could, and that’s enough for me to feel like I’ve got him, like I could catch him if it all falls apart.

S’ahveki raises his brows and lifts his hands, spreading them wide. “Easy, Cesari. It doesn’t benefit me any to keep you confined to the Queen.”

“Maybe we could take that leave that was mentioned after our retrieval from Sannaveh. I think a break from the ship and our business might do us both good,” I say as I step forward. Jace’s arm twitches a little as the outer edge of my wing slips against his sleeve.

S’ahveki gives us a brief little nod. “I’ll consider it. Join us in the lounge later—we need to plan for the New Year’s celebration.” He smiles again, but it’s fainter and all the more genuine for it this time. “Dismissed,” he adds when neither of us moves to leave immediately.

I retract my wing and return the curt nod, comforted by the sound of Jace’s footfalls landing right behind me. I lead him past the lounge and into the hall with the crew’s cabins. S’ahveki’s quarters are separate from the rest, but no one begrudges him the extra privacy.

We pass the door to Jace’s cabin, or at least I thought we did, but as I continue on, I hear the twist and slide as he opens it behind me.

“Jhevase?” I don’t ask an actual question, just leave his name hovering there in the air.

“Yeah?” He has one hand clasped around the edge of the wall as he leans forward and raises an eyebrow at me.

“You’re not coming?”

He releases another one of those overworked sighs he’s so fond of, composed of blustery air and exasperation in equal measure. He rocks back and slaps his hand against the doorway. “No, but you can come inside with me now if you want to talk.”

He pushes away from the door and walks backwards into his cabin. I follow him and pull the door shut behind me. Jace sits down heavily on his bed and tunnels his fingers through his dark hair, his grip going tight as his head tips back.

“What happened down there today,” he says, eyes closed, face to the ceiling, “that can’t happen again.” His head snaps down, and he fixes a formidable glare my way. “So what is it? You don’t trust me anymore? Because that’s sure as hell what it felt like. I don’t need you to step in because of a shit-talker like Hernandez. I can handle myself.”

It’s difficult to remain still. I’m tempted to react quickly, just like Jhevase, but I’m not so distant from my people that I’ve set aside all of their ways. I was bred for patience, for solidity and silence. I wait to make sure he’s given me all of his words before I take another step forward.

I sink down onto one knee and brace my hands on the edge of the bed. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have done it—I knew as I did it exactly how you’d react, but I dream about that time, too. You’re not the only one whose sleep is disturbed by nightmares now.”

“I don’t have—” He presses his lips together. “Whatever dreams I have, I don’t remember them. I’m sorry if you’re struggling, but this isn’t going to work if you continue to treat me like a child. You don’t have to take care of me any longer.” His hands slip over mine, trapping them against the roughly textured bedding. “It’s over. It’s time we both act like it.”

I inhale through my nose as I watch his face. He means it. As far as he’s able to, he’s telling me the truth as he sees it. I lean forward and press my face against his chest, dipping my head down so that the scent glands at the base of my horns rub the fabric near his neck. I want my scent on his skin, but marking him in any way comforts me.

He lets go of my hands and wraps his arms around my shoulders, tucking his head down until I can feel his soft exhales breeze across my scalp. His lips, so supple, so lush, almost obscene in their fullness compared to my own—they rest just above my hide, just a breath away from touching me.

“Are we okay?”

I try not to jerk. That’s what my body wants to do. I want to pull away from that question and pretend he never asked, because I’ve never been a talented liar.

“Yes,” I say, and my heart races.

Surprise, surprise, as Jhevase would say. That sounded almost like the truth.