Chapter 20

Thalia:

The morning sun turned the ocean water a liquid gold. The wind was cool by Rolusdreus standards but still comfortable. Anything slightly less than boiling was considered cold, she soon learned. Bundled up in her armor, Thalia was insulated from the nip in the morning air. Well, and the radiation. Can’t forget that.

“How can you stand this?” Havik shivered next to her. He wore nothing but a pair of those tight pants she loved on him so much.

“You might not be so cold if you wore a shirt.”

“But then I could not do this.” He flexed his arms and pecs. Suddenly her mouth watered like freaking Niagara Falls.

“I’ll allow it,” she said, subtly wiping the corners of her mouth for humorous effect, despite wearing a helmet.

Havik grinned, all teeth and tusks, and turned his gaze back to the sunrise.

Thalia leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder and appreciated the solid weight of her husband. The words felt so strange to her. She rolled them around in her head. She never had a boyfriend or a serious relationship, but she jumped straight to marriage with the biggest, baddest red alien warrior around.

Regrets: zero.

The morning after he left his mark on her shoulder, they registered in a tiny office. If the clerk seemed surprised at Havik bringing in a new wife who was unlisted in the databank, no one said a word. A quick swab test determined their compatibility to be 99%, but Thalia didn’t care if it had been zero. Havik was her.

The future was nebulous, always shifting. Havik had his place in a new clan and informed her he wanted a dozen sons. She wasn’t against the idea of kids, but she wanted some time to get to know herself, maybe go to school and be a student. Kids could wait a few years. So much of her life had been about survival that it felt like pure decadence to do nothing more serious than sit on the beach and watch the sunrise.

She had never been to the ocean before, any ocean, and found herself enchanted by the sound of the waves and the play of light on the water. She was sure it smelled amazing, like salt and—okay, her creativity failed her. Fish? The river back in the city she grew up in had a fishy smell, so she just imagined that, multiplied by a ton. The armor filtered the air so the only thing she smelled inside the suit was her soap.

The ship needed a do-dad. Havik rattled off a very technical-sounding name while Thalia nodded. “Do what you gotta do,” she said, being a supportive-as-fuck wife. The technical what’s-it meant they had to stay on Rolusdreus while he hunted the part in a scrap yard and did the repair. Havik seemed to have enough mechanical knowhow to do the work with only the occasional call to Ren.

Basically, they were stuck on the hot, radioactive planet for a week. Havik rented a cottage in a settlement on the northern coast, which meant they had a beach honeymoon. The settlement was enclosed in a dome. To exit or enter the dome, a person had to pass through an energy barrier that cleansed them of radiation particles. Thalia was curious about the specifics, like how did the dome filter the air, but she was more interested in walks on the beach.

For the first time, she was on an alien planet. So far, her adventures in space had been ships, stations, more ships, and more stations. Boring. Well, except for when she got snookered by smugglers and put up for auction.

She loved discovering the subtle differences and the surprising similarities. Like gravity. Almost the same, believe it or not. The sky was a soft, hazy pink. The sun was yellow. The plants were green. Just when she forgot about being on another planet, she’d look up at the sky and her breath caught in her throat.

None of it compared to watching the morning sun rise over the water. She wished she could bury her feet in the sand but did not fancy getting radiation sickness. One day, she and Havik could go to a beach on a planet with a human-friendly environment. Maybe that planet could be Earth.

Thalia had been slowly warming up to the idea of returning to Earth. Not to stay. Hell no. But to visit. She never put flowers on the graves of her mother or Doc, but the idea now filled her with warmth.

“I require your assistance,” Havik said.

“Yeah? As much as I love being held captive in your bed, I need food. Breakfast before ravaging.” And she really, really enjoyed being his captive in bed, but woman could not live on love alone. At some point, she required coffee.

“Sustenance now, then you will accompany me to an appointment.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “Sounds mysterious. I’m in.”

The cottage was a quick walk up a narrow footpath up the hillside. In theory, walking through the energy barrier into the domed village cleaned the armored suit of radiation, but the suit went through an additional decontamination cycle. The cycle took several hours, which meant Thalia could only leave the dome once a day.

Inside the dome, Havik insisted that she wear a wide-brimmed hat to block the sun. Still in the fluttery, stars-in-her-eyes stage of their relationship, she found his overprotectiveness cute. At some distant point, it might wear on her nerves, but she enjoyed having him take care of her.

Yeah, that was what the cynical side of her warned, but Thalia suspected that she would never tire of being doted on. She soaked up his care and attention like the parched earth after a rainstorm.

For breakfast, Havik served a traditional Rolusdrean staple of a surprisingly spicy bean soup served with spongy bread. He sliced up a bitter green fruit she didn’t care for. Her experience with the local cuisine had been a success, other than Havik insisting on eating that bitter fruit with every meal. That, and the fermented yeasty paste he slathered on the bread. Ugh. She was all for new experiences and exploring food, but that stuff smelled rank. It was just as well that he limited his shipboard diet to instant noodles. She didn’t relish that sour yeast smell circulating through the ship.

“I don’t know why you lived off those instant noodles on the ship. You’re a good cook.”

“I am not. This is an easy meal to prepare.” He waved to the open soup carton on the counter.

“You don’t harvest heirloom, organic ingredients every morning at dawn? Gasp. I am shocked. Shook, even,” she said in a dry tone. A meal made for her by someone else, even just heating something right out of the package, was a meal made—or reheated, as the case may be—with love and therefore the best. “So, tell me about this mysterious appointment?”

“If you were eating instead of talking, you’d know by now.”

The big red tease. Still, Thalia slurped down her breakfast soup and shoved the bread in her mouth. “Ready.”

Despite being under a dome, the village had a quaint feel with narrow, twisty streets. Plaster walls were painted a riot of colors, everything from a soft white that glowed in the sun, to vivid blues, purples, and enchanting greens. No color seemed off-limits and it charmed Thalia to her core.

With no weather inside the dome, tables and chairs spilled onto the street. People seemed to live outside on patios, balconies, and gardens. Narrow alleys opened into unexpected courtyards, cluttered with greenery and benches.

They meandered through the market square, stopping to purchase fritters studded with bits of fruit. The scent of fried fritters and fat positively enchanted her, but that wasn’t a surprise. Everything about this trip felt enchanted. Thalia knew they existed in a bubble, a rare moment when the real-world responsibilities did not matter. At least not yet.

She worried about what life would be like when they joined the Judgment. Or, in her case, returned to the battlecruiser. Would they look at her with scorn for jumping into a relationship with Havik? Would they hate her because she was human?

No. She had been on the Judgment. They rescued her pod and had treated her with nothing but kindness.

The grumpy doctor crossed her mind.

Okay, most everyone treated her with kindness. The nurse was human and very patient as Thalia worked through her confusion and panic. Plenty of women, some human and some alien, had roles on the ship. The atmosphere had been positive. Thalia might not know much, but she knew to listen to her gut, and she knew when people were bad news. If Paax’s clan had secrets, they were well guarded. She believed the Judgment to be a good place.

And because her mind was always working on contingency plans—hello, how else does a street kid survive on their own?—she wondered what she would do once they got to the Judgment. Reading books all day and watching movies was all right for a holiday, but part of her was already growing bored. She wanted to be useful. How to be useful, unfortunately, proved harder to discern.

Thalia pushed those thoughts out of her mind. They had no place in the honeymoon bubble.

Havik led her into a section of town they had never ventured into before. The buildings appeared worn and less cared for. Paint had faded under the relentless sun. They passed a rough archway, the stones looking far more ancient than the surrounding buildings.

“Is that an entrance to the tunnels?” she asked.

They watched the super long documentary on the history of Rolusdreus. Initially, she did it to humor Havik, but she found herself sucked into the story. The planet essentially had a civil war and nearly nuked themselves out of existence. Generations lived underground in tunnels and bunkers, all the while tweaking their genes to adapt to the new environment topside.

The tunnels saw use again during the Suhlik Invasion. Just when the planet finally got its act together and started to repair the self-inflicted damage, it got the snot beat out of it by the Suhlik. Somehow knowing that Earth was not alone in being self-destructive lifted her spirits. These aliens were as fucked up as humanity.

“Indeed, but I do not recommend a casual visit. The tunnels are in ill repair and unsafe.”

“Have you explored them?”

“Certainly, as a child. It was educational.”

She rolled her eyes. The safety standard for her was super low while his was set sky-high.

They entered a shop. Art decorated the walls. Behind the counter looked, for lack of a better word, like a tattoo parlor.

A male sporting sleeves of ink greeted them. Yup, totally a tattoo parlor. Escorted back to a booth, Thalia perched on a stool while Havik unbuttoned his shirt. He wore a loose-fitting tunic made from a soft navy-blue fabric. It draped loosely across the front and buttoned at the shoulder. It was a style she saw on many of the locals. Havik explained that the garment could be wrapped tightly for the cold, had a hood to protect from sand and wind, and fit loosely during the heat of the day. She rather liked the casualness of it on him, but she also enjoyed the way the fabric slid off his shoulders.

“Greedy female,” he said, his voice amused.

“Sorry, didn’t realize you were stripping in public now,” she snarked back, thoroughly enjoying the view.

The tattoo artist filled a shallow dish with a white powder and told her to place her hand in it.

“What’s going on?”

“You marked me with the blood of your enemy. I have never received so high an honor,” Havik said.

“You’re getting my bloody handprint tattooed on you?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, you marked my armor so we will have to recreate it.”

She nodded, something in her chest expanding to the point of pain that felt a lot like love. Fucking romantic alien, making her wanna cry.

He guided her hand into the chalk and pressed it against his chest. Glancing down, he nodded with satisfaction. The tattoo artist set to work.

“That’s it? I thought it’d be more…something,” Thalia said, watching the design take shape. “Will it be the same as your others?”

The artist tapped one of Havik’s arms. “That’s my work here, that coverup. The ink is a special formula that will react with the Mahdfel bioluminescence. You won’t notice any difference from what you would get from your clan.”

Thalia peered closer at the design on his arm. The ink blended perfectly with the rest of the design, flawless, even. She knew from firsthand experience that it glowed just as brightly as the rest of his tattoos. “I can’t see a difference. It’s gorgeous.”

“The difference is I no longer bear the markings of my father,” Havik said without a trace of bitterness. His dark eyes shone, like he had more to say but he would save his words for private.

She blushed for no good reason, just the heat of his gaze. Suddenly warm, she couldn’t wait to get back to the cottage. They were wearing far too many clothes and that needed to be remedied at once.

She fucking adored the honeymoon bubble.

Havik:

He was two steps outside the tattoo parlor before Thalia tugged him down a secluded alley.

His mate.

Laughing, he pressed her against a plaster wall. His mouth captured hers and she melted against him. His world narrowed to this point of contact, the heat of her, the way she moved against him, inviting more.

She pressed her hand against his chest, watching him for a reaction. “Does it hurt?”

“Momentarily.” He healed quickly enough that the site had minor swelling. In an hour, the design would appear as if he had always worn his mate’s handprint. He covered her hand with his, the older tattoos at his wrist and forearm glowing.

“Good.” Thalia switched positions, pressing him against the wall. Stretching up on her toes, she pressed her lips to his like a female possessed by a fever.

He approved.

Grabbing her at the hips, he lifted her, and her legs wrapped around his waist. They were about to make a spectacle of themselves, and he did not care.

Her fingers worked the buttons on his tunic, pushing the fabric aside. She stared at his flesh, pressing her hand to the design. “I can’t believe you did this. It’s the sweetest and sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.” Her oasis-blue eyes watered. She blinked rapidly, looking up from his chest. “This is forever, isn’t it?”

Uneasiness replaced desire. He had promised devotion once before to another and failed. He would not fail again. “With everything I have. You are for me. The only one.”

She smiled and it felt just like dawn rising over the ocean. “I think you’re pretty great, too, Garu Havik.”

He needed to get her back to their cottage so he could show her the extent of his devotion. She squirmed in his grip, no doubt feeling his devotion pressing against her.

The comm unit chimed with an incoming message.

“There’s the real world,” his mate groaned, not in the way he wished to hear groaning. She slid down to her feet and adjusted her spectacles.

The message was short but filled him with a cold dread. “It is from the animal rescue.”

“Is Stabs okay? That big scorpion attacked him, didn’t it? I knew it.”

“No. My mother was attacked by poachers. She’s missing.”