by S. E. Smith
It had been neither the reunion he’d imagined nor the reunion he’d hoped for. He wanted Kiara more than he wanted anything else in the universe, but the thought of her compromising who she was—who he knew her to be despite their years apart—had crushed him inside. She’d never been one to conform to tradition, not even the traditions of her own people, but she’d always been honest, kind, and faithful.
He would never have asked her to betray her mate for him. The thought that she’d done so had hit Volcair so hard, so fast, that he’d exploded. Nearly two decades of frustration, bitterness, and loneliness had roiled inside him, and he’d directed it all at her.
He’d hurt her, despite the long ago vow he’d made to himself to never do her harm.
I eventually break all my promises.
What he’d done had been a worse betrayal than he’d accused her of committing.
“She was right,” he whispered. “I am a coward.”
He’d faced armed foes, supposedly impenetrable fortifications, impossibly large hostile fleets, but he had been unable to face her when it mattered most. He had been unable to face the chance of being hurt, unable to face potential rejection.
So he’d fled. He’d fled Earth, and he’d fled her, too afraid to know whether she would choose him when given the choice.
When it mattered most, he had failed to fight for her. Today could not make up for that. He could spend his entire life trying to atone, and it would never be enough. She’d waited, and he’d given up. He could not blame her for moving on after so long without word from him. Years of battle and constant redeployment across the farthest reaches of Dominion space were no excuse. He could have found a way to contact her, to tell her he would come as soon as he could.
To tell her to keep hoping.
To keep waiting.
Volcair halted and lifted his hand, staring down at the balus stone as it fell against the inside of his wrist.
But she kept this. She broke off her engagement and kept this.
He tightened his grip on the chain.
She was still waiting for me.
That was so much more than he’d had any right to expect. They were only teenagers when he’d left Earth; what had either of them truly known about relationships? They’d been apart now for more than half their lives. She’d had no obligation to wait; the burden he’d placed upon Kiara by asking her to had been unfair.
He was the one who’d been obligated by his promises, and he’d been the one who failed to act upon them. He hadn’t even tried to fight for her.
And I didn’t love him as I loved you!
Had he pushed past his own fear, he would’ve learned that seven years ago. He would never have committed to a five-year extension to his military service and could instead have spent the last five years with her, devoted to her.
Loving her.
It wasn’t too late; it couldn’t be. After all this time, their paths had crossed, and a situation had arisen that entwined their lives once again. He wasn’t sure if that meant anything—if it was part of fate’s machinations—but it could. It could mean something if he worked to give it meaning.
After nineteen years of separation, the female he’d recognized as his mate was nearby—only a few doors down the hall. A few meters separated them now, rather than countless light years, but somehow the distance felt just as vast.
He dropped his hand, opening his fingers to catch the balus stone in his palm before closing his fist.
The distance should never have stopped him before, and he would not let it stop him now. All he had to do was continue running Janus Six while dealing with the aftermath of the hijacking and convincing Kiara to talk with him.
Oddly, it was the latter task that seemed the most daunting—but which also promised the greatest reward.
Once he’d composed himself, he placed the necklace in his pocket and returned to duty, spending the rest of his day—and part of his night, which he’d always found difficult to gauge due to the lack of day-night cycles on space stations—in his office, dealing with reports, inspections, and the logistics of launching a search for the pirates who’d attacked the Starlight.
Officers and soldiers were in and out throughout that time, delivering information and receiving orders. Due to the immensity of the search area, they were unlikely to locate Vrykhan, but Volcair wouldn’t let that stop the search. The tretin and his pirate fleet had been a scourge on the Dominion’s fringes for years.
While Volcair was otherwise occupied, Lieutenant Beltheri stepped up to deal with Janus Six’s normal operations, performing with competence and efficiency despite being clearly flustered on several occasions. Volcair was grateful for her performance and professionalism.
Volcair spent every spare moment thinking about Kiara. When he watched the recorded interviews his senior officers had conducted with her crew, he took the longest on hers, often rewinding to earlier points on the recording because he’d lapsed into thought while staring into her eyes and had missed her reply to the interviewer. She looked…sorrowful.
And that was Volcair’s fault.
Despite his exhaustion by the time he finally went to bed, Volcair lay awake for a long while. Kiara and her crew had returned to their temporary quarters for rest, and most of his first shift officers were sleeping after working extended hours. There had been a few smugglers caught in the station during his short tenure as commander, and his ships had engaged with pirate vessels out in space more than once, but there’d been nothing quite like the events surrounding the Starlight.
It should have been military and administrative matters keeping him awake—central command would demand regular reports; he would have to draft a formal request for additional soldiers and ships in the area; he would have to navigate the clerical issues around having military personnel perform repairs on a civilian vessel; he needed to organize his teams to conduct as thorough and efficient a search as possible—but none of it crossed his mind.
All he could think of was Kiara. He held the necklace between forefinger and thumb as he stared at the dark ceiling, brushing the pad of his thumb along the intricately patterned metal holding the glowing blue stone in place.
Had anything gone differently—had the ship not been registered under Kiara’s name, or the borian pirate acted a little more naturally—the Starlight would’ve been released, and its crew would have been sold as slaves on Caldorius. From there, they’d have been sent to any number of worlds where slaves, especially exotic ones like the terrans, were legal.
Even Arthos, the Infinite City—the pinnacle of technology and civilization in the known universe—had an issue with slaves. Slavery wasn’t legal there, but it was often overlooked by the authorities due to the difficulty of fighting a problem that originated on countless worlds beyond Arthos’s jurisdiction.
The thought of Kiara suffering such a fate made Volcair’s heart ache and his stomach sink even as it sparked an angry fire in his chest—a fire that, ultimately, would have accounted for nothing. He was one person; all his passion and rage would never have been enough to find her, were she taken. He would have spent the rest of his life searching.
No, that wasn’t correct. If she had been taken, he would never have known. That only made the what-ifs worse; if the ship hadn’t been flagged, if he hadn’t seen her name on the manifest, he would never have gone to the docking bay. He would never have fought his way into the cargo hold to rescue her from the pirates. He would never have known her ship had passed through his station.
He would never have known she was in any danger.
A soft scratch at the door pulled Volcair from his thoughts. Furrowing his brow, he lifted his head off his pillow and looked toward the door, which was reduced to a rectangular patch of darkness amidst the shadows.
The scratching came again, this time a little more insistent.
Volcair closed his fingers around the necklace, tossed aside the covers, slipped out of bed, and padded across the room. It wasn�
��t unusual for his subordinates to wake him because some pressing situation had arisen, but they usually contacted him through the station’s comm systems. He stopped in front of the door and pressed the button to open it.
The doorway was empty—or at least appeared so until he lowered his gaze. Cypher sat on the floor just beyond the threshold, staring up at Volcair with four glowing, impossibly sad eyes. The inux’s lips parted, revealing his sharp teeth as he whined.
Frowning, Volcair sank into a crouch. He put out his empty hand, and Cypher stepped forward, brushing his cheek against Volcair’s palm.
“I really botched this,” Volcair said.
Cypher nodded and moved closer still, rubbing his side along Volcair’s leg.
The light scrape of those metal scales against Volcair’s calf brought back old, happy memories. Memories of the best years of his life, which had come and gone so long ago—Cypher bouncing over Volcair’s bed, clicking excitedly to wake the boy up in the morning; Volcair and Cypher racing through the halls of various embassies on so many different worlds, often to Father’s disapproval; Cypher snuggling against Volcair in the night, fighting back the loneliness and despair that had so often assailed the boy in the dark, replacing it with warmth and companionship.
But his fondest memories of Cypher included Kiara. She’d instilled a new energy in the inux, and the three of them had often laughed and played during Volcair’s years on Earth. Little had excited Cypher more than their visits with Kiara.
“I missed you, old friend, more than I can ever express.” Volcair ran his hand along Cypher’s spine, from the inux’s head to his flank. “But I am glad you stayed with her. Glad you did what I could not.”
Cypher whined again, catching Volcair’s wrist carefully between his metal jaws and giving him a slight tug. The points of the inux’s teeth pressed into Volcair’s skin but didn’t puncture it.
Volcair shook his head. “She does not want to see me now.”
Flattening his ears and narrowing his eyes, Cypher tugged harder, making Volcair sway forward. The inux released his hold after a few moments. He sat down, glared up at Volcair, and growled.
Volcair turned his other hand palm up and opened his fingers to stare down at the necklace. He laughed to himself, the sound utterly devoid of humor. “I’m doing it again. Was I always such a fool?”
Cypher’s responding clicks were undoubtedly a yes, but the inux softened his honesty by nuzzling Volcair’s knee.
“I leave you with her for a little while, and now you’re taking her side?” Volcair asked, a soft smile touching his lips. “No more shielding myself by hiding behind duty. Let’s go, Cyph.”
Lips drawn back in what could only be a smile, Cypher leapt to his feet and bounded down the corridor toward Kiara’s room.
Unmindful of his state of dress—he wore only his underpants—Volcair rose and followed Cypher. His heart thumped, and all his fears, insecurities, and inadequacies seemed to bubble to the surface at once, threatening to paralyze him. But he would not stop now. He would see this through to the end, however long it took, however hard he had to fight.
Kiara would be his.
Kiara was his.
The door to her room was closed. Volcair stopped in front of it and glanced down at Cypher, who lifted his front paws and scratched at the metal.
Sounds of movement came from the other side of the door, and it slid open a moment later, revealing a tired-eyed Kiara. Her mass of curls was pulled back with a hair tie, and she wore little more than a scrap of black underwear and a white tank top through which her dark nipples were visible.
“Cypher, how the bloody hell did you—” Her eyes caught Volcair’s and rounded.
That old heat ignited in his chest and coursed through his qal; he’d always experienced the sensation when he was in her presence, but it was more intense now than ever. It had grown into an instinctual, bone-deep craving.
He wasn’t looking at an adolescent, but a woman—the woman who was meant to be his mate. The woman who was meant to be his.
Before she said anything more, Volcair stepped into the room, captured her face between his hands, and pressed his lips to hers. He heard Cypher’s lightly clacking steps move away down the hall.
Kiara’s eyes widened farther, and she gasped. Taking advantage of her surprise, he slapped the button to close the door, returned his hand to her face, and guided her deeper into the room until her back touched the wall. He pinned her there with his body.
She relaxed and gave in to him, parting her lips with a soft moan. Her hands slid up his sides to settle on his upper back. Volcair deepened the kiss, nipping and sucking at her lips, driven only by hunger and instinct—in this, he had no experience, only a desire that had burned in him for years.
The warmth on his skin became a tingling, and that tingling gradually escalated into an electric hum. Kiara’s heat radiated into him, and her smooth, bare legs brushed against his. His cock throbbed. Volcair groaned, pressing his shaft more firmly against her.
Kiara stilled. Sliding her hands between their chests, she pushed, interrupting the kiss but not breaking the contact between their bodies.
“What are you doing, Volcair?” she asked, her quiet voice laced with pain and uncertainty. Her skin glowed with the reflected light of his qal.
“You are mine, Kiara,” he said, tipping his forehead against hers, “and I should’ve gone to you. I should never have left you.”
“But you did leave, and you never came back. All those years gone, and you accused me of—”
“I know,” he rasped, “and I will forever hold those words and those wasted years as my greatest regrets. Let me spend what time I have left making up for it. Let me atone for my cowardice. I truly have nothing without you.”
He drew back from her, took hold of her hands, and guided them to his chest. He flattened her palms over his qal. “Do you remember the first time we met? Do you remember how my qal glowed when you touched them?”
Her dark eyes, gleaming with his light, met his. “Yes. They reminded me of starlight.”
“They glowed for you. I did not understand it then, but I do now. Even as a child, part of me recognized that you are my mate. That you are mine.”
She pulled her hands free, and he released his hold on her. With trembling fingers, she lightly traced the qal on his chest, following it up and over his shoulders. “But I’m human. How could I be?”
“How doesn’t matter,” he said in English, “only that you are.”
“What about your ancestry, and the purity of your species? I know how much that means to your people.”
Volcair shook his head. “You mean more to me than any of that. More to me than them. I was obligated to serve. I volunteered for more time only because I thought I’d already lost you. My people…” He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly; this was a truth his father would never have wanted to hear, a truth that would bring Volcair shame and criticism among his kind. “My people have always been—and will always be—second to you. I never would’ve left had I been given the choice.”
Tears filled her eyes. “But you did have the choice to come back, Volcair.”
He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “And I am sorry for it, sorry beyond words. It is no excuse, no justification, but…it would have killed me to see you in the arms of another. To see you happy with another. To see with my own eyes that you had chosen, and that your choice was not me.”
Kiara’s tears slid down her cheeks, and he brushed them away with his thumbs.
“I’m sorry, Volcair,” she said, voice tight. “I’m so s—”
He pressed a thumb over her lips, silencing her. “No. You need never apologize for what you did. Never.”
Lowering his arms, he took hold of one of her wrists and turned her hand palm up. He settled the necklace on her open palm, allowing the delicate chain to slide off his fingers and pile around the balus stone. “When we were children, you were m
y best mate. My only mate. Will you be my forever mate?”
Though a heavy sob shook her, Kiara smiled and nodded. “Yes. Yes, Volcair.” Grasping the necklace, she threw her arms around him and pressed her face against his neck. “You’ve always been the only one for me. I knew it even as a child.”
Volcair embraced her and settled his cheek atop her hair, relishing the feel of her warm body against his. He thought this closeness had been lost to him, that he’d never experience it again. Joy and relief overwhelmed him; his mate was here, in his arms, after all these years.
His mate.
She shifted to press her lips against his neck, and her hard nipples brushed his chest. The desire he’d felt when she first opened the door came roaring back. His qal burned with it, and he curled his fingers, clutching her closer.
Kiara wiggled her hips, rubbing her pelvis against his cock.
Volcair shuddered and groaned. He gritted his teeth and dropped his hands to her waist, stilling her movements. His fingers found the patch of bare skin between the hem of her tank top and the band of her underwear.
In all the years since he’d met Kiara, there had never been another for him. There’d only ever been her on his mind, in his heart, in his dreams, and having her in his arms now, so warm and soft, smelling so delectable, there was no way he could hold himself back.
“Kiara…”
“I want this,” she said softly, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. She reached down between them, grasped the bottom of her tank top, and pulled it up over her head, dropping it to the floor at her feet. The necklace fell atop it. “I want you. Now. We’ve wasted too much time already.”
Volcair’s heart hammered against his ribs, and his qal shone ever brighter as his gaze dipped down her body. Her breasts—each no more than a handful—were tipped with dark, pearled nipples; they were utterly perfect. She was utterly perfect.
Kiara hooked the band of her underwear with her thumbs and pushed the black fabric down her legs, baring herself completely.