Page 82 of Stars in Nova

Malik clutched a wooden carving, its edges smooth from careful sanding. He presented it to Kisan with a solemn face, who accepted it, turning it over to examine the intricate details.

‘You made this?’ the Rider asked, his aqua eyes softening as they traced the well-crafted grooves of the small animal—a flying otter, its delicate wings outstretched mid-flight.

His voice, still rough from his ordeal, carried an unexpected gentleness.

Malik nodded, his curls bouncing with the movement. ‘Naam! Elder Pasha taught me. Took forever, but it’s good, right?’

Kisan studied the etching for a moment longer, then allowed a smile to tug at his lips. ‘It’s freakin’ fantastic, kid. You’ve got skill.’

The boy’s face lit up, his pride unmistakable. ‘You think so? I want to make more. Perhaps even a whole family of otters.’

‘You should,’ Kisan said, handing the carving back with deliberate care. ‘It’s a good talent. Not everyone can create something out of nothing.’

Malik clutched the model to his chest like a treasure, grinning from ear to ear.

Wiping her wet hands on a towel, Samira took in the scene.

Her gaze lingered on Kisan, his hard edges dulled by the soft presence of her children. She’d seen this side of him once before—on Eden II when he validated a boy and his desert hopper.

There was something pure about Kisan’s interactions with youngsters; it was as if their innocence reached a part of him that he kept buried.

They responded to him, sensing the truth beneath his hardened exterior.

Samira’s chest tightened as she realized how this moment touched her. His tenderness was unexpected but undeniable, stirring something within her that she wasn’t ready to name.

After putting the kids to bed in their adjoining room, Samira joined Kisan on the floor. He propped himself against the couch,his stiffness betraying some lingering aches, though his strength steadily returned.

‘Had to find a hard surface. There’s been way too many soft beds and cushions in recent weeks,’ he growled in explanation.

‘I can always put you in the barracks.’

he arched a brow. ‘Not sure how I feel about that.’

‘What? Is this tiny home growing on you?’

He turned and gave her a long look. ‘I think tis the souls within I can’t resist.’

He reached a hand to her cheek and stroked it, then moved it down her arm, the touch sending shivers through her spine.

The golden glow of his kinetic healing, the meta gleam that had given him a supernatural essence for days, had faded away.

Still, damn, was he all rugged, all imposing, undeniably all man.

Her heart stirred even as her core flexed in raw need.

Fokk.

‘They’re incredible kids,’ Kisan murmured after a long silence, his rumble thoughtful. He rested his hands on his knees, his green eyes distant, as if he were turning over the truth of his words in his mind.

‘They’re my reason for breathing,’ Samira replied.

He shifted to her and nodded, his growl almost reverent. ‘Smart. Kind.’

‘They have to be,’ Samira responded, her gaze softening. ‘This world doesn’t leave much room for anything else.’

She glanced at the doorway of the kids’ room, where she could hear the sounds of their even exhalation. ‘For everything I do.’

Kisan turned to her, his piercing eyes steady. ‘They’re lucky to have you.’

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