Page 49 of Legacy for the Alien Warrior

The simple gesture of acceptance left him speechless. He’d expected confusion, perhaps even jealousy. Instead, Rory had simply included himself in their embrace, expanding their circle without disrupting it.

A second movement at the doorway caught his attention. Talia stood there, her translucent ears flickering with uncertainty. She clutched a small piece of cloth—one of the scraps Kara had used for sewing—against her chest.

Their eyes met across the room. He recognized the longing in her gaze, the fear of rejection that kept her rooted in the doorway. How many times had she reached for comfort only to have it denied?

Slowly, carefully, he extended his free arm toward her, palm up in invitation.

Talia hesitated, her ears shifting from blue to a hopeful lavender. Then, with the cautious steps of one accustomed to disappointment, she approached the sleeping platform.

When she reached his outstretched hand, she placed her much smaller one in his. He gently lifted her up onto the platform, making room for her small body between himself and Rory.

She curled into the space, her back pressed against his side, her hand still clutching his. Her ears settled into a contented pink as her eyes drifted closed.

He lay awake, surrounded by the three beings who had crashed into his life and changed everything. Their breathing created a gentle symphony in the quiet cabin—Kara’s deep and even, Rory’s slightly faster, Talia’s with the faintest whistle on each exhale.

He’d spent years avoiding attachment, convinced that loneliness was the price of survival. Now, with his mate in his arms and two children sleeping trustfully beside them, he understood how wrong he’d been.

This wasn’t weakness. This was strength.

His tail curved protectively around all three of them as the ship carried them through the stars. For the first time since leaving Ciresia, Thraxar felt truly, completely at home.

The universe was vast and often cruel. Tomorrow would bring new challenges—explaining their relationship to the children, figuring out their future, navigating the complexities of their different needs and backgrounds.

But tonight, in this moment, everything was as it should be. His family was safe. His family was here.

His family.

The thought accompanied him as he finally drifted to sleep, his body curled protectively around the three beings who had become his world.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Kara stood at the viewport, watching Verdun grow larger as they approached. Unlike the barren asteroid she’d been trapped on, this world bloomed with verdant color—oceans of deep azure, sprawling forests in shades of emerald and jade, and patches of what appeared to be farmland in geometric patterns.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, pressing her palm against the cool surface of the viewport.

Thraxar’s reflection appeared behind her, his dark eyes meeting hers in the transparent surface. “Elrin chose well. The Trevelor are an agricultural people. They value peace and stability.”

Peace. The word settled in her chest like a warm stone. These past days aboard Thraxar’s ship had been the most peaceful she’d known since before her abduction. Maybe even before that.

Rory and Talia sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, engrossed in the mechanical toys Thraxar had built for them. Rory had arranged a series of small objects in a semicircle around them—nuts, bolts, a piece of wire bent into a spiral. Talia was carefully mimicking his pattern on her side, her translucent ears flushed pink with concentration.

Her chest tightened. They fit together, these two damaged children. Rory had never connected with another child before Talia. And Talia, who’d known nothing but cruelty and confinement, blossomed a little more each day under their care.

The thought of giving her up felt like contemplating the amputation of a limb.

“What are you thinking?” Thraxar’s voice rumbled low beside her, for her ears alone.

She turned to face him, studying the strong lines of his face, the ridges that swept back from his forehead, the dark eyes that saw her so clearly.

“I don’t want to let her go,” she admitted softly. “I know we need to find her people, but…”

His tail curled around her wrist, a gesture that had become familiar and comforting. “I know.”

“And I don’t want to leave you either,” she added, her voice barely audible.

His expression softened. “Then don’t.”

Before she could respond, the ship’s system chimed, announcing their imminent landing. He squeezed her hand once before moving to the control panel.

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