Page 36 of Signed, Sealed, Seduced
The admission strikes something deep within me, a resonance I had not expected to find with this human female who crashed into my life mere cycles ago.
“I see you, Suki Vega,” I tell her, the words emerging with a solemnity that surprises even me. “I have from the moment you stood before me and refused to be what others expected.”
Her smile then is like nothing I have witnessed before—not the sharp, defensive grin she uses as armor, nor the politeexpression she adopts when navigating unfamiliar territory. This smile transforms her entire being, radiating a warmth that seems to reach past my carefully constructed defenses.
“So,” she says, her voice lighter now, though I can detect the tension beneath. “If I were to stay. Hypothetically. What would that look like? What would I be? A permanent guest? A diplomatic liaison? A fortress mascot?”
The question should be simple to answer. Yet I find myself considering not just the practical implications, but what I want her to be. What I need her to be.
“You would be,” I say carefully, “whatever you choose to be. Your skills are considerable. Your perspective, valuable. There are many roles you could fill within Zater Reach, should you wish to.”
I step closer, drawn by the pull I can no longer deny. “But more than that, you would be... necessary. To the fortress. To me.”
Her breath catches audibly, and I see the way her pulse flutters at the base of her throat. “Necessary,” she repeats, the word soft on her lips.
“Yes.” I close more of the distance between us, until I can see the flecks of gold in her eyes, can feel the warmth radiating from her smaller form. “You have become essential to my existence in ways I did not expect and cannot fully explain.”
“And us?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “What would we be, Henrok?”
She says my name correctly, the sound of it in her voice creating a sensation I cannot fully describe—warmth, recognition, belonging. Something that feels dangerously close to home.
“We would be,” I say, my voice dropping to match hers, “whatever we choose to become. Together.”
It is not a declaration of intent. Not a promise. Merely an acknowledgment of possibility—yet it feels more significant than any oath I have sworn in three centuries of existence.
She takes another step closer, close enough now that I can detect the subtle scent of her—that sharp, clean smell like the air after a lightning storm. Her head tilts back to maintain eye contact, the difference in our heights more apparent than ever.
“That’s a pretty open-ended answer for someone who usually deals in absolutes,” she observes, though her tone holds no criticism.
“You,” I tell her with complete honesty, “are not an absolute. You are a variable I did not anticipate. A constant I did not expect to need.”
Her laugh then is genuine, a sound that echoes through the empty launch bay and seems to fill spaces within me I had not realized were hollow.
“A variable and a constant,” she repeats, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You have a way with words, Warlord.”
“Only with you,” I admit, the confession slipping out before I can stop it.
Something shifts in her expression, a deepening of the awareness between us. “Only with me,” she echoes, and there’s something wondering in her tone.
“You have affected me,” I continue, no longer able to hold back the words. “Changed me. Made me remember that I am more than just duty and command.”
She reaches out, her hand hovering near mine without quite touching. “What are you saying, Henrok?”
“I am saying,” I tell her, taking her hand in mine, “that I would have you stay. Not as a guest, not as an obligation, but as... yourself. As the woman who sees past the armor to something worth saving.”
Her fingers are small against my palm, delicate yet strong, and I can feel the slight tremor that runs through her at the contact. When she speaks, her voice is breathless.
“You’re not asking me to stay just because I’m useful. You’re asking because you want me here.”
“I am asking,” I correct, my thumb brushing across her knuckles, “because the thought of you leaving creates a void I do not know how to fill. Because you have become necessary to my existence in ways that have nothing to do with tactical advantage.”
“And everything to do with?” she prompts, her eyes searching mine.
“Everything to do with the fact that I am falling in love with you,” I say simply.
The admission hangs between us like a bridge—terrifying in its implications, yet somehow inevitable. I have spent three centuries building walls around my heart, constructing barriers between myself and anything that might prove vulnerable. Yet this small human female has somehow found every crack in my defenses, every weakness in my armor.
“Henrok,” she breathes, and my name on her lips sounds like a prayer.
