Page 41 of Fifth
The question was a knife and a balm together. She didn’t pretend bravery. “Yes. Iwant to. Though, it scares me.”
“We will not rush,” he said. “We will do what keeps you safe.”
She rolled to face him, tracing patterns across his broad chest. “Will you come with me?”
“I will not leave you.”
“What if they are afraid of you?”
“I will soften what they see. Ican adopt an Earthen appearance with lighter eyes, gentler lines, and whatever eases their fear. They may ask what they need to ask. You may answer what you will. You may ask them for whatever you need.”
Tears pricked again. “Will they know you’re an alien?”
“Not unless you wish it,” he replied.
“What about Sixth? Is he going to let us do this?”
“Sixth is not our enemy,” he said, calm. “He is my commander. He is also my warrior brother. He will help choose the safest path.”
She lay quiet, listening to the measure of his heart. The word mate had always sounded like a collar to her. In his mouth, it was a vow that asked her to speak back or refuse. She wanted to speak back. She wanted to choose.
“Can I ask you something?” shesaid.
“Affirmative.”
“What do you want?” Her fingers spread over his chest, needing truth that wasn’tduty.
He didn’t look away. “I want you safe. Iwant you fed and warm and laughing. Iwant your affirmative, spoken and unafraid. Iwant your mouth. Iwant your hands on me. Iwant the way you argue when you think I am wrong. Iwant your stubbornness. Iwant your courage. Iwant your mind against mine. Iwant to go first into danger for you and return to your bed. Iwant your scent on my skin. Iwant you in my life.”
She lifted up on an elbow and studied him with serious eyes. “I’m not some submissive woman. If you expect me to stay with you, Ineed to function in your world. In your universe and galaxies.”
“I do not want a submissive woman,” he said. “I want you. Iwant you beside me. You will stand where I stand. You will tell me when I forget your world. And I will teach you mine.I want you for my mate.”
“Why?” The word landed like a stone in a clear pool. Love had never been named between them. Was that what thiswas?
“Because you chose me when you had reasons not to,” he said. “Because you look at me and do not flinch. Because my body recognized you and my mind agreed. Because I am quiet inside when you are near. Because hunger for you does not end when I leave the bed. Because I think in years now, and every year I want has you in it.”
She tested the shape of a word too big and exactly right. “Do you love me?”
“I have never lived my life with that word in it,” Locus said, steady. “But I know what it is in my body. It is choosing you, every time. It is doing whatever keeps you alive. It is standing between you and harm. It is wanting your joy more than my pride. If your word for that is love, then affirmative. Ilove you.”
Heat rose behind her eyes. The feeling wasn’t girlish or small. It was steady, adult, earned. She tested the word against what he had given: choosing her, standing between her and harm, wanting her joy over his pride, and it held. Breath steadied. His palm warmed at her back as if her body already knew the answer. She saw the years he had offered, not as a dream but as days filled and kept. No bargaining, no disguise.
Silence held. She let herself look in both directions—forward with him, and back without him. Back looked like Earth in gray light. Work and noise and the shape of rooms that didn’t fit. Acellphone with his name never on it. Abed that stayed cold down the middle. She saw herself walking streets that wouldn’t know him, making coffee, answering questions, pretending her body didn’t remember his heat and the way he said her name, like it belonged in his mouth. Years stacked like blank pages. The ache of never touching him again would be like a promise left unfinished, sweet and hurting atonce.
At long last, she named what was blossoming inside her. “I love you, too.”
His palm warmed at her back. “If you are sent away,” he said, voice low, “I will take my Final Flight back.”
Her head snapped up. “What does that mean?”
“It means I will go home to my beginning and end my years,” he answered, simple and devastating. “I will not live another year, let alone hundreds, without you.”
Terror slid under her ribs. “Hundreds,” she said, almost choking on the number. “Locus, I’m human. Idon’t live for hundreds of years.”
He smiled, gentle enough to steady her. “You will, if you remain with me. Our medical care will lengthen your life until it matches mine. You will not grow old alone. We will live the same length. We will rise and sleep for as long as we are given.”
Her breath stuttered. She let the thought settle, the terror, the impossible relief of not having to count down an end that would separate them. She turned it over and it clicked into place like a lock findinghome.
