Page 11 of Stolen By the Wraiths
"Comfort," I repeated. "You know most people would call that a violation. Did you get inside my head?"
"No. That’s why I hesitated. I can’t change your thoughts, Alix. All I did was counter the panic—let your body know you were safe."
"'Chemical reassurance.' Sounds like a fancy way to say mind control."
"But did it feel like mind control?"
I shook my head. "No. It just felt… safe." The admission was grudging. "I understand you could have left me to deal with it alone. Most people would have." I sat back down on the bunk's edge. "The Hendersons used to tell me my nightmares were attention-seeking. That if I really wanted them to stop, I'd find a way to control them."
His hands stilled completely. "You were a child processing abandonment trauma."
"I was a problem they didn't want to deal with." The old bitterness rose in my throat. "They made it clear my fear was my responsibility. My burden to carry alone."
"It shouldn't have been."
The quiet conviction in his voice made my breath catch. "Maybe not. But that was the lesson I learned. Trust no one. Need nothing. Keep moving."
"And now?"
I looked at him, really looked at him. At the way he held himself still and patient while I worked through fifteen years of defensive programming.
"Now I'm having a conversation about feelings with an alien soldier who could snap me in half." I almost smiled. "And somehow, that feels like the safest I've been since I was twelve."
"I would never hurt you."
"I know." The admission surprised me with its certainty. "I don't know how, but I do."
"Alix." He said it like a prayer.
"I remember touching you," I said, my face flushing. "Even in my sleep, I remember learning the patterns of your skin. The way it warmed under my fingers."
His traceries pulsed, a faint blush of light under his bronze skin. He was remembering, too.
"I felt safe," I continued, my voice softer now. "Not just protected, but like I belonged somewhere. Like I'd found something I didn't know I was looking for." I leaned forward slightly. "Is that what bonding feels like? Like coming home to a place you've never been?"
"Yes," he said simply. "That's exactly what it feels like."
The weight of his admission settled between us like a bridge I wasn't sure I was ready to cross. Before I could process what that meant, the ship's alert system activated with urgent, repeating chimes.
Crisis was calling. We shared a look—a silent, frustrated acknowledgment that our personal reckoning had been interrupted. Whatever we were becoming would have to wait.
The briefing room was thick with a tension that made the recycled air taste metallic. The crew stood around the central holographic display, the low hum of the life support the only sound.
"I've broken the first layer of encryption on the core," Deyric said, his voice tight. "It's worse than we thought."
The display flickered to life: sterile corridors and glass cells. My stomach dropped. Not just a lab—a prison. Tsekai slumped inside, their traceries dim. Some rocked in corners; others stared blankly at the walls.
"It's not only research data," Deyric continued. "It's documentation of an active weapons development program. Vain isn't just trying to replicate the Tsekai bond—he's trying to weaponize it."
I looked at Ressh. His professional mask had shattered. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and the traceries along his throat flared with erratic, sickly light. This wasn't data; it was a desecration. He took a half-step back from the display as if the sight had struck him.
"They're torturing them," Jessa's voice was a low, furious snarl. "We burn that facility to the ground. Now."
Thoryn's massive frame vibrated with a low growl. Malrik's feather crest was flat against his skull.
"How many?" Serak asked, his pale eyes mirroring the display's glow.
"At least thirty documented subjects," Deyric replied. "And this is just one facility. Epsilon Facility. It's where they conduct the most... intensive research."
