Page 76 of Legacy for the Alien Warrior

She felt him go still beneath her. “And?”

“I told her we’re staying.” She lifted her head to look at him. “If that’s still what you want.”

His expression in the dim light was unguarded, vulnerable in a way few ever saw. “It is all I want. You. The children. This life we’re building.”

She laid her palm against his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of his skin. “Then it’s settled. This is home.”

He captured her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm—a gesture so tender it made her throat tighten.

“Home,” he agreed.

As sleep began to claim her, she listened to the sounds of their house—Rory’s soft humming from his room, Talia’s occasional murmur as she dreamed, Thraxar’s steady breathing beneath her cheek. The sounds of family. Of safety. Of belonging.

For the first time in longer than she could remember, Kara Macintosh was perfectly content.

EPILOGUE

Two months later…

Thraxar’s shouldersrelaxed as he approached their house, the tension of the workday melting away with each step. Two months of this routine—walking the same path home each evening, knowing what waited for him there—and still the wonder of it hadn’t diminished. If anything, it had deepened, taking root in him like the garden plants they’d cultivated together.

He paused at the gate, taking in the sight of their home. The exterior walls glowed amber in the late afternoon light, the windows bright with life from within. The garden had transformed under their care—beds of native plants interspersed with a few carefully selected varieties that Kara had special-ordered from an agricultural station. Talia’s favorite purple flowers clustered along the pathway, their delicate petals folded for the evening.

His home. Their home.

The door recognized his biosignature and slid open. The familiar sounds and scents washed over him—the soft purr ofthe environmental controls, the lingering aroma of whatever Kara had prepared for the children’s meal, and beneath it all, the subtle sweetness that was uniquely hers.

“I’m back,” he called, an unnecessary announcement that had become ritual.

Rory didn’t look up as Thraxar entered the main living space, his focus absolute. The boy sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by the collection of small mechanical components Thraxar had salvaged from Jerra’s shop. Each piece was being arranged in a precise pattern that only made sense to Rory—concentric circles of gears and switches, sorted by size and shape with mathematical precision.

He crouched down, careful not to disturb the pattern. “Good evening, Rory.”

The boy’s fingers continued their methodical work, but his shoulders relaxed slightly at Thraxar’s voice. A slight bob of his head acknowledged the greeting without breaking his concentration. He’d learned to recognize this as Rory’s way of saying hello when he was deep in one of his projects.

“That’s an impressive arrangement,” he said quietly. “The symmetry is perfect.”

Rory’s hands paused for the briefest moment, a flicker of pleasure crossing his face before he resumed his work. A now-familiar warmth filled his chest—the satisfaction of understanding this child who so many others had failed to comprehend.

From the kitchen nook came the scratch of color sticks against paper. Talia sat at the table, her small lavender face screwed up in concentration as she worked on her latest drawing. Her translucent ears shifted from deep purple to a contented blue-green when she noticed him.

“Papa!” She abandoned her coloring and bounded across the room, launching herself into his arms with complete trust.

He caught her easily, lifting her high. “And how was your day, little one?”

“I learned five new words in Standard and helped Mama plant the seed things and saw a flying bug with spots!” The words tumbled out in a rush as her ears flickered with excitement. “And I’m making you a picture but it’s not done so don’t look!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised solemnly, setting her back down. “A surprise is a serious matter.”

She nodded with grave importance before scampering back to her artwork, carefully positioning herself to block his view.

He sought his mate then, finding her curled in the corner of the couch with a medical text projected above a datapad. An expression he couldn’t read flickered across her face before she smiled and closed the projection with a quick gesture.

“You’re home early,” she said, smiling up at him.

“Jerra let me go once we finished the Carellian freighter.” He crossed to her, bending to press his forehead against hers in greeting. “The captain was so pleased with the repairs he gave her a bonus, and she passed some of it along.”

Her eyes brightened. “That’s wonderful.”

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