Page 77 of Legacy for the Alien Warrior

“Mmm.” He breathed in her scent, allowing himself the luxury of simply holding her for a moment. “How was the clinic today?”

“Busy. Three cases of Tellurian flu and a mining accident.” She traced the pattern along his forearm, a habitual gesture that never failed to send a pleasant shiver through him. “Nothing too serious, though.”

Something in her tone caught his attention—a slight hesitation, perhaps. But before he could question it, Talia called from the table.

“Mama! I need the purple stick again!”

“Coming,” she called back, giving his arm a squeeze before slipping away.

He watched her cross to Talia, noting the grace of her movements, the way she knelt beside the child with such natural ease. She’d adapted to this new life, this new world, with a resilience that continually amazed him. Both children had flourished under her care, and he…

He had been transformed.

The evening unfolded with comfortable familiarity. They shared the meal his mate had prepared—a blend of local vegetables and protein. Talia chattered about her day while Rory methodically separated his food into precise sections before eating. He found himself content to simply listen, to absorb the domestic harmony that had once seemed an impossible dream.

After the meal came the bedtime routine. Talia insisted on a story from him, a ritual that had begun their first night in the house. Tonight she requested the tale of the star dragons of Vega, settling against his side as he described the luminous creatures that sailed the solar winds between twin suns.

“Are they real?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Some say they are. Others believe they’re just reflections in the stellar dust.” He tucked the blanket around her small body. “Perhaps someday we’ll go see for ourselves.”

Her ears flushed pink with pleasure at the suggestion. “Promise?”

“When you’re older,” he said, a phrase that had become common in their household. A reminder that there would be a future, years stretching ahead for all of them together.

Rory’s routine was different but no less important. Thraxar helped him arrange his collection of small treasures in their precise order on the shelf beside his bed—the polished stone from the garden, the gear wheel from Thraxar’s ship, the shell Kara had found on their trip to the lake. Only when eachitem was perfectly positioned did Rory climb into bed, allowing Thraxar to pull the covers up to his chin.

No stories for Rory, but Thraxar always sat beside him for exactly five minutes—no more, no less—humming a low Cire melody that seemed to soothe the boy. Tonight, just before he rose to leave, Rory’s hand emerged from beneath the blanket to trace a brief pattern on his wrist—a gesture of affection that made his throat tighten with emotion.

When both children were settled, he found Kara waiting for him in the main room, a strange tension in her posture.

“Walk with me in the garden?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral.

He followed her outside, where the evening air carried the scent of night-blooming flowers. The moons of this world—one large and pale, one small and golden—cast overlapping shadows across the garden paths. She moved to the stone bench they’d placed beneath the spreading branches of a native shade tree, its silvery leaves rustling softly in the breeze.

She didn’t sit. Instead, she paced a few steps away, then turned to face him. Her expression was unreadable in the dappled moonlight.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, his tail twitching with sudden concern.

“No.” She shook her head quickly. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just…” She drew a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you.”

Alarm prickled along his spine. “Tell me what?”

She stepped closer, taking his hands in hers. “I’m pregnant, Thraxar.”

The words didn’t register at first. He stared at her, processing each syllable individually before they coalesced into meaning.

“Pregnant,” he repeated. “You’re… we’re…”

“Going to have a baby.” Her voice wavered slightly. “I confirmed it at the clinic today.”

“But how…” He trailed off, realizing the absurdity of the question. “I mean, I didn’t think it was possible despite the mate bond.”

“Neither did I.” A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. “But apparently we were wrong.”

“A baby,” he said again, the reality of it beginning to sink in. “Our baby.”

He placed his hands on her stomach, resting gently against the place where new life grew. There was no outward sign yet, no change he could detect, but knowing it was there—a child created from their union—filled him with a sense of wonder he couldn’t articulate.

---