Page 42 of Tamed By the Alien Warlord
A high-ranking Gur authority, flanked by armed droids, steps forward. He lifts a chromic badge at me. “Citizen journalist! You’re under arrest! Piracy?—-”
I roll my eyes and smile. “Oh, darling… let’s not start with that.”
He frowns. “Then why must we detain you?”
I step forward, hands raised but chin high. “Me? Don’t you read your own threadfeeds? Piracy doesn’t make news.” I pause for dramatic effect. “I’m a journalist. And you, Officer, you’ve got a war-crime in your lap. Gur has enough bad press without your station being next.”
A tense beat.
Jasmine nudges the officer’s shin. He glances down. “Better PR than a galaxy-wide scandal, right?”
He glances at Lanz’s limp figure, the smoking hulk behind us—and nods once, glancing at his droid as though unsure if he can believe his orders. Finally, the droid says, “Authorized to stand down.”
We walk past them, sisters flanking the wounded Captain. I smile sweetly at the officers. “Thank you for your service. Enjoy your day.”
Back aboard the Ravager,the escape’s roar is deafening. Shields hum. Engines awaken. Jasmine and I walk our way down the ramp and across the deck where destitute Reapers stand no-talk, grim-smiled.
“Where’s Gash?” I ask dryly.
“He’s in medbay,” Jasmine says quietly. “Cobbling something.”
I nod, pressing my hand to Lanz’s wrist. He grips mine in return, weak but real.
He opens his mouth, voice hoarse: “You… saved me.”
I lean close. “No, you idiot.Wesaved each other.”
Jasmine leans in too, covering her sister and mate from everywhere else we’ve been.
A tervish chord blasts overhead.
“Ready,” I call to the pilot.
“Jump coordinates locked,” comes the reply.
Lanz turns his head toward me, eyes warm with unshed tears. “You... all of this...”
I grip his shoulder. “Family.” I glance at Jasmine. “And Reapers.”
She nods.
Lanz inhales, pain shadowing his features. “Set course.”
Alarms dim. The engines hum with promise.
Lightning blue arcs of superluminal charge blossom across the viewport.
Our world fractures.
Our safety stretches across systems.
And as we lean into the jump—and into each other—I know exactly where we belong.
CHAPTER 19
GEORGIA
The Ravager hums beneath us, a beast wound down after a brutal feast. The bridge is quiet, save for the low warble of superluminal engines winding down and the soft beeps of medbay monitors. I lean against a console, watching Lanz’s pale, battle-streaked face as he sits in the command chair. His remaining arm flexes involuntarily—a pang of pain I wish I could absorb for him.
