Page 93 of Claimed By the Alien Assassin
I feel the familiar jolt as the shuttle transitions into lightspeed, the trip-hammer of hyperspace humming through the floor and into my bones. Beside me, Josie leans against the bulkhead, one arm slung across my chest. I glance at her, hair drifting weightless in the cabin’s artificial gravity, eyes bright with mischief.
She nudges me. “You realize we never had a honeymoon.”
I smirk, brushing my knuckle along her cheek. The movement cracks the tension in this sealed ship. “Wanna detour?” I ask, voice low, promising worlds on a razor’s edge.
Her grin curls wickedly. “Only if it involves danger and bad decisions.”
I laugh, deep and slow, because I know us. I clear my throat, tone shifting to playful self-seriousness. “So… course set for uncharted asteroid belt with amateur pirate activity?”
She cackles and nudges me with her knee, the hum of lightspeed around us paling beside the electricity in her eyes. “And maybe a spa day? Please, I’ve earned a spa day.”
I shake my head. “You’re a renegade engineer, you don’t do spa.”
“Well, I’m reformed now. And I’ll take a mud bath with you in a cave under a volcano.” She props her chin against my shoulder. “Deal?”
I press a soft kiss behind her jaw. “Deal,” I whisper.
The ship’s cabin dims into throbbing blue lines as hyperspace unfolds outside the viewport. I feel the weight of possibility pressing in—political crises, unknown threats, alliances waiting to form. But in this moment, all I need is right here. Josie curled against me. My ring finger warm from hers. The soft cadence of her breath.
She sighs, long and content, and I follow each of her breaths like a tide drawing me closer. “We’ve been through hellfires and bureaucrats, Vortaxians and pseudo-pirates,” she murmurs. “But you know what?”
I shift to look at her, thumb tracing her jawline. “What’s that?” My voice deepens, soft with love.
Her lips part in that fierce smile. “You are the stupidest, toughest, most wonderful mistake I’ve ever made.”
Heat flares in my chest. “Sunshine rebel, meet growly assassin.”
She laughs again. “Best accessory I ever picked.”
I capture her mouth in a kiss—one that tastes of starborn dust and rebel adrenaline, tastes like this moment: unbreakable. We slide together and she hums against my chest—a tune I created back on Snowblossom, a lullaby of promise.
“Dayn,” she rasps when the world returns, “whatever’s next... we face it side by side?”
I shift to the forward station and rest my hand on the tactical rail, thumb brushing a carved insignia I added: two rings interlocked around a starburst. “Fated and chosen, Josie,” I say softly. “Forever.”
Her hand finds mine, fingers intertwining. She presses into me. “And, always, a detour.”
A signal pings from the comm console—Dowron’s voice crisp, clipped. “Edge of Vortaxian space. Coordinates inbound. Ops window opens in ten.”
She stands, determination ignited, eyes bright. Played out? Done? Not us. “That’s our cue,” she breathes.
I lean in, pressing my forehead to hers. “Together... again.”
We step into the control station as the shuttle hums through the void, the glow of hyperspace receding at the destination jump. The future is wide open. A galaxy steeped in danger, hope, promise—and us.
Growly assassin and sunshine rebel, ringed in armor and composite fabric, fated and chosen and forever ready.
I slide the shuttle’s throttle forward, steering us into the unknown, trusting the girl at my side and the fire in my chest. And I mean it—this time, we’ll find time to breathe, laugh, maybe even spa, and wage wars worth fighting.
Because whatever comes next, we’ve already won. Together. eternity-long peace? Probably not. But this? This is real. And it's ours.
CHAPTER 30
JOSIE
Istumble off the ramp of the shuttle into a swirling haze of red dust, the air tasting like rust and regret. My lungs protest—the heaviness feels personal, like the planet itself is inhaling me. I yank off my visor and cough, drawing in lungs-full of grit.
Dayn ducks outside to steady me, arms firm around my waist. The heat of his body against me is softer than a promise. “Jess, breathe slower,” he murmurs, pressing a filter mask into my hand.
