Page 46 of Claimed By the War Brute
I stare at the screen, at distant wreckage, at glinting debris. My reflection smiles—half-broken, half-warm. I glance back at Syd. “We left the Alliance behind once,” I say, voice rough as gravel. “We’ll do it again, on our terms.”
She steps closer, hand probing across the console, slippery from sweat. “What do you want next?”
I respond, gaze steady, resolve flowing in every scar. “A new ship. Total control. No red tape. And you.”
She half-smiles–a rebel grin that means storms and home. “That’s it?”
I lean in, voice quiet but deadly certain. “That’s it.”
Silence claims us again—but this time it’s full, resonant. No ache. No emptiness. Just possibility.
She crosses her arms, nods once. “Damn right I’m with you.”
We click the console to life—systems rebooting, nav nodes calibrating.
No final bows or fanfare. Just two broken, battered warriors reaching for something real. Something theirs.
I touch a switch labeled LIFE SYSTEM DEFAULT and flick it on.
Her voice floats across the station’s hum: “Let’s break something… but on our terms.”
I grip her hand—scaled to skin. “Together.”
The Vigil’s End drifts on—cold, ready, lethal. But now there’s purpose steering her through the void.
I keep the comms window closed, letting the silence stretch between us—the Vigil’s End humming like a wounded beast in the void. Syd glances over, fingers brushing across the console nearly tenderly as systems reboot with methodical hums. I shift toward her, still blood-pulsed but steady.
She meets my eyes—sudden gravity. “You ready for what comes next?” she asks, voice laced with something fierce and weary.
I shrug my broad shoulder, then reach for her hand. “Not without you.”
She breathes a soft laugh, one part relief, two parts storm. “Promise you won’t drag me back into something… worse than any battle?”
I squeeze her fingers. “I promise. Nothing but what comes from us choosing it.”
She steps closer, every shift of air between us a live wire. I can feel her pulse through the subtle heat radiating off her body. Her breath is shallow, her pupils wide. My own chest rises and falls with the weight of restraint—restraint I’m quickly losing. I reach out and slide my hands over her arms, thumbs resting against the delicate hinge of her elbows, skin soft under my scaled palms.
“You’re safe with me,” I murmur.
Her eyes shimmer—not tears, not quite. Something molten. Something ancient. “I know.”
I press my forehead to hers. “Goddamn, I’ve wanted this.”
Her breath brushes over my mouth like a spark ready to catch flame. “Don’t tell me,” she whispers, voice low and aching. “Show me.”
I don’t ask again.
Our mouths meet in silence, but the kiss says everything. It’s slow, hungry, a vow sealed in heat. My tongue brushes hers, tasting firelight and war-born resolve. Her lips part on a soft moan, and that sound—the rawness of it—threads straight to the base of my spine. Her hands slide up around my neck, fingers seeking the ridges behind my head, and when she finds them, she tightens her grip. I groan against her mouth.
We move together toward the rear bay. Dim red emergency lights scatter across metal panels, casting her skin in the faint glow of blood and warmth. The hum of the engines is distant. In this space, it’s just her. Just me.
I lower her gently onto a padded console. She arches beneath me like she’s never feared a thing in her life, but I know better. I can taste the scars under her skin. The ones they don’t see.
I cup her cheek, thumb brushing the line of her jaw. “Careful,” she whispers.
I smile into her mouth. “Always.”
I lean over her, taking my time. My hands roam her jacket, fingers slipping under her collar. Her skin is hot beneath the chill of metal. I kiss the hollow of her throat, down to her collarbone, slow and firm. She shivers when my tongue drags lightly over her pulse. I whisper against it, “Tell me what you want.”
