Page 91 of Salvation for the Alien Mercenary
Or pretended to be.
His heart hammered against his ribs as anticipation and dread warred within him. He'd asked Mira to meet him here, to give him one last chance to explain everything. But each passing minute eroded his hope. After the lies, the secrets he'd kept from her... why would she come? The thought of her walking away for good hollowed him out, leaving nothing but the shell of what he'd become.
The air recyclers cycled, bringing a trace of Mira's scent from the corridor outside. He went still, not turning. She'd agreed to meet him here, but that didn't mean she'd follow through, not after everything.
The observation bay doors slid open. Her footsteps hesitated at the threshold, creating a moment of suspended tension. He remained facing the stars, giving her the space to approach or retreat. His enhanced hearing picked up the slight catch in her breathing, the rustle of fabric as she shifted her weight. He cataloged each sound, each subtle scent that was uniquely hers.
"I wasn't sure you'd come," he said without turning.
Her footsteps resumed, stopping several meters behind him. "I wasn't either."
He turned, taking in her appearance like a starving man in front of a buffet. Her blonde hair was pulled back, and she wore simple ship clothes, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. The lighting caught the golden strands that had escaped her ponytail, framing her face with a soft halo. There were shadows beneath her eyes that hadn't been there before, and a wariness in her posture that twisted something painful in his chest. She'd come alone. No Spot trailing at her heels. Good. He liked the little robot, but this was between them.
He moved away from the viewport into the glow of the dim overhead lighting. "I've spent my entire life lying," he said. "My name isn't even Davis. It's Michael."
The name felt foreign on his tongue, a stranger's identity he'd abandoned years ago. He watched her eyes widen slightly, lips parting in surprise. He'd never been this exposed to anyone before, never revealed the man behind the carefully constructed identity.
"Before the Reapers, I worked for NOMAD," he continued, each word feeling like stepping off a cliff. "A human intelligence agency. Everything about me… my identity, my background… was all constructed. Even the name 'Davis Tell' was an invention to infiltrate the Reapers."
The memories of NOMAD training flashed through his mind… grueling days of drills designed to strip away humanity, to rebuild agents as weapons. He'd learned to compartmentalize and lie so convincingly that he sometimes forgot what was true.
Her fingers tightened against her upper arms, creating depressions against the smooth skin. "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because I don't want to lie to you. Not ever again." He took a step closer, stopping when he saw her tense. "Since this… transformation, it's gotten harder to hide things. Like my body rejects deception." He paused and rubbed a hand over his face. "Or maybe I'm just fucking tired of pretending."
She studied him. "That's a convenient excuse."
"It's not an excuse." He held her gaze. "It's an explanation. There's a difference."
Her shoulders lowered slightly. "So who are you, then? Michael from NOMAD or Davis the engineer?"
"I haven't been Michael in a very long time." The admission felt raw, scraped from somewhere deep. "The lines have blurred. When I left Earth, I was Michael playing Davis. Now..."
"Now you're something else entirely."
"Yes." He moved closer, careful not to crowd her. "And that's why I asked you here. I've been hiding who I am for so long that I barely recognize myself anymore. The transformation just finished what was already happening."
He took a measured breath. She hadn't moved away, hadn't moved at all. "You've seen all of it now. The best and worst of me."
Her shoulders tensed slightly, and her breathing quickened. He couldn't tell if it was wariness or interest.
"And I want you," he continued. "All of you. Your fire. Your mind. The way you never back down."
Her throat moved as she swallowed.
He deliberately stepped back, creating physical space between them despite every cell in his body protesting the distance. The move cost him. Every instinct screamed at him to close the gap, to take what he wanted. But he wouldn't be like Rettnor. He wouldn't use his strength or presence to pressure her.
"But it has to be your choice." His voice roughened as emotion threatened to overtake him. "I won't be like him. I won't force you into anything."
The words had never left his lips before, not to anyone. His pulse roared in his ears as he forced them out.
"I love you. Have since the moment I met you." His lips quirked. "Was just too dumb to realize it."
He tracked her reaction with intensity… the slight widening of her eyes, the catch in her breath, the flush rising on her neck. He recognized the conflict in her expression and forced himself to stay still, to let her reach her own conclusion without pressure and come to him. Hopefully.
Silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the hum of the ship and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. He focused on the sound, using it to anchor himself against the urge to close the distance.
She uncrossed her arms and took a step forward. Then another. His pulse kicked up with each step she took.
