Page 36 of Rook
"He's my boyfriend, Janice, it's cool," his mate was saying, her voice steady and reassuring even as she shot Rook a look that was part exasperation, part something that might have been fondness.
Boyfriend? Humans had such strange ways of saying things. The term seemed inadequate to describe what they were to each other, but he supposed it was better than trying to explain the concept of fated mates to a group of traumatized humans.
Sasha gave him a look that was almost bashful, one shoulder lifting in a small shrug. "This is your mess to clean up, honey bear."
Honey bear? That was even stranger than boyfriend. He made a mental note to ask her about human endearments later, when they weren't surrounded by witnesses and the smoking ruins of a slaver camp.
But cleaning up was simpler than the fight. Rook had plenty of Earth money stashed on his ship, just in case he needed bribes or cash on hand for his mission. The humans who had been captured were happy to agree to silence in exchange for his reserves, especially when they saw the thick stacks of bills.
Money, it seemed, was a universal language.
"Did you really give each of them fifty grand in small bills?" Sasha demanded after they'd repurposed the box truck to pick up the money and then drop the humans back near their home with a story about gas leaks and hallucinations that might hold up to casual scrutiny.
"Is that not enough?" The conversions between Vemion gold and Earth dollars wasn't exact, and he'd never been good with the local currency anyway. "It's all I had."
Sasha snorted, a sound that was half laughter, half disbelief. "It's more than any of them make in a year."
He'd have to remember that for future reference. Apparently, his casual spending money was a fortune by human standards. No wonder they'd agreed to keep quiet so readily.
But there was still work to do. The slaver camp needed to be completely destroyed, every trace of alien technology melted down or vaporized. Their ship would have to be buried or teleported into deep space. Any evidence that might lead investigators to ask uncomfortable questions had to be eliminated.
It took hours, but finally, the canyon looked like nothing more than a natural clearing. The ship was gone, transported to the heart of a star. The tents and equipment had been reduced to unrecognizable slag. Even the scorch marks from the battle had been carefully obscured.
When it was finished, they sat alone in the box truck in a roadside parking area, watching the sun rise through the windshield. Sasha leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, and Rook put an arm around her, breathing in the scent of her hair. She smelled like smoke and pine needles and something uniquely her that made his dragon purr with contentment.
"You gave away all your cash," she said quietly. "So you're leaving?"
The question hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken implications. She wasn't asking about his mission or his duties as a dragon lord. She was asking about them, about what came next, about whether this was goodbye.
"My job on Earth is done."
He'd come to that planet as a hunter, tracking fugitives who'd escaped Vemion justice. He'd expected to capture or kill them and return home with another successful mission added to his record. He'd never imagined he'd find something far more valuable than justice or duty.
He'd found the other half of his soul, the woman who could walk through his fire and emerge unscathed, the mate he'd never dared to hope for.
But what did that mean for her? She had a life here, a job, friends, a whole world that was familiar and safe. What right did he have to ask her to leave it all behind?
He was her mate.
He had every right.
"Come home with me. To Vemion."
EPILOGUE
Of course she said yes.
One year later, and Sasha didn't regret it. The ride from Earth to Vemion had been a bit cramped. But being stuck on a small ship with just a tiny bed had led to some … creative uses of space.
And once they landed, cramped was the last thing they were.
Her boyfriend lived in a freaking palace.
He insisted it was a minor country estate, but to someone who'd been dreaming of studio apartments when he came into her life, the place might as well have been Versailles.
Not that Sasha was complaining.
He had grounds around his not-palace that were almost as good as the wilderness back home. The trees weren't quite right—the bark was too smooth, the leaves a shade of green that didn't exist on Earth—but they still whispered secrets when the wind moved through them. The undergrowth was dense enough to lose herself in, thick with ferns that brushed her knees and flowering vines that perfumed the air with something like jasmine crossed with cinnamon.
