Page 56 of Return to Sender
And the best part? I never have to see Dante’s hideous face again.
“Incoming communication from Madge Morrison, OOPS Dispatch,” AXIS announces in whispered tones that suggest even our ship’s AI has developed some sense of romantic timing. “Marked urgent but not emergency priority. Shall I inform the caller that you are engaged in post-liberation celebration protocols?”
Wi’kar stirs at the sound, his arms tightening reflexively around me before his eyes open. Even alert, he takes a long moment to simply look at me, his gaze tracking over my face as if confirming I’m still here, still real, still his. The intensity of that look makes heat pool low in my belly despite having spent most of the night thoroughly confirming our newfound freedom.
“Good morning, Agent Mine,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw that makes his patterns flare bright silver.
“Good morning, Princess Mine,” he replies, and something warm and possessive settles in my chest at the easy claim inhis voice. No more hesitation, no more protocol concerns about appropriate boundaries. Just simple, devastating certainty.
“Princess Mine?” I question with mock affront, though I’m already shifting to straddle his hips because I’m apparently addicted to the way his breathing changes when I move against him. “I thought we agreed I was giving up royal titles.”
“You are relinquishing royal obligations,” he corrects with the precise diction that somehow makes even grammar feel like foreplay. His hands settle on my waist with possessive familiarity. “However, you will always be my princess. This is non-negotiable.”
The sweetness of it, coming from someone who expresses emotion through precision rather than poetry, makes my heart flutter in ways that should probably embarrass me. Instead, I find myself grinning like an idiot and rolling my hips just to watch his eyes go dark.
“Communication from Mother Morrison remains pending,” AXIS reminds us with mechanical patience that carries just a hint of artificial smugness. “Shall I inform her that you are conducting comprehensive freedom verification protocols?”
“Put her through,” I decide reluctantly, reaching for a robe while Wi’kar makes a sound of protest that vibrates against my throat. “Let’s see what our favorite criminal mastermind has planned for us next.”
“Criminal mastermind?” Wi’kar questions with raised eyebrows as I reluctantly extract myself from his arms. “Mother Morrison operates within established legal parameters.”
“Oh, my sweet, naive alien,” I pat his cheek affectionately. “Mother Morrison operates within the legal parameters she creates. There’s a difference.”
Mother’s gruff visage appears on the small communication screen, her expression carrying satisfaction and what might actually be maternal pride. Behind her, I can see the familiarcontrolled chaos of OOPS Junction One Dispatch, couriers coming and going with the efficient bustle of an organization that somehow makes pandemonium look professional.
“Well, well,” she begins without preamble, her sharp eyes taking in my robe and Wi’kar’s distinctly rumpled appearance behind me. “Look what the cat dragged in. One liberated princess and her thoroughly besotted courier, looking remarkably pleased with themselves.”
“Mother,” Wi’kar acknowledges formally, though I catch the slight curve at the corner of his mouth that suggests genuine affection.
“Madge,” I greet more casually, earning a sharp look that doesn’t quite hide her amusement. “Thank you for... everything. The diplomatic resolution, the evidence gathering, the complete and systematic destruction of Dante’s credibility. It was absolutely masterful.”
“It was necessary,” she replies gruffly, though I catch the pleased expression that flickers across her features. “Prince Dante was becoming a significant operational impediment for OOPS activities across six sectors. His illegal salvage operations were interfering with legitimate courier routes, and his abuse of diplomatic immunity was creating complications for all our personnel.”
“So our situation was just... conveniently useful?” I ask, though I’m not offended by the pragmatism. Mother’s calculated approach to problem-solving is exactly what saved us from a lifetime of looking over our shoulders.
“Your situation provided the perfect opportunity to address multiple systemic issues simultaneously,” Mother clarifies with the satisfaction of someone whose long-term planning has achieved optimal results. “Prince Dante’s obsession with retrieving you gave me the leverage necessary to exposehis other illegal activities. Diplomat Toner had been seeking justification to restrict his diplomatic access for months.”
Wi’kar settles beside me on the narrow communication bench, close enough that our thighs touch—a casual intimacy that would have been impossible just days ago. His presence is warm and solid and utterly reassuring.
“What are our operational parameters going forward?” he asks with professional efficiency, though his hand finds mine with automatic familiarity.
“That depends,” Mother replies, leaning back in her chair with calculating assessment. “Princess Dominique, what exactly do you intend to do with your newfound freedom? Return to royal court life? Disappear into civilian obscurity? Take up exotic dancing?”
“Exotic dancing?” I sputter, though Wi’kar makes an interesting sound beside me that suggests he finds the mental image... distracting.
“You have excellent physical coordination,” he observes seriously. “Your combat capabilities demonstrate significant kinesthetic intelligence.”
“Are you analyzing my potential as an exotic dancer?” I demand, torn between amusement and indignation.
“I am conducting comprehensive assessment of your skill applications,” he replies with perfect formality, though his eyes are definitely laughing. “For purely professional evaluation purposes.”
“Right,” I deadpan. “Purely professional.”
“Actually,” I continue, turning back to Mother while ignoring Wi’kar’s clearly inappropriate thoughts about my hypothetical dancing career, “I was hoping to stay with OOPS. As Wi’kar’s partner.”
Mother’s eyebrows rise in genuine surprise. “Partner in what capacity? Personal partnership is obviously established.Professional partnership requires specific qualifications and demonstrated competencies.”
“I’m a fast learner,” I point out, straightening my shoulders with confidence I’m only half-faking. “I’ve already acquired basic courier protocols, ship operations, crisis management, and diplomatic negotiation skills just from traveling with Wi’kar. Plus, I bring unique qualifications—royal training in languages, cultural analysis, political dynamics, and strategic assessment.”
