T’Raal met Skinny’s gaze with his own. “Altav E’Cort, also called Skinny, do you take this woman as your mate? To protect her and honor her for the rest of your life?”
“I do.”
He stood tall as T’Raal transferred their hands to one of his, binding them with the sash and bonding them in the eyes of the ancestors. He didn’t have bonding marks in his skin, not yet, but he didn’t care. Marika was his. They’d chosen each other, and the gods would just have to get with the program.
“Then…as leader of the Warborne, I bless your bonding. May it bring much solace and be fruitful.”
Cheers and catcalls erupted around them and, with the biggest grin of his entire life, Skinny swept his bride up into his arms and kissed her soundly.
She was finally and completely his.
Breaking away from the kiss to look into her eyes, he smiled. “Hello, Mrs. E’Cort. A pleasure to meet you.”
She bit her lip, a delightful flush on her cheeks. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. E’Cort.”
He tsked, his tongue against the back of his teeth in a chiding sound. “Now what have I told you about your pleasure?” he asked in a low voice, nuzzling her nose with his. “Obviously you’ve forgotten, so I think a new lesson is in order. Throw that draanthing bunch of plants and we’ll go work on that.”
She giggled, the sound delightful, and as he turned to walk them toward the old farmhouse that was all decorated for the occasion, she threw her bouquet into the air.
They both looked back for a moment to watch the resulting scuffle. Sparky and Red both went for the bouquet at the same time, the human overbalancing and knocking into the half-Krynassis female. They both wobbled, only to be caught by Fin, a strong arm around them while a stunned Beauty ended up clutching the ivy bouquet.
Tank and Lizzie whooped. “That’s it. Beauty’s getting mated next!”
Skinny’s grin widened as he turned, carrying his bride into their home to start the first night of the rest of their lives.
It had never failed to amaze Skinny how dark the night could be dirtside. Space was dark, due to the whole absence of light thing, but somehow, the night of a planet could be even darker still.
But it was a strange sort of darkness. In space you were always aware of it, the cold dark pressing in against the hull. It was always there, lurking and looking for a way in. The smallest breach would allow its long fingers to penetrate and steal all the life from within the ship. It was predatory and dangerous, meaning you always had to be on guard against it.
The darkness of a planet-bound night, though, was different. Sure, there were predators, but the dark itself wasn’t out to kill you. It was safe and comforting, wrapping its shadows around him. Right now, he was the biggest predator in the dark, waiting for the screen in front of him to spark into life.
When it did, he allowed himself a small smile as a familiar face appeared on it. It was a human male, one he’d never met in person and only seen on a similar screen, but whose features he would never forget.
Maxim Martell.
For a moment, the human’s face showed surprise, but only for a moment. Then he sat back, a bland but polite expression on his features as he studied Skinny.
Skinny gave the human the same appraisal, neither of them speaking for a moment. He had seen many human males and most of them weren’t worth a second look. Some, like Sparky, were batshit and dangerous. This one though… the look in his eyes and something about him gave even Skinny pause. Even being far larger physically… no, he wouldn’t want to take this one on in a fight.
“To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Wolven?” he asked, his voice carefully modulated. “Although I am sure that’s not your real name, nor is Edania your system of origin.”
“You would be right on both counts.” Skinny inclined his head. “As to what I want. Marika is mine. Attempt to find her and your entire lineage will regret it.”
Maxim watched him steadily, not moving. Then he nodded slightly. “I have my suspicions you can actually carry out that threat so I will, out of professional courtesy, accede to your request. But… I will want something in return.”
Skinny smiled. It wasn’t a nice expression—more of a warning.
“What? Other than your continued ability to enjoy oxygen?”
The human didn’t flinch at the threat. Interesting.
“You know how this game works, Mr. Wolven. Marika is a prize worth going to war over. We both know that, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. So, I will want something in return.”
Skinny nodded. He had expected this. “You will get it. But this is worth more than just Marika. You will also cease looking for her sister.”
The flicker of Maxim’s eyelids betrayed his surprise. “I’m not sure anything is worth that,” he mused.
“Anton Ingrassia. Location, forces with him and armament. Also a notarized and legal assumption of Marika’s position as the Ingrassia heir. Basically,” he said, cutting the trallshit double speak. “You find the old man, send him to meet the ancestors, and own everything.”
Maxim’s eyebrows raised. “Okay, originally I was going to say you don’t understand this game at all—”
Skinny cut him off. “Oh, I do. But I don’t play games. Either accept my terms or me and mine will descend and wipe out you and everything you hold dear. That is not a threat. That’s a certainty.”
Maxim smiled. “Then I accept your gracious offer.”
“Good enough for me,” Skinny leaned forward. “Sending you a data packet with the information and signed documents now.”
At that Maxim looked surprised. “Just like that? How do you know I won’t go back on my word?”
Skinny looked up. “Have you ever met a Lathar in battle, Mr. Martell?”
Maxim’s eyes widened a little. “I have not. I’ve seen footage, though. You… they… are exemplary warriors.”
“Oh, we’re not Lathar.” Skinny chuckled and winked as he sent the information.
“We’re far worse… we’re the Warborne.”
Epilogue
There was a certain gravitas and respect granted to mercenaries, none more so than being a member of the infamous Warborne. Unlike other crews, they didn’t wear colors or insignia on their clothing or kit. They didn’t need to. Everyone knew who they were, as their likenesses were splashed across the media throughout the galaxy and beyond. Forget human superheroes—every little boy and girl wanted to be Warborne.
And never more so than here, on Skinny’s home planet. To say they were fond of their famous son was an understatement. Beauty had passed no less than five statues and seventeen posters of the big lug in various windows. That he’d come here, come home, for his bonding ceremony, had sent the entire place into a frenzy.
“That’s him… that’s Beauty!”
“They say he was the champion of the pits. Undefeated.”
He didn’t give any indication he heard the excited comments from the two slop-boys huddled near the bar, watching him with wide eyes and more than a healthy dose of hero worship. To be that young again, and so full of wonder…