It’d been a week since she and Drakkal had made that claim, and though the word still felt strange—especially coming from a world of boyfriends and husbands—it wasright. Happy wasn’t adequate to describe how she’d felt since then; it didn’t seem strong enough. She was exhilarated, contented, blissful…complete.
Even when she and Drakkal were apart, he found ways to let her know he was thinking about her. Leaving little gifts in places he knew she’d be, having food sent to her when he couldn’t join her for a meal, or sending holocom texts—some of which left her so horny that she was ready to leap at him the moment they were together.
Drakkal doted on her when they were together. He didn’t treat her like glass, like she was some delicate little thing that would shatter at the slightest touch, but he made her feel cherished, worthy, important.
Loved.
They didn’t spendalltheir free time in the bedroom, though. She especially enjoyed when he’d head down to the simulation chambers with her. They’d load into sims together—though they were in separate rooms, the system loaded in holographic avatars of the other participants—and engage incompetitions that began as friendly contests and always ended in fierce rivalries. He’d topped her on kills and accuracy the first few times, but she’d finally begun shedding the rust and rediscovering her groove.
Shay had won the last time, if only just barely. She hadn’t passed up the opportunity to gloat—and to warn him that he wasn’t ever going to win again once she had her baby and got back into shape. Many of the men she’d known on Earth would’ve had their egos bruised by that. The crowds she’d run with during her rebellious, misguided years had been filled with males who’d carried their heavy but fragile masculinity on their shoulders, and many of them didn’t like to be outdone by a woman.
Drakkal had only grinned, emerald eyes twinkling with pride, and told her to bring it.
She plucked a nut from the bowl and popped it into her mouth. Its sweet and salty flavor reminded her of cashews, but these were a little sweeter and had a hint of vanilla. She hummed appreciatively and ate a few more.
“I’m getting so fat,” she said just as the door opened.
“Pfft. You’re a runt, terran,” Thargen said as he entered the room and approached her. He reached over to snatch a few nuts from the bowl, tossed them into his mouth, and chewed noisily. “Anyway, all the flavor’s in the fat.”
Shay leaned back in her seat and chuckled. “Do you even realize how messed up some of the stuff you say is?” She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “Haveyou eaten a human before?”
“Don’t think I have.” He plopped down on the empty chair near hers and turned on the extra screen—the one Razi used to watch his shows while he was on surveillance duty. “Hard to say. Memory ain’t what it was. At least I think it isn’t.” Thevorgal reached up and tapped the scar on the shaved side of his head.
She used her toes and shift her chair from side to side. “Well, if someone’s going to eat me, I might as well taste good.”
“Probably best for me if you don’t tell Drakkal about any of this,” he replied with a laugh. “And I say why be tasty when you can be tough? Make them work for it, and let the fuckers choke when they try to swallow you.”
Shay laughed. It hadn’t taken long to find her place in the crew. They’d accepted her without question, had treated her as family from the beginning. And even though they were all breaking the law just by being a part of Arcanthus and Drakkal’s operation, they reminded her much more of her father’s military buddies than any criminals she’d associated with.
“Those tattoos on your face…they’re military, right?” she asked.
Thargen nodded. He absently flicked through different entertainment feeds on the screen. “Vorgal tradition. Rank and honors for everyone to see.”
She studied the markings on his cheek. They were blood red, centered around a symbol that looked like an axe or a similar ancient weapon, radiating outward from that center. She flung her mind back to things her father had shown her long ago; the vorgals had been allies of the United Terran Federation for a few decades, and Dad had been familiar with their military system. She’d seen that symbol before.
“You were infantry, right?” she asked.
“Yup.” He lifted a finger, indicating a spiked symbol above the central axe. “Vanguard. First in. We got to do all the fun parts.”
“That how you got the scar?”
“Yeah. Don’t really remember much of what happened. I’msure I killed plenty of the bastards, though, because I was covered in a lot of blood that wasn’t mine afterward.” He turned his head toward her and grinned, fully displaying his pronounced canines and tusks; it should’ve been an unsettling expression, but Shay had come to appreciate it.
“The healers said I should’ve died,” he continued. “Severe brain trauma, or something like that. But Urgand fixed me up right there, knee-deep in mud and blood. He dragged me off that field.” His gaze dipped briefly to her belly. “My head’s kind of…foggy, most days, and I can’t pretend I understand all the medical shit Urgand goes on about sometimes. Don’t know if I ever really did. But I know you and your youngling are in good hands with him.”
It was a rare moment of comfort from him, and honestly, Shay had really needed to hear it—especially today. She’d tried hard not to think about it, had tried to suppress her nervousness, to occupy her mind, but it had all been festering just under the surface. She trusted Urgand, there was no question about that. It was just… What if something was wrong? What ifshe’ddone something wrong?
Thargen’s grin stretched wider. “And growing up around here, your youngling will be a little ass-kicker for sure.”
Shay returned the grin. “There’s no question about that.”
Knowing that her baby would be so loved here made Shay’s heart feel like it was near to bursting; her child would be as loved and accepted as she’d felt among her father’s friends.
The door opened, and Shay and Thargen turned their heads to find Samantha standing in the doorway.
She had a warm smile on her face as she met Shay’s gaze, and her voice was brimming with excitement when she said, “They’re ready.”
Shay’s heart leapt, and her anxiety returned with vengeance. She wanted this. Sheneededthis—thebabyneededthis—but that didn’t stop the worry that was making it difficult for Shay to fill her lungs with air. Was it better to know or to remain ignorant? Was it better to be aware of potential problems and complications, even if they couldn’t be solved, or to carry on blissfully unaware?