Page 55 of Meteor Storm

“Luca is nearly done. You will need time to heal.”

“Thilar,” I said, drawing his eyes again. “I don’t know who you were before we met, but I really like the man you are right now.” I drew his hand closer, my breath skimming over his knuckles. “I don’t know what I would have done without you on that rock. No one has ever… no one has ever tried before. To keep me safe.”

“You would have found a way to survive.”

“You don’t know that. I was only in two games and I survived both of them because of you.”

The medbay door slid open abruptly, and Yuros stepped inside.

He paused just beyond the threshold, taking in the scene before him; me lying on the examination table and Thilar seated beside me, his hand wrapped around mine.

Thilar immediately rose to his feet. The two monrians exchanged a few quiet words in their language. I couldn't understand any of it, but the tension between them was obvious.

After a moment, Yuros gave a single nod, as if conceding a point. His strange eyes flicked toward me, lingering for only a second before he turned and strode back out of the medbay.

The door hissed shut behind him.

Thilar watched it for a moment, then slowly lowered himself back into his chair beside me.

“You speak a different language with him than Sunhai,” I noted.

“Sunhai speaks Yikal. It is the most universal language in the galaxy. Ahk Moar is the common tongue of my people.”

Immediately, I wanted to learn Yikal. Language barriers were something I was determined to prevent.

“So? What was that about?” I asked.

“As I said, I should not be alone with you. But there is surveillance. So, I suppose I am not alone with you in a sense. Yuros has agreed to let that be enough.”

“Is he on your side?”

“He’s on the side of our people and our laws.”

“Aren’t you part of his people?”

“Monrians are simple and complicated. We lead with our minds, not our emotions. Whatever he observes and whatever he gathers from our conversations, it will be up to him how he tells it to the council. We are not meant to let our personal feelings bleed into our duties. It compromises our function.”

I glanced at the way his thumb was still brushing soothingly over my knuckles.

“Then what is this?”

His eyes followed and his thumb stopped, resting against my fingers.

“A complication,” he whispered.

My heart skipped a beat. Whatever traces there were of pain or fear surrounding the surgery I was currently enduring withered away at his sincerity.

“Thank you,” I exhaled, grateful that the loss of my implant hadn’t stolen the ability to feel his hand in mine. “No one has ever…”

I stopped, unsure how my words would come across. Perhaps I was being too direct.

But I didn’t care. I was in space, lightyears away from Earth where being direct was mistaken for cruelty.

“I’m not used to people fighting for me. And I don’t even know why you did it. You barely know me.”

He hesitated for a few beats, saying something under his breath in words I couldn’t understand, as if speaking to himself.

Then he said, “I had to.”