Page 85 of Nansar
A Velorian engineer froze mid-step, recognition dawning across his features. Surprise gave way to something uglier—pure, undiluted hatred burning in his eyes.
An Ardesian female flattened herself against the bulkhead as we approached, terror bleaching her face pale. Her hand flew to the weapon holstered at her hip, fingers trembling against the grip.
Two Vaktaire guards locked eyes with each other, and one muttered something too low for me to catch. But I didn't need to hear the words to understand the venom dripping from his tone.
I couldn't blame any of them. Not a single one.
Every drop of their hatred, every tremor of their fear, every flash of their disgust—I'd earned it all. The atrocities I'd committed, the orders I'd executed without question, the countless lives I'd destroyed. My reputation stalked ahead of me like a shadow made of blood and ash, and no amount of remorse could scrub it clean.
Chloe's fingers tightened around mine, as though she could read the spiral of my thoughts. She lifted her chin higher, meeting each hostile stare with quiet, unwavering defiance. Her courage in the face of their judgment left me breathless.
Those eyes—curious and hateful in equal measure—tracked us all the way to her quarters.
The door sealed behind us with a soft hiss, cutting us off from the weight of their stares and the poison of their whispers.Chloe's quarters were small and spare—a narrow bunk, a desk buried under datapads, a viewport framing the hypnotic swirl of hyperspace. But after the cold sterility of the medical bay, it felt like a sanctuary.
She released my hand and turned to face me, her arms crossing over her chest. The defiance she'd worn in the corridor melted away, replaced by something far more dangerous—vulnerability, raw and honest and utterly disarming.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it—hurt bleeding through confusion like ink through water. "That I was your mate?"
"Because you deserve better than me," I said simply.
Her eyes flashed with something fierce. "That's not an answer, Nansar. That's an excuse."
"It's the truth." I gestured toward the door, toward the corridor beyond and all the judgment it held. "You saw how they looked at me. You heard what they said. That's who I am to them. A monster. Someone who doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as decent beings. Someone who should be locked away or worse."
"I don't care what they think."
"You should." The words came out harsh, edged with desperation. "Chloe, I've done things—terrible things. I let hate rule me for so long that I became it. I've destroyed lives, families, entire communities." I took a step back, putting distance between us, as if space alone could protect her from the poison of my past. "You deserve someone good. Someone honorable. Someone worthy of the gift you are."
She stared at me for a long moment, emotions flickering across her face like lightning—too quick, too complex to name. Then she closed the distance I'd created in two determined steps, moving until she stood directly in front of me, closeenough that I could smell the sweet scent of her skin, feel the warmth radiating from her body.
"Are you done?" she asked, her voice deceptively calm, like the stillness before a storm.
I blinked, thrown completely off balance. "What?"
"Are you done telling me what I deserve? What I should care about? What I should feel?" Her hand came up to rest against my chest, right over my heart, and I wondered if she could feel how it thundered beneath her palm. "Because I have some things to say, and I need you to listen."
I nodded, my voice stolen by the intensity in her eyes.
"I don't care about your past, Nansar. I care about who you are now. The male who protected me when he didn't have to. Who was gentle with me when he could have been cruel. Who risked everything—threw himself in front of a blaster—to protect me." Her eyes searched mine, seeing past every wall I'd ever built. "You're not the same person who did those awful things. You've changed."
"That doesn't erase what I've done."
"No, it doesn't. Just like what Declan did to me can never be erased." Her other hand came up to cup my face, her touch achingly tender. "But you don't get to use your guilt as a shield. You don't get to make this decision for me. You don't get to decide that I can't love you."
My breath caught in my throat. "Chloe—"
"I love you," she said, her voice steady and sure, each word a declaration of war against my self-loathing. "I love the male you are now. The one who looks at me like I'm precious. The one who touches me with such gentleness, like I might break. The one who threw himself in front of a blaster to save me without a second thought." Her thumb traced my cheekbone. "That's the male I see. That's the male I choose."
Something cracked inside my chest—something that had been frozen and dead for so long I'd forgotten it existed. Hope. Love. The possibility of redemption and a future worth living.
"I don't deserve you," I whispered, the confession torn from somewhere deep.
"Maybe not." She smiled, soft and sad and beautiful enough to shatter what remained of my defenses. "But you have me anyway." Her eyes held mine, unflinching. "So what are you going to do about it?"
I stared down at her, at this extraordinary female who somehow saw past the ruins of what I'd been to glimpse what I might still become. Who offered me treasures I'd long ago accepted I would never hold.
Hope. Love. A future that didn't taste of ash.
