Verkiir was standing on the observation deck when he felt it, in the same place he’d stood all day and much of the night.

He’d hidden away from Mei’gahn like a coward, and now he regretted it. Deeply. He would have given anything for one more hour, one more minute, one more second to spend with her. But he could not make her happy, and he did not deserve those moments of happiness himself. All he deserved was this. A view of the human civilization below, Mei’gahn’s home only a vague collection of shapes and colors, her form completely hidden from him.

Other warriors and workers aboard the ship passed by him as if he were a statue. They all knew better than to attempt to console him or otherwise speak with him. Even Drol’gan and his son left Verkiir be, though he knew Drol’gan’s tolerance for his inactivity would soon come to an end. That was likely for the best, as Verkiir needed his duty more than ever.

But he could not help standing where he was, his gaze fixed upon that spot below as if he would suddenly see her. He knew he would not, but he could feel her from here, and that knowledge that she was alive—if not well—was enough to comfort him. He would leave here knowing she would find someone else. Someone better. Humans were not bound to one mate the way Karuvar were. She could be happy with a stronger male, and he would be happy for her.

Even if the very thought of any other male touching her made him want to fly into a murderous rage.

He knew, at least, that there could be a future for Mei’gahn, even if there was not one for him. He was Karuvar. She was his mate. The longer they were separated, the more it would ache, hollowing him out inside and leaving him a husk of what he once was. He would fulfill his duties until then, and hope the stars would take pity on him when it was his turn to go.

For now, though, he was content to linger. To be as close to her as he would ever be, for what would be the last time. Content, and yet there was agitation brewing beneath the surface. Because he could feel her—could feel what she was doing and experiencing—he knew very well that she was also in pain. It hurt more than his own, piercing his heart time and again with every shuddering breath he took.

But the pain he experienced after night had fallen over the human civilization was not a pain of the heart. It was something else entirely.

He felt it deep inside, as if it were a poison coursing through his blood. He’d felt the sickness a Karuvar experienced when separated from their mate, but this was something far more insidious. It was sharp and constant and consuming—an overwhelming assurance that he was drawing his last breaths.

The burning pain made it feel as if he was being consumed from the inside out, and Verkiir—a great, Karuvar warrior—doubled over, completely unable to resist. His gut twisted in on itself, his lungs felt like they were filled with ash, and his throat closed more and more by the moment.

He could feel his knees hit the cool metal deck. He could hear shouted voices and boots pounding that same deck in their haste to reach him. But as he lay there, crumpled in on himself, the pain so agonizingly unbearable that he was nearing the edge of consciousness, only one thought played through his mind:

He had to find his mate. He had to get to her.

Before it was too late.

* * *

Verkiir awoke to a feeling of being held down.

He snarled and thrashed, barely aware of his surroundings, only conscious of the fact that he needed to fight. He heard his attackers grunt, heard their bodies hit the metal, and he pushed himself to his feet, breathing heavily.

Two of the Zavellan’s medical assistants were on the ground nearby, a guardsman watching him with wary eyes. They had not attacked him, then. Verkiir would apologize later, but for now he needed to get to Earth.

“You need to be examined!” one of the assistants protested.

“I am fine,” Verkiir growled, running toward the lift.

The trip down to Waystation Helios was agonizing, and Verkiir felt like a caged beast, pacing about in his confines. His heart was still beating too fast, his insides still churned, and he felt one breath away from collapsing again, but it did not matter. He would reach Mei’gahn and ensure she was safe.

Then he would collapse.

Verkiir did not wait for the lift to come to a stop. He pried open the doors and jumped, landing on the Waystation’s docking platform, much to the surprise of the workers. He hurdled his way past them, found the stairs, and took those two or three at a time.

She was here. He could feel her. What he did not know what where, but he would tear the place apart looking for her if he had to—

“Verkiir!”

Azh’lee’s voice was like a beacon in the darkness. He turned to see the youngling and grew instantly agitated. She was pale with wet streaks staining her cheeks. And she was not with Mei’gahn.

“Where is she?” he asked, forcing his voice into something more calm.

“That room,” she said, pointing. “They won’t let—hey!”

Verkiir tore through the hall, hearing Azh’lee’s footfalls behind him after only a brief pause. He threw open the door she had pointed out and let out a wall-shaking roar at the sight before him.

Humans swarmed around her, closing her in. One had his hands on her chest. The other was touching her arm. All three of them jumped at his entrance, and he capitalized on their fear, stalking toward his mate’s bedside.

One snarl made all but the last human scatter. He continued pushing down on Mei’gahn’s chest, and Verkiir saw red. He tore the man away, throwing him to the ground as he moved closer to his mate, putting his body between her and them.

“We’re trying to help her!” the man proclaimed.

But Verkiir knew they could not. He needed to bring her to the Zavellan. The Karuvar would tend her. There was nothing these humans could do that would be good enough.

“Verkiir.”

The voice was familiar, but it was still not the voice he wanted to hear. Verkiir turned a suspicious glare upon Adi’sun. If she thought she was going to force Mei’gahn to be treated be inferior human skills, she was sorely mistaken.

“There’s something wrong with her implant,” she said calmly, even as something beeped incessantly nearby.

“Impossible.”

But he stole a glance down at her arm and was horrified by what he found there. Necrotic marks crawled outward from her implant, dying her veins a putrid black.

“I must get her to the Zavellan,” he said, sliding his arms underneath her frail body.

“I know how to fix this,” Adi’sun said firmly. “If you let my team and I help her, your mate will live. If you try to take her from this room…”

The warrior in him might have recognized that as a threat, but the side of him that could not live without the woman in his arms stilled at Adi’sun’s words.

He looked down at his mate, at her pale, sickly skin, at the sweat matting her hair to her brow. She was dying. He had known this up above, and it was only more true now.

With a shuddering sigh, Verkiir bent to place a kiss upon her forehead, then lay her back upon the bed and allowed Adi’sun and the others to step forward once more.

He stood with Azh’lee as they worked, and the two of them were soon joined by the Pathfinder, who had undoubtedly heard of Verkiir’s outburst. He said nothing, waiting with bated breath as Adi’sun worked.

Eventually all of the beeping fell to a steady drone, the lines on the monitors settling into a predictable rhythm. The medics working on Mei’gahn were more relaxed, but Verkiir still found it was everything he could do not to push his way past them and see what they had done.

He remained where he was, though, his tail swishing behind him until Adi’sun stepped back and pulled her gloves from her hands.

He looked from her to his mate and back again. Mei’gahn was not yet awake, and his nerves felt ready to fray even further.

“Is she fixed?”

“We removed the poison. She’s stable now, but she’ll need to be monitored. I expect her to make a full recovery, though,” Adi’sun said with a tired smile.

Verkiir let out a breath, his eyes falling closed. She would be well again. She would be whole. And he would do everything in his power to keep her that way.

“What caused this?” Drol’gan asked from beside him.

“I’m not sure yet. I’ve taken a small piece of her implant to study.” Verkiir’s gaze narrowed at this. “She won’t miss it,” Adi'sun assured him.

He would believe that once he saw her awake. For now, Verkiir took this as his invitation to stand at her bedside again. She was still, but for her deep, even breathing. Her skin was pink again, and no longer ashen as it had been before. And her implant looked normal once more, save for the bandage Adi’sun had placed on Mei’gahn’s arm.

He reached down, two fingers brushing back a strand of hair from her forehead. Thank the stars he’d made it in time.

“How did you know?” Azh’lee asked quietly, and Verkiir realized only then that she had come to stand beside him.

“I felt when it happened.”

It had been foolish of him to think he could walk away. He would perish without his mate, and he was beginning to think she would suffer without him, as well. He glanced to the Pathfinder, the weight of what he must do heavy on his heart. Briefly resting a hand on Azh’lee’s shoulder, Verkiir left her with her sister and approached Drol’gan.

“You owe the humans a great debt,” the Pathfinder said, never one to mince words.

Verkiir dipped his head, recognizing it was true. The stars had not saved his mate. The humans had. The medics and engineers were the reason she was still alive now. Even if he had been able to get her aboard the Zavellan, she likely would have perished without human intervention. No Karuvar engineer knew as much about the mechanical workings of the newest implant as the humans.

“I do,” he admitted. “And I owe Mei’gahn the rest of my life.” He looked to his Pathfinder, the Karuvar he respected more than any other, the closest thing he had to a father. He stood tall, knowing he was about to disappoint the one person he respected most. “I cannot be First Guardian any longer, Pathfinder. My duty is to my mate.”

Drol’gan regarded him for some time, his expression neutral. Finally, a slow smile spread across his lips. “Perhaps you cannot. But you can be my Ambassador.”

Verkiir’s lips parted, but he did not dare to speak.

“Many Karuvar are en route to Earth as we speak. I need someone here to help them adjust; to teach them that they must work with the humans, not against them.”

He did not know what to say. Just minutes before, he had threatened the lives of the humans around him, not believing them capable of such an important task. But perhaps Drol’gan trusted him enough to believe that he had learned his lesson.

Humans were the reason Mei’gahn was still alive. If he was to spend the rest of his time on Earth helping others come to the same realization, he would gladly do so.

“I am honored,” he said, clasping the Pathfinder’s arm, his implant resting against Drol’gan’s.

Drol’gan smiled and clapped him on the opposite arm. “In the meantime, you should be with your mate and family.”

Verkiir nodded at this, his attention turning back to Azh’lee, who had pulled up a chair to sit at Mei’gahn’s bedside. When first he met the youngling, he considered her simply a necessary part of the package. He knew better now. Azh’lee was brave and strong and he would be proud to call her kin.

“I’m glad you came back,” she said with a watery smile. “She’s a real pain in the ass when she’s moping.”

Verkiir chuckled at this, but was immediately cut off by a stirring in his heart.

“I can… hear you.”

Mei’gahn’s voice was weak and scratchy, and still it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. He let out a breath and stroked her cheek, pleased to feel the hint of her smile against his fingers.

“Whatever,” Azh’lee said, her voice breaking. “You almost died. You don’t get to say anything.”

He understood that these words were playful, and when Azh’lee moved to embrace her sister, he stepped aside. He was still touching his mate—he did not think he could stop, even if he was merely stroking her hair now—but he knew it was important to them both.

When their moment was done, though, Mei’gahn looked up at him with questioning eyes. “You’re here,” she said, as if she’d just realized he should not be.

“I am here. And I am not leaving your side again.”

Azh’lee gave him enough space to kneel at his mate’s bedside, her nearness calming his heart and soothing his soul. He took her hand in his, his implant pulsing beneath his skin. This was precisely where he needed to be.

“I spoke to the Pathfinder. I told him I could no longer be his First Guardian. But he has offered me a position as Ambassador.”

“Ambassador…?” Her eyes were hopeful, and Verkiir’s lips curved into a gentle smile.

“I am to remain at Waystation Helios and assist other Karuvar in finding their mates.” His fingers traced over her skin. “You are my mate. I love you, with every part of my being. And I will be with you on Earth, for as long as you will have me.”

He saw Mei’gahn let out a breath. Tears were forming in her eyes again, and he brushed away one that escaped. “I love you, too," she said with a joyous laugh. She reached for him, and Verkiir leaned down to meet her lips with his own in a sweet kiss. “But what about the stars?”

“The stars mean nothing if I cannot have you,” he said firmly.

His mate glanced at her sister, then looked to Verkiir once more, her eyes shining. “I still want you to show them to me. We can go, can’t we? Maybe take a trip once every few months?”

Verkiir’s heart swelled at the thought. He would have gladly given it up to be with her, but to know he could still explore the stars… it was almost more than he could process.

“I would like that,” he admitted, “so long as you are by my side.”

“Always.”

The implant had chosen them for one another. Their fate was sealed before they even met. But to hear her say it now—to hear her finally understand that his heart was hers forever, and to give hers in return—made Verkiir’s dreams soar into the stratosphere.

He had a partner now. A true partner who would be his equal in all things. He and Mei’gahn would help restore the Karuvar legacy. Together.

Verkiir could not think of a better existence.

“Always,” he said, and he knew in his soul it was true.