Baila discovered there was a difference between all night sex marathons while pregnant and not. Before she carried around the biggest baby known to baby-dom, an extended romp between the sheets had been no problem. Now she was utterly, totally, irrevocably exhausted.

She loved the baby nestled safely in her womb, but it felt as if the little one was about to tear her in two. And who knew how much longer she’d be pregnant?

“I don’t need to go to medical.” Baila tried to keep frustration from filling her voice and stood her ground against Zyriq. She propped her hands on her hips—what little of them she could find—and planted her feet firmly.

“You are going.” Zyriq grasped her elbow and was gentle as he forced her to turn until she faced the entrance to their quarters. And Pach, who still waited to escort her to medical.

She groaned and grumbled, even adding a growl just in case that would help her cause. It didn’t. He continued to lead her to his cousin, her battle against the overbearing alien lost once again. Sure, he was making her go to medical for her own good, but…

She really hated the healer. Almost as much as he hated her. Though at least Zyriq and Adhoe had come to some sort of agreement of mutual respect.

Adhoe would take care of Baila to the best of his ability, and Zyriq wouldn’t eject Adhoe through an airlock. Which was why Zyriq found it perfectly acceptable to send her off with Pach to be looked over.

Zyriq thought he’d been too rough with her while they’d made love and was worried about their baby’s health. She mentally rolled her eyes. Again. Men. Or rather, males.

“Why do I have to take Pach with me?” She gestured at the younger warrior. A warrior who was more like a kid in a six-foot plus body that could crush her without much effort.

“Yabi, I already told you.” His words came out more like a growl, syllables pushed past gritted teeth until his gaze rested on her once again. His expression softened, tension seeping from his muscles. “I am sorry, yabi.” He ran a single finger along her cheek. “I must solve matters on the bridge. When a male cannot attend his bonded, a male family member is an appropriate substitute.”

“I can walk down the hallway on my own. I’ve been walking for years now,” she drawled.

“No female is left unattended—unaided—on Morea. Even if you did not carry our young, I would still order Pach to stay at your side.” He moved closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “I cannot stand the thought of you coming to harm, yabi. Pach may not do well in technical positions, but his fighting ability is unquestionable, and he has minor medical training. It would soothe my mind to know he is at your side when I cannot be. It would allow me to focus on my tasks on the bridge.”

“Fine.” Baila sighed, shoulders slumped. She wanted to delay the dreaded visit to medical, so she decided to stall a little. “Is there something wrong on the bridge? Is it something to do with my kidnapping? I could go with you to smooth ruffled feathers.”

Anything to get out of her appointment.

“These problems can only be solved by the war captain. And we have discussed your presence on Warking’s Blade. You were not kidnapped by the human definition, but by Morea’s, which is not a true kidnapping at all.”

A smile tried to fight its way to her lips, but she pushed it back as she grumbled, “Yeah, yeah, so you say.”

“Thank you, my love.” Zyriq grasped her chin and encouraged her to tip her head back. The moment her face was pointed up, he lowered his head and brushed a chaste kiss across her mouth. “I will return as soon as I am able.”

Then he was gone, striding out the door and down the hall, leaving her alone with Pach. The deadly, but slightly dumb, puppy.

“Come on,” she grumbled to Pach. “Let’s get this over with.”

Pach practically bounced in place, flashing her a wide grin while he stepped aside to allow her to exit their quarters. He fell into step beside her, matching his steps to her slower stride while he led her onward. They took one corridor after another, following the familiar path.

The closer they drew to medical, the more thankful she was for Pach’s presence. Not that she’d say that aloud. Zyriq didn’t need to know that Adhoe still made her nervous nor that she found comfort in his cousin’s company. She didn’t want the big lug to get used to sending an escort with her everywhere she went. Then again, he made it sound like having the company of family was a permanent part of her new life.

Goody.

Soon they took one last turn, entering the hallway that led them straight into medical’s welcoming embrace. Or not-so-welcoming since she knew Adhoe waited for her. Anxiety trickled down her spine, unease taking up residence in her butterfly-filled stomach. Her steps slowed, turning into hardly a shuffle as they drew nearer to the room.

Pach didn’t notice her hesitance until he stood in the doorway, his body barring the doors from sliding shut once more. He paused and turned back to her, a small frown in place. “Bonded of the First Son?”

Hearing her new title distracted her for a moment, her lips twitching to form a small grin. “Call me Princess or just Baila, Pach.”

The warrior furrowed his brow. “But you are—”

She held up her hand, mouth curling into a smile. “I know, but it’s a mouthful. Princess or Baila, you pick because I’m not going to go around being called ‘Bonded of the First Son Baila.’ It’s just not happening.”

The frown remained for a moment and her warrior puppy took a moment to think before he finally gave her a slow nod. “We are family. I shall call you Baila.” Another nod. “Baila, will you not enter medical?”

“Yeah, yeah.” With a sigh, she moved forward, dread slowing her steps.

She padded into the large area, the line of empty beds stretched down the center just as she recalled. She scanned the room, searching out the healer, and spied him at the far end. At least she’d still get a few minutes to breathe without him invading her space.

She moved to the nearest bed and stared at the high platform, wondering how the hell she’d gotten up there last time. Oh, right. She’d been unconscious and Zyriq had placed her there. Heh. So how the hell was she going to manage it now? She puffed out a breath in frustration and looked to Pach.

She gestured at the bed. “Is there a step stool or something I can use?”

Pach immediately stepped forward and dropped to one knee, his hand raised to act as a railing. “Please, Baila, use me as you would a stool.”

“I’m not going to…” she grumbled, but one glance at Pach’s earnest expression had her falling silent. He really wanted to help her even if that meant acting like furniture. “Fine,” she sighed. “Give me your hand.”

Baila placed one foot on his thigh, gripping his hand tightly as she struggled to balance on his leg. His hold strengthened, body unmoving as she climbed atop the high platform. She turned and wiggled onto the semi-soft surface. She rocked and shook until she settled into place. It hadn’t been pretty but she’d gotten there.

Now they waited. And waited. And waited. Pach stood at her side, his large body blocking most of hers from Adhoe’s view. The healer glanced at her now and again, but he kept his attention mostly on his task. Tension mounted in her guard’s shoulders, Pach’s unease soon feeding her own. They stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity, Adhoe pointedly ignoring them while Baila sat uncomfortably and Pach appeared ready to tear into the healer. Her puppy was taking greater offense to the healer’s behavior than her. If Adhoe wasn’t acting like such a dick, she’d laugh.

Baila sighed and rolled her eyes, glancing around the room until she spied a timekeeper. How long had they been waiting? Fifteen minutes? Twenty?

“This is an inexcusable insult, Baila,” Pach growled over his shoulder. “He should have attended you immediately upon entry. That he has not…”

She patted Pach’s shoulder. “It’s fine. He’s just as unhappy about this situation as I am. He’s just showing it to anyone looking.”

Eventually—finally—Adhoe gave them his attention, spinning to face them and then striding across the room with a brisk pace. The moment he drew near enough, she knew something was dreadfully wrong. His pale purple hair that had hung in a sleek curtain only days ago was now rough and knotted as if he hadn’t washed or brushed the strands. His uniform was wrinkled and she noticed more than one dark stain in the fabric. And his eyes… The violet held streaks of near-white, the Morean version of bloodshot.

Baila exchanged a glance with Pach, who simply flashed her a smile, his gaze revealing none of the concern that filled her.

“Let us proceed with the scan.” Adhoe’s attention didn’t settle on her or Pach directly. The healer simply spoke to the air and didn’t show either of them any respect.

She shot one more glance at Pach and noticed that now the younger male scrutinized Adhoe’s every move. Thank the stars for that.

Pach glanced at her, noticing her attention on him, and turned to face her fully. He gave her the kindest, most caring smile she’d ever received and then tenderly took her hand in his. His touch was gentle and when he squeezed her hand in comfort, it was equally light. The younger warrior could be an immature idiot, but Baila grinned as she realized his heart was in the right place. Deep down, he had the greatest of intentions when it came to both her and Zyriq.

Pach returned his focus to Adhoe, and she did as well, narrowing her eyes as she watched the healer’s jittery movements. A sense of wrongness crept through her, but she couldn’t narrow down the reason for the feeling. It simply was. Pach frowned at the healer, the younger warrior now looking like a confused puppy which only heightened her apprehension. Her stomach churned with a sea of anxiety and worry, heartrate increasing with every breath.

Pach opened his mouth as if to speak but then snapped it closed once more, remaining silent. Though his expression remained tense and watchful.

Baila poked Pach, mouthing a single word when she had his attention. “What?”

The young warrior faced Adhoe once more and spoke, his voice holding the slightest hint of doubt. “Are you certain you selected the correct inoculation for Baila?”

“I know what I am doing,” Adhoe grumbled and fumbled for a hypospray, the healer refusing to look at Pach.

“It will not harm the young?” Pach pushed.

Adhoe chose to ignore Pach and instead revealed a wide smile when he finally got his hands on the hypospray. “Excellent!”

Pach moved closer to the healer, planting himself firmly between Baila and Adhoe. “You should recheck the dosage. I believe it is incorrect.”

The healer grunted. “It is correct and exactly as I intend.”

“Adhoe, if you persist in treating Baila with this hypospray, I will be forced to take action.” Pach’s shoulders seemed to widen, his height increasing. He changed from a carefree boy to a fierce warrior with those hard words.

True fear pulsed through her now, a battle between fight or flight waging war inside her. She cupped her stomach with one hand while she gripped the edge of the platform with the other—prepared to jump from the soft surface and run to safety. The longer the two Moreans spoke, the more and more certain she was that Adhoe ached for her death. Or the death of her baby.

Nausea plagued her, a wave of heat followed by the near-silent whisper of cold. Goosebumps rose along her arms and a frigid tremor had her shaking in place.

Adhoe sneered at Pach, aggression burning in his pale eyes. “Let me ask you a question, Warrior.”

“Yes?” he continued his dialogue with the healer but hadn’t relaxed even a fraction.

Adhoe sneered, shot a fleeting glance at Baila and then refocused on Pach. “Do you know what the first son of Morea is doing?”

“The war captain has made no secret of his intent. He is acting as countless Moreans have before him. The stars have given him a bonded and he is embracing his future.” There was no hesitation in Pach’s voice. No hint that he disagreed with Zyriq’s actions.

Unlike Adhoe.

The healer shook his head, body vibrating with barely contained rage. “He has bonded to some human woman and sired human young. He bonds to this,” Adhoe gestured at her. “When he could have bonded to my sister.”

“The bay-bee will be part Morean. You have seen the changes to her skin. Her young has already changed her coloring to match Zyriq’s perfectly,” Pach tried once more and Baila prayed the warrior could get through to the healer. Because the alternative… The alternative could get violent—bloody.

Not something she wanted to experience.

Yet, the healer didn’t back down. “A human trick. She knows her life will be easy as the bonded to the first son of Morea. This cannot happen.”

“It already has, Adhoe. You cannot go against the stars.”

But it was too late. Adhoe wouldn’t listen to reason. He wouldn’t accept that what was done was done. Instead the healer glared at them, his entire form vibrating with the desperate need for violence. He’d fallen too far into the midnight abyss of hate.

Baila’s heart raced, thumping so hard it threatened to burst from her chest. Blood whooshed through her veins, the heavy thud audible in her veins. A cool sweat slipped over her, covering her skin in the frigid moisture. Anger joined her fear, fury over being persecuted after everything she’d suffered since becoming pregnant. Now this male wanted to take away her future? No. She mentally shook her head. She’d worked too hard to make it this far.

A deep growl rolled from Adhoe, the healer glaring at her with a deep hatred that sent a shudder down her spine. It made her ache for Zyriq, for the protection of his arms. But he wasn’t there and the healer took advantage of his absence.

Adhoe leapt at Baila, arms extended and one hand clutching the dangerous hypospray. He bared his teeth, crazed eyes latched onto her while he closed the distance between them. But Pach was there, placing his body between hers and her attacker. He intercepted the crazed Morean before he could reach her and inject her with whatever concoction he’d mixed.

Baila shrieked and crawled away, shoving her bulk further up the bed and away from the struggling males. She curled around her stomach, protecting her precious treasure while remaining frozen in place.

Pach struggled and grunted, fist flying to strike Adhoe’s nose and then gut. He struck the healer, pounding into the male while the healer continued to stare right at her—a single-minded intensity. The males wrestled, Pach still gripping one wrist while he beat Adhoe with the other. Yet it didn’t seem like Adhoe felt a single blow.

“The first son deserves better. I will make sure he does,” Adhoe hissed and she had no doubt that if Pach released him, Baila would be dead.

Pach glanced over his shoulder. “Fetch Zyriq! Comm him!”

Her protector’s bellow pierced the veil of fear surrounding her, delving beyond the layer of panic to urge her into motion. She rolled over to the other side of the medical platform and darted to the wall, slamming her hand on panel after panel.

“Warking’s Blade.” Pound. Poke. Prod. “I need Zyriq. Comm him.” Punch. Slap. “Blade! Zyriq!”

She didn’t care that each word came out as a high-pitched shriek. Or that her voice wobbled due to her rising panic. She only cared about getting her bonded here, now.

A deep groan snatched her attention and she darted a glance to the fighting males. Adhoe twisted and ducked in Pach’s grasp, straining against the younger male’s hold. And those eyes, those rage-filled, hateful eyes, pinned her to the wall. Not for more than the barest second, but it was enough to send a new surging wave of panic through her. Enough to spur her into motion once more. Terror wouldn’t hold her captive. It wouldn’t keep her from trying to save herself.

She abandoned the wall and her hunt for the comm unit, instead searching for anything she could use to aid Pach. Her gaze darted around the space, hunting for… there. She spied a shining bar, buttons and lights lining each end. She didn’t know what the hell it was or what it was used for, but a club was a club.

Baila snatched it, clutching the rod tightly as she skirted the edge of the room, carefully easing behind Adhoe. Taking a deep breath, she raised her impromptu weapon and whacked the healer as hard as she could. A low thud reached her ears while a harsh tremor jolted up her arms, rattling her from inside out. She gritted her teeth against the jarring sensations and waited for the healer to fall into a boneless heap.

Except, he didn’t. She hadn’t hit him hard enough. Or his head was hella hard. Regardless, Adhoe was still on his feet. He turned and snarled, baring his teeth like a rabid dog. He reached for her, his movements a purple blur as he stretched for her weapon.

One he could use on her—on her baby.

Adhoe’s fingertips brushed the cold metal bar and Baila snatched it just out of his reach. She cocked her hand back and this time, tossed the rod across the room. He wasn’t going to use it against her, her baby, or Pach.

With the healer distracted, Pach fought for the upper hand once again, twisting Adhoe’s arm until an audible crack echoed off the walls immediately followed by a bellowing scream. Her protector kicked the side of Adhoe’s knee, the healer crying out once again as he tumbled to the ground.

A new sound joined the healer’s sobs—a familiar whoosh followed by the heavy thud of several sets of booted feet as the room filled with additional Morean males.

And in the middle… Zyriq. It was her turn to cry. Her turn to be overwhelmed with emotion and lose herself in a tsunami of relief. She slumped against a nearby bed, using the hard surface to keep her upright. Every hint of fear-infused tension fled, leaving nothing but exhaustion in its wake.

“Baila,” Zyriq rasped her name, moving toward her while the rest of his warriors encircled Pach and Adhoe.

Warm hands grasped her, thick arms surrounded her, and the scent that was purely Zyriq infused her lungs. His presence soothed the residual terror, calming her with a soft murmur and chaste brush of his lips across her temple.

“I am here. I shall never leave you again.” He hugged her tighter, his hard body aligned with hers. Her big bad warrior trembled, a nearly imperceptible shudder. “Never.”

Baila swallowed hard and leaned into him, taking comfort in his firm presence. She—they—were safe in the circle of his arms.

Safe.

“Nooo…” Adhoe wailed and Baila looked to the still struggling healer. Despite the injured knee and broken arm, Adhoe continued. He yanked and pulled against the warriors holding him captive. “First Son! You must see!”

Zyriq pulled away, his movements slow and gentle as he extricated himself. He jerked his head toward her. “Pach, stand with Baila.”

Pach, battered and bruised, immediately moved to her side, his body positioned between her and danger once more.

Zyriq strode to Adhoe, stopping just before the wounded male. “Kneel.”

“First Son—”

“Kneel and take your punishment as a warrior or continue to fight. No matter your choice, your fate is decided.” Zyriq’s fury rolled off of him in tumultuous waves, soaking the air with his unending anger. “I hoped you would be one to accept my bonded—the changes she shall bring, but it is obvious you cannot be trusted. You have injured House Rukzahl through word and deed. You will suffer the consequences now.”

No one moved. No one made a sound. Baila held her breath, leaning around Pach to watch events unfold. Adhoe knelt as Zyriq demanded, his weight on one knee, the other bent at an odd angle. The healer hugged his broken arm to his side and she watched as dark bruises formed on the male’s face.

Adhoe had fought hard to get to her—to hurt her—and now he would endure his punishment.

“You are wrong, First Son.” Still Adhoe argued, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

“A stars blessed bonding—young—is never wrong. You lost sight of that truth, Adhoe.” Zyriq’s tone remained grim and dark. He reached behind him, lifting his shirt and pulling a blade from the sheath resting against his lower back. She spied a brief shine, a flash of light, and then it was out of sight once again. “May the stars welcome you and cleanse your soul.”

Then silence.

No, not silence. A quick inhale. A low whisper of tearing cloth. A soft grunt. A long wheeze. A quiet thump.

“Pach?” she whispered. “What…”

Zyriq issued more orders, his voice so low she couldn’t hear a word. Then everyone in medical filed out—everyone but Baila and Zyriq. There was nothing left in the room save them and a puddle of blood in the middle of the floor. Adhoe’s blood. Her stomach churned and eyes burned, tears slowly blurring her vision until they overflowed her lashes and slunk down her cheeks.

“He’s dead.” It was a question and yet it wasn’t. She knew Adhoe was gone and wasn’t sure how to feel about his death.

“Yes.” Zyriq faced her, a handful of feet separating them, but it might as well have been mountains.

“You…”

“No.” He shook his head. “Adhoe found what little remained of his honor and ended his own life. I presented him with my blade. He had a choice to flee to the stars by my hand or his own. He acknowledged he was wrong by accepting the task of ending his own life.”

Baila swallowed hard, throat tight. “Oh.”

Zyriq moved closer, his steps hesitant. Almost as if he expected her to bolt and run in fear of him. Fear Zyriq? Him? Never.

“Do not mistake me, Baila. Had he not taken the task upon himself, I would have ended his life for threatening you and our young. Gladly and without reservation.”

There was still empty space between them, a handful of inches seeming like miles, and it was too much for her to bear. She closed what distance remained, not hesitating to reach out for Zyriq. Not hesitating to align their bodies. Not hesitating to wrap her arms around him and silently vow to never let go.

Baila pressed one palm to his chest, resting it over his heart. His pulse thrummed against her hand, the rapid pace holding steady. That was Zyriq—steady, unbending, determined, unwavering in his beliefs, honorable.

And loving.

She stared into his eyes, matching his intense stare, and revealed the words that filled her soul. “I love you.”