Something twists in my chest as the realization of what this means hits me. Without proper function in my dominant hand—at this point, not even basic function—I can’t pilot the ship. And no matter what, even if I retrain myself to use the new hand, even if I can make the function organic, I’ll never be the pilot I once was. It’s impossible. I might be able to fly again, but I’ll never be the best. I’ve lost something that I can never regain.
The realization hits me hard, and for a moment, it’s as if all the air has been sucked out of me. It feels as if something has died inside me. Something that I needed, that I can’t be whole without.
The door slides open again, and to my surprise, Cora steps in. The two men standing beside me look up and nod respectfully.
“We’ll come back in a little while,” Zhori says, jerking his head at Osynth and then toward the door. “Shall we?”
Osynth nods before glancing back at me. “Call me on the comms unit if you need anything. We’ll be back later.”
My pulse beats hard in my throat as Cora tentatively walks into the room, pushing her light brown hair out of her face. Her delicate features are taut with worry, her eyes filled with concern. They flick to my new arm, and I see the concern replaced with pity, burning deeply in those beautiful blue-green eyes.
Eyes that not long ago were burning up at me for a different reason, full of lust and desire. Full of need.
I can’t stand to see the pity in her face.
My heart seizes in my chest as I look away from her. I feel small and worthless, like half a man. I’m an unworthy mate, a failure as a warrior.
The things that made me great and special—my prowess as a fighter, my unmatched skill as a pilot, my fearlessness and brash confidence—those things don’t exist anymore. They’ve been stripped away from me in a matter of seconds, physically sheared away from my body, leaving me with only the memory of what I used to be and a clumsy path back to being even a shadow of what I once was.
Cora comes to sit down gingerly next to me.
“How are you feeling?” she asks softly. Then she blushes a little. “I’ve been checking up on you a lot since the accident. I came by every few hours so that Osynth could update me.” She laughs, her lips twisting a little. “I think he’s a bit tired of seeing me here, honestly.”
I can’t imagine anyone ever getting tired of seeing her. I know I never would.
But how can I be anything to her now? She deserves so much more than a cripple.
“I’ll be fine once I learn to use the new arm,” I say flatly, trying not to be curt with her. She’s sweet to be here, and she doesn’t deserve any of my ire.
Her worry for me touches me in a way that I haven’t felt in a long time. But I feel the need to put distance between us now, to keep her from getting too close. I can’t disappoint her any more than I already have. More than I will, by saying what needs to be said.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she admits, glancing at the robotic arm. “It’s impressive, honestly. I can’t believe that sort of tech exists. It definitely doesn’t back on Earth.”
Impressive. Not the word I would have chosen. I force a small smile onto my face.
“I’m glad to see that you’re safe,” I tell her honestly. “I didn’t want to leave you alone when the alarms went off. But I knew the problem had to be dealt with quickly. And I knew you could take care of yourself.”
I see a bit of pride fill Cora’s face at that. “I’m glad you think that,” she says quietly. “It feels good to be respected by someone, you know? The way you respect me.”
A flare of pain shoots through me. I’ve been respected for a long time now—by my king, my commander, my fellow warriors. And then, by the woman I believed to be my Irisa. But what respect will they have for me now? What respect is there for a pilot who can’t fly? For a warrior who can’t fight? For a man who is missing parts of himself, both outward and in?
Cora takes a deep, slow breath. “There’s something I need to talk to you about,” she says quietly.
My heart clenches in my chest all over again. I know what she’s going to say next. And I know what I have to say in return. I never imagined that this would happen, or that this would be the outcome. It feels almost as terrible as losing my arm, as if I’m losing some other part of myself. A part I didn’t even know I needed.
“In the hallway… before the engine failure…” Her voice is soft, hesitant. “You said I was your Irisa.”
I can remember every moment of that interaction as if it had happened just moments ago. Every bit of it, every word, every touch and smell, how close I was to tasting her lips for the first time. The softness of her under my body and hands, the scent of her skin, of her arousal. Everything about it was the most precious thing I’d ever experienced.
It all flashes through my mind—the press of her against me, the brush of her hair against my hands, the feeling of her cheek, the incredible, yielding softness. The rush of lust I felt, the need to claim her. I feel the same pull toward her now, the desire to turn and clasp her face in my hands, to kiss her deeply.
But if I took her face in my hands now, she’d feel cold metal against her skin. She’d forever be reminded that I’m not the man I was mere days ago.
She deserves more than this. More than what I’ve become, more than the pain and frustration and anger that are ahead of me.
Cora opens her mouth as if to say something, but I shake my head quickly, cutting her off. The words tumble from my mouth, forced out in a painful rush, every one lancing through me.
“I was mistaken,” I tell her firmly, forcing my eyes to meet hers. Gods, they’re beautiful. She’s beautiful. But I have to sever this now, before I make it so much worse for us both.
“I mistook a moment of connection between us for the mate bond,” I tell her, my voice flat and emotionless. “I wanted you, and I thought it was more than it was. But it isn’t the bond. I was wrong. It was just simple desire, nothing more.”
Cora’s mouth snaps shut. She looks at me, her expression surprised and a little hurt—along with a myriad of other emotions that I can’t even guess at. She’s quiet for a long moment, and then she nods, giving me a small smile that doesn’t quite make it to her eyes.
“I thought that must have been the case,” she says finally, her voice low. “It was just a mistake.”
For a moment, the words hover in the air between us. My heart hurts, a deep ache that I haven’t felt in years.
Krax. Did I do the right thing by telling Cora that it was all a mistake? Should it hurt so badly if I made the right choice?
The right thing isn’t always the easy thing, Tordax told me once, when I was a younger warrior. Sometimes doing what’s right is the hardest thing of all.
“I could help you with your arm.” Cora clears her throat, her words a bit hesitant as she awkwardly tries to change the subject. “I know it’s difficult… but maybe I could help with the… the mind-body connection that Osynth told me you’ll have to develop. I have some training in psychology, like I told you. This isn’t exactly what I studied,” she adds with a small laugh, her blue-green eyes flicking up to meet mine. They’re calm now, her emotions gathered and tucked away. Whatever she’s feeling, I can’t read it now. “But it still might be of some help. I’d… I’d like to help you. If you want me to.”