The Space Empress He Craved

Chapter 23

POV: Lyra

I smirked at him, trying to lighten the mood after that embarrassing arousal incident. "I'm not taking that risk again, my Emperor."

Stars, why did I have to press against him like that? Now he knows exactly what his proximity does to me.

He smiled in a daze, his fingers tracing through my hair—well, what Kaelari call hair but is actually neural filaments, softer and more sensitive than human hair ever was. The touch sent cascades of sparks down my spine.

"That's probably the wise thing to do for tonight, my Empress." He smirked, his purple pathways glowing with satisfaction.

I felt my skin shift to annoyed orange. "Orion, please stop calling me that. I'm not your Empress. I'm a Station Commander. If you don't stop, the others are going to think they're obligated to follow."

I pulled out my communicator, checking the urgent message that just came through. The irony wasn't lost on me—here I was, mining trash from Sector Seven, and he kept calling me Empress like I belonged in the Core Worlds' crystal palaces.

Five years as Commander, never once summoned to the Core Worlds. Mining trash doesn't get palace invitations, no matter how many battles they win.

I didn't see how my words made his pathways dim, how his entire body seemed to deflate. If I'd been paying attention instead of scrolling through deployment reports, I might have noticed his Lyrokan consciousness whimpering through our bond, desperate to pull me onto his lap and convince me I was meant to rule beside him.

Suddenly, my peripheral vision caught movement. I sat upright, looking toward the back of the dining hall where Tobias was waving urgently. I gave him the Kaelari military hand signal for 'wait' and turned to the cousins.

"Some station members need to speak with me. I have to go."

Without waiting for their response—because honestly, what could they say? Tell a Commander she couldn't attend to her people?—I got up and took quick steps toward Tobias and the other Kaelari.

Distance. I need distance from him before I do something stupid like believe this could actually work.

Behind me, I felt Orion's gaze boring into my back, his consciousness reaching for mine through the bond. I reinforced my mental shields.

"Am I allowed to ask why she's like that?" I heard Christian whisper as I walked away. Enhanced Kaelari hearing—sometimes a curse.

"Cuz, you know what I'm talking about. Why does she think she can't be our Empress? I mean, look at her."

I forced myself not to react, to keep walking. But I heard every word.

"No one else can do what she's doing. Without her, I doubt we'll even know half of the Kaelari's hardships at the end of this collaboration."

Then Orion's voice, lower: "I can't give you the details. That's for her to share. But I can tell you what is already general knowledge: she went through five rejections before we met. I'm her sixth-chance match."

Christian's shock was audible. "Five?"

Great. Now his cousin knows I'm damaged goods. The Rainbow Commander who can't keep a match.

I tried to focus on the Kaelari in front of me—members from Jewel Station, discussing training protocols, defense strategies, worried about Rogue attacks on their neighboring stations. But part of my consciousness stayed tethered to that conversation behind me.

"Were you aroused when you did?" Christian was asking something.

"Yes."

"Did you detect her arousal in any of these situations?"

Silence. Then Christian: "It's not that she will never be aroused by you. But given her past, it may take time."

Void take me. They're discussing my lack of physical response. How I can control my body's reactions because five rejections teach you to never fully let go.

The Jewel Station members finished their questions. Their Combat Specialist was humble, admitting he had much to learn. I gave them the information they needed—training schedules, capacity limits, deployment rotations. Professional. Controlled. The perfect Commander.

When I returned to the table, Christian immediately stood. "I'm going to get a refill."

Smooth exit, Duke. Real subtle.

"What are you guys talking about?" I asked, watching Christian flee like the hall was decompressing.

"What? Nothing. Why would you think that?" Orion grabbed my hands, neural sparks exploding between us. His pathways were pulsing with anxiety.

"You two looked like you've been caught discussing something you didn't want me to hear. When I asked, Christian left like he wanted privacy for us. The topic was clearly about me. If you were discussing someone else, one of you would've told me, and Christian wouldn't have fled. I could be wrong though." I shrugged, already knowing I wasn't.

I stood, trying to pull my hands free. "My quarters. I'm exhausted. Still have combat training tomorrow at 0600. Say goodnight to Christian for me, okay?"

His grip tightened, pathways flaring with panic. "Where are you going?"

Away from you before I let myself believe this is real.

"Let me walk you back, please?" The pleading in his voice made my chest tight.

"Uh... sure... Is everything alright? You look like you just witnessed an entire station get vaporized."

He pulled me into an embrace, his lips pressing against my neural filaments. Through our bond, his emotions crashed into me—desperation, love, fear of losing me.

"Everything's fine. I just... love you, so much."

My whole body went rigid. The words I'd heard before. Five times before. Each time followed by rejection.

Match three said he loved me two days before he stole my ship. Match five said it right before calling me genetically inferior.

"I'm n-not ready to say it back yet. We just met t-two nights ago." My voice came out as a whisper, my skin shifting to defensive grey.

He smiled, but I felt his pain through the bond. "I understand. We'll take this slow, I promise. I won't force you into doing anything, Lyra, I hope you know that."

"Thank you."

He kissed my hands before leading me out. The station's corridors were dimmer now, simulating night cycle. Through the transparisteel ceiling, I could see the void—endless black scattered with distant stars, the nearest planet's rings glowing faintly purple.

"So, uh... who were they, Lyra? The ones Specialist Tobias called you to speak with."

"Oh, them." I relaxed slightly, grateful for neutral territory. "Those were members from Jewel Station. They're interested in taking up Commander Juan's offer for combat training. They wanted details—scheduling, capacity, that sort of thing. Their neighboring stations have been hit by Rogues recently. They're worried they're next. Their Combat Specialist admitted he needs more training before he can secure the station properly."

His thumb stroked my hand, sending waves of neural energy through me. "You're so amazing. I just hope you can see it one day."

"I only do what I can, Orion."

Stop looking at me like I'm special. I'm just a Commander doing her job.

"It's ironic how the only one who can't see the magnitude of your contribution is you."

I shrugged. "I guess it's because the magnitude was never my concern."

"Yeah, I remember. Your concern has always been protecting those who can't fight. You help anyone you can, whenever you can with whatever you have."

"That's not entirely true. I'm merciless with anyone with ill intentions."

He chuckled. "Let's be fair. They don't deserve help."

"Unless their vulnerabilities put the innocent at risk," I reminded him.

"Unless their vulnerabilities put the innocent at risk," he repeated, his pathways glowing with something that looked dangerously like adoration.

We reached my quarters. He pressed his lips to my hand—that Lyrokan gesture that always sent my neural pathways into overdrive.

"Goodnight, Lyra."

"Goodnight, Orion."

I sealed the door behind me and leaned against it, my skin cycling through a dozen colors.

Why does he have to be so perfect? Why does he have to look at me like I'm worth something? Doesn't he know that just makes the inevitable rejection hurt more?

Through our bond, I felt him moving away, his consciousness reaching for mine one last time before distance muted the connection. His emotions were a symphony of love, frustration, and determination.

Six rejections, Lyra. You're preparing for number six. Because mining colony Commanders don't become Empresses. They just don't.

But as I pressed my fingers to where he'd kissed my hand, feeling the lingering neural sparks, a treacherous thought whispered: What if this time is different?

I squashed it immediately. Hope was a luxury I couldn't afford.

Not again.