Roark’s eyes found mine. Held. Yes, that was the look I’d craved. Desperation. Need. Hunger. Love.
In three steps, he crossed to me, stood so close I had to tilt my chin back.
“You’re not dead.” It was a stupid statement, but that one thought consumed me as I drank him in with my eyes, afraid to touch him, afraid he’d vanish like a ghost. “The doctor told me you were dead.”
Roark shook his head and gathered me close. His scent, god, his scent was fabulous. One that triggered every happy memory of the short time with him. His voice rumbled through his chest and into me as he explained. “I was captured. They held me for nine days before I could escape. Everyone at Outpost Two was gone. I transported to another outpost and they told there were no survivors. They told me you were dead.” His grip was tight, too tight. My ribs felt like they might snap, but I welcomed the pain. It was real. He was real.
“You thought I was dead?” My voice was high, tight.
“Yes, gara.” He breathed deep. “Gods help me, yes.”
I shoved at his chest, fighting back the anger rising in my stomach, churning its way up my throat, into my head, leaking out my eyes. I would not cry, but these tears fell unbidden. “Nine days?”
He groaned “Ten now, love.”
“Ten days?” I nearly shouted. “Ten fucking days? Is that supposed to be funny?”
Roark lifted a hand to my face and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. How could he be so calm as he lied to me? “What is wrong?”
I shoved at his chest and stepped away, putting Noah’s playpen between us. “You thought I was dead?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you here now? This is what, light years away? Why now?” How had he found me? Why was he here? Ten days? Hardly. I’d been alone and miserable for thirteen fucking months. I’d been pregnant, alone and scared. I cried myself to sleep every night for months. I’d grieved him for over a year.
Ten days? No. Not even close.
“You activated the medallion’s emergency signal, mate. I don’t know how you did it, but I was never so relieved as when that ping came through the transport center on Trion. I came at once.”
What. The. Hell? “What ping?”
He stepped around the playpen, where Noah had rolled onto his side, busy shoving a crackling golden bear into his mouth. Was Roark really so dense? So confused? How could he not see that Noah was his son? He had not really looked at our son, at the small replica of the giant man before me. I wanted him to look. I wanted him to see.
“The medallion I gave you, gara. The one I put on your chain that night. When I claimed you, made you mine forever. It can only be activated by—” His voice faded and his attention focused wholly and completely on Noah for the first time. I’d wanted Roark to acknowledge his son, to know. To grasp the significance of that sweet, little face. But now that Roark’s full attention was on the baby, I suddenly felt nervous.
I’d longed for this moment, wished it. Dreamed it. But now that it was happening, I was worried Roark wouldn’t want Noah, wouldn’t want me again. Us.
Roark’s eyes clouded with wonder, with awe, and I watched the riot of emotions cross his face like a storm. “Gara?”
“It’s been more than ten days, Roark,” I whispered, the tears falling again. “A lot more.”
He shook his head slowly. The truth was before him, but he couldn’t seem to fathom it. “How… how is this possible?” By the way his fingers twitched, I could sense that Roark wanted to touch him, to hold him, yet was afraid. Shifting, I lifted Noah up so Roark could take him.
With wide eyes and big hands, he took Noah from me, pulled his son into his chest, snuggled him close. A groan escaped Roark’s body, part joy, part pain, and the baby squealed in delight, smacking at his father’s chest with his toy.
“Gara.” Tears gathered in Roark’s eyes when he lifted his glittering gaze to mine and the sight made my heart split in two. All the anger drained from me in an instant. I didn’t know how or why Roark was here, or why it had taken him so long to find us. But he’d kept his promise. He’d come across the galaxy to find me, to find us. And the violent wrenching in my heart meant I loved him still.
“His name is Noah. He’s your son.”
Chapter Eleven
Roark
Natalie was curled into my side. A fire burned in the strange hearth before us. But there was no fuel, no tree or brush feeding the flames. Still, it heated the room, and the little one who slept on my chest.
My son.
Just thinking the word caused my eyes to burn, my heart to ache. My son. And I’d missed so much already. My mate’s rounded belly, the swell of her breasts. I’d missed his birth, his first smile.