Hajo ar Hame never wanted to purchase a human. Ever. Just the thought alone was enough to hackle her quills. She didn't care if toting an alien around the village like a purse was fashionable. She didn't care if collecting humans of all different colors and sizes was a remarkable status symbol. And she definitely didn't care if anyone gave her crap for not owning one. Her work as an independent salal dealer didn't allow for frivolities. With no parents to answer to, no hatchlings to care for, no suitors to seduce, no mates to fawn over, no glamorous courts to show face at or royal festivals to host, Hajo's transition to life outside the palace was more pleasant than she could've ever imagined. And yet, despite her practiced apathy, after a perfect storm of greed, mutated biology, blood lust, and destruction, Hajo winds up as caretaker of a frail human addicted to the very drug she sells, stranded on a planet that considers him no better than cattle. Property. Less than. Between hunting for the Maruq who betrayed her family, searching for a cure to her genetic defect, and nursing her alien... Nathaniel Flores... back to health, Hajo barely has time to wonder when she grew a conscience. It's just her luck she's saddled with the one human who is physically incapable of shutting the hell up.

"The chances of that happening are unimaginable for someone like you." I said, trying to picture Nolan as anyone other than the humble, easygoing man before me and utterly failing. Another sip, and a relaxed sigh. "Just because it's never been done before doesn't mean it's impossible." I couldn't argue with that. Back in Training I thought I was untouchable, forged out of pure titanium. Infallible. But there I was nine years later with a mottled chest scar the size of Texas and several bottles of prescription anxiety pills stashed under my desk, having unofficial sessions with an adorable, gay therapist who seemed to think I, of all people, had all the answers. What happened next was a natural progression. After nearly a year digging inside each other's heads, it only made sense to understand each other's bodies. I looked up at Nolan in confusion, a question prepped on my lips. It immediately deflated once I saw him staring down at his hands to the curve of yellowed skin where his wedding ring used to cling. Ours was a quiet grief.