I don’t do attachments. I do verification. Clean rulings. Exit.
Then the bond locks and every rule I lived by turns to ash.
She’s human. Soft. Stubborn. Standing between her people and the ships like the universe owes her a favor. I was supposed to stay neutral.
Instead I can’t stop calculating how to keep her within arm’s reach.
She thinks this is still about land and law. It isn’t. It’s about the way her pulse jumps when I pull her against me. The way she fits like she was made to be carried.
The way I already decided she’s not walking away from this.
I don’t ask permission. I claim. I don’t promise safety. I promise she stays mine.
Call it whatever you want. I call her my pocket wife.
Read on for alien soulbond, size-difference possession, forced proximity that turns permanent, a centuries-old specialist who loses every rule for one human woman, and a claim that refuses to let go.
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