The Alien’s Obsession by Zoey Draven

Epilogue

Two lunar cycles later…

The song echoedaround their home, the acoustics amazing. It still surprised Lainey, despite her playing the piano every single day, just how rich the music was, how full.

Needless to say, Kirov had nailed her piano. On his first try.

He’d presented it to her shortly after the completion of their ravraxia, when she’d still been high out of her mind on incredible, consuming sex and her equally incredible and consuming alien mate. He’d snuck it into their house in the middle of the night, while she’d slept, a replica of a grand piano design she’d sketched out for him, complete with a bench.

In the morning, he’d awakened her with kisses and orgasms and afterwards, had asked her to go downstairs.

She’d burst out into tears the moment she’d seen it. Beautiful and white and gleaming, sitting in the corner of the living room that had a perfect view of Troxva’s lake. And she hadn’t been able to stop crying, even as she tested the keys with trembling fingers, hearing those perfect sounds, those perfect notes.

Lainey had played her favorite song for Kirov that morning. Claire de Lune.

And afterwards, he’d looked at her with awe in his gaze and she felt that awe reverberate through their blood bond, mingled with his love. He’d murmured, “Vellixa.”

And every day since, she’d heard that word come from him, multiple times a day.

The song Lainey was playing, right at that moment, however, was for Kirov’s father, Kivaxi. The older male sat in his favorite chair, warmed by the fire pit. His guard, Pilava, stood close, always watching. Lixron was there as well, gazing out at the terrace, listening to the music in silence.

Kirov wasn’t home yet, but he would be any moment. It was nighttime and the bright stars were out, twinkling and beautiful. Kivaxi, Pilava, and Lixron came to the house often, once they’d discovered that Kirov’s father was calmed by music of all things.

It had been Lainey’s idea, a thought she hadn’t been able to shake. Nadine had once told her that music could heal, that she knew of a woman with dementia who recalled memories if they were linked to specific music. It was a try, at the very least, and she’d had Kirov make a copy of the Golden Record and had him play it during his next visit with his father.

Kirov had come home that night, stunned, but hopeful. Relieved. Because he’d told her that it had worked. His father had been in the middle of a tantrum and the music had lulled him, calmed him until Kirov was able to bathe him without hassle. Ever since, Kirov had the music playing and he said he’d never seen his father more at ease, more relaxed.

After that, Kirov tentatively allowed his father near Lainey, at their house, under supervision. Pilava, sometimes Tiravi, the other guard, and Lixron always accompanied him and Lainey would play the piano for them. Kivaxi would settle in, still as a statue, with a small smile on his face, and he would listen intently to whatever she played.

That night, she played a song by Yann Tiersen, from the Amélie soundtrack. Comptine D’un Autre Été. It was one of Kivaxi’s favorites.

Through their blood bond, she felt Kirov. He was close. And a moment later she saw his hovercraft come into view. Though he couldn’t see her through the mirrored glass, she saw him land on the terrace and jump down.

Lainey ached at the sight, marveling at how beautiful he was. She remembered when she’d first seen him, how enamored she’d been, how bewildered she’d been by her intense attraction.

When he came through the front door, her heart leaped in excitement, in happiness. He’d been gone for most of the day, finishing up a project for the armory. He’d been absent for dinner, even though she’d cooked for Kivaxi, Pilava, and Lixron in the kitchen, a simple meal of meat and roasted roots. She was still getting a feel for Luxirian ingredients, but she did her best. She liked to cook and she liked cooking for people she cared for.

Lainey almost gasped at the intense emotion that came through their blood bond. She would’ve if she wasn’t so used to it. Kirov entered their home, but stayed on the threshold of the living room, standing near his seated father. And while their familial relationship was still complicated, it warmed her heart when Kirov reached down to touch Kivaxi’s shoulder. And she almost burst into hysterical tears when Kivaxi touched his son’s hand in reciprocation, though it could’ve also been due to the intense hormones coursing through her body.

Kirov’s love, his gratefulness, flowed into her, warming her chest. He still dealt with the guilt of not being with his father all the time, but Lainey did what she could to help ease it, knowing how busy he was. While it still made Kirov uncomfortable for Lainey to be around his father, given his unpredictable nature, she always interacted with him under the protection of Pilava and Tiravi and Lixron, almost every day. She was never in danger of being hurt and Kirov had slowly accepted it.

The song ended and she looked over at Kivaxi, who waited with anticipation. “One more?”

He knew those words, since Lainey had repeated them often.

“Tev, tev,” the older male replied.

Lainey smiled, her eyes going to her mate, holding his gaze for a brief moment. Then she turned, placing her fingers back on the keys, straightening her spine.

And she began the next song.

A song that held a very special place in her heart.

Once, Lainey believed that happiness was the ethereal waterfall of notes in Claire de Lune’s climax or quiet, still mornings at her piano bench, in her small studio apartment, sipping on a hot cup of tea, or laughing like a loon with Nadine over something silly they’d seen. She still thought so. Those were happy moments, happy memories.

But now, happiness was Kirov, the way he looked in the mornings when she happened to wake up before him, the way the world fell away when he kissed her, the way he curled his hand around the back of her neck as he did.

Happiness was the beautiful emotion in his deep gaze when she’d told him she was pregnant a few weeks ago, that they were going to have a child…hopefully the first of many to fill their home. Little Kirovs with dark hair and intelligent, mischievous eyes.

Happiness was watching the shimmering lake reflect a Troxva sunset with him. It was when he was deep inside her, their bodies one, connected through their blood bond, vulnerable and exposed without fear.

Happiness was that moment, their eyes connected across a room as Lainey played a song for him, only him. His song. The one she’d written for him as an attempt to capture and preserve the beauty she felt every single day. The beauty he gifted her every single moment.

It still didn’t feel like enough, but she continued to play, to pour her everything into it.

But as Claude Debussy once said, music was the space between the notes…and she had confidence that her intelligent male understood everything that went unsaid.

Kirov closed his eyes, hearing that music in the silence.

And he smiled.

THE END