Hezza sat in the most comfortable chair she’d ever owned and grinned as she typed out her message. It wasn’t anything important, just an acknowledgement that she’d received Thrash’s latest status report. He was on the Gambit and about to leave Defiance Station for a series of short-haul flights. He was traveling the same routes she used to back when the Gambit was her ship.

Technically, the Gambit was still her ship. She’d hired Thrash to pilot it when she’d taken command of her new vessel. The Double Trouble was the first ship to come out of Haven’s recently finished orbiting shipyard, and she was beautiful.

Once the message was sent, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “Hey, ship?” She called out, then amended it quickly to, “Hey, Trouble. When are we expecting the outstanding items on our cargo manifest to show up?”

“Hello, Captain. We will have everything on board and secured in the next two hours.” Like everything else on the Trouble, the ship’s AI was top-of-the-line. She’d selected a pleasant, vaguely female voice for it, and even agreed to the addition of a personality subroutine. Her ship could now emulate humor, compassion, and even crack the occasional joke. She was still getting used to it, but that seemed to apply to a lot of things recently. That list included being one of the first humans to have real-time communication that worked across light-years. Tianna Astor had cut a deal with the empress while they were both visiting Haven. As a result, Astek Corporation’s net worth had tripled, and every station, ship, and colony was ready to pay through the nose for the tech.

The trip to Haven had worked out for everyone, but especially for her. Hezza had a new ship, new mates, and a radically different future than the one she’d been faced with only a few months ago. Testing the nanotech she and her mahoyen carried had revealed that they had a variant of the human-made medi-bots. Not that it made any real difference. They both provided the same glorious perks. She felt thirty-years old again. Her mind was clear, her aches and pains were gone, and she could eat like a starving teenager with no ramifications. She still slept more than Fyr’enth and Kalan, but it was more out of habit than necessity.

“If you’re done caressing your consoles and basking in the beauty of your new bridge, breakfast is nearly ready.” Kalan sent the message through the internal channel she now shared with them.

That was another change. She now had cranial implants that allowed her to converse with her mates, as well as a real-time translator. The next time a client insulted her in their own language, she could insult them right back.

“I’m on my way.” She snatched her hand off the console and set it on the armrest instead. “And I was not caressing anything.”

“Of course you weren’t.” Fyr’enth’s tone was drier than moon dust, and yet she still got a thrill from having his low rumbling voice in her head.

She was so busted.

She hopped out of her chair and sauntered off the bridge. The hallways on this ship were built to accommodate the larger bodies and wingspans of Vardarians, which made them feel almost cavernous after a lifetime spent moving through the tight confines of the Gambit.

It only took a minute to reach the crew’s residential area. There were three other cabins besides the one that she and her mates had claimed, along with a gym, a rec room, and the galley.

The metal deck plates gleamed, the walls and bulkheads were painted a pale gray with deep blue accents, and the air was so fresh it could have blown in through an open window despite the fact they were in orbit.

She drew in a lungful of air and grinned. Life was good.

Then, she walked through the open doors of the galley and revised her last thought. Her life was amazing. How could it be anything else when her kitchen held two sexy, sweet males with wings like an angel and bodies made for sin?

They both had their backs to her. Kalan stood over the cooktop, monitoring three pans at once. Based on the delicious scents she detected, one of the pans had to be full of bacon, another contained some kind of sausage, was… She moved closer and laughed. “Two pan full of bacon? What’s the occasion?”

They both turned to face her, and she belatedly registered that while they still refused to wear any type of clothing on their upper halves, they had added something new to their wardrobe. Aprons. Both of her mates wore white aprons that covered most of their chests, each emblazoned with the same saying. “Kiss the cook.”

She laughed so long and hard she had tears streaming down her face by the time she regained control.

“Where did you find those?” She asked once she could breathe again.

“Anya gave them to us,” Fyr’enth said. “Do you like them?”

Of course. Her daughter shared her sense of humor and had adopted Fyr’enth and Kalan like family within days of their first meeting.

“The aprons are great, and very practical. I’ll send her a note of thanks later.”

Then she walked up to Kalan, rose on her toes, and tugged at the straps of his apron until he bent down to meet her kiss.

He groaned into her mouth, his lips teasing and tasting hers. When she released him, he rose back to his full height with a satisfied look on his handsome face.

“Your turn, Stormy.” She turned to face Fyr’enth. He grinned and beckoned her closer. When she moved in, he lifted a hand and offered her a finger slathered in what looked like chocolate sauce.

“What is this?” she asked as he brushed the offering across her lips.

“Chocolate ganache. I thought it would go well with the chocolate chip waffles.”

“I like the way you think.” She sucked his finger into her mouth and didn’t release it until there wasn’t a trace of the chocolate left. Then she repeated the trick of pulling on his apron straps until he bent down far enough for her to kiss him.

Despite this galley being far larger than their old one, she found herself wedged between them once again. Not that she was complaining. After so many years alone, she loved these moments when they were connected like this.

“I love you both so much.” She let her head rest on Fyr’enth’s chest as Kalan stroked her hair. “How did I get this lucky?”

They both laughed, and then Kalan said, “You did what you always do, zana. You went in search of trouble.”

“And found us,” Fyr’enth said, finishing his brother’s sentence.

She hugged them both. “Speaking of trouble, we’re two hours away from departure. Are you ready to put this beautiful machine through its paces?”

“We are,” Kalan said. “But first, we’re going to eat the food Fyr and I have prepared.”

“And then, we’re taking you to bed. Trouble can wait a while longer. Orgasms first.”

“You’re forgetting who's in charge around here,” she pointed to herself. “I’m the captain.”

Kalan grinned down at her. “Are you turning down our offer? Captain?”

She pretended to consider that for several seconds before shaking her head. “Hell's bells and gravity wells. Why would I do that?”

“Hey, Trouble?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Let the authorities know we’re postponing departure by an hour. Something came up.”

“Of course, Captain,” the AI said.

“Better make that two hours,” Fyr’enth said, his eyes hot and hungry.

Hezza shivered, nodded, and basked in the attention of her mates. If this was what the rest of her life would be, then she was the luckiest female in the galaxy.

This is the last book in the Haven Colony series, but it's not the end of the Drift universe. Stay tuned, because in 2026 I'm launching a new series, The Drift: Defiance Station.

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