The evening had held such promise.

As soon as the negotiation session ended and Admiral Shepard left for his private discussion with the Primarch, Kaidan saw his chance. He'd been waiting for an opportunity to steal a moment alone with Kathreen. Between media leaks and mercenary attacks, the pressure had been mounting, pushing her further and further from him.

The Interstellar Symphonies performance at the Seraphic Auditorium seemed perfect. A surprise visit. A quiet evening. Just the two of them, away from the chaos. He checked his omni-tool. He would be just in time for the fifth act. Of seven!

Apparently, peace negotiations weren't the only things that dragged on endlessly in this part of the galaxy.

Yet, when he arrived, an odd sense of unease settled in his stomach. The grand hall was alive with music, the elegant crowd enraptured by the performance, but Kathreen was nowhere in sight. At first, he brushed it off—maybe she'd stepped away for a moment—but as the symphony swelled, he was taken by worry. With recent security concerns, the thought of another attack or a kidnapping flashed through his mind. But he forced himself to calm down and think rationally.

Alenko activated his omni-tool, initiating a trace on Kathreen's device. The signal surprised him. Not in the Presidium's refined cultural district, but deep in Zakera Ward. At a nightclub called Flux. The name blinked on his screen, jarring against the refined event she was supposed to be attending.

Kaidan's mind raced with possibilities. What was she doing there? Why would she go without informing her security detail? He considered alerting C-Sec but hesitated. If there was a reasonable explanation for her absence, involving them could only complicate matters.

The pounding bass of Flux echoed through the club as Alenko arrived. The late hour had thinned the crowd, making it easier for him to scan the patrons. No sign of Kathreen. His heart hammered in his chest as he circled the half-empty dance floor, checked the bar, even peered into the private rooms. The back alley was the last place he could check, so he stepped outside.

It was a stark contrast to the gleaming facades of the Citadel's main streets, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the Ward. Flickering neon signs from nearby establishments cast an eerie, intermittent glow, painting the scene in surreal hues of blue and red. Puddles of questionable liquid dotted the ground, reflecting the dim light.

When the doors closed behind him, cutting off the loud music, Kaidan heard a soft gasp.

He rounded the corner—and the world tilted.

Kathreen stood against the wall, her small frame nearly swallowed by the turian looming over her. Her hands pushed weakly at his plated chest, a futile attempt at distance. The bastard had her by the waist, bare talons digging into the fabric of her dress, those threatening, territorial subvocal growls rumbling through the alley.

Every muscle in the alien's body was coiled, ready to strike. Kaidan knew that posture all too well. He'd seen it. Felt it. The scars on his face twitched at the memory of those claws ripping through his armor and flesh.

Kathreen!

"Get the fuck away from her!" His voice cracked like a gunshot, ricocheting off the walls.

The turian spun, mandibles flaring. The moment their eyes met, recognition slammed into Kaidan like a fist.

Vakarian.

"I said get away."

The turian's body went rigid, every inch of him wound tight.

Then—her voice. "Garrus, please…"

Kaidan froze.

"… don't."

Garrus? Since when were they on a first-name basis?

Confusion pierced through his focus when Kathreen moved. Not away from the turian—but toward him. Her hand reached for Vakarian's arm with a familiar ease that made no sense.

The predator turned to her… and his eyes softened.

The universe collapsed.

She called him by his name... The fucking turian? His brain short-circuited, unable to process whatever it was unfolding before him. Has she lost her mind? The question burned through him, leaving a trail of anger and disgust in its wake.

"Come here, Kathreen." Alenko's voice was sharp, each word bitten off. His hand extended toward her. "Now."

She hesitated, her violet darting frantically between them. The weight of her indecision struck him, driving the breath from his lungs. How could she evenhesitate?

A growl erupted from Vakarian, vibrating through the narrow space, resonating in Alenko's bones. With one swift motion, the turian pulled Kathreen behind him, stance unmistakably protective.

"She's not going anywhere with you, Major." The title dripped from his mandibles like poison, dual-toned voice scraping against Kaidan's nerves.

Alenko's jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. "I'm taking her home," he snarled. "Step aside."

"She is not yours."

"Kathreen." Alenko's own voice was barely recognizable to his own ears. She flinched at his tone, guilt written across her face.

Vakarian took a step forward, slow and deliberate. His muscles rippled beneath his plates, the careful, calculated movements of a predator ready to strike. His eyes darkened, fringe narrowing.

They both had already been here before, standing in front of each other in the same exact way. Kaidan's hand instinctively reached for his sidearm. Vakarian noticed. Something shifted in those alien features—the bastard sneered. Like he welcomed the challenge. Alenko could almost read the thought behind those blackened eyes: the turian was glad he was armed. In his mind, it wouldn't be a fair fight otherwise.

Adrenaline flooded Kaidan's veins, sharpening his focus as time stretched into a razor-thin moment of decision. Every instinct screamed at him to act. If that thing lunged, he'd have only seconds to draw and fire. No hesitation. No second shot. The bastard was fast, even for a turian. Alenko had learned that the hard way.

Suddenly Kathreen stepped forward, right into his line of fire.

"Kaidan, stop. Take your hand off the weapon." Her voice shook, but there was something firm in it—an order, a plea. Fear, but not for herself.

She turned to face the turian, reaching up to place a gentle hand against his chest.

"I'm begging you. Just step aside," she whispered with the same familiarity that cut Kaidan deeper than turian claws ever could.

Vakarian blinked with confusion as if caught off guard by her request.

"Please," she whispered.

Even from where he stood, Alenko could see the conflict in the turian's stance. A long moment of hesitation—then, an almost imperceptible nod. "For you," he vibrated.

Then Kaidan witnessed something that shattered what remained of his world. The alien reached out and touched Kathreen's face with a gentleness he never thought possible from those deadly talons.

When she moved away from him, the beast let out a strange, mournful sound. For a terrible moment, she looked as if she might turn back, drawn to whatever madness had held her locked in place. But she didn't. She kept walking, her steps slow and hesitant.

When she took his hand, Kaidan felt her fingers—cool and trembling—against his palm. Relief washed through him momentarily, but it quickly soured into something else. The bitter taste of betrayal filled his mouth as his mind replayed the scene he had just interrupted, finally interpreting it for what it truly was.

He led her away, grabbing tighter than he should have. He couldn't bring himself to look at her face, afraid of what he might see there. He didn't look back either, yet somehow he knew the turian stood motionless, not a muscle shifting, watching them go, tracking their movements until they vanished from sight.

The walk to the landing area was an eternity compressed into mere minutes.

By the time they settled into the skycar, the silence between them had thickened into something suffocating. He was grateful for the autopilot, not trusting himself to navigate the busy skyways in his current state.

Through the vehicle's windows, the Citadel's breathtaking view scrolled by unnoticed. Towering skyscrapers and elegant bridges, usually a source of wonder, now seemed cold and indifferent. The colorful, bustling life of the station felt like a mockery of the turmoil within the confined space.

"Kaidan," she whispered.

He couldn't bear to look at her, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

"Please—" she tried again.

"Don't… talk."

She recoiled at his tone but didn't say anything else.

For a fleeting second, regret pricked at him, but the memory of her in the turian's arms surged back, crushing it beneath the weight of it. The disgust simmering inside him was unfamiliar, a foreign presence when it came to Kathreen. He had loved her, trusted her—never once had he imagined feeling this gnawing revulsion, this sickening ache in his chest.

When the skycar began its descent, the admiral's residence came into view—the place where he shared so many hopeful moments with her now felt like a monument to his shattered dreams.

Fucking idiot!

The vehicle settled into the designated landing zone, and a wave of relief crashed over him. He needed out. He needed space, air—anything but her suffocating presence beside him. Yet even when he stepped outside, his lungs refused to cooperate.

They were greeted by an asari C-Sec officer, who informed them of Admiral Shepard's delayed return, her face maintaining professional composure despite the obvious distress etched on theirs. She escorted the two humans inside the building, stopping at her post at the entrance to the residence.

Kaidan had no intention of crossing the threshold tonight. His only purpose was to see her safely to her door—the ingrained protective instinct that even now, despite everything, he couldn't suppress. He was ready to go, to retreat and lick his wounds in solitude, when Kathreen spoke.

"Kaidan, please. Don't just leave. Talk to me."

He turned, his expression a mask of forced calm. "What is there to say?"

"Anything," she pleaded, searching his face. "Just… don't leave it like this."

His chest felt tight, every breath a struggle of rage and hurt. The words he'd been holding back clawed their way up his throat, bitter and sharp. "Are you fucking him?"

Kathreen flinched, eyes wide. "What?"

"You wanted me to talk. So let's talk. How long?"

She hesitated. "Please, it's not—"

"Not what? Not what I think it is?" His voice was razor-sharp.

Kathreen's mouth opened, but no words came.

"Do you even understand what you've done?" he couldn't stop now. "How many of our people died because of them? Because of him? Ash—" He choked on his friend's name, fury burning through him. "Ash is dead because of that thing. And you let it... touch you?"

She recoiled, as if struck. "Kaidan—"

"So tell me! How long have you been fucking him?"

The words rang out, brutal and final. Kathreen took a step back. Her violet was shining with unshed tears. But it didn't matter. He wouldn't make it easy for her. Not after what she'd done.

She had made a fool out of him. For fuck's sake, they hadn't even been on the Citadel that long! All this time—

"Answer me," he growled.

"You don't understand…"

No, he fucking didn't.

Something inside him snapped. Before he knew it, his hands were on her arms, gripping too tightly. "How long?!"

Kathreen gasped, eyes widening in fear. She didn't struggle, but her whole body went rigid, preparing for what she knew she deserved.

Realizing what he'd done, Kaidan instantly let go, stumbling back a step. His pulse thundered in his ears, breath coming too fast, too sharp.

Fuck.

He needed to get out of here.

The door was there. Just a few steps, and he could leave—walk away before this got even worse. Before he said or did something else, something he could never take back.

Kaidan turned.

"Lindor," she whispered.

The word was barely a breath, but it stopped him cold. He stood there, staring at the exit but no longer seeing it.

Slowly, he turned back. "What?"

"That's... how long."

Kathreen took a shaky breath.

"He got me out."

It took him a moment, a long moment. But the pieces finally clicked into place with devastating clarity.

"He was that turian," Kaidan finally said, his voice laced with disbelief.

She nodded, words failing her as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

The revelation hit Alenko like a physical blow, casting everything in a harsh new light. His mind raced back to that time, remembering the reports, the search, the moment they had found her. He had always known there were gaps in her story, details that didn't quite add up. Now, it all made sense. And in the face of the full story, he felt a new kind of pain settle in his chest.

"All this time," he murmured. "Did you know? Did you know who he was?"

She shook her head. "No, I never knew. Neither did he... I thought I would never see him again, and then we came to the Citadel…" she faltered, then took a deep breath. "He was part of the turian team sent to retrieve the survivors on Lindor. He chased me through the woods when we were captured by the batarians. We spent days in that place while they did all sorts of things to both of us…" she shook with memories. "But he got me out. He saved my life… he carried me when I couldn't walk, when I thought the withdrawal would kill me."

In those moments, Kaidan felt as if he were seeing Kathreen for the first time. The strong, composed young woman he had known and loved for so long was stripped away, revealing the vulnerable, scarred girl who had survived unimaginable horrors.

He had always suspected there was a turian involved in her escape. But Vakarian?

"He let me go… Got me safely to the rescue team…" her voice trailed off, choked by emotion. But Aleneko didn't need her to finish. The truth was written plainly on her face.

"You love him."

Kathreen's response came out in a torrent. "I'm so sorry, Kaidan. I tried not to. You know I did, you of all people... Oh God. I know what he is, what he's done. I see it in your face every time I look at you..." She gasped for air. "I know you can never forgive me, but please... please don't hate me. I can't bear the thought of you hating me. I never meant to hurt you."

Kaidan's heart ached at her words. He could see the toll this secret had taken on her, the conflict that had been tearing her apart. And in that moment, he found it impossible to hate her.

"Please..." she begged.

He placed his hands on her trembling shoulders, making her look at him. "I could never hate you, Kathreen."

He pulled her into his arms, holding her as she finally released all the anguish and torment she had been carrying. As she cried, he was mourning the future he had dreamed of, now forever out of reach.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, until her sobs subsided into quiet gasps. Even then, she clung to him, drawing comfort from his embrace despite the pain she had caused him.

Finally, she spoke, her voice small and fragile. "Please, don't tell my dad."

Kaidan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Kathreen, you can't ask me to do that."

She pulled back, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that startled him. "You can't tell him. Not until the talks are over."

The thought of lying to Admiral Shepard, even by omission, looking the man in the eye, knowing what he knew, made Kaidan feel physically ill.

He shook his head with resolve. "I won't just—"

"You can't." Her voice rose. "You know what this will do to him. If this gets out now, while he's leading the peace talks, they'll pull him off the negotiations. The Alliance won't take the risk of another scandal, not when the entire war is hanging in the balance."

Kaidan clenched his jaw. He wanted to argue, but deep down, he already knew she had a point.

"They won't believe he didn't know." Her fingers dug into his sleeves. "They'll either think he's a liar or a fool, and either way, it'll destroy him. The Alliance can't afford to look weak in front of the Council, and my father—" Her breath hitched. "They'll never trust him again."

She was right.

If the brass thought Admiral Shepard had turned a blind eye to his daughterfraternizing with the enemy, they'd bury him. If they believed he hadn't known, they'd tear him apart for incompetence. Either way, his career—his legacy—might be in ruins. The Citadel wouldn't take him seriously. The military wouldn't listen to him. He'd be done.

Kaidan exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. "Damn it, Kathreen…"

"I could never do that to him." Her voice was barely a whisper now. "I love him too much."

And Kaidan… Kaidan loved her too much.

The decision settled over him, heavy and suffocating. He wasn't sure what it would cost him—professionally, personally—but he knew it would cost him something.

Still, he would keep her secret.

Even as his own heart lay in pieces.

"Fine," he said finally, the word scraping out of him like it hurt. "I won't tell him. Not yet."

Relief flooded her face, but he caught the flicker of guilt behind it. Good.

"But Kathreen," he warned, voice low and rough. "This won't stay buried forever. You know that, right?"

She swallowed hard. "I know." She loosened her grip slightly, her expression softening. "I need to be the one to tell him. And I will. Soon."

When Kaidan finally stepped out into the artificial night of the Citadel, the contrast was jarring. Life on the station continued as normal—people going about their business, oblivious to his emotional devastation. The Citadel air felt thin and unsatisfying in his lungs, as if he couldn't quite catch his breath.

The walk to his own apartment was a blur of conflicting emotions. Kaidan moved on autopilot, his body navigating the familiar path while his mind churned with memories and questions.

Inside his apartment, the silence was oppressive. He stood in the entryway, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself. The full weight of the night's events settled in, and he made his way to the bedroom, each step heavy with fatigue and sorrow. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he buried his face in his hands, finally allowing himself to fully feel the pain he had been holding at bay.

It was late afternoon when Garrus found himself standing outside the admiral's residence. He had barely slept. The whole day had passed in a fog, his mind consumed by thoughts of Katie and the events of the previous night. Alenko hadn't been at the session. 'Important diplomatic assignments,' Shepard had said. The admiral had barely looked at Garrus through the long hours of tense debate, wrapped up in politics. Whether the human truly knew nothing or was simply good at pretending, he couldn't tell.

Garrus barely registered the negotiations. The words passed through him, empty and weightless. All he could think of was his bondmate. The image of her leaving with the human replayed on an endless loop, each repetition stoking the all-too-familiar burn of jealousy in his chest. He had always known the nature of Alenko's feeling for her, but seeing it in full display—all that challenge and anger—enraged him beyond what he thought was possible.

She was his.

And yet, he had let her go.

But how could he have done anything else? When she had looked at him with those desperate, pleading eyes, he was powerless. Garrus could never refuse her anything. The mind and body of a bonded turian simply wouldn't allow it.

Katie didn't understand. She had no idea what thebondwas doing to him, the physical pain and emotional turmoil coursing through him at their separation. If she had known, Garrus was certain, she would have never asked him to let her go, least of all with another male.

And now he paced the corridor, torn between reason and the instinctive drive that had brought him here. This was reckless, he knew. But the need to see her, to ensure she was safe, overrode his usual caution. He pressed the door panel and entered the hallway leading to the apartment guarded by an asari C-Sec officer.

"Major Vakarian," the officer greeted. "Can I assist you with something, sir?"

Garrus straightened. "I need to speak with Kathreen Shepard. It's a matter of some urgency."

"One moment, sir," she nodded and tapped her comm unit.

"Yes?" came Katie's voice.

"Miss Shepard, I apologize for the interruption," the C-Sec officer said. "Major Garrus Vakarian is here to see you. He says it's urgent."

A long pause. Garrus's mandibles tightened.

"I... understand," she finally said. "Please, show him in."

The door slid open, and Garrus stepped inside, his gaze finding her instantly.

She had just knotted the sash of a dark grey silk robe, the fabric clinging to damp skin still flushed from the heat of the shower. Strands of wet hair framed her face, and the air carried her scent—warm, sweet, unmistakably hers.

He took another step forward, the door whispering shut behind him.

"You can't be here," she whispered with fear. "The admiral—"

"Will be held in the Tower for another hour, at least," he said. "I checked his itinerary."

"Garrus..." she began, ready to protest further, but he cut her off.

"You haven't answered my messages. I just... needed to know you were ok."

The concern in his dual tones melted her resolve. "I'm ok," she said softly.

Garrus moved closer, eyes roaming over her, checking for any sign of distress. "What abouthim," he asked, unable to keep the edge from his voice.

"I told him. About us and about Lindor."

Her face contorted at the mention of the place. And suddenly he wondered—was he another reminder of that? Did his presence anchor her to those memories, a shadow of everything she longed to leave behind?

"All of it?" Garrus asked carefully.

"Enough for him to understand..."

"That you aremine," he said stressing the last word.

"Yes," Katie replied looking straight at him.

Garrus closed the distance between them, gently cupping her face in his hands. The violet of her eyes captivated him, so enticing yet so innocent. He drew her slowly into his embrace, and she didn't resist, pressing her body against his.

"Will he keep your secret?"

"Yes," she murmured. "He'll do anything for me."

Garrus felt a renewed surge of jealousy at her words. He knew the human male's affection for Katie ran deep. Would Alenko try to claim her still, now that he knew the truth?

"Garrus," Katie whispered, sensing his tension. She placed her hands on his chest, stroking his plates gently. The gesture worked its magic, and he felt himself relax, a steady rumble building in his chest.

"I was worried," he admitted. "When you didn't respond to my message... I thought maybe you had changed your mind. That maybe... he had convinced you to stay away from me."

Katie pulled back slightly, looking up into his eyes. "Never," she said firmly. "Garrus, what we have... it's not something I could ever walk away from. Even if I wanted to."

Her words soothed some of his fears, but others lingered. Garrus hesitated, then took her hand in his. "Katie," he began softly, "I know we don't talk about Lindor, but... I need to know. Does seeing me... does it bring back those memories for you?"

"Sometimes, but not in the way you think." She paused, trying to find words. "Lindor was hell. But then there was you. An enemy who showed me more compassion than I could ever hope for. You saved me, Garrus."

He pulled her closer. "You saved me too."

"That's why I couldn't tell Kaidan everything," Katie continued, her voice muffled against his chest. "How could I explain what I lived through and what I found? That everything changed for me after that place?"

Garrus felt his heart constrict at her words. "Things changed for me as well."

He took a deep breath, his subvocals thrumming with emotion. "I continued to serve the Hierarchy after Lindor. I had my duties, my obligations. But my heart was never truly in it again. Every time I was sent into battle, every time I received new orders, I couldn't help but think of you, of the innocents caught in the crossfire. I spent most of my time trying to save lives. I did everything I could to avoid casualties, both human and turian."

He looked down at her. "I couldn't forget how you made me feel. How you made me question everything about the war, about what we were really fighting for. And I think, in the end, I was fighting for you."

Katie's eyes shimmered with unshed water. "I can't imagine," she whispered, "what it has been like for you."

He touched her face gently, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. "Meeting you again on the Citadel... it felt like the Spirits themselves had intervened. Like all those years of questioning, of trying to find a better way, had led me to this moment."

"I know," she whispered. "But Garrus... I'm scared. If our secret gets out..."

"Shhh," he soothed, pulling her close again. "Whatever happens, we'll find the way."

As he held her, Garrus's hands unconsciously began to explore, feeling the curves of her body through the thin material of her robe. But it wasn't enough—it was never enough. The barrier between them, even something as delicate as silk and leather, felt like torture. He brought his hand to his mouth plates, baring the sharp teeth as he bit at the fabric of his glove, pulling it off with barely contained desperation. There was something so primal, so raw about the way he did that, discarding the civilized veneer to touch her with his bare hands—it made Katie shudder with anticipation. He repeated the same with his other glove, not caring where they fell, his focus entirely on her. Now his both hands were free to roam her shape, rough hide against soft skin, the contrast making them both burn hotter.

His mouth moved to her neck, leaving a trail of gentle nips and licks.

"Don't..." she protested weakly, even as her body arched into his touch.

Garrus's talons slipped beneath the edge of her robe, and Katie whimpered. "We can't," she said, but her grip on him tightened, nails digging into his plates.

"I need you," Garrus rumbled with desire. "I need to know you're still mine."

He felt her want as if it were his own—deep, undeniable, coursing through him with every breath. No turian could ignore the call of their bondmate. His entire being ached to answer it, to give her everything she craved, driven by an instinct older than thought.

His tongue lapped on her skin, his one hand moved between her thighs, finding her soft, sensitive heat and brushing it with care. She was so wet for him so fast. It was maddening.

Her legs gave in and she practically crumbled under his touch. Garrus caught her in his arms and lifted her up, moving in between her thighs and hooking them on his hip spurs like she had done before. Her body fit his so perfectly, her softness and flexibility compensating for his sharp rigid form.

He carried her into the living area. Without a moment's hesitation, he settled her on the broad hardwood lid of the piano, spreading her open for him. Her robe, now fully unwrapped, exposed the pale softness and wet glistening folds. Drawn by her scent, Garrus uttered a soft trill and dropped to his knees in front her… and then he made her gasp.

He didn't wait. His tongue found the spot she'd once shyly guided him to, and the moan his female let out shot straight through him. He worked with relentless focus, teasing and lapping, letting his breath play hot against her. His subvocals rumbled through his bondmate in deliberate pulses. Every sound she made, every tremble of her body, pulled him deeper into her. She was unraveling fast.

Her fingers found his fringe, yanking hard, making him grunt, but it only spurred him on. He angled his tongue just right—pressing the base against that sensitive bud, curling the rest inside her, stroking, coaxing, wrecking her. Jolts shot through her body, making it tighten. His grip on her hips turned bruising as he felt her impending and unavoidable release. Katie convulsed, the burst of pleasure ripping all strength from her limbs, and collapsed onto her back, trembling, mewling, utterly undone.

Garrus felt a dark, primal satisfaction in claiming her like this, with nothing but his mouth. He had seen human tongues. They were short and limited. No male of her species could have touched her this way and reached as deep. The thought sent a surge of possessive pride through him, only fueling his hunger for more.

His tongue kept moving, drawing her through the aftershocks until the pleasure turned unbearable. She gasped, pushing his head away, and at once, he pulled back, rising to his feet.

She lay sprawled across the piano lid, wild and inviting. He had already undone his belt and pushed his trousers low on his hips, stroking himself for some time now, unable to resist. The scent of her orgasm filled the air around him, and with every breath, the primitive part of his brain was getting stronger. He reached out for her hips and saw his hand shaking. Spirits, what was she doing to him?

Garrus drew closer, spreading her wider. He was throbbing for her wetness, the taste of it in his mouth too much to bear. With a needing growl, he plunged inside. Her back arched at the sensation. The sound she made—raw, desperate—sent a sharp bolt of heat through him. Her tight walls clenched around him, stretching with each thrust, molding to his shape until she took him whole.

"You take me so well," he rasped, gaze fixed on where their bodies joined.

She didn't hear him—her own moans were drowning his, as he was now moving faster inside of her. Garrus couldn't stop watching her body writhe with every rocking of his hips. Her face was flushed, her eyes closed shut, her lips open and quivering slightly.

He tried to hold back, to savor her, but restraint was slipping fast. She tensed in his hold, her fingers skimming desperately across the lid, searching for something to anchor herself—he knew her tells by now. It took everything in him to keep the steady rhythm she craved, driving her higher until she arched with a long, broken sound that destroyed him.

Garrus lost all control. His pace turned ruthless, chasing his own release, and it didn't take long—it never did with her. With a rough snarl, he spilled deep inside of his mate, and just like before, his seed sent her even higher, made her spasm with more pleasure, convulse around him anew.

The piano groaned, when he collapsed forward, catching himself on his elbows, feeling her body shuddering beneath him. His mandibles hung slack, breath ragged, eyes squeezed shut, the world narrowing to nothing but the heat of her core.

He was high on her, he was drowning in her, and he was far from done. Drawing in another breath of her climax, he opened his eyes—only to find hers already on him.

Mine. All of you.

No male would ever claim what's his.

He let out a low, primal growl and suddenly pulled away. Seizing her thighs, Garrus flipped her with effortless strength. She yelped in surprise, landing on the lid, but he was already on her, one hand pressing against the small of her back, the other tangling in her hair, pulling—not to hurt, but to dominate. Her breathing hitched as he buried his face into her neck, grazing his sharp teeth against the side of her throat.

"Say it." His rumbling vibrated through her body, making her quake with desire.

"I'm yours," Karie breathed out and felt him slam inside of her with all his strength.

She cried out, but there was no time to catch her breath. Garrus set a brutal, relentless pace, pressed close, his keel between her shoulder blades, keeping her locked in the turian submissive position. He snarled viciously, warning his female to keep still as he drove into her, again and again. No movement. No resistance. Complete surrender. The piano creaked in protest.

Each thrust pounded faster, deeper, more erratic, wringing out ragged, gasping moans. Her body clenched around him, trembling from the force of it. The pressure built fast, unstoppable, dragging them both toward the edge.

She wailed his name in that earth-shattering way and he felt her unravel, bliss cresting, pulling him right with it. Garrus slammed into her one final time, and she came hard, spasming, yanking him into the madness of his own orgasm.

He wasn't sure how long it lasted.

"Spirits, Katie!"

His dual-toned voice was thick with concern, and she could feel the tension radiating from him before she even lifted her head. She lay sprawled across the piano lid, her skin still burning where it had chafed against his hard plates, every nerve hypersensitive to the remnants of their passion. Deep crimson scratches lined her waist and thighs—marks any turian female would wear with pride, a badge of honor. A symbol of devotion. Of being claimed.

But she wasn't turian. And that's what concerned Garrus.

Katie shifted slightly, feeling the remnants of his release running down her thighs, and swallowed back a satisfied sigh. Her body still tingled in the aftershocks of him, yet even through the haze of bliss, she could sense his guilt creeping in. She didn't have to see his face to know—she could hear it in the rasp of his breath, low buzz of his subvocals.

Garrus was afraid he'd hurt her.

She wanted to tell him otherwise, to reassure him that she had never felt anything so consuming, so utterly right. That the way he touched her, took her, had left her feeling more alive than ever. But words failed her. What they had just shared wasn't something that could be put into simple syllables. It was primal. Instinctual.

Katie felt his arms wrap around her, lifting her with infinite care as if she might break apart in his grasp. He turned her toward him, and she finally met his gaze.

His mandibles were drawn tight, eyes scanning her face as if searching for even the smallest flicker of pain.

"I'm okay," she murmured, her voice hoarse from moaning his name too many times to count.

He didn't look convinced.

"I'm sorry," Garrus whispered, his forehead pressing to hers.

Katie's chest ached at the tenderness in his voice. She slid her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against her own. In response, a low purr rumbled from deep within him, the familiar vibration sending warmth curling down her spine.

They stayed like that—wrapped in each other, breathing in sync, his subharmonics soothing the exhaustion from her limbs. His hands traced slow, reverent paths along her bare skin, sending tiny shivers rippling through her, and she knew—without a doubt—that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

"You need to go," Katie finally said, her voice tinged with regret.

Garrus knew she was right, but the very thought of leaving her side filled him with a deep, almost physical ache. He wondered if she could ever truly understand the depth of his attachment. Humans didn't connect the way turians did. He had researched her people's customs extensively, trying to find some equivalent to the turian bonding process, but there was nothing that quite captured the intensity, the all-encompassing nature of what he felt for her.

She couldn't know how deep it went, how hard it was to stay away from his bondmate, especially in these early stages of him accepting their bond. It was more than emotional attachment; it was a biological imperative to nest, as essential as breathing.

A low growl of frustration escaped him, the subharmonics conveying his distress more eloquently than words ever could. Katie's hand went to his face, her touch soothing the tension from his features. She caressed him gently, instinctively knowing just how to calm him.

"Katie..." he murmured, rubbing against her cheek. His eyes dropped from her face to the floor. "Shit," he muttered, the back of his neck flushing blue at the sight. "Sorry for the mess."

She followed his gaze. A wicked smile curved her lips as she looked back up at him. "No, you're not."

Garrus's mandibles flared in a grin. "No, I'm really not," he admitted with a chuckle.

This moment of levity helped.

He nuzzled her one last time, memorizing every detail of this moment to carry it with him in the long hours they would be apart. With final lingering look at the female who had become his universe, Garrus adjusted his uniform, making sure it sat properly, before slipping out into the corridor, silently praising the Spirits that the asari officer lacked the sharp turian hearing to catch any sounds through the heavy doors or the keen sense of smell to detect Katie's scent still clinging to his hide.

It was night time. Primarch Vakarian sat in his office inside the Embassies, facial plates tight with exhaustion. The day's negotiations had been long and stressful, but for once, they'd yielded results.

Castis allowed himself a small chirp of satisfaction as he began typing his address to the Hierarchy conclave. The human and turian delegates had made progress today, reaching an agreement on the Eletania issue, managed to work around the Council's suggestions that seemed to promote the Citadel's interests to the detriment of this fragile alliance, and actually came to a resolution on one of the key issues. The humans had agreed to transfer the planet under turian jurisdiction. Their counter-demands were significant but not impossible.

For the first time in days, the Primarch felt a glimmer of optimism—tempered, of course, by the knowledge that the road ahead remained treacherous. Especially with the waves the human delegates had been making across the station, expanding Alliance influence far beyond the expected bounds of these peace talks.

The Primarch could barely keep up with the constant flow of intelligence reports of their dealings. Just today Volus Ambassador suddenly expressed his people's support of humanity's claim over a disputed territory in the Argos Rho system, specifically the planet Theyar, currently occupied by the turians. It reeked of backroom deals and shifting alliances. And it wasn't a coincidence that this happened right after the meeting the ambassador had with Admiral Shepard in his chambers a couple of days ago.

Vice Admiral Hackett, in the meantime, was in deep negotiations with the elcor, angling for exclusive mining rights on some of their most resource-rich colonies. If successful, it would secure a treasure trove of valuable materials for human expansion, potentially shifting the balance of industrial power in the galaxy.

Even more alarming were the whispers of their discussions with the hanar, exploring the possibility of establishing human colonies in hanar-controlled space. Such a move would not only expand human territory but also give them a strategic foothold in previously untapped regions of the galaxy.

All of it was worrying for turians in terms of humanity gaining momentum and allies should the peace talks fail and the conflict continue.

But that wasn't the end of it.

Today's session was marked by Tevos and her brilliant idea to grant the Alliance full access to eezo as a gesture of goodwill from the Council. The proposal had sent shockwaves through the galactic community, particularly among turian military circles. Unrestricted access to element zero could revolutionize human biotic capabilities—something the asari were eager to study, while other races were wary of accepting.

Castis had watched, helpless, as the Council debated the measure. Sparatus had vehemently opposed it, arguing that the move would upset the delicate balance of power. But Tevos had been persuasive, framing it as a necessary step towards lasting peace and integration of humanity into the galactic community.

Valern, ever the pragmatic salarian just like the rest of his species, had sided with asari Councilor, seeing the potential for new research opportunities and technological advancements. His support had tipped the scales, leaving the turians outvoted and outmaneuvered.

Castis rubbed his crest in frustration. Just as he thought, Kathreen Shepard's biotic demonstrations sent ripples through the Citadel and beyond, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

Yet amidst all that political web, there was a more personal concern that gnawed at the leader of Palaven—his own son. Something had clearly bothered Garrus ever since he got to the station. He grew more restless, agitated, and distracted. And his subvocals were all over the place—so unbefitting of the officer of Garrus's standing. At first, Castis thought it was the proximity to that Alenko human. Now, he was not so sure.

The Primarch had thought they'd put the past behind them. Whatever had happened to Garrus on Lindor had clearly left its mark. Not only had he failed a high-priority mission, but he had returned a changed turian. For a time, Castis had feared he might have to demote his own son—a true shame, both as a father and as a leader of his people. But Garrus had recovered, reined himself in, become agood turianagain, just as his position and lineage demanded. The Primarch had hoped that was the end of it.

Then came Torfan. A black mark on Garrus's name, a scandal Castis could neither ignore nor erase. His son had done the unthinkable, disobeyed a direct order—brazenly, publicly. No matter the fortunate outcome, the insubordination alone was damning. It should have cost the major everything. It nearly had.

The Primarch had spent weeks untangling the consequences, balancing discipline with damage control, steering his son's name away from outright disgrace. In the end, it was Garrus's history—his once-immaculate record—that had saved him. That, and the undeniable truth that the Hierarchy needed its heroes. Even the flawed ones.

Castis growled in frustration. The peace talks were supposed to smooth over the rough edges, refocus Garrus, not to distract him further. Whatever it was, Major Vakarian needed to cut it out before the Hierarchy took notice…

A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts. "Primarch Vakarian, sir!"

Castis looked up to see a security officer with purple facial markings standing at attention.

"What is it?" he asked wearily, mandibles flaring in slight annoyance.

The turian shifted his weight with unease. "Sir, there's... something you need to see," he began, dual-toned voice wavering.

Castis's eyes narrowed, subharmonics urging to continue.

"It's regarding the footage from the Admiral Shepard's residence, sir," the officer finally managed.

Shepard's residence?

Primarch filled with concern. They had installed the surveillance system immediately after the Nova Legion's attack, a precautionary measure that neither Shepard nor C-Sec knew about—a covert operation authorized directly by the Hierarchy. At the time, it had seemed a prudent step to protect their interests, to ensure no further attempts were made against the leader of the human delegation.

"What's on it?" Castis demanded.

His subordinate's subvocals buzzed with uncertainty. "I... I'm not entirely sure, sir."

Castis fixed him with a penetrating stare. "Show me," he ordered.

The officer nodded, moving closer. "With your permission, sir," he said, gesturing to Castis's terminal. At the Primarch's curt nod, he transferred the data file from his omni-tool.

The station lit up with a recording from a security camera in Admiral Shepard's apartment. The frame showed the entrance hallway. There was no sound.

For a long moment, the scene felt frozen, and just as Castis was beginning to lose patience, Kathreen Shepard rushed into view. She moved toward the door, which opened—and the Primarch's mandibles twitched in surprise. Standing in the doorway was his son.

What in the Spirits' name?

He watched in silence as the two people on the holo screen had what seemed to be a too familiar conversation. This didn't make sense. What was Garrus doing in Shepard's residence with his daughter, clearly in the admiral's absence? That was highly inappropriate and suspicious to say the least. Was it the first time, or had this happened before? Probably the former, otherwise his people would have reported on it already. Still, since when did the two meet outside the official events? Did Shepard know?

The last question made Castis shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"When was this recorded?" the Primarch asked, eyes never leaving the screen.

"Eight hours ago, sir," the officer replied.

Eight hours?

Castis had no time to ask why was he seeing this only now. His mandibles went slack in shock when he saw his son suddenly lift the human into his arms. She didn't protest, instead allowed him to carry her into the living room.

What is this?

The living area was outside of the surveillance camera frame, only part of it visible from this angle, but that was more than enough. Castis felt his stomach lurch.

It was the part of the room with a corner of that strange, bulky musical instrument. And it was exactly where Garrus settled the human. Castis stilled in utter stupefaction as his son, a major of the Sixth Fleet of the Turian Hierarchy, put the daughter of an Alliance admiral on the lid and… dropped to his knees.

He stopped the vid, unable to watch any further. The frozen image showed Garrus with his face between the human female's thighs, and it made his plates itch with disgust.

The security officer stood rigidly at attention and watched the Primarch review the footage. Despite having seen it multiple times himself, he still struggled to comprehend the implications of what he had witnessed. Whatever it was, he knew it was bad—very bad. But the sounds emanating from Castis Vakarian's subvocals at that moment were far worse.

The deep, rumbling clicks and sharp buzzes that filled the room weren't the kind of vocalizations one ever wanted to hear from a superior, let alone the Primarch of Palaven. The officer felt his plates tighten, a chill running down his spine. He found himself wishing he wasn't in the room, that he hadn't been the one to make this report. If only his shift had ended thirty minutes earlier, this would have been someone else's problem.

"Who else has seen this?" Castis's voice was razor-sharp, eyes burning with barely contained fury.

His subordinate swallowed hard before responding. "The data officer who was on duty at the time, and myself, sir."

"You are sorely mistaken," the Primarch's tone sent another shiver through the turian's body.

"Sir?" he managed, unable to keep the confusion and fear from his subvocals.

Castis spoke slowly, enunciating each word with deadly precision. "No one has seen this recording. In fact, this recording does not exist. You will never speak of it again. Not to me, not to anyone. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, sir!" the officer responded immediately, clicking in a sound of complete submission.

"I need a direct line to that data officer," the Primarch demanded.

"Right away, sir!" the purple-marked turian hurriedly transferred the contact information to the Primarch's omni-tool, grateful for any task that might hasten his exit from this increasingly tense situation.

"You are dismissed," Castis growled.

The officer saluted sharply and turned on his heel, barely restraining himself from running out of the office.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Castis slumped in his chair trying to process the sheer magnitude of what he had just witnessed. He made himself watch the vid through, pausing it at different points, hoping desperately that he was misinterpreting what he was seeing. But there was no mistaking it. His son, a high-ranking turian officer, was intimately involved with a human—the daughter of the Alliance's chief negotiator, no less.

The weight of responsibility pressed down on Castis like never before. As the Primarch of Palaven, he carried the hopes of his people for peace with the humans. As a father, he felt a deep sense of disappointment and confusion. And as a turian, he grappled with a visceral revulsion at the very idea of inter-species relations.

"Garrus, you fool," Castis hissed. "What were you thinking?"

He stood up and paced the room, his mind racing through the potential consequences. If this got out, it could derail the entire peace process. The fragile trust they'd built with the humans would shatter in an instant. And if Admiral Shepard found out... Castis grunted at the thought. The human was a formidable negotiator, and this incident would give him leverage that could tip the scales against the Hierarchy.

A low growl escaped his throat as he thought of the Alliance admiral. Castis had grudgingly come to respect the male, even feeling a certain kinship with him as a fellow leader. But now, that budding rapport was tainted by the knowledge of what Garrus had done to his daughter.

What was she even thinking, that female? Engaging in relations with a turian? Castis knew little of human culture in this regard, but he suspected it would not be received well by her people either. They would probably see it as some kind of turian plot to manipulate the negotiations.

Unless…

A chilling thought struck him—what if Shepard knew? What if this wasn't just an accident or youthful recklessness, but something deliberate? A quiet maneuver to gain influence over the talks? The Primarch had seen how the admiral operated—calm, calculating, always thinking three steps ahead. Could he have sent his own daughter to get close to Garrus, to compromise him—and, by extension, the leader of Palaven himself?

The idea made Castis's stomach churn, but just as quickly as it came, he pushed it aside. No. Whatever else he thought of humans, Admiral Shepard was an honorable warrior. He fought fiercely for his people, but he did so with integrity. He would meet his enemies head-on, not manipulate them through something as sordid as this. Shepard probably had no knowledge of this… affair—which made it so much worse.

His mandibles twitched in disgust. Turians and humans? The very idea was repulsive to him. Their physiologies were so different, their cultures so at odds. But beyond his personal revulsion, Castis was terrified of the political ramifications. If news of this liaison got out, the conservative factions within the turian society would be outraged. They might call for an immediate end to the peace talks, seeing this as a corruption of turian values. The more progressive elements might view it differently, but their voices would likely be drowned out in the initial uproar. He could already imagine the headlines: "Primarch's Son in Scandalous Affair with Human Negotiator's Daughter." The other species would have a field day. The Hierarchy would be humiliated.

Castis sighed. He knew he had to confront Garrus about his actions and order him to end this... whatever it was. But would that be enough? Garrus had always been stubborn, prone to following his own path.

The Primarch's mandibles flared in frustration. He had always wanted his son to follow in his footsteps, to serve their people with honor and distinction. He had placed Garrus on the negotiation team in hopes of grooming him for future leadership roles. Now, he wondered if that decision had been a grave mistake. Garrus's behavior was not just a personal failing; it was a potential threat to the Hierarchy itself.

As the night wore on, Castis found himself staring at the frozen image on the holo screen, his mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. Anger at his son for being so foolish. Disgust at the very idea of turian-human intimacy. Fear of the consequences if this got out. And underneath it all, a deep, gnawing worry for Garrus himself.

Had the war affected his son more deeply than he'd realized? Was this some sort of cry for help? Or did Garrus truly believe he had feelings for that female?

No, Castis decided. Whatever Garrus thought he felt, it couldn't be allowed to continue. The risks were too great. The peace process was too important. He'd have to find a way to end this, quietly and decisively.

As the first light of the Citadel's day cycle began to filter through his office windows, Castis made his decision. With a heavy heart, the Primarch pressed his comm switch and called his secretary.