He could barely contain the rage that graveled his voice. Memories of him fighting off the silver-armored Xaal and the Kroids came to mind. Regardless, she answered by running her fingers over her jaw and around her upper arm, where she knew there would soon be bruises in the shape of Lord Richard’s fingerprints.
“Killing him would be too merciful,” Ved growled.
Isobel was now fully shaking from the cold. “If only Dorsent society saw it the same way. I told you, women are property to people like him.”
He tilted his head, his chest rising in a deep breath. “Do you have the feeling now? Like you should be somewhere else.”
“No, I think this is exactly where I’m supposed to be,” she whispered. There was a haunting in her confession. A truth that, once spoken aloud, she’d never be free of. “But I know you are busy and have repairs to see to. Your clan is waiting, and we—”
He moved toward the deep, bench-like structure that ran along one side of the chamber. Spreading his legs wide, he settled into the seat. It left little room for her, but he motioned at her with twofingers.
She stepped forward—a half step at first, but then more boldly, until she was but a pace away from him. His thick thighs bracketed her own, and even sitting, he was still taller than her.
“A long time ago, I made a vow to myself,” he rumbled. “Lying in a field with my abdomen cut open, I swore that if I survived that night, I’d never be weak again. I am a marked Xaal—my path is already laid out before me. I must find and destroy those who have come against my clan.It is a debt that cannot go unpaid.”
Isobel knew that. And though she may not be intimate with vengeance, she, more than anyone, understood the pull of duty.
He continued, “My ship is fully repaired besides two thermocylinders. Whether or not they hold a charge tonight, I’ll be gone in a matter of hours.”
Her heart cracked; her stomach plummeted. “I understand.” Without thinking, she took a step back, mirroring the retreat that was happening inside of her. She’d known that this time would come. She’d tried to guard herself against it, against what it would do to her. But nothing could have prepared her for the profound sense of loss she felt. He would be gone tomorrow. And in four short days, she would either be wed to a tyrant or be the cause of strife within her family.
Their time had always been borrowed. Taken from the cosmos. Now the stars demanded their due.
“I should go—”
Ved grabbed her hips and pulled her in closer again before dropping his hands just as fast. She searched his visor, desperate for any sign of what he might be thinking. He swallowed hard, and her gaze instead followed the knot as it traveled the thick column of his throat.
When next he spoke, his voice was low. “When Xaal find something beautiful, we compare it to a well-made weapon. At first, I felt that was too harsh—you aretoo soft, too good. But now I know you are the deadliest kind of armament. Something lethal and intoxicating, burning and bright. No amount of armor could ever save me from you.”
Her lips parted in surprise, and without thought, she pressed her palm against the side of his helmet. He tilted his face ever so slightly against it as if he longed for her touch through the metal.
“You said you needed me.” There was a roughness in his voice she didn’t quite understand.
There was no denying it. There was no explaining it away. “Yes,” she said.
He went still as if he was afraid of scaring her away. “I need you, too. I’ve needed you for longer than I’ve known you, but I cannot afford to be so weak.”
Because for him, that’s all this could ever be—a weakness. “One night,” she said. “I’m not a woman of Dorsent and you’re not a qon set on vengeance. For one night, we can be anything we want to be.”
He rumbled a thoughtful sound. “For this one night, I’ll give you anything you need, Isobel.”
It was the first time he had said only her first name. Like a lover would. “Say my name again,” she requested softly.
“Isobel.” Her name was more than syllables from his lips—it was anguish and satisfaction, gravity and flight.
“Ved…” She knew what she wanted but wasn’t sure she could say it. Not outright. She wasn’t sure she even deserved it, but…
She reached for one of his gloved hands and lifted it between them. “I know I can’t see your face, but I wonder if you’ll let me see your hands.” She looked from his hand to his dark helmet.
He gave an imperceptible nod but otherwise remained preternaturally still.
The leather was thick and worn, held together by metal fasteners wrapped around the wrist. She worked at them until they released. Then, starting with his pointer finger, she tugged on the material—finger by finger, until the glove sat on his hand loosely.
Before she could fully remove it, he lifted the other for her to do the same. When she was through, she paused.
“Go on,” he said.
Isobel pulled the gloves free, revealing his skin for the first time. He was the color of deep midnight and dark stormy seas—a blue so complex and rich that she was certain it had no name. His hands were similar to a man’s, but the knuckles were wider and more pronounced. With each minor movement, veins and muscle shifted beneath the flesh.
