“And after?” I couldn't look away from his mouth. Those fangs that could claim me. Mark me. Make me his.
“After, you're under my protection.” His hand slid from my jaw to my neck. Not squeezing. Just resting there. Possessive. “Permanently.”
I should have argued. Should have pulled away. Instead, I leaned into his touch. Just barely. Just enough.
“I can't lose someone else.” My voice came out rough. “Can't go through what I went through with Vonni?—”
“You won't.” His forehead touched mine. We breathed the same air. “I promise you that.”
Promises were just words. But with his hands on me, his body blocking out everything else, I wanted to believe.
“You should go.” I didn't move. Neither did he.
“I should.” His thumb stroked once along my throat.
We stayed frozen for three more breaths. Then he stepped back, the loss of heat almost painful.
At the door, he paused. “Get some sleep.”
“Varrick?”
He looked back.
“Thank you. For listening. About Vonni.”
“She was worth saving.” Not a question.
“She was.” My throat tightened. “She really was.”
He left. I stood in my empty quarters, skin still burning where he'd touched me, thinking about chances and choices.
VARRICK
Third shift. Level 10's main gaming floor was packed with the usual desperate crowd—beings who thought credits could change their luck, their lives, their futures. They were wrong. The house always won. Qeth had taught me that, back when his mind still worked.
I stood at the mezzanine railing, watching him take the stage for his weekly public appearance. The spotlight found him, and I cataloged the damage. Qeth’s bronze skin had gone gray. The sensory filaments twitched without pattern. When he forgot his words mid-sentence, Krave stepped in smoothly.
The crowd dispersed, returning to their losses. I waited.
Shift change came an hour later. The casino's rhythm shifted as dealers rotated, guards switched posts, and cleaning crews emerged from service corridors. Krave headed for the security checkpoint on Level 16. I intercepted him at the lift, my gaze tracking a security drone as it made its sweep overhead.
“Lieutenant Krave?”
He turned, hand dropping to his sidearm. Those yellow eyes assessed me in a heartbeat—threat level, weapons, escape routes. Professional.
“You're the Vinduthi. The high-roller.” Not a question.
“I knew him before.” I kept my hands visible, non-threatening. “When his mind was whole.”
Krave's scaled jaw tightened. He glanced at the security cameras, then gestured toward a blind spot near the emergency stairs. We moved together, two predators maintaining safe distance.
“He's dying.” Krave's voice rumbled lower, meant only for me. “The enhancers he's taking to run your algorithms are destroying his brain.”
“My algorithms?”
“Don't insult my intelligence. I know who you are, Varrick. What you created.” He leaned against the wall, massive frame somehow exhausted. “Six days ago, he had my brother executed for stealing.”
My fangs ached—not claiming instinct, but sympathy. “I'm sorry.”
