“Good.” I take a step toward her. The air between us crackles, static electricity jumping across the gap, snapping against my skin. “You should be scared. Do you know how close I came to tearing his arm off? Do you know what it took to stop?”
“You were jealous.”
“I was homicidal!” I roar, the sound slamming into the walls, too big for this small room. “He touched you! He put his hands on you like he had the right. Like he knew you.”
“He’s a friend, Rynn! He hugged me! That’s what friends do in the Fringe!”
“He smelled like he wanted to breed with you!”
The words hang in the air, crude and base and utterly humiliating. This is not how a Valorian Lord speaks. This is how a beast speaks. It is the truth stripped of all diplomacy.
Polly’s mouth falls open slightly. A flush rises up her neck—not fear, I realize with a jolt that sends fresh heat to my groin. Arousal. My bluntness didn’t repel her; it sparked something. Her pupils dilate, eating the brown of her eyes until they mirror my own hunger.
“Is that what this is?” Her voice drops, breathless. She uncrosses her arms, her hands hanging loose at her sides, twitching as if she wants to reach out. “Biology? Some alien instinct you can’t control?”
“It is everything.” I stalk toward her, driving her back step by step until her shoulders hit the bulkhead. I don’t touch her—I don’t dare—but I box her in, slamming my hands against thewall on either side of her head. The metal dents under my palms, the heat of my skin leaving searing marks on the gray paint.
I lean down, my face inches from hers, letting her feel the furnace heat radiating from my skin. I can see the sweat beading on her upper lip from the ambient temperature of my rage. I can smell the shift in her pheromones—the fear dissolving into a sharp, wet desire that smells like rain on hot stone.
“I am a Valorian Heir,” I whisper, the words vibrating through her bones. “My bloodline was bred for two things: war and preservation. We are possessive. We are territorial. We do not share resources. And we never share mates.”
“I’m not your mate,” she whispers. But her voice lacks conviction. It trembles. Her scent has shifted completely now. The smell of the mechanic is fading, burned away by my proximity, replaced by the scent of her own need. It calls to me, beckoning the monster closer.
“Tell my DNA that,” I snarl, leaning in until my nose brushes hers. “Because ever since I woke up in that bunk with you, every cell in my body has rewritten itself with your genetic code as the primary imperative. I look at you, and I do not see a pilot. I see the only thing in the universe that matters. I see mine.”
She shivers, a full-body tremor that I feel against my own chest, even without touching. But then her eyes flash with that spark of defiance I fell for. She pushes back, not physically, but with words.
“Is that right?” She lifts her chin, exposing her throat. A taunt. An offering. “Because back in the hangar, you didn’t look at me like I mattered. You looked at me like I’d just stabbed you in the back.”
I flinch. The anger drains away, leaving only the raw, bleeding wound beneath. The fire dampens, leaving cold ash.
“You called me cargo,” I say. The words come out quiet. Broken. “To him. You looked me in the eye and called me a job.”
“I lied to save your life, Rynn!”
“I know that!” I pull back, pacing away from her because being close to her while this hurts so much is agony. “Logically, I know that. But logic has nothing to do with this.”
I turn back to her, stripping away the last of my defenses. I let her see the exhaustion, the pain, the crushing weight of existing as a symbol instead of a soul.
Do you know what that word does to me?” I ask, my voice shaking. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to be what I am? I have spent thirty years being a product. A bloodline. A set of harvestable organs and adaptable DNA for the highest bidder.”
I walk back to her, slow this time. Exposed.
“My father sees an heir to secure the borders. The STI sees a token for peace treaties. The Meridian Consortium sees a patent for immortality. Even my own people see me as a vessel for the Aethel-gift.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I have never been just... Rynn. I have always been the package. The asset. The cargo.”
I stop a foot from her.
“And when you said it... when you reduced me to that word...” I close my eyes, the vibration in my chest turning into a dull, aching throb. “It confirmed every fear I have ever carried. That I am not a male to you. Just a payload. Dangerous baggage to be dropped off and forgotten once the credits clear.”
The silence stretches, heavy and thick. The only sound is the hum of the ship and my own ragged breathing.
Polly stares at me. The defiance melts off her face, replaced by shock. Her lips part. She didn’t know. How could she? I hide behind my suits and my silence, pretending to be untouchable. I never told her. I never told anyone.
“Rynn...” She steps away from the wall. She reaches out.
“Don’t,” I warn, backing up. “I am vibrating hot enough to burn you. I am not in control, Polly. If you touch me, I cannot promise I will be gentle.”
She ignores me. Of course she ignores me.
