She set the dataflex down on the cushion. Quietly.
Her skin felt too tight. It was the aftermath of the training session—watching him move, watching him fight, watching that raw, leashed power he pretended was just exercise. And it was the kiss from last night. The memory sat heavy in her belly. Heat. Want. The kind that wouldn't quit no matter what she called it.
She needed out. She needed air that didn't smell like him—all musk and warm male skin.
The wall display read 1400. Medical visiting hours were open. She didn't need a pass for that. She just needed to get there without a seven-foot shadow looming over her shoulder.
She stood up. Her socks made no sound on the floor and Kirr didn't twitch. He was deep in a report, scrolling through lines of text that moved faster than she could read.
Perfect.
She grabbed the door access chip from the side table. Her pulse jumped. This wasn't a prison break. She wasn't doing anything wrong. She was an adult woman going to visit her sick cousin. She didn't need permission.
Taking a breath, she squared her shoulders, and headed for the door.
She made it three steps past the kitchen island.
One second, the path to the exit was clear. The next, a mountain of Latharian male blocked her way.
She gasped, stumbling back. He moved faster than anyone that big had a right to. No sound. No warning. Just there.
"Going somewhere?" he asked, one eyebrow raised and a light in his amber-orange eyes.
His voice was calm. Low. It slid under her skin and settled low in her belly.
"Fucking hell." She pressed a hand to her chest. "Do you have to sneak up on people like that?"
"I didn't sneak. But you were trying to." He crossed his arms. The movement made his biceps flex, straining the fabric of his shirt. Like always, it was open to show off the heavy musculature of his chest. Did latharians have an allergy to doing their damn shirts up or something?
"I asked you a question."
She lifted her chin. It took effort when he loomed over her like that, taking up all the oxygen in the room.
"I'm going to Medical," she said. "To see Delilah."
"I see." He didn't move. "I'll get my jacket."
"No."
The word hung in the air between them. Sharp. Defiant.
His eyes narrowed. "No?"
"I don't need an escort." The chip bit into her palm. "I don't need an escort. You were busy. I can handle a corridor and a tube."
"You don't leave without me."
"Right." She let out a short, harsh laugh. "Do I need to sign out in a logbook too? Can't I even visit my sick cousin without you stationed over my shoulder? I need five minutes where I'm not being managed."
Trying to step around him, she found him there again. Mirroring. Blocking. He didn't touch her, but he didn't have to. He didn't need to touch her. He was like a brick wall.
"Move, Kirr."
"No."
"I'm serious. Get out of my way."
"You aren't leaving alone," he said. "Non-negotiable."
