The room quiets. The ship hums. The shadows on the walls seem to pulse in time with my heartbeat.
Soon, I will stand in her doorway. Will breathe her in without walls between us.
I will hear the little sound she makes when the world narrows down to just us.
I lean back, eyes half-lidded, letting the anticipation settle deep in my bones.
“She is mine,” I whisper to the dark.
And the dark agrees.
CHAPTER 5
FREYA
My skin is buzzing. No, scratch that—mybonesare buzzing.
I shut the door to my quarters and sag against it, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes like that’ll stop the storm behind them. It doesn’t. The image of him—ofVokar—is seared onto the insides of my eyelids. Black skin gleaming like volcanic glass, red eyes glowing like some ancient predator peering through the veil of time. That voice. Thatvoice. Like gravel rolling down a canyon wall.
And the way he looked at me… Like he was choosing his next meal. Or mate.
I strip in a rush, tugging the apron off, peeling out of the dress that still carries the faint, smoky scent of him where his fingers rested on my hip. I pause when I hold the fabric up, inspecting the tear. Just a little rip. A snag from one of those bone spurs curling off his hand like elegant weapons. It shouldn’t make my breath hitch.
Itdoes.
“Time for a cold shower,” I mutter.
The stall hisses as I step inside, the recycled water gushing around me in icy ribbons. I dial it colder. The chill bites, butit’s not enough to cut through the heat curling low in my belly. I scrub myself like I’m trying to erase him. Like maybe I can exfoliate away the memory of his hand covering my entire hip, his claws twitching ever so slightly like he wasclaimingme.
“I’m not a thing,” I whisper, like saying it aloud makes it more true.
The water drips down my back in rivulets. I squeeze soap into my palm, lather until there’s a layer of foam between me and the guilt crawling up my spine. Because it wasn’t just fear. No, Iwantedthat moment. The heat, the dominance, the fire behind those crimson eyes. He’s dangerous, a walking declaration of violence wrapped in muscle and spurs and charm that shouldn't exist on something that deadly.
But he looked at me like I was the last drop of water in a desert.
I groan and rinse off, teeth chattering now from the cold. The mirror’s fogged when I step out, thank the stars. I don’t want to see the look on my face.
I towel off roughly, throwing on my oversized sleep shirt. My hair’s damp and clingy, but I don’t care. I move to the corner where my small collection of plushies waits, the only softness I’ve allowed myself aboard this cold hunk of metal. Kneeling, I brush my fingers over Bunny—he’s seen better days, but he’s always been a good listener.
“Why’d he look at me like that?” I whisper to no one.
Of course, no answer comes.
I stretch out on my cot, one arm thrown over my eyes. I should sleep. I need to. Tomorrow there’ll be more diplomatic meetings, more standing in the background like I’m invisible, like I don’t exist except to pour drinks and wipe counters.
Except now I’m not invisible anymore.
Ifelthis attention. Like a weight. Like a brand.
I turn on my side and grab Bunny, hugging him to my chest.
“This is crazy,” I whisper, nose buried in the soft fabric. “He’s a Reaper. He’s not some flirty spacer trying to get in my pants. He could tear this whole ship apart if he wanted to.”
The thought should terrify me.
Instead, it thrills me.
My heart kicks against my ribs. It’s not just the physical part—though stars knowthatpart has my thighs squeezing together just thinking about how easily he could lift me, bend me, take me. No, it’s the look. The way hesawme. Like I wasn’t just another maintenance ghost skirting the edge of command’s notice.
