Molan sat at the controls alongside Ki’Remi, while Issa sat on a crash couch close by.
Sheba and Idan occupied the second row of passenger seats, which provided them with some privacy.
The viewscreen displayed golden wheat pastures and orchards of ripening pomegranates, figs, and mangoes, blurring in a smear of autumnal color.
Neat battalions ofkahawaplants marched toward the horizon, their waxy leaves gleaming in the sun.
Idan glanced at Sheba, beside him.
Their eyes locked, and he arched a brow in a silent, searching question, his amber gaze probing the lingering friction between them.
The tension that had corded his muscles since their rooftop argument two nights ago was finally yielding to reason.
He reached out, his sinewed hand enveloping hers before he brought her knuckles to his lips.
‘I’m sorry,salkia,’ he growled under the hum of the engines. ‘I let the urban sprawl get to me and turn me into afokkin’ mess. I never meant my disaffection to affect you so, and have no excuse for my boorishness. My instinct to cage you is a flaw I’m also struggling to control. I’ll endeavor to tamp it down.’
Sheba exhaled, as if releasing the last of her annoyance as he went on.
‘The truth is I can’t fake who I am, but you’re the only soul who calms me, beautiful. Yet I also don’t want to be the man who stirs up shit and leaves you stressed. I’m trying to be the one you actually keep, for eternity this time.’
Their eyes locked for a long beat as emotion swelled between them.
Sheba gave in to it with a sigh.
‘You’re forgiven, but only because you made me the most delicious breakfast and more this morning,’ she murmured.
He’d roused her at dawn with the aroma of fresh-groundkahawaand a stack of Sacran pancakes. Each delicate, golden,and folded, filled with soft cheese curds and drizzled in wild honey.
Then, he used his mouth and hands to worship her body until she screamed his name into the pillows, in a frantic, beautiful release.
Now, a small, genuine smile curved her lips, warming his heart.
The coiled stress in Idan’s chest eased, the invisible claws of his possessiveness retreating into the shadows.
Still, a residual tremor of anxiety remained; this meeting with Issa’s father was pivotal to their resistance against Sulfiqar.
He needed some freakin’ hope to anchor him because, without shaking his past and traitorous father free, he’d never be anything more than a ghost haunted by a bloodline he never chose.
The vessel’s thrusters slowed, the hull settling into the red earth with a final shudder on a clearing tucked behind a sprawling grove of ancient, gnarled acacia.
Beyond the fields, the thatched roofs of homesteads glistened with a coat of fresh dew.
Molan unlatched his harness, nodding to Issa, Rina, Sheba, and Ki’Remi. ‘We’re here, folks, let’s roll.’
A shimmer of refracted light signaled Mirage’s presence as she glimmered into view, in combat boots, a shiny jumpsuit, and an over-the-top faux fur jacket.
The air that rushed in through the descending gangway was invigorating, crisp, and loaded with the scent of damp earth and hay.
The trill of birdsong echoed from the orchards, and the distant lowing of cattle drew Idan’s eye as he took in the stunning vista.
Issa led the party toward a farmhouse constructed from pale limestone and sun-baked red clay.
The structure featured a heritage-style roof and a wrap-around veranda. Sheer curtains fluttered in the unlocked windows, and a porch swing invited weary guests to sit.
The heavy timber front door swung open.
A man of formidable stature stepped into the light, his skin the color of deep bronze and his locs a fall of silver and ash.
