I hiss, loud and sharp, baring my teeth right back at him. It's a pathetic display. The Ostium scientists saw to that when they ripped out my fangs and removed my venom sacs, but I refuse to cower before this creature. Ally or not.
The human blinks.
And then his face does something complicated. The corners of his eyes crinkling. His chest shaking slightly beneath me. I realize with dawning bewilderment that he's not threatened at all.
He'slaughing.
"Ah-vahn-tee," he says, and I recognize my own name in his strange accent. Then, more words I don't understand: "Ah liek yoo."
I have no idea what it means, but his tone is warm. Almost affectionate.
CHAPTER 1
Present Day
Cody
I'm not stalking her.
I'm not. What I'm doing is… strategic loitering. There's a difference. A stalker would hide in shadows and watch from a distance. I'm sitting in plain sight in the bride volunteer lounge, nursing a cup of coffee that went cold fifteen minutes ago while I wait for A'Vanti to finish her weekly therapy session.
Totally not stalking.
The ship hums around me, a constant, almost subliminal vibration of an engine in orbit. I've been aboard long enough now that I barely notice it anymore. Hard to believe it's only been – what, four months? Feels like a lifetime since everything changed.
When the military first assigned me to the Cerastean alliance, I figured I'd be doing what I'd always done: flyingcombat missions and following orders. I assumed I would learn to fly their fighter darts, help defend Earth from the Ostium threat, and if I was lucky, maybe see some action. Honestly? I was glad for the assignment. My last deployment had ended badly, and the chance to start fresh aboard an alien ship in outer space felt like exactly the distance I needed.
The mission on Osti was supposed to be straightforward. Take control of the facility producing reshen, cutting off the Ostium's poison supply. No one knew there'd be prisoners. Never expected to find survivors in that facility, and certainly not Cerastean females who weren't supposed to exist anymore. And I definitely never expected one of them to grab hold of something inside me and refuse to let go.
I glance at the door to Dr. Singh's office for the hundredth time. Still closed. A'Vanti's sessions usually run about an hour, and we're coming up on that mark.
The book in my hands is heavy. It's a real, physical book with paper pages and everything. It cost me a small fortune to have it shipped up from Earth, but when I saw it in the Requisitions Office catalog, I knew I had to get it.Architecture Through the Ages: A Visual Journey Across Earth's Greatest Structures. The cover features a gorgeous shot of the Colosseum at sunset, all golden stone and ancient grandeur.
I hope A'Vanti likes it.
Movement near Dr. Singh's office draws my attention. I sit up straighter before I can stop myself. But it's not A'Vanti. It's A'Shael, one of the other Cerastean females rescued from the Osti facility. She's smaller than A'Vanti, with scales that lean more copper than gold, and she moves through the lounge with her head down, a tablet clutched to her chest like a shield.
She looks better than she did a few months ago. They all do, the rescued Cerasteans. But A'Shael still has that careful way of moving, like she's bracing for the floor to drop out from underher. She doesn't glance my way as she passes. I'm not sure she even notices me.
I watch her go, then settle back in my chair and flip the book over in my hands. I glance past A'Shael, but Singh's door is still closed.
Voices draw my attention away from Dr. Singh's door. A familiar golden-scaled Cerastean is guiding his mate toward the lounge, one hand pressed protectively at the small of her back.
L'Awai and Paige. I suppress a grin as I watch them approach.
Paige is maybe five months along now, her belly a gentle swell beneath her loose tunic. L'Awai hovers over her like she's made of spun glass, one hand at her back as if she might tip over at any moment. His eyes dart around the lounge, scanning for threats, in a room that contains exactly one human, three empty couches, and a food replicator.
"Here, my love." L'Awai guides Paige toward the nearest sofa, practically lowering her onto the cushion himself.
"L'Awai." Paige's voice is patient but firm. "I'm pregnant, not injured. I can sit down on my own."
"I know." He doesn't stop hovering. "But I am here, so why should you?"
Paige shoots me a look that clearly sayshelp me, but I shrug. I've learned better than to get between a Cerastean male and his protective instincts. These guys were already hardwired to guard their mates like dragons hoarding gold. Add in the fact that Queen Diamalla's genocide wiped out most of their species, including almost all of their females, and their protective instinct has been kicked into hyperdrive when it comes to women.
Hell, I can't really blame him. Apparently, Cerastean males get hooked on their mate's pheromones – like, actually addicted. Their whole biology rewires around that one person. So yeah,I get why L'Awai acts like Paige is the most precious thing in existence. To him, she is.
L'Awai gets Paige settled on the couch, arranging pillows behind her back with the kind of intense focus usually reserved for defusing bombs. "What do you need? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Is the temperature in here acceptable?"
