Good. They could be surprised together.
His horns scraped against her cheek as he moved, hard and warm, and somehow that contrast — that specific alien detail of him — undid her faster than anything else.
His pace built steadily, and she climbed with it, her fingers gripping him, her whole body focused on nothing but this.
And then he gasped, his whole body shuddering against hers, and she felt it — a swelling pressure where they were joined, holding them together, impossible to ignore.
She went still.
She knew what this was. It had been in the cultural classes, clinical language wrapped around something that didn't feel clinical at all right now.
Knotting. A biological response. Only with a mate.
Only ever with a mate.
And then she felt something else. The armor along his shoulders and arms extending, pressing warm and certain against her skin. Not a threat. Not a fight response. Something else entirely. Something that had no other name but claim.
"Stron—"
"I know," he said, his voice wrecked.
They stayed like that for a moment, breathing.
"The biology knows," he finally said. He let out a few shaky breaths. “I’m going to kill Khalzin.”
“Why?”
“Because he just ruined my life,” Stron whispered.
She raised her hand to slap him, but he met her gaze.
“He ruined it, in the best possible way,” he leaned down and kissed her.
“I feel like I should be mad at you.”
“I believe you’ll be mad at me a lot, my mate.”
She tipped her head back and laughed.
23
STRON
“You’re quiet over there,” Adryel said as she smoothed her dress out. Something he noticed she did when she was antsy. He understood. They’d been through a lot in the last few hours.
“Just thinking,” Stron said, taking her hand.
She squeezed his fingers, glanced out the window, but kept talking. “About the Baron?”
Their transport, piloted by one of The Baron’s guards, flew them over the city, heading toward the platform that Dhomhes had organized for the retrieval of all the off-worlders.
A bit outside of the main province, it was fairly remote. Enough that Dhomhes claimed he could control the situation better.
That’s what he said at least.
Stron wasn’t sure that anything could really be controlled at this point.
More like managed, than anything.
