He smirks for the first time. Just a hint. “My gut’s very reliable.”
It’s my turn to flinch. A little. Internally.
Because damn it, he’s gotpresence. Not just size. Not just species. The way heseesme—it’s unnerving. Most guys look and see skin or sass or attitude. He looks like he’s mapping terrain. Like he’s seeingallof me. And I’m not sure I like that.
I brace myself. Throw him another shot. “Tell me, Commander Troka, how long you planning on slumming it here with the rest of the cannon fodder?”
He downs it without flinching. “Until I find what I’m looking for.”
“And what’s that?”
He leans in just enough to make my breath stutter. “Still figuring that out.”
I hate the way that sends a jolt down my spine.
Vakutans are dangerous. Emotionally volatile. Possessive. Half-crazy. They don’tdoflings. They do battles. They doclaims.
So I step back. Just slightly. Enough to let him know I’m not prey.
He tracks the movement. Doesn’t pursue. Just watches.
Good. I like him better dangerous than desperate.
“What’s your name?” he asks, voice like velvet over steel.
“Southland,” I reply.
“That’s not a name.”
“It’s the only one I’m offering.”
He tilts his head, those golden eyes glinting. “I’ll earn the rest.”
I blink. Once. Twice.
That wasn’t a line. That was apromise.
My heart does a dumb flutter thing, and I immediately slap it back down. Nope. No sir. Not today. I’ve got rent to make and a spine to keep intact.
But the way he looks at me...
Solar winds. I might be in trouble.
CHAPTER 2
TROKA
Ishouldn’t be here.
I was supposed to be bunked on the transport ship, halfway across Sector Ten by now. But no, the core unit glitches on final boot, dumps me at a barracks-planet fueling station with zero notice and a half-day to kill.
Could’ve gone anywhere. Could’ve kept walking.
But the glow from this place pulled at me. Docking Bay Lounge. Looked like every sleazy outpost bar from every warzone I’ve ever pissed through—low ceilings, sticky floors, loud music made by beings who’ve never seen a key. Itsmelledlike heat and alcohol and too many stories nobody wanted to tell.
I stepped inside. And the universe shifted.
I didn’t see her at first. Too much noise. Too many bodies. The stink of synthetic pheromones and fried protein clogged the air. Cadets bellowing war stories like their voices could cash checks their spines couldn’t back.
