He looked back at Thyaar and nodded once.
Thyaar released his forearm and stepped back half a pace, shifting his attention fully to Emily.His posture changed just a fraction… a slight inclination of his head, and a squaring of his shoulders.A formal offering of respect to a human female he had absolutely no obligation to acknowledge now.Not anymore.She wasn’t going to be his empress now.
“Is there anything I can do for you, my lady?”he asked, keeping his tone gentle.
Emily blinked and straightened up a little.“Actually, yes.I have a cat.His name is Barnaby.He’s at my apartment on Earth, and if someone could collect him and bring him to Parac’Norr…” She glanced at Raaevik.“Is that possible?Is it far?”
He inclined his head, trying to figure out how to tell her just how far it was.
“It’s possible,” Thyaar said, his voice low and rough.“I will make it happen.Personally.”
The smile she turned on him was so bright and blinding that if Raaevik hadn’t seen the love in her eyes as she’d bonded herself to him less than an hour ago, he might have had to kill Thyaar on the spot.“Oh, thank you!I’ve been so worried about him!Fair warning, though… He doesn’t do well with change.”
Thyaar looked at Raaevik, and then back down at Emily, and offered a single short nod in the exact manner of a warrior accepting a vital tactical assignment.
“It will be done.”
Thyaar stepped back and saluted.Raaevik returned it.Then he turned, Emily at his side, and they walked through the airlock.
He didn’t look back.
* * *
The Izaean ship was a warship,pure and simple.
Bare metal corridors and high, sweeping ceilings...none of the beauty he was used to from Imperial vessels.That didn't surprise him.The Izaean were the empire's shock troops, dropped in hot to cause havoc and mayhem.
His shoulders eased as they moved away from the airlock.No guards met them.Prince Isan must have warned them to stay away, for which he was grateful.Emily was his, bonded and witnessed, but without mate marks on his wrists and nerves still frayed from the rescue, a wrong look would set his rage off again.
His rage… an Izaean's rage.Finally, after all these years, he had a name for it.
He wasn't insane.He wasIzaean.Now it all made sense.
"Do you know where we're going?"Emily asked, her voice soft, and he realised that, no, he didn't.
Draanth,now he was going to look like a right idiot in front of his new mate.
There was a ping from his bracer comm before he could answer.He opened the message, and relief hit him, hard and fast.
"Prince Isan just sent the layout," he rumbled, angling the map toward her.The deck plan scrolled into focus, their route highlighted in green."Our quarters are on the starboard side.Third deck."
She leaned in, her warmth seeping into his side, and a sharp bolt of possessiveness shot through him.Mine.The thought was pure male animal, and for the first time, he didn't try to push it down.He just let it sit there, hot and right.
Growling softly, he slid his hand from her shoulder down her back, settling it on the curve of her hip."This way."
The corridors were empty, but he felt the crew.Not just saw or heard—he felt them, vibrations through the deck plating.Good senses were a warrior’s stock in trade, but this was something more, a press against his awareness.
He guided her through the corridors, his hand pressed lightly to the small of her back, his palm spreading against the warmth of her skin right through the fabric of her top.
Behind that bulkhead, a male moved… not a threat, just shifting weight.Two more were stationed down the corridor to their left, still as statues, their attention a low hum against his senses.They weren't hiding, not exactly.They were just… holding position and waiting for them to pass.
Was this part of being Izaean?This constant, low-level radar?It didn’t feel like madness.It felt like waking up.
He glanced at Emily, walking silently beside him.She didn’t seem to notice the crew around them.Her focus was on him, her hand tucked under his elbow, her expression filled with exhaustion.
“You’re quiet,” she said.
He grunted.“Thinking.”
