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CHAPTER 10

LANZ

The water’s scalding—just the way I like it. The shower’s steam curls around me as I scrub my scales, buffing them to a high shine even though Tyler won’t see them tonight. The image inducer will do its job, projecting that smooth, human skin she’s so fond of. I linger under the spray, my mind wandering to her. Her laugh, her eyes, the way she trembles when I touch her. It’s been too long since I’ve felt anything like this. Too long since someone didn’t see me as just a weapon.

I step out, the water dripping off me as I reach for the towel. My reflection in the mirror catches my eye, the faint shimmer of my holographic disguise flickering at the edges. I adjust the settings, making sure it’s flawless. Tonight, I’m Alonzo Ramone. Billionaire. Playboy. The man who can give her the world.

The dark grey suit slides on like a second skin, tailored to perfection. I fasten the diamond cufflinks, the gold chain around my neck settling just right. The earrings I picked out for her—simple, elegant, deadly expensive—rest in my pocket. A gift. A reminder. She’s mine.

I’m halfway to the garage before it hits me. I didn’t plan anything. No yacht, no private chef, no orchestra. Just me. For a moment, panic claws at my chest. What if it’s not enough? Whatif she expects more? Then I shake it off. No. I’ll improvise. I’ve faced worse than a second date without a plan.

The car purrs to life, the engine a low growl as I pull out onto the street. The sun’s setting, the sky painted in shades of orange and pink. It’s almost poetic. Almost.

Her apartment building looms ahead, unassuming and quaint. I park and pull out my phone, firing off a quick text.I’m here.

Nothing. Not a single buzz in response. My grip tightens on the phone. She’s never ignored me before. Something’s wrong.

The thoughts come unbidden. The Grolgath. What if they saw us together? What if they’ve taken her? My heart pounds, a rare flicker of fear coursing through me. I can’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.

I’m out of the car in an instant, moving with purpose. The lock on her door is laughably easy to pick, my tools slipping into place with practiced ease. The door creaks open, and I step inside, my senses on high alert.

“Tyler?” My voice is low, controlled, but there’s an edge to it I can’t hide.

The apartment’s quiet, too quiet. I scan the room, my eyes catching every detail. The couch, the coffee table, the TV still on some cooking show. No signs of a struggle. No signs of her.

I step further in, my boots silent on the carpet. “Tyler, if you’re playing a game, it’s not funny.”

Still nothing. My jaw clenches. I move toward the bedroom, the door slightly ajar. I push it open, ready for anything.

I push the bedroom door open, and there she is. Tyler, curled up in her bed, her blonde hair splayed across the pillow like a halo. She’s asleep, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The oversized shirt she’s wearing rides up just enough to reveal the curve of her thigh, and my body can’t remember how to breathe.

I stand there, frozen, the tension in my chest unraveling. She’s safe. She’s fine. I overreacted. The thought hits me like a punch to the gut. Since when do I overreact? Since when does anyone get under my skin like this? I’m a Vakutan, for stars’ sake. I’ve faced down armies, assassinated warlords, and yet here I am, panicking because a human woman didn’t answer her phone.

I back out of the room, careful not to make a sound. The door clicks shut behind me. I feel off. This isn’t me. This isn’t who I’m supposed to be. But the thought of her in danger—it’s like a knife twisting in my chest.

I step outside, closing the apartment door behind me, and knock. Three sharp raps, loud enough to wake her. I hear movement inside, the soft padding of feet on the carpet, and then the door opens.

Tyler stands there, sleepy-eyed but smiling. Her hair’s a mess, and she’s still wearing that oversized shirt, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs. She’s barefoot, her toes curling against the cool floor.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice thick with sleep. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I must look like a mess.”

I shake my head, my eyes tracing the lines of her legs, the way the fabric clings to her curves. “You look perfect,” I say, the words slipping out.

She blushes, her cheeks turning a soft pink. “You’re just being nice.”

“I’m not.” I step closer, my hand brushing against hers. “I’m happy to see you, Tyler. But I feel bad for waking you. I can leave, let you rest.”

“No,” she says quickly, her fingers wrapping around my wrist. Her grip is firm, insistent. “Please, stay. Just give me a moment to pull myself together.”

I nod, letting her tug me inside. The apartment smells like her—vanilla and something sweet, like sugar cookies. It’s comforting, familiar. I watch as she disappears into the bedroom, the door closing softly behind her.

I stand there, my heart still racing, and realize something I’ve been trying to ignore. My desire goes far beyond the physical realm. Nothing less than total possession of Tyler will do. Heart, mind, body, and soul. All must be mine, or it's not enough.

I knock on her door, the sound sharp and insistent. My claws tap against the wood, a rhythm that’s more demand than request. I don’t wait for an answer. I don’t need to. The door creaks open, and there she is, standing by her closet, still in that oversized shirt that hangs off her like a curtain. Her eyes widen when she sees me, her lips parting in surprise.

“Lanz…” she breathes, her voice trembling. “What are you doing?”

I step inside, the door closing behind me with a soft click. My eyes lock onto hers, and I can see the flicker of something in her gaze—fear, curiosity, maybe even a hint of excitement. I don’t give her time to think. I stalk over to her, my movements deliberate, predatory. With one swipe of my clawed hand, I rip the shirt right off her body. The fabric tears like paper, falling to the floor in tatters.