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K’Nar cleared his throat. "Shall I stay for the meeting, Chancellor?"

"That won't be necessary," Zexx answered before she could, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Our discussion is…sensitive in nature."

Her adjunct hesitated, clearly torn between propriety and following the ambassador's implied command.

"It's fine, K’Nar," she said, making the decision for him. "Please see that we're not disturbed."

He bowed stiffly and backed out of the office, closing the door with a soft click that seemed to echo in the sudden silence.

She stood behind her desk, using it as a barrier between them. "You could have warned me you were coming," she said, striving for a professional tone. "And perhaps considered wearing proper attire."

Zexx's lips curved into a smile that was both predatory and amused. "Dothveks consider this proper attire," he said, moving around the desk with the fluid grace of a hunter. "Besides, you seemed to appreciate it last night."

Heat rushed to her cheeks as he stepped closer, his spicy, sun-warmed scent enveloping her—a scent that hadn’t faded despite his departure from the sands. "We need to be careful," she whispered, even as her body swayed toward his. "K’Nar already suspects something."

"Let him suspect," Zexx murmured, leaning in until his breath warmed her ear. "The only topic I want to discuss is those sounds you made last night in my arms."

Her face flamed and she swatted at his chest, unable to suppress a laugh despite herself. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly drawn to you," he agreed, sweeping her into his arms with such sudden strength that she gasped. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since I left your chambers."

His confession mirrored her own experience so perfectly that her resistance crumbled. She allowed herself to melt into his embrace, her hands moving to his bare shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her palms.

Reality intruded quickly, cooling her desire. "We have to keep this secret," she said, pulling back enough to meet his gaze. "If anyone discovers us, we could both be in danger. There are factions on the council who don't approve of the peace between our peoples, who would use this as proof that I'm unfit to lead."

Zexx's expression shifted, playfulness giving way to fierce intensity. His arms tightened around her protectively, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"I would never let anyone hurt you," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register that sent chills across her skin. "I would defend you with my dying breath."

The raw sincerity in his words left her speechless. This wasn't diplomatic flattery or the heat of passion speaking—this was a vow, solemn and binding. In the space of a few days, this man who should have been her enemy had become her protector, her confidant, her lover.

For one dizzying moment, she allowed herself to wonder what it might be like if their love wasn't forbidden. If she could walk openly beside him, not as chancellor and ambassador but simply as Linnea and Zexx. What future might they build together, bridging their two peoples not through formal treaties but through the bonds between them?

The fantasy was so seductive, so enticing, that words rose unbidden to her lips. "Zexx, what if we—"

The door burst open without warning, and they sprang apart, her heart thundering in her chest.

K’Nar stood in the doorway, his face flushed with exertion. "Chancellor, forgive the interruption, but there's an urgent matter requiring your attention."

ChapterEighteen

The adjunct’s golden face was flushed and his breathing as heavy as if he'd run up the spiraling ramp.

"Chancellor," he gasped, forgetting even to bow in his urgency. "There's a protest forming at the eastern edge of the city. Cresteks unhappy with the peace accord. They're gathering in numbers, and the guards are concerned it could turn violent."

The transformation in Linnea was immediate. Gone was the woman who had melted in Zexx's arms moments before, replaced by the stern, unwavering chancellor. Her spine straightened, her shoulders squared, and her expression hardened into an impenetrable mask of authority.

But beneath that mask, he sensed something else entirely: fear.

The realization struck him like a blow. He shouldn't be able to sense her emotions this clearly. His Dothvek empathic abilities were limited to others of his kind—or to a mind mate. He’d sensed her the night before, but that had been different. That had been passion and hunger, and he’d been sure the connection would fade once he wasn’t inside her. But no, it was just as strong now, and it shouldn’t be. The thought sent a cold tremor through him. Linnea couldn't possibly be his mind mate. She was Crestek, born of the people he'd been taught from childhood to fear and despise.

Yet there it was, unmistakable—her anxiety flowing into his consciousness as clearly as water in a stream. He could feel her concern for her position, for the fragile peace, and most unsettling of all, for him.

He struggled to keep his face impassive as this inner turmoil raged. His Dothvek brothers had found mind mates among the human and alien females who had crashed on their planet, but even that had been unprecedented. This connection with Linnea defied everything he thought he knew about their peoples, about himself.

"How many are gathered?" Linnea asked, her voice steady despite the apprehension he could feel radiating from her.

“I am unsure of the numbers,” K’Nar replied, “but more than the usual splinter unrest. They're chanting for a return to the old ways."