Page 27

Finally, he spotted Linnea standing near the edge of the terrace, engaged in conversation with an older male in formal robes. Even from a distance, he could sense her emotions—a mix of professional composure overlaying something darker, sharper. When her eyes met his across the gathering, she smiled, but he felt her disapproval like a cold wind.

He excused himself from his admirers, ignoring their protests as he made his way to Linnea's side. The older male bowed and retreated as he approached, either from respect or wariness—he couldn't tell which.

"Am I doing something wrong?" he asked quietly when they were relatively alone.

Linnea's smile tightened. "You're perfect," she said, but the words didn't match the emotions he sensed from her. After a moment's hesitation, she added, "I just hate seeing all these females who want to bed you."

The admission surprised him—not the observation itself, which was obvious, but her willingness to voice her jealousy. "They can want all they like," he replied, leaning closer to her. "I desire none of them. Only you."

He felt her pulse of pleasure at his words, so strong and clear it almost made his knees buckle. The intensity of this mind-mate connection between them was growing stronger, binding them together in ways even he didn’t fully understand.

"We've been diplomatic long enough, I think," she said, her voice steady though her emotions swirled like a sandstorm. As an approaching male in ministerial robes drew near, she smiled brightly and made introductions. "Minister Taal, may I present Ambassador Zexx. Ambassador, Minister Taal oversees our agricultural programs."

He inclined his head respectfully as the minister began to speak about irrigation techniques, but Linnea suddenly pressed a hand to her temple.

"I apologize," she interjected, her voice strained. "I seem to have developed a terrible headache. The excitement of the evening, perhaps."

Zexx understood her strategy immediately. "Chancellor, you should rest," he said, infusing his voice with concern. "Allow me to escort you to your chambers."

Minister Taal looked disappointed but nodded sympathetically. "By all means, Chancellor. Your health must come first."

Zexx offered Linnea his arm with formal propriety, maintaining the charade as they bid farewell to the guests nearest them. Once they reached the spiraling ramp, however, propriety evaporated like morning dew under the desert sun.

The moment they were out of sight, he swept Linnea into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he descended the ramp at a pace that made her gasp.

"Zexx!" she whispered, though her arms wound around his neck. "Someone could see us."

"Let them," he growled, though he kept his voice low.

When they reached the level of her quarters, he made a split-second decision, striding past the door and continuing down the winding interior ramp to his chambers.

"They won't look for you here," he explained, pushing his door open and then kicking it shut behind them. "At least not immediately."

The bubbling pool in the bathing chamber sent tendrils of steam into the main room, the air warm and moist compared to the cool night above. He carried Linnea toward the bed, his lips finding hers in a kiss that held all the hunger he'd been suppressing throughout the interminable reception.

She responded with equal fervor, her fingers working at the fastenings of his formal attire with surprising dexterity. "These clothes suit you," she murmured against his mouth, "but I prefer you without them."

He laughed, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. "On that, Chancellor, we are in perfect agreement."

As they fell onto the bed together, his diplomatic duties forgotten in the heat of her touch, he thought that perhaps being an ambassador wasn't such a terrible fate after all.

ChapterTwenty-One

Linnea gasped as Zexx carried her through the doorway of his quarters, her arms wound tightly around his neck as if she might float away without his anchoring presence. The sudden transition from the cool air of the spiraling ramp to the warm air of his chambers as steam from the bubbling pool curled into the main room sent a pleasant hum across her skin.

The moment the door closed behind them, cutting off the world outside, something changed in Zexx's demeanor—the Dothvek’s restraint finally surrendering to desire. His eyes darkened as he carried her toward the steaming pool, and when his lips found hers, the kiss held none of the careful diplomacy he'd shown at the reception. This was raw, unfiltered hunger, and it ignited an answering fire within her.

Her fingers found the fastenings of his formal attire, working with an urgency that surprised even her. The rich fabric that had made him look so striking among the reception guests now felt like an offensive barrier between them.

"These clothes suit you," she murmured against his mouth, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts, "but I prefer you without them."

His laugh rumbled through his chest, the vibration traveling into her own body where he held her against him. "On that, Chancellor, we agree.”

He set her down at the pool's edge, the warm stones beneath her feet radiating heat as wisps of fragrant steam rose around them. The water's surface rippled with gentle movement, inviting and iridescent in the chamber's soft lighting. Her silver chancellor's robes whispered against his ceremonial cloak in a metallic rustle of expensive fabric. The scent of him—desert wind and sun-warmed skin—mingled with the mineral-rich aroma of the heated pool, creating an intoxicating blend so different from the cloying aromas of the Crestek perfumes.

The memory of the females, with their transparent advances and possessive touches, sent a fresh surge of jealousy through her. She had watched from across the terrace, maintaining the façade of diplomatic pleasantries while something fierce and primal raged beneath her composed exterior. Their hands on his skin, their bodies pressed against his—it had taken every ounce of her self-control not to march across the gathering and claim him publicly as hers.

Now, in the privacy of his quarters, there was no reason to hide her desires. Her hands pushed his tunic from his shoulders, revealing the expanse of golden skin and dark ink that fascinated her endlessly. She traced the patterns with her fingertips, feeling the slight raised texture beneath her touch.