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Her rambling apology was cut short as he reached her, his hands cupping her face as he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss so forceful it bent her backward over her desk. The taste of him—wild and spiced, like nothing she'd ever known before him—flooded her senses, driving coherent thought from her mind.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with desire, his breathing ragged. "You're forgiven," he said, his voice a husky growl that sent heat pooling low in her abdomen. He traced his thumb along the curve of her cheek as if memorizing the contours of her face. "Your anger doesn’t matter. It only matters that you came for me."

The vulnerability in his voice made her heart ache. "I will never lash out at you again,” she promised, turning to press a kiss into his palm. "I was angry at the truth, not at you. Never at you."

Zexx kissed her again, his lips gentle now, and she realized with startling clarity that she would give it all up—the chancellorship, the power, the responsibility—for more of him, more of this. The thought should have terrified her, this willingness to sacrifice everything she'd worked for, everything she'd believed defined her.

Instead, it felt like freedom.

ChapterThirty-Two

Zexx slipped from Linnea's office, closing the door silently behind him. The corridor was mercifully empty, though his senses remained on high alert as he moved along the spiraling ramp.

He had gone to her office intending to talk, to tell her about the rebels in the alley, to strategize about the traitors in her midst. Instead, the moment he'd seen her—looking so fragile and beautiful in the fading light, her face drawn with exhaustion yet still so proud—all rational thought had abandoned him.

He hadn't cared about their earlier argument, about how her accusations had wounded him, about the danger surrounding them. He had only known that he needed to taste her sweet lips and wrap his arms around her.

The stone beneath his feet felt insubstantial as he descended the ramp, his mouth still tingling from their kisses. But it hadn't just been her soft mouth that overwhelmed him. He had sensed her thoughts and had felt the hum of desire within Linnea.

He stopped abruptly, one hand bracing against the wall as the truth he'd been avoiding crystallized with undeniable clarity.

His mind mate, his one true mate, was undeniably a Crestek.

A harsh laugh nearly escaped him at the cosmic irony. He, who had spent his life detesting the Cresteks, who had looked down on his Dothvek brothers who had found non-Dothvek mates, had fallen for not just any Crestek, but their chancellor.

The stories the elders told around the communal fires—of warriors who found their one true mate, whose minds and souls connected in ways that transcended physical desire—had always seemed like myths designed to give purpose to their empathic abilities. Yet here he was, experiencing exactly what they had described: the deepening connection, the ability to sense her emotions across distances, the perfect anticipation of her needs and desires.

Despite the incredulity of it, despite everything it would mean for both their peoples, he could no longer deny the truth. Linnea was his. She’d been his from the beginning. Their love was destiny.

The realization hit him with such force that he nearly stumbled, missing a step on the ramp and catching himself on the wall again. He loved her. Not just desired her, not just craved her, but loved her with an intensity that frightened him in its totality. And it had been determined by powers beyond his control. It had been fated.

He was so shaken by this truth that he walked past the level where his quarters were located, continuing upward in a daze until he reached the top of the tower. The need for air, for space, for some connection to the world beyond these confining stone walls drove him toward the rooftop terrace where the reception had been held.

The night air embraced him as he stepped outside, cooler now than it had been during the day but still carrying the faint, tantalizing hint of the sands that lay beyond the city's walls. He drew a deep breath, letting it fill his lungs as he tried to center himself.

Then his ears caught the sound of furtive whispers coming from the edge of the rooftop. Instantly, his warrior's instincts took over. He froze, then moved silently into the shadow of a large decorative urn, his bare feet making no sound on the stone floor. He was not the only one who had sought the privacy of the terrace tonight.

"—foolish female won't listen to reason," a voice hissed, one he recognized immediately as belonging to Vellen. "She actually defended him, insisted he was essential to the diplomatic mission."

"She's besotted with the barbarian," Taal replied, his tone dripping with disgust. "It's written all over her face whenever he's in the room."

His body went rigid as he peered through the darkness, making out two cloaked figures near the balustrade, their faces hidden by their hoods but their voices unmistakable.

"If she doesn't agree to send him back to the sands, we'll have to take matters into our own hands," Vellen continued, his voice dropping even lower. "The Dothvek must be eliminated."

"And then her," Taal added, as casually as if discussing the weather. "The council is already prepared for a vote of no confidence. Once the ambassador is gone, they'll move against her immediately."

He couldn't breathe, his lungs frozen as their words confirmed his worst fears.

"The protest tomorrow should help matters along," Vellen said, satisfaction evident in his voice. "Nothing like a public display of outrage to make the chancellor appear weak and ineffective."

"And if she tries to suppress it forcefully, she looks like a tyrant," Taal agreed. "Either way, her position becomes untenable."

"We should return before we're missed," Vellen said after a moment. "The next council meeting is at midday tomorrow. By then, her fate—and his—will be sealed."

He pressed himself deeper into the shadows as they moved toward the entrance, holding his breath until the door closed behind them and their footsteps faded down the ramp. Only then did he allow himself to exhale, the air rushing from his lungs in a shaky gust.

They were going to move against Linnea tomorrow. And against him.