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‘I need you to organize a private suite for Savvine. Get her a new room. Make sure it’s secure. Patch the map to it and entry protocols to her neural node.’

‘Copy.’

He turned back to Savvine with a bitter twist to his lips. ‘Satisfied?’

‘Sante,’ she whispered and spun away before she crumbled.

She headed for the door, which unlocked at his behest.

She pushed through it, not quite seeing the way ahead.

Still, she stumbled on.

Her heart broke, remembering the sorrow on his face that was far more devastating than anything else in their heated exchange.

XANDER

The Signet CO stood in the center of his office, the door hissing shut behind her like the final note of a requiem.

The sudden, damning silence crashed over him, highlighting his sudden and agonizing loneliness.

He sat with a heavy thump in his chair and stared blankly at the stack of unread reports on his commtab, not seeing a word.

The silence in the room roared louder than any battlefield.

Her scent still lingered in the air, subtle spice, as did the memory of her skin against his, and his need for her.

He ran a hand over his face, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

He hadn’t meant to hurt her; he’d simply spoken from the heart. Granted, assuming she wanted the same things as he did was presumptuous.

Butfokk, she’d come at him with her fire, and he’d matched it with his own. Always a bad idea when two storm fronts collided.

He turned to pour himself a stiff, dark, punishing drink and downed a tot of his favorite bourbon.

He exhaled and, with a curse, he dragged both hands through his hair and turned in a slow circle. As if expecting something in the room to give him afokkin’ answer.

Nothing did.

He let out a short, guttural snarl and slammed his palm into the edge of his desk. The heavy dura-steel creaked beneath the blow. A few holos flickered. He didn’t care.

Fokkinhellshit.

She wanted space.

His chest rose and fell too fast, too hard, every breath like heat against cracked bones.

He jolted as her scent, still lingering in the air, hit his nostrils.

Her utterances still rang in his skull, each a needle in his spectral and human flesh.

‘You’re not the kind of man I’d typically bring home.’

That one carved and twisted under his ribcage the hardest.

Xander paced, fist clenched, heart pounding.

He couldn’t recall the last time he ever lost control like that.