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Their eyes locked. Her blood jolted. Her stomach flipped.

It washim.

The same vacuum-defyingkinaiwho absorbed the energy of a freakin’ missile’s charge, turned and flung it at the enemy like a spear.

Thereby saving her life, before vanishing with a smirk and a two-finger salute.

He sat,nada, and lounged like a safari cat, sunning itself under a hot savannah sun.

With no freakin’ care in the world. Like he hadn’t caught a warhead with his bare hands when she last saw him.

He glanced at her, gaze raking and measured, sliding from her face to her boots and back again.

‘You?’ she managed, her utterance husky and hoarse.

‘Me,’ he replied, unfazed.

His vocalization was hella husky, raw, timbred, like a rumble of thunder that sent shards of ionic charge down her arms, spine, and all over her body.

It was also accented, with a Spanish-Kwaviburr, which made every word sound way more sensual than it needed to be.

Che palle.He electrified her.

He sat in shadow, a towering silhouette forged in power and storm light, unmoving, those zephyr-lit eyes fixed on her.

Her hand lifted, almost without thought, and touched his forearm.

It was solid, warm, sinewed and veined, with a scattering of hair.

She flinched and pulled back, expecting it to feel spectral, ethereal, but there was nothing illusory about him.

Get a hold of yourself, woman.

With an inhale, she stood straight before him, maintaining their eye lock.

She almost lost herself in their wildfire violet depths, flickering like twin storms.

‘Sante,’ she murmured. ‘For getting me out of that debris field.’

His lips twitched and he gave hr a slight chin raise.

The silence between them grew dense. Charged. Electric.

An unfamiliar heat coiled around her like an invisible flame.

Her breath caught. Her chest rose, her nipples freakin’ hardened, even as her thoughts skittered.

She had never come this close to amostro, to one of the forbidden.

It was nothing like she’d imagined. What surprised her was that she found herself intrigued instead of reacting in horror.

She was drawn to him, as if his energy called to her.

Then she stepped closer, too close. Or maybe not close enough.

The pull was pure instinct, not choice.

She swayed into it, into him, and he surged to his feet to meet her, gripping her waist, steadying her.