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He set his drink down and gave her a lazy nod.

‘I was thekinaiin the Nightstorm Vex.’

Her mouth dropped open. ‘You were in the Vex?’

‘Guilty as charged,’ he said, smirking now in full.

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Want proof?’ he said, eyes glittering. ‘I’ll race you. You name the course. First pass, no safeties. Let’s see if you can handle a second-place rematch.’

Her brow arched, competitive fire sparking. ‘Fighting words, Roman. You better not ghost this time when I leave you behind.’

‘I only ghost when I win,’ he drawled, leaning closer, ‘or when things get too complicated.’

She didn’t back away, locking eyes with him.

Fokk, a racer like herself who looked like walking sin and gave off notes of smoke, leather, and a rare, storm-born spice. Sofreakin’ seductive.

Their banter coiled tighter, electricity surging again between them, his utterances dripping with flirtation, deeper now, getting personal.

‘You ever think about putting those racing instincts to better use?’ he asked, lips brushing the rim of his tumbler, his voice timbred and velvet-wrapped. ‘Like training up a flotilla-wide fighter crew?’

She cocked a brow. ‘Why?’

‘We need more agile warriors, a united response,’ he said, leaning in just enough that her breath caught. ‘because shit is only going to get worse as we get closer to our destination. The Wildlight hides horrors unimaginable.’

‘According to whom?’

‘I’ve got intel from the most influential actors in Pegasi.’

Of course, he did.

She huffed, taking his pronouncement in while his essence and aura washed over her.

It wasn’t just his looks. It wasn’t the charm or the smirk or even the banter.

It was his mind, acute, strategic, hungry. The way he listened. The way he held a hundred thoughts behind his eyes let her feel their heft.

It was intoxicating.

Savvine was suddenly aware she was in serious trouble.

‘If I weren’t defending theEternato within an inch of my life, sounds like a challenge I’d like to take on,’ she murmured. Not sure if she was just referring to his blatant headhunt.

The blaze crackled, casting flickering shadows across his face.

Xander leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, tumbler dangling from his fingers. His gaze locked on hers, slow, deliberate, and searing.

‘You’re something else, Savvine Bianchi,’ he said, voice husky, words sliding over her like velvet over steel. ‘That fire in you, it’s not just rage or ambition. It’s smoldering purpose.’

She blinked, her pulse stuttering.

He tilted his head to the faux sky, eyes gleaming.

Her breath caught, her grip tightening on her glass.

The air between them roiled, turning molten.