Page 27 of Alien Mercenary’s Wife (Lathar Mercenaries: Warborne #7)

R eese woke to the sound of running water and rapidly cooling sheets beside her. She tested her leg as she sat up—no nerve fire, no spasms. The neural stimulator hummed against her spine, but that wasn't what caught her attention. His scent on the pillow was.

Unacceptable. Or it should've been.

She'd been a tank commander for fifteen years. Discipline was everything. Control was survival. You didn't let yourself get distracted by a man's smell on bedding, no matter how good the night had been. And it had been good. Better than good. The pleasant ache between her thighs proved as much.

Latharian stamina wasn't the myth she'd thought it was.

Steam drifted through the open doorway. She could make out his silhouette through the frosted shower panel—broad shoulders, narrow waist, the kind of build which came from real combat, not working out in a gym. A warrior's body. An alien warrior’s body.

And she'd let him into her bed.

Smart, Payne. Real smart.

Shaking her head at herself, she couldn't bring herself to regret it. There were worse ways to spend the last months before paralysis than in the arms of a man who knew what he was doing. And T'Raal definitely knew what he was doing.

The water shut off. She should have looked away. There were a thousand other things she should have been doing… reviewing her notes, or her next move for the lawsuit to get around the issue that the authorities thought she was dead. Instead, she waited like some academy cadet with her first crush.

The shower door slid open.

T'Raal stepped out in a cloud of steam, water running down his chest. A towel hung low on his hips. Water traced paths down skin her hands had mapped in the dark—every scar, every ridge of muscle…

He was beautiful. Dangerously so. The kind of beautiful that made smart women do stupid things.

He turned toward the bed and caught her staring. His mouth curved into a smile which should have been illegal.

"Morning," he rumbled. "Sleep well?"

"Well enough." She managed to keep her voice level. No point letting him know how much he'd affected her.

"Good." His smile widened, showing white teeth. "You could've joined me in the shower, you know?"

Heat shot through her as her imagination went into overdrive… his hands slick with soap, the cramped confines of the shower stall, steam hiding them while they continued what they'd started in his bed.

"I was enjoying the view from here."

The words slipped out before she could stop them. When had she become someone who flirted? Who admitted to staring at naked alien men like some hormone-addled teenager?

His eyebrows rose. "Were you now?"

Before she could retreat behind professional distance, he moved toward her. Water dripped from his hair as he leaned over the bed, hands bracing on either side of her head. Close enough to kill. Close enough to kiss.

Water dripped onto her lips, tasting clean with a hint of him.

"T'Raal," she started, but he swallowed her words with his mouth.

The kiss was careful at first. Testing. When she responded, threading fingers through his damp hair, it turned hungry.

His skin radiated heat against hers, and his towel brushed her thigh, reminding her he was barely dressed while she lay naked under his sheets.

His tongue traced her lips, seeking entrance, and she gave without thinking. The kiss became possessive. Claiming. Her back arched, and she pressed closer even as water dripped onto her from his hair.

God, the man could kiss. Enough to make her forget her own name, as well as everything else.

When he pulled back, they were both breathing hard. His pupils had blown wide, only a thin ring of blue-green visible around the edges.

"If you keep looking at me like that," he said, voice rough, "I'm going to forget I have a ship to run."

She glanced down at the evidence of his arousal tenting the towel. The sight sent fresh heat pooling between her thighs. Made her want to reach out and touch him again, to feel the impressive alien anatomy that had kept her awake half the night.

"Maybe you should forget," she suggested, way breathier than she'd intended. "Just for a while."

Regret flickered across his features.

"Can't," he groaned, kissing her again quickly. "Crew expects their captain to actually show up for duty." He pressed another kiss to her lips, quick and almost apologetic. "But tonight..."

The promise in his eyes made her pulse spike. "Tonight?"

"Tonight, I'm all yours." His smile was pure masculine satisfaction… smug and knowing. "Take your time in the shower. The crew doesn't expect to see you until you're ready."

He straightened, moving toward the wardrobe. She watched him dress with the same appreciation she'd shown when he’d undressed. When he turned back, fully clothed, his expression had shifted. The captain was back, replacing the man who’d spent the night making her scream in pleasure.

"T'Raal." She said before he could reach the door.

He paused, hand on the control panel, looking over his shoulder at her. "Yeah?"

She wasn't sure what to say. Nothing seemed right for what had happened between them.

Instead, she settled for a simple truth. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"All of it." She gestured vaguely at the bed, the room, the safety of his ship. "Everything."

His expression softened. "Nothing to thank me for, kelarris ."

"See you later," he said, and the door slid shut behind him.

She lay still for a moment, processing what had just happened. Not just the physical intimacy—though that had been spectacular—but everything else. How easy it felt. How she somehow fit here.

This was dangerous territory. More dangerous than the shit going on back home. This was getting attached when she knew better.

But she didn't care. For the first time in years, she was exactly where she wanted to be. If this was going to be her last few months, she wanted them to be here. With him.

The shower was still running hot when she finally forced herself to move. Tonight, he'd said. Tonight, she'd be his again.

T'Raal walked through the Sprite's corridors, humming a soft tune under his breath.

He felt good. Better than good. His body hummed with satisfaction, his muscles loose in a way they hadn't been in months.

Maybe years. When was the last time he'd gotten laid…

no, it was more than that. More than just a random hook-up.

When had he ever woken up next to someone he actually wanted to stay with?

Never, if he was being honest.

Reese was… unexpected. He'd known she was beautiful and strong.

She'd had to be to fight for so long with the implants eating away at her nervous system like that.

But he hadn't been prepared for the way she'd come apart in his arms, the fierce possessiveness that had clawed through him when she'd whispered his name… or how it would feel between them.

She was dangerous… not because of her training or politics, but because she made him want a future beyond the next job. He'd never thought he had a future. Not beyond the Warborne, and making sure Red had a happy life.

Not until Reese…

He'd left her sprawled across his bed, dark hair spread across his pillow like she belonged there. The sight had hit him hard.

Draanth. Tonight couldn't come fast enough.

The galley was just up ahead, warm light spilling into the corridor along with the familiar sounds of the crew starting their day. Voices, the clatter of dishes, someone arguing about coffee ratios. Normal sounds. Comfortable sounds.

He rounded the corner and stopped.

Everyone was there. All of them. Skinny sat at the main table, his massive frame making the bolted-down furniture look delicate.

Marika was beside him, her hand resting on his forearm as she smiled up at him.

Eris leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

She missed Zero while he was away visiting his sister; anyone with eyes in their heads could see that.

Sparky had claimed a corner, shovelling pancakes in seemingly without thinking.

The conversation died as he walked through the door, every pair of eyes turning toward him.

His stomach dropped.

"Morning." He kept his voice casual as he moved toward the coffee dispenser. "You lot are up early."

No one answered. The silence stretched, thick enough to cut with a blade. His crew wasn't usually this quiet. Ever.

He poured coffee into a mug, painfully aware of the weight of their attention on his back. This was so not good.

He turned around, coffee in hand, and found them all still staring at him. "What the draanth's got into you lot?"

Fin straightened from where he'd been leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "Got something you want to tell us, boss?"

T'Raal took a sip of coffee. Had they figured out about Reese? Heard something from her quarters? But no… they looked expectant, not scandalized.

"Nothing you lot need to know."

That's when Sparky opened his mouth. "Do you think you could set your dad up with my ma?"

The coffee mug slipped from T'Raal's fingers. It hit the deck with a sharp crack, sending hot liquid splashing across his boots. He stared at the human.

They knew. They draanthing knew.

"I mean," Sparky continued, "she's been single for ages, and your old man's probably got resources and a nice place. Could set her up lovely, y'know?"

"Sparky," Red growled at him.

"What?" Sparky spread his hands in an innocent gesture. "I'm just saying, if we're gonna have an Emperor in the family, might as well make it official. My ma deserves all the nice things in life."

T'Raal closed his eyes for a second. Family. Emperor. His most carefully guarded secret —the truth he'd spent his entire adult life hiding —was now common knowledge among his crew.

Red pushed off from the wall where she'd been lounging and stalked toward him. "We heard the argument."

Of course they had. The Sprite wasn't a large ship, and the bulkheads weren't thick.

Because he's my fucking father!