Page 66

TITUS

M y nostrils flare, tasting her scent as my mate storms out, relishing the fierceness, the determination of her being. She’s fire, Adriana, burning embers that ignite me.

“The Gods truly have a sense of humor,” says Gallien dryly, tracing her body as the doors shut behind her.

After the tension of battle, the frustration of Obsidian not falling for our trap, I’ve been ripped apart, hating myself for allowing Adriana to be so close to danger, yet aching for her, knowing the only relief I could get was sating myself in her perfection.

“Glib. Always fucking glib,” I snarl, not liking Gallien’s tone.

“You should apologize to her,” states Doman, not as an order as leader of our triad but simply a suggestion that comes out of nowhere.

“Apologize? For what!”

“You treated her like a possession. Like a fragile object to be guarded tightly.”

“She’s a human. She is fragile. And she does need to be guarded tightly. I told you two we shouldn’t have let her come.”

“She had every right.” Doman’s voice gets colder. “She is not just our Mate. The entirety of Pentaris relies on her. She could not scorn her duties.”

“Oh? And we scorned ours by letting her come. We could have baited Obsidian. But you ordered a retreat.”

Doman’s aura flashes with frustration, because he knows I’m right. He steps in closer to me, until we’re looking eye to eye. “What would you have me do? Lead the Imperator away from all support, so Obsidian himself would fall into our trap? I had no choice. I couldn’t risk her.”

I stare into Doman’s cold blue eyes, then growl, needing to move.

I pace the room, but I can’t think. My cock throbs in frustrated lust, my muscles tense, and the only thing that could set me right is to sate myself in her, to drive myself into her slick warmth, to feel the moment her body surrenders completely to me.

I clench my fist. Because deep down, I know she hasn’t given herself to me. While her body may writhe in ecstasy, while she may cry out my name, until she rips the ring off my finger that severs the chance of our Bond, she will never be mine.

And she would never let herself be Bonded to a man who views her as a prize to be won and hidden away.

Her people chose her because of her determination.

Her spirit. A spirit that would wilt away if I put her where I wanted, in the dungeons of our estates on Colossus, protected by a thousand Reavers darting over top, never letting another man within ten miles of our home.

“Squires!” I yell, and the doors hiss open, the triad of our young warriors in training taking our Orb-Armor and rushing it away before fetching my robe.

I cinch the belt tight around my waist, the familiar weight of my Orb-Blade ever-present, and bark out the command for them to leave.

They scurry away, not wanting to be near us when they feel my rage.

“You’re right,” I say finally, brushing the hair from my eyes.

“She had every right to be here.” I nod, slowly, gathering my thoughts.

I’ve been unsettled since seeing that black arc of lightning from the long-dormant Planet-Killer, the way reality seemed to bend, one moment an entire planet before my eyes, the next, nothing.

The tension of waiting, weapons trained on empty space, preparing for Obsidian’s assault drove me mad.

There is a clarity to war, to wielding my blade on the battlefield, to manning the guns of a Reaver and cutting down your enemies.

This, this waiting, this diplomacy, this uncertainty kills me.

But Adriana is made for it. She didn’t become Prime Minister through a blade at her belt—and not only do I want to make things right between us, I want to ask her advice.

“I’ll make this right,” I say, and rush towards the door, my robes whipping with the movement. It feels good to be in motion. I crave my mate, crave the peace only she can give me, knowing that her touch is the only thing that can soothe the fury that’s burning in my being.