Page 42

CHAPTER 42

S ylvia stirred to the brush of warm fingers against her cheek.

Kyhin.

He knelt beside her, still blessedly naked, motioning to her with a briskness that cut through the haze of her post-pleasure exhaustion. She blinked, bleary but obedient. His urgency needed no translation.

They had to go.

Of course they did. They’d crashed on an unknown winter planet in the middle of nowhere—why would she argue?

He moved with brutal efficiency, helping her dress. The same strange alien dress clung to her skin again, drawn tight by his deft hands. Then came the furs, rewrapped around her frame with surprising reverence, as if he were armoring something precious.

And then she watched.

As he rose and activated his armor.

Even damaged, it was a sight to behold.

It shimmered over his body in pieces, dark plates shifting and locking into place around his muscled form. He stood there like a war god: deadly, poised, beautiful.

Fuck.

This male was lethal.

And he’d decided to focus his astounding alien intensity solely on her.

She shook her head, breath catching in her throat. He turned and lifted her into his arms again, and this time she didn’t protest.

Why would she?

Her limbs still buzzed with the aftermath of what they’d shared, and there was something lazy, warm, and satisfied curling through her. Despite the sudden pace of action, the alarm in his posture, she felt safe.

That was the problem.

She felt too safe.

She should be alert, thinking critically, calculating the risk, worrying about terrible things she had no control over.

But she wasn’t.

Because this male made her feel like nothing could touch her.

She tried to remind herself that he wasn’t her salvation. That lust and pleasure weren’t the same as trust.

That he could still do bad things to her.

After all, he owned her.

But god —she hated to admit—she liked it. Liked the fucked-up fantasy of it all.

There was a part of her that still ached for Earth, for her people, her familiar world, her things .

Her old identity.

But then there was this other side, wilder and raw, that she hadn’t known was buried deep inside her. A part that had lain dormant for years as she folded herself into something practical and manageable.

Kyhin had shattered that.

And now he filled the void she hadn’t realized was there.

They reached the cockpit. The display flickered to life, casting alien light across the dark panels.

She watched as a ship descended through the sky: an angular shape, all sharp edges and thick plating. Not sleek like Kyhin’s vessel. No, this one was built tough and sturdy.

She knew instinctively: they’d be leaving his wrecked ship behind.

Then…

She saw it.

In the snow, glowing under the blood-tinged rays of the red sun.

“Oh, my god,” she gasped. It was an entire army. Silver-armored figures, marching in formation.

A hundred, at least.

“Holy shit,” she breathed.

Kyhin didn’t flinch. He stepped forward, silent and deliberate, and donned his helm once more, the black faceplate sealing away the strange beauty of his alien features. He said something to her, in strange, lyrical words she couldn’t understand… but she understood the intent, for his tone was steel.

Final.

Then, he moved around the room, retrieving weapons from the walls: guns, blades, and other things she couldn’t name, massive tools of war designed for a being like him.

And then, unexpectedly…

He returned to her.

He touched her face so gently with his armor-gloved hand—a contradiction. He whispered something low in his language: something she couldn’t decipher but somehow understood.

He would protect her.

She nodded, even though her throat was tight.

And she would wait.

Wait for the ship to descend, to take them away from this ruined world.

To where?

She didn’t know.

Didn’t care.

Because she was undone now.