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Chapter Twenty-Two

Z exx lay awake while Linnea slept curled against his side, her dark hair spilling across his chest, her breath warm against his skin. The gentle bubbling of the bathing pool provided a soothing backdrop to the quiet rhythm of her breathing. Outside, the sounds of the reception had finally faded, the last of the revelers presumably returned to their quarters as the night deepened.

His fingers traced idle patterns on her bare shoulder, marveling at the smoothness of her skin, so different from the weather-roughened texture of Dothveks. Everything about her was a study in contrasts—the softness of her body against the unyielding strength of her will, the vulnerability she'd shown in his arms versus the steel-spined chancellor who commanded a city.

The empathic connection between them troubled him even as it brought a deep satisfaction. Such bonds were precious enough among their own people—a warrior might live his entire life without finding a mind mate. That he should find it with a Crestek, with the chancellor herself... it defied all understanding. Yet he could not deny what had passed between them, the way her emotions had flowed into him, amplifying his own pleasure until it was nearly unbearable.

Mind mates. The ancient term whispered through his thoughts, something that should be impossible with a Crestek yet was increasingly undeniable.

He shifted slightly, careful not to disturb her sleep. The weight of what they'd done settled over him like the heavy stone of the city walls. If anyone discovered them—if word reached the council or the Dothvek elders—the consequences would be severe. He would certainly be sent back to his village, and Linnea would be removed from her post.

The peace they had both worked to build could shatter over this single night.

Yet even as these worries circled his mind, he could not bring himself to regret what had happened between them. He had sensed her jealousy at the reception, had felt it surge through their connection when she spoke of the Crestek females who had surrounded him. The emotion had surprised him—not in its existence, but in her willingness to acknowledge it. Cresteks prized control above all else, maintaining a facade of cool indifference even in the face of strong feelings.

But Linnea had admitted her jealousy, had claimed him with a fierceness that matched any Dothvek mate. You are the only one I want.

Her words echoed in his memory, sending a fresh wave of possessiveness through him. He tightened his arm around her sleeping form, as if he could shield her from the political storm that would engulf them if their secret was discovered.

The bed beneath them was too soft by Dothvek standards, lacking the firmness of the sand topped by furs. Yet with Linnea's warmth against him, even this Crestek indulgence felt right somehow. Her quarters would have been safer, less likely to raise questions if she were discovered leaving in the morning. But the thought of her here, in his space, marked a claiming of territory that satisfied something primitive in him.

Morning would come too quickly, bringing with it the necessity of separation, of resuming their formal roles. They would need to be careful, to guard their expressions and maintain appropriate distance in public. The thought of watching her from across her desk, pretending indifference when all he wanted was to pull her into his arms again, filled him with a peculiar dread.

Could he do it? Could he play the stoic ambassador when his body and mind now recognized her as something more?

Linnea stirred against him, making a small sound of contentment in her sleep. The vulnerability of that sound squeezed his heart with an emotion he was not yet prepared to name. Her soft fingertips feathered across his chest, directly over the marks that immortalized his courage in battle.

Outside, the first hints of dawn began to lighten the sky visible through the narrow window. Soon, the city would awaken, resuming its relentless rhythm of politics and intrigue. Soon, they would need to separate, to don their public faces and pretend that nothing had changed between them.

But for now, in these last quiet moments before morning fully arrived, he allowed himself to simply be with her—to feel her warmth against him, to breathe in her scent, to marvel at the unexpected gift of connection in a place where he had expected only isolation--even as every Dothvek instinct deep within Zexx told him to run.