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My Storm surges stronger every hour—my electric power and the raging desire to bond with a female—until I’m starting to fear I won’t survive the week at Abr without causing an international incident.

The tingles in my bones strengthen, and arcs crawl over my skin as I sit idly inside my ship. “Fucking hell.”

“Please don’t boom in the cockpit,” Blaize mutters from the co-pilot’s seat.

“I won’t.” But I need release.

Doing it myself has only ever taken the edge off.

But I don’t want to mate with my father’s choices just because I’m desperate.

They’re all Surge-stimulant princesses or amiable recluses kept locked away by their elders or ruling monarchs.

I need someone who can look me in the eye and challenge me yet also let me protect her.

And someone who wants me. It has to be mutual.

It’s why the race sounded like a good idea.

I want a traditional Storm match, to find a female who ignites me and makes my power grow, not wane. The idea of living my father’s preprogrammed life in the sheltered core of a ship behind the shield of commoners makes me squirm with disgust.

I am stronger than they are I should be protecting them, not the other way around.

But he only sees his power.

I don’t want to be associated with it.

Our new recruit calls up to us as she walks the hallways of Allele.

We’ve just picked her up because Vybron requested Fieri for a cargo mission, and three people are required for a patrol.

I didn’t want a female, but she’s the only one of what Rogue Command allotted for us that Allele would let on board.

I bellow in frustration, trying to distract myself from the unrelenting thoughts of finding my female. “I said , get your thumb out of your ass and your Royal shitshooter up here!”

Eluni swears somewhere in the back. She thinks she’s better than us Rogues, just like all the other Royal Guards.

I grew up with enough of them that I know.

But I wasn’t born into that life. I was abducted from the throne to live in poverty, or so my father says.

As soon as I could, I left his life and joined the Rogues in orbit around our fleet of motherships. I just have more in common with them.

“Why do you hate Royals so much?” Blaize quietly asks.

“When my father’s guards rescued me, I was placed in a palace where nothing was genuine and kindness was a fairytale. It all felt backward.” I shift in my seat. “You have no idea how cruel they are just to maintain appearances. I quickly learned nothing is what it looks like it is.”

There’s a grumble in the back of my ship.

Something crashes. I hear another swear, and it makes me fight a smile.

I never liked the Royal title or the sheltered life that came with it.

Few of the guards know the truth about me.

Blaize knows. Fieri. And Vybron. That’s it.

I don’t trust any other Amphirans. I tolerate the ones Allele accepts.

Eluni is used to guarding diplomatic transports, which I haven’t been on since I found Allele.

Rogues protect the fleet locally and abroad from intergalactic threats. Royals don’t matter if there’s no fleet left.

“Ooh.” Blaize cringes playfully beside me. I didn’t hear whatever Eluni said. “She is going to regret that if she ever finds out who you really are.”

What did she say? I ask Allele.

Allele replies in a neutral feminine voice in my thoughts through the implant she offered to me when I found her. Bite me.

Did I upset you? I ask.

Eluni said, “Bite me,” Allele clarifies.

I chuckle, trying to cover my mating cravings with a different emotion. I got it. I was teasing you.

Resting a hand on the nearby pearlescent wall, knowing Allele senses my touch, I ask her about the repairs I’ve made since she took a hit on Vinym.

I study the sixty-five ships in our current patrol that form a barrier around our colony while Allele’s dash lights up with scans and readouts.

We have had centuries to perfect our guard rotations, shields, engines, and portal capabilities.

But I fear we have lost ourselves in the process.

We have stopped valuing our genetic affinities and our ancestors, like Allele.

She is the only functioning Orillium left.

Most don’t even know what she is. Only Rogues accept her. None of the Royals like her.

My father’s words ring in my mind. You’re only out there in that relic because I let you. You rejected the last pairing. I told you I don’t want to see you again. But I have half a mind to banish you forever.

Functioning within optimal parameters, Aura.

Allele speaks freely to me as I’ve asked her to. Sometimes, she is the only one who will truly listen. The elders of my generation would’ve called your father a Fade.

He’s a bag of dicks, for sure.

I do not understand this reference, Aura.

He’s a jerk, I clarify.

Allele ignores my remark. Your father disregards his Storm for other forms of power. He has forgotten that nature always wins.

And he’s forgotten that he can’t control me.

I will always fight for my people. Allele is mine.

He cannot take my Storm, my spirit, or my ship.

No one can operate Allele without me or at least my approval because of how I found her, how she healed me, and how I fixed her. We are an inseparable team.

Blaize gives me a knowing look. “What’s Allele saying now?”

I chuckle. “That the wild animal on your face makes you look like a Thorian.”

Blaize’s lighter skin takes on a darker shade of blue-violet, reminiscent of the aliens of Alpha Prime.

Rumors spread when he was young that he wasn’t pure Amphir, but testing proved he was.

It was something about his mother spending time on their planet during negotiations that changed his skin before he was born.

No other Amphirans can blush. So he’s a bit of an outcast like me.

But we’ve all picked up a few things from the different places we’ve visited.

It’s just how mutation and adaptation work.

Blaize scratches his short beard and glances at me with a knowing squint. “Allele didn’t say that. You’re just jealous that mine’s so thick because you know a lot of human females like them.”

“You going to mop the ship with it?” I jeer. It’s not to code.

I do not want Blaize’s face cleaning me, Allele protests in my thoughts.

It’s a joke, Allele.

Most of what you have said over the years is a joke. Sometimes, it is difficult to tell when you are serious, she replies.

You can sense my energy. Am I producing alpha or beta waves? I ask her.

Alpha.

I am chill, Allele. That’s mostly a lie. But in terms of the mop comment, I’m laughing in my head.

Beta…when you think about the race, Allele adds. Which is about every other thought.

My mind wanders back to Abr. Lately, I’ve been regretting my entrance. I don’t know how our people will accept a human. I just admire their females more than those of my own kind for their resilience, courage, and the curves of their hips. Even thin girls have more than most Amphiran females.

My heart pounds harder in my chest at the thought of finally being so close to them. I run a hand over my chest, trying to calm the muscle inside. But it’s of no use.

I am a wreck with need.

Aura, you need rel…

Don’t listen to my wandering thoughts, Allele. That’s a bad place to go.

I hear everything. You produce beta waves when you think about picking a mate. Why?

Because I am dangerous even to my own people.

And I’m burning up with hunger for this one thing I fear my father, or the council of elders, will find a way to destroy.

My Storm is growing and becoming more difficult to control.

He hovers like he doesn’t trust me. And I’m certain he’s scheming a way to figure out what I’m up to and stop it.

I turn a hand over and coalesce an aural globe of electricity in my palm.

If I may, Aura. Allele is always calm. Even when we are in battle, her voice is a smooth river of information.

She has taught me many things about our predecessors, war, and, mostly, the true nature of our Storms. There is always risk.

Even with essential elements like water, too much can kill. Do not blame yourself for your Storm.

“Cool party trick.” Blaize teases. “Practicing for the chicks?”

“You have been watching too many human holovids,” I remark. But I’m glad he thinks they’ll find it interesting. “Abr doesn’t allow displays unless we bring the females onto our ships.”

He gives me a funny look, like he’s perplexed by my change in attitude. I’m secretly terrified I’ve doomed some human female to an awful death.

What if I kill her when we mate? I don’t know how my Storm could possibly be safe for a human. I think I’ve made a mistake.

Why did you sign up? Allele asks.

Because I want a human mate like my friend Elix found in his heat last month. My Storm wants a human. It gets excited when I see them on screens or in person.

Then trust it, she replies.

I try to, but I wasn’t raised believing my Storm was always right. I’ve had to rely on the help of Vybron, Allele, and my regular Rogue crew, Blaize and Fieri, to learn to wield it.

I fear a Nova if I do not find a mate soon. I need a direction to focus my energy.

My insides are wrapped up tightly in the growing electric heat until I feel nearly sick. But I tuck it away, hide it beneath the purpose of protecting the fleet of our brethren as we patrol the outskirts of the 327 vessel colony.

My father would never get his hands so dirty .

I’m glad I’m not like him or the other kings of their vessels.

Blaize works over the screens of Allele’s navigation and sensors the old-fashioned way while his Storm sends only faint wisps of green light over the screens.