Page 11 of Star Crossed Delta

Fokk, how was it that she’d calmed him? he wondered, pulling his cloak on.

Only Kaal, sometimes Xander, had the same effect.

Without thinking, he grasped her forearm and turned her to face him.

She glanced at him in surprise, brow raised.

‘May I have this dance?’ he rasped, holding his other hand out to her in an open invitation.

For a moment, Saba hesitated, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

He leaned in to whisper into her ear.

‘I’m not an animal, nor a brute. I can set aside my rage if I choose to. The war ritual was in your aid, a display of honor, and refusing this tango would be losing face after all my hard work.’

With a slight nod and a tight smile, she placed her hand in his, allowing him to lead her to the center of the room.

They stepped onto the dance floor. Under the dim glow of the chandeliers, the room around them was a blur of white linens, flowers, and faces.

The music swelled, and he led her in slow, graceful steps, their feet in cadence as they circled the ballroom.

Their guests’ eyes tracked them, as he imagined them thinking this union was a fairy tale, two perfect people at a faultless wedding.

They had no idea.

His jaw clenched as he slid his other hand to her waist, the silk of her gown sliding beneath his fingertips.

She was soft and warm.

He became aware of her body close to his and how his cock twitched in response.

Gritting his teeth, he reoriented his thoughts away from her to maintain control.

They glided across in tandem until Saba leaned back to meet his eyes. ‘What’s the story with Zolan Asivan?’ she asked, eyes locked on him.

He cocked his head and gave her a long look. ‘Are you acquainted with him?’

Her jaw clenched, and a short-lived expression of rage came over her. ‘I know of him,’ she clipped.

He caught an inflection in her voice, and a tendril of doubt hit him.

He chose to ignore the forewarning for now.

‘Then you know Zolan and my families are old enemies,’ he rasped.

‘I do. But I have no intimate knowledge of why. Please indulge me, ?ar .’

He took a deep breath, unsure she deserved the truth.

Still, he gave in to her gentle request, given she’d been so judicious and wise a few moments earlier.

‘The Sauvage dynasty rose from the ashes of the Apocalypse Wars, when Earth’s collapse forced the bold to build a way out.

While others scrambled for armies or food, my father secured what mattered most, the industrial machine required to escape.

He cornered the synth-steel refineries, monopolized hydrogen ramjet factories, and patented the converters that harvested hydrogen from space to fuel nuclear fusion.

Those cores became the lifeblood of the ark ships, powering the flotilla’s flight from a dying planet. ’

Saba nodded. ‘Fascinating. Go on.’

He tilted her head, surprised at her interest in his history.

‘In a broken world, we built the road to salvation,’ he went on.

‘Our wealth was forged not in gold but in propulsion, power, and manufacturing. For decades, the battle for synth-steel raged between the Sauvages and the Asivans. ?arkhan Sotto Asivan dominated first, but my father, Spiro Sauvage, bought loyalty and waited. When Sotto was assassinated in the late ‘80s, his reckless son Sarmin took over. Spiro seized his chance, turning Sarmin’s allies against him. Betrayals ignited violent street wars across the Mediterranean until, one night, Spiro and his gunmen ambushed Sarmin in his office, killing him and ending the war before dawn.’

Saba’s eyes widened as her hand tightened in his, and he caught a soft look of empathy in her eyes.

‘Still, the bitterness remained. Zolan and I were just children when my father crushed his, yet the hostility lingers, fueling coup attempts, sabotage, and blood feuds that haunt our family to this day. I thought the enmity ceased when my parents died during the Apocalypse, but it was wishful thinking.’

‘Now, here we are,’ Saba murmured.

‘Indeed.’

‘What are you going to do about it? Zolan doesn’t seem like someone who lets go of animosity easily.’

She’d read him well, and he lifted a brow at her insight.

‘He holds grudges, it’s a well-established fact.

We’ve ignored him, and it seems to work to some degree.

Tonight was a wild attempt to switch the narrative in his favor.

All he did was humiliate himself. I hope he fokks off with his tail between his legs. ’

‘If he does, it won’t be long; he’s impatient, and his soul is vengeful. I’d keep a close eye on him,’ she murmured.

He tilted his head and considered her advice.

At the same time, he saw Zolan at the side of the dance floor, glaring at him with all the hatred he could muster in his eyes.

He twisted his mouth, conceding she was right. ‘Wise and prescient words, wife.’

‘At least I’m good for something,’ she whispered with a slight turn to her lips.

They exchanged amused glances for a second until he remembered he was meant to be angry at her.

A surge of unidentifiable but undeniable sensation coursed through him, a current of need that defied all logic and reason.

He gazed down at her in disbelief at the emotion she elicited from him.

In Saba’s eyes, he caught a reflection of his longing and vulnerability, a silent plea for understanding and acceptance, which shook him to the core.

He forced himself to remember what she’d done, the secrecy and betrayal.

His stomach twisted as he extended his hand to her, enveloping the coolness of her fingers as she placed hers in his. She smiled, all grace and poise, playing the part of the perfect bride.

Still, she was tense and stiff, and gripping his hand just a bit too tightly.

Despite the knot of resentment tightening in his chest, he couldn’t stop noticing how her body moved against him, the subtle curve of her hips beneath that damned dress.

She was beautiful in her unique way.

There was no denying that.

Her skin glowed in the dim light, the scent of her perfume delicate and intoxicating.

She lifted her gaze, those dark, unreadable eyes meeting his for a moment, and he experienced a flicker of emotion he couldn’t place.

Was it curiosity? Desire? Anger? Maybe all of it.

She was just as trapped as he was, yet she bore it with an elegance that belied their circumstances. It made him want her more, and he loathed himself for it.

‘You’re tense,’ she whispered, her breath brushing against his cheek.

He forced a smirk, though it appeared more like a grimace. ‘So are you.’

She raised an eyebrow as if amused; however, her expression held no real humor. ‘It’s a wedding, not a death march.’

He wanted to laugh at that, if only she grasped how close it seemed to one, at least for him.

Instead, he spun her, her gown fanning out in a graceful arc, and as she returned to him, he pulled her tight to him with more force than necessary.

She didn’t protest, didn’t pull away. Her hand slid up to his shoulder, her touch light, teasing, and it only irritated him more.

The song dragged on, the weight of tradition and expectation pressing down on him. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth, but he couldn’t stop.

He had to maintain appearances and keep up the facade. But inside, he was burning with resentment at the situation, at the clueless guests smiling as if this were all some fairy tale.

Worse, he was blazing with desire for the woman in his arms, even though he hated that he wanted her.

Finally, the set drew to a close, and as they caught their breath, the wedding attendees erupted into applause.

They stared into each other’s eyes, still ensnared in the maelstrom of emotion.

‘ Sante ,’ she whispered.

The barriers of duty and expectation melted away in the heat of their shared gaze, leaving behind only the raw honesty and unspoken truths that bound them.

He fought it hard.

He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth.

He would not allow yet another Lisade to best him.

He leaned in close to her, his voice a rough rasp. ‘This conversation doesn’t absolve you, Saba, not in the least,’ he murmured, his eyes locking with hers. ‘The dance, too, is a mere obligation. So please don’t mistake my need to keep up appearances for weakness.’

Her eyes widened, and he saw a flash of hurt in their depths.

She raised her chin and met his narrowed smolder with a gentle defiance.

‘Then I will only aim for duty, with the hope our people will give me credit where I fail,’ she replied.

He was hit with yet another surge of unexpected respect for her.

At that moment, surrounded by the fading echoes of music and applause, they were equals bound by an obligation that transcended their need for love and frivolous emotion.