CHAPTER THREE
EMME
M y head broke the surface with a gasp that tore at my lungs.
Sweet, blessed air filled them as my knees scraped sand.
I crawled the rest of the way, fingernails digging into wet sand as I dragged myself onto the beach.
Every muscle screamed.
Each movement ached.
But I was alive.
Behind me, Lairos rose from the water like some ancient god of the sea.
Droplets cascaded down his chest as his scales and tail melted away, transforming back into muscular legs like he was simply changing clothes.
Not a hint of exhaustion showed on his face.
I, on the other hand, felt like a half-drowned rat.
No—an angry, wet cat.
Did they even have cats on this planet?
The thought made me want to laugh, but I feared if I started, I’d never stop.
“Where the hell are we?” I demanded, pushing myself to my feet.
Sand clung to my palms and knees.
The beach stretched in a perfect crescent of white sand, lapped by crystal-blue water so clear I could see schools of fish darting between the rocks.
Behind us, thick green vegetation climbed toward a rocky peak that dominated the center of what appeared to be a tiny island.
The sun hung low on the horizon, painting everything in gold and amber.
It was beautiful.
It was also completely isolated.
“Somewhere safe,” Lairos said, wringing water from his hair.
“For now.”
I glared at him.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one that matters.” He nodded toward a small hut nestled at the edge of the tree line.
“There are clothes inside if you wish for something dry.”
The hut looked like something from a travel brochure for an exclusive tropical getaway, rustic and charming with its thatched roof and open sides.
I trudged toward it, leaving a trail of droplets and footprints in the sand.
Inside, the space was surprisingly cozy.
Colorful rugs and cushions covered the sandy floor, with a wooden trunk along one wall.
A low pallet bed piled with pillows and light blankets took up most of the space.
No technology in sight.
No communicator.
No way to contact the Legacy or my crewmates.
The trunk held stacks of linen cloth in various colors, but no actual clothing as I understood it.
I pulled out a length of pale blue fabric and stared at it, trying to recall the briefing on Khadian fashion.
“Wrap and tuck,” I muttered to myself.
“How hard can it be?”
Very hard, as it turned out.
After three failed attempts that left me either indecently exposed or so tightly bound I could barely move, I finally managed something that resembled a dress.
The fabric wrapped around my breasts and waist, secured with clever twists and tucks, before falling to my ankles in soft folds.
I wished my communicator worked.
I could have pulled up the cultural briefing and saved myself the frustration of looking like an idiot in front of a king.
But the device remained dead, taken before its time by twin threats of a solid dunking and hours at depths.
I stepped out of the hut to find Lairos crouched on the beach, coaxing a small fire to life.
He’d wrung out his linen kilt, but the fabric still clung to his frame in ways that made my mouth water.
I tried to look anywhere else, but then the scales down his spine glittered in the dying light and drew me in like a moth to flame.
He looked up as I approached, his eyes widening slightly before a slow smile spread across his face.
“You can hang your uniform to dry,” he added, nodding toward a line strung between two palms.
I did as he suggested, then sank onto the sand beside the fire, keeping a safe distance between us.
The heat felt good against my skin, driving away the chill of the water.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“It wasn’t on the official tour guide.”
“My private island.” His mouth quirked up at one corner.
“I found it when I was a youngling, exploring the reefs. Now I come here when I need time away from court and... assassination attempts.”
His casual mention of attempts on his life shouldn’t have surprised me.
Not after what I’d seen him do to those guards.
“Ah, so this was just another day for the King of Delovia Ridge.”
He laughed as he poked at the fire with a stick, sending sparks spiraling into the darkening sky.
“You’d be surprised how many have tried. Not even my most discreet indiscretions know of this place.”
He excused himself and returned to the fire wearing a fresh wrap kilt a few moments later.
I watched the firelight play across his features, highlighting the sharp planes of his cheekbones and jaw.
Of course he’d have lovers—indiscretions, as he called them.
He was a king.
Powerful.
Undeniably attractive, if you were into the whole arrogant, deadly predator thing.
Which I wasn’t.
Obviously.
Still, there was a prick of pride knowing he’d brought me to this place he kept hidden from them.
Even if it was out of necessity rather than choice.
Just like the not-quite-kisses underwater had been about survival, not desire.
And if it came to it, I’d join him in that pallet bed if that was the price for the safety of the souls on the Legacy.
I’d survived worse for less.
“What happened at the summit?” I asked, forcing my thoughts back to the mission.
“Who attacked us?”
Lairos’s expression darkened.
“I don’t know entirely. At first, I thought it was simply protestors who didn’t wish for humans ‘invading’ Sanos. But after our greeting at the drycave...”
“So not every entry requires acts of battle?” I confirmed dryly.
He glanced at me, surprise flickering across his face before he chuckled.
“You have a sharp tongue, Emme Mathis. I like that.”
I shrugged, and again pushed back on that grating sense of pride.
“I save it for special occasions. Like coup attempts and near-death experiences.”
Another chuckle lapsed into silence, the fire crackling between us.
I shifted on the sand, the linen wrap pulling taut against my thighs.
Lairos stared into the flames, his expression distant as if seeing something else entirely in their depths.
“They used to be nothing,” he said slowly, voice barely above a murmur.
“Mistake to let them grow so bold.” He glanced at me, seeming to remember I had no context.
“The Knights—Knights of the Depths—they call themselves. Preservers of Khadian traditions, and our personal greeters.” His mouth twisted.
“When I was young, they’d lurk at the edges of court and offer unwanted guidance. Irritating, but contained.”
I glanced up.
“What changed?”
“Time.” His mouth twisted.
“Or rather, I failed to be the perfect prince they wanted. My interests were... varied.” The way he said it left little doubt about what kind of interests he meant.
“After I was caught with a musician in my bed, my father sent me to the frontier to ‘learn discipline’.”
“And these Knights?”
“My father tolerated them. Encouraged them, even. By the time I returned to claim the throne, they’d embedded themselves in every aspect of court life.” He leaned back on his hands, stretching his long legs toward the fire.
“They’ve been a thorn in my side ever since.”
I stared into the fire, trying to process what this meant for the mission.
For the Legacy.
For the thousands of humans still in cryosleep, waiting for a home that might not exist.
I’d jumped at the chance to join the Legacy mission, eager to put my skills to use where they might actually make a difference.
Earth’s politicians had never listened to scientists, but maybe an alien species would.
We’d been trained for every conceivable diplomatic scenario—cultural misunderstandings, resource disputes, even outright rejection.
But a civil war to welcome our arrival?
Not on the bingo card.
“Well, isn’t this just great,” I muttered, more to myself than him.
“My crewmates are scattered, possibly dead. Our ship is vulnerable. And I’m stuck on some secret island with a king who might not even have a kingdom anymore.”
Lairos’s head snapped up, eyes flashing.
“I apologize that a coup for my throne is such an inconvenience for you.”
“That’s not?—”
“No? Then what exactly do you expect me to do, Emme? Swim back to my palace and politely ask the Knights to stop trying to kill me long enough for me to help settle your humans?”
“I expect you to have a plan!” I snapped.
“You’re a king, aren’t you? Don’t you have allies? Resources? Something other than a pretty beach hut and your righteous indignation?”
He stood in one fluid motion, towering over me.
“Of course I have allies. But I need to know who I can trust before I reach out to them. One wrong move, and we both end up dead.”
“So, what’s your plan?” I pushed to my feet and met him glare for glare.
“My plan,” he said through gritted teeth, “is to stay alive long enough to rally my loyal forces. To take back what’s mine. To find out exactly who orchestrated this attack and make them pay for their treachery.”
“And where does that leave me and my people?” I demanded.
“Do we just wait around until you’ve sorted out your problems?” I began pacing, unable to contain the nervous energy coursing through me.
“Maybe I’d be better off with another leader. Or even these Knights you keep railing about.”
The change in him was instant and terrifying.
One moment he was merely annoyed; the next, he was predatory stillness.
“You think I’d just give you up?”
The deadly edge in his voice reminded me of how easily he’d killed those guards.
How little remorse he’d shown afterward.
“I don’t think you’ll have a choice,” I said, hating the tremor in my voice.
“Not if you’re dethroned. Not if your own people want you dead.”
Lairos stalked toward me, backing me against one of the palm trees.
His body caged mine, not touching but close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin.
His fingertips traced up my arm, making my breath catch, before capturing my chin.
“No other ruler would know what to do with you,” he murmured, dipping his head close enough I could taste his words.
My pulse jumped as his nose skimmed along my jaw, up to my ear.
“You belong to me.”
I tried to shake my head, to deny the way my body responded to his touch, his voice, his mere presence.
But his fingers still held my chin, and the simple contact sent sparks racing under my skin.
“Do you truly not feel what’s between us?” he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
I meant to push him away.
To tell him he was delusional.
To remind him that I was a diplomat, not an indiscretion, discreet or otherwise.
Instead, I grabbed the back of his neck and yanked his mouth down to mine.
The kiss was all heat and frustrated need, nothing romantic about it.
His lips were firm and demanding, tasting of salt and something wilder.
He groaned, a sound that vibrated through my bones, and pressed me harder against the tree.
His hands found my hips, fingers digging into the thin fabric of my makeshift dress.
I bit his lower lip, and he growled, deepening the kiss until I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.
There was only sensation—the rough bark of the tree at my back, his body hard and unyielding against my softer curves, his tongue sliding against mine.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, I realized with a jolt of horror that I had initiated it.
I’d kissed him.
It was just stress, I told myself.
Adrenaline from nearly drowning.
From being hunted.
From watching him kill two men.
It wasn’t attraction.
It couldn’t be.
Lairos watched me with a knowing smirk, like he could read every thought racing through my head.
“Feel better?”
“That shouldn’t have happened.” Heat flooded my cheeks.
“It was a mistake.”
“Was it?” He tilted his head, studying me with those too-perceptive eyes.
His smirk widened.
“Or was it inevitable?”
“Yes. No.” I shoved at his chest.
“Let me go.”
He released me, reluctantly, stepping back just enough to give me room to breathe.
The cool night air rushed between us, but did nothing to calm the heat under my skin.
“Enjoy your dreams, Emme Mathis.” His voice was husky and satisfied.
“We leave at first light.”
“Leave for where? What aren’t you telling me?” I demanded, still fighting to regain my composure.
“You can’t keep me in the dark when my life is just as much on the line!”
“What am I not telling you?” His voice cracked like a whip.
“What do you want to know, the unfamiliar names and unfamiliar places? Words your human tongue will never be able to pronounce?”
He took a step forward, leaning close enough I could count the flecks of gold in his irises.
“Should I give you all my worries that the next Khadian I trust will try to gut us both?” His hands clenched at his sides.
“Or perhaps you’d like to hear how this isn’t the first time one of my own blood has tried to be rid of me?”
For a moment, the arrogant king disappeared, replaced by someone who had fought and bled and lost more than I could imagine.
Every decision, every alliance, every move forward could end with a weapon in his back.
He closed his eyes briefly, gathering himself.
When he opened them again, the vulnerability was gone, replaced by cool determination.
Then he began to hum.
The sound started low in his chest, a deep vibration that seemed to travel through the air and into my bones.
Not quite the same as his underwater song, but similar enough that my body recognized it instantly.
My limbs grew heavy.
My thoughts slowed.
“Sleep, Emme,” he said, the command woven into the melody.
“We have a long journey ahead.”
I tried to fight it, tried to demand answers, but my tongue felt thick in my mouth.
The last thing I registered before darkness claimed me was the realization that he was using his power on me.
That manipulative, royal bastard.