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Once back in his quarters, Aklan shed his clothing and donned his skinsuit, the lightweight, tight-fitting armor the Xeruvians had developed to counter many piercing weapons and disperse energy from plasma and laser style weapons. It was nearly indistinguishable from the athletic wear many humans wore, and would thus draw no suspicion unless one of the humans fired a projectile weapon at him.

A wild recklessness thrummed through his veins. The meeting with his mate had gone much better than he expected. He’d watched her relax during the conversation, witnessed the fluttering of her pulse, scented her nascent desire as human males could not. Knowing that she wanted him, that she would willingly meet with him again, had stirred his blood into molten heat.

He could easily have ignored the whispered outrage reaching his ears when he leaned into his mate and described exactly what he wanted to do to her. Instead, he had eagerly seized the opportunity to divert his own desire, to channel it into controlled aggression as he’d learned in his youth, lest it spill onto his mate.

Never would he harm her. Thus must he find another outlet for the arousal heating his blood.

Until their courtship ended. Until she willingly chose him as her mate.

The certainty calmed him enough to allow rational thought to prevail. He tidied the clothes he’d worn and put them away, then fished out a small drone and programmed it to follow him at a discreet distance, recording whatever followed for the benefit of his fellow warlords. Such imagery would be studied, as the humans undoubtedly would study him.

He flipped the drone into the air and observed it flitting above him. Let the humans watch. Perhaps they would then learn how formidable Xeruvian warlords could be.

He shrugged on his robe, leaving it unfastened, and padded barefoot out of his quarters into the sterile corridor. The drone followed at a slight distance, though not so far he couldn’t hear its whispering buzz.

By the time he and his guards reached the appointed place, a large room fitted out with exercise equipment along one wall and cushioned mats down the middle, it had filled with more than three dozen humans. He glanced around casually, assessing the crowd, and upped his count by a dozen. Some he recognized as diplomats or their underlings. Some wore mottled fatigues and held themselves as warriors would, female and male alike.

Sonja stood to one side next to the yellow-haired female she’d been seated with when he entered the cafeteria earlier. She wore a black bralette and matching knee-length shorts, similar to her companion’s outfit. Her skin had taken on a pale glow. He itched to touch her, to sample her skin with his tongue, to rub his face along her bare midriff until their scents joined and became one.

His instincts purred, a recognition of her connection to him, and he wrestled them into control. A warrior who could not control his impulses deserved no mate.

Control led to trust, trust to respect, respect to love. Was it not so even among humans?

She glanced up, answered his gaze with a shy smile, and satisfied the maelstrom raging within him. He marveled at the ability, stifled another impulse, this one to stride across the room and worship at her feet.

Too soon, he warned himself. She must accept him first, and all that he was.

Still, he could offer her the simple rituals of his people, as she had offered him hers. Humans skirted around him and the soldiers at his back, filtering into the room in twos and threes. When he deemed it nearly full, he allowed himself to approach her, holding her gaze until he stood a respectful distance away.

“Milady,” he said, bowing his head.

“Aklan.” She touched her companion’s shoulder, bringing the other woman closer. “This is Missy.”

Missy gave him a dimpled smile. “Pleased to meet you, Ambassador.”

He proffered a bow to her as well. “Are you here to defend Sonja’s honor?”

Missy threw back her head and laughed, a sweet, pure sound like water rippling over rock. “Good heavens, no. I’m here as her sidekick, to support her through a trying time.”

“Missy,” Sonja hissed. To him, she said, “She’s teasing. Don’t take her too seriously.”

“Such support is to be treasured,” Aklan chided gently. “I believe she expresses her affection for you. Is this not so?”

Missy nodded sharply. “A wise man. If you don’t keep him, I just might.”

“I thought you were engaged?” Sonja said.

“Yup, totally in love. But I’d still be tempted.”

She winked at Aklan, a baffling gesture whose meaning eluded him.

Still, he understood her light flirtation, not as flattery aimed at him, but as the kind of teasing friends indulged in. Not to be taken seriously on the surface. The meaning lay in the undertow.

He sensed Mike Nicholson approaching. Time to begin, before the gathered humans became restless.

He shrugged off his robe, folded it loosely, and offered it to Sonja. “Today, I fight for you, milady.”

She cocked her head to the side, her mouth turned down at one corner. “Another gift?”

“No, milady,” he said, softening his words for her benefit. “In Xeruvian culture, a warrior asks a potential mate to hold his clothing while he engages in a display of physical might. The female may choose to accept or not. If she does, it is seen as an acceptance of the male himself.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

He shrugged the possibility away. “It is a great honor for them both.”

“I see.” She stared at the robe for a long moment, long enough for Nicholson to reach them, then slowly reached out and took it from his hands, clasping it to her chest. “Thank you, Aklan. You honor me.”

A low growl emanated from his chest, pleasure and surprise rolled into one. How had she known what to say? Had her instincts finally roused to match his own, or was she merely being the polite human he sensed her to be?

Missy had sidled away, yet still watched them keenly. When Nicholson cleared his throat, she snagged Sonja’s elbow and gently steered her toward the room’s outer edges, though Sonja’s gaze remained locked on his.

“Ready?” Nicholson said.

Aklan reluctantly broke Sonja’s gaze and stared down at the smaller male. “May I choose my first opponents?”

The other male’s eyebrows waggled in an odd way. “I suppose so.”

“Then I choose them.” He turned and met his escorts’ gazes, one after the other. “Do your weapons have safety features on them? A lock to prevent accidental firing?”

The two males glanced at one another, then the shorter one drew his handgun from its holster at his waist and held it up, pointing to a slide on one side. “This is the safety. On or off?”

“On. I wish no harm to come to bystanders.” Or his mate. If something should happen to her now, if he should lose her as so many other Xeruvians had lost their mates…

He shuddered. Such was not to be imagined, lest it bring the wrathful touch of the Fates.

He disciplined his mind and focused instead on the matter at hand. “The center of the room should afford enough space to maneuver.”

“Both of us?” the other male said.

Aklan stared him down. “Naturally.”

“I don’t like this,” Nicholson said slowly.

“You may not enjoy the results, but I most certainly will. Gentlemen.”

Aklan stalked to the middle of the room and waited for the other men to doff their hats and join him. Once they had, he said, “Weapons up. Attack me simultaneously.”

This time there was no hesitation. The two males, acting in unison, spread out and approached him, each shouting at him to drop down, to raise his hands over his head, to comply and obey, else would they fire upon him. It seemed well-rehearsed to Aklan, a maneuver practiced repeatedly until it could be performed on command, without error. He held still, unfazed by their tactics, his hands loose at his sides, patiently awaiting the right moment.

When they were within striking distance, he leapt for the one on his right, one hand slashing at the firearm, knocking it from the other male’s hand. Simultaneously, he punched his free hand into the male’s gut, a sharp, clawless strike, following it with a rapid series of blows designed to disable the male without inflicting permanent harm. The male’s breath whooshed out even as he tried to counter.

Aklan swept one leg across the back of the male’s legs, knocking him to the ground before the second male had time to react.

Aklan whirled and leapt, disabling the second male’s firearm, countering his every offensive strike. As soon as the human lay groaning on the floor, one hand to his ribs, Aklan stepped back and bowed.

Around the room, murmurs rose among the crowd.

“Holy shit,” a male voice whispered. Another said, “Less than ten seconds, man.” And still another stated that he “ain’t never seen nothing like that.”

Nicholson approached, his expression fixed in a resigned scowl, and knelt beside the men. “Do you need medical assistance?”

“Naw,” the first male wheezed. “May not be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Think he broke a rib with that last punch,” the second man said, his voice strained.

Aklan stared down at them, his expression hard. “Perhaps I did not account adequately for human frailty.”

“Frailty,” Nicholson said on a harsh bark of laughter. “They never landed a blow.”

“On the contrary. They landed several, simply not hard enough to stop me.”

“Jesus,” the first male said. “You should put a whole squadron on him.”

“It would not be enough,” Aklan assured him. “And more guards would send the wrong message. Is there another among you who was offended by my actions regarding Milady Mathis?”

Nicholson stood and squared off against him. “Me. Let me get these men to the doctor first.”

“As you will.” Aklan stepped back and raised his voice so that all the humans gathered there could hear him. “You have much to learn from my people, as we have much to learn from you. We wish only equal access to the courtship rites enjoyed by human males, the right to meet eligible females and to court the female of our choosing so that we may rebuild our species and thrive once more, as humans do now. In exchange, we offer the gift of our technology, and of our protection should another, more hostile species discover your beautiful planet. It is a fair and good trade, one of benefit to both our peoples.”

Nicholson’s expression hardened as Aklan spoke, though he merely nodded at the conclusion of Aklan’s impromptu speech. “Back in a few.”

Aklan watched them leave, then turned his gaze unerringly on his mate. She watched him warily, her eyes wide in a pale face. Had he alarmed her with his speed and skill? Did she not understand that a warrior honed his abilities precisely so that he might one day protect his mate? That such a display was to assure her of his ability to do so, as much as to signal his desire for her?

Her breasts rose and fell on a heavy sigh, then Missy drew her into conversation, and Aklan turned his attention to the three approaching males.

Sonja held her breath the entire time Aklan fought his guards, only letting it out when Missy elbowed her.

“Did you see that?” her coworker said.

“Hard to miss,” Sonja replied faintly. “He didn’t even break a sweat.”

“Can he sweat?”

“I have no idea.”

“Bet you want to find out, though, huh?”

Sonja turned a baleful glare on her. “Do you think about anything other than my sex life?”

“Sure, I do. For instance, the big lug recorded the whole thing.”

“What? How?”

Missy leaned in and whispered, “Don’t look, but there’s a tiny drone perched on that basketball goal over there. Saw it fly in behind him when he walked in.”

“I was watching him walk in and didn’t see a thing.”

“You diplomat, me intelligence.”

“What, for covert ops?” Sonja muttered. “I wonder why he recorded it.”

“Could be any number of reasons. I can think of half a dozen just off the top of my head, starting with what he just said.”

“That’s because you’re conniving and nefarious.”

“You got it, darlin’,” Missy said, winking. “Speaking of, that bodysuit isn’t standard active wear. It gives off a weird glint every time he moves.”

Sonja had noticed, but she’d been too distracted to say anything. Distracted by his masculinity, by his long, well-proportioned limbs and miles and miles of muscle, by his quick, flowing movements,

And yes, distracted by the bulge at the juncture of his thighs, not that she’d share that thought with Missy. It did make her wonder about their species’ sexual compatibility. Obviously the Xeruvians thought they’d be compatible, or they wouldn’t have singled out humans as their future…what? Brides? Broodmares? Was that really how Xeruvians saw human females?

She shrugged the thought off and offered her own observation. “He’s pulling his punches. No claws. I bet they’re deadly.”

Missy slid her a sly, side-eyed look. “Admit it. You’re attracted to him.”

“Pfft. I’m doing my job.”

“Since when did your job include dating sexy aliens?”

“Since he wouldn’t take no for an answer, apparently. Since he asked politely?”

“He does have that steadfast, Old World courtesy thing going for him. So. Are you really going to date him, or is this all a charade aimed at achieving a different goal?”

Sonja firmed her lips against her own hesitation. She felt his gaze on her and turned helplessly to meet it. Her pulse fluttered as a newly familiar desire sparked within her. What was she doing? Not toying with him. That wasn’t her way. But could she honestly commit to dating a man so different from her?

They weren’t even the same species!

Yet, they shared eerie similarities, the same bipedal build, the same number of fingers and toes. He was bigger, yes, so much bigger, and faster, too. More advanced technologically, and culturally? Her hands clenched into fists around his robe, entirely too aware of the silky fabric against her skin, of the faint masculine scent clinging to it, and of the raw desire building inside her.

Their cultures were similar, yes, but not the same.

On a personal level, she didn’t know enough about him to make a judgment, but he seemed…honorable. Intelligent. Determined.

And completely focused on her. He hadn’t so much as blinked at Missy. Sonja held no delusions about her looks. She was, at best, pleasantly pretty. Missy, on the other hand, was drop dead gorgeous, everything a man wanted from her flirtatious smile to her Marilyn Monroe figure to the fact that she could outshoot and outdrink nearly every man she knew.

Yet her charms hadn’t so much as fazed Aklan.

Missy touched her elbow. “Earth to Sonja! You still with me?”

“Yes. Sorry. He has a way of distracting me without saying a word.”

“Oh, honey. I see the way he looks at you. That’s pure lust talking there. Makes me shiver every time I see it.”

Sonja wrinkled her nose into a playful grimace. “Oh, stop.”

“No, seriously. If I weren’t already head over heels in love and certain he’d reject me, I’d make a play for him myself. That man is hotter’n sin and twice as sexy.” Missy’s gaze turned sly. “Admit it, Sonja. When he looks at you, you look right back, don’t you?”

Yes , she thought, and laughed despite the conflicting emotions playing tug of war inside her. “It’s not like it can go anywhere.”

Missy’s gaze sharpened. “Why not?”

“Me human, him Xeruvian. Do you realize how impossible that would be?”

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to talk yourself into dating him or out of it. Pretend he’s human for a minute. Would you go for him?”

Sonja sucked in a ragged breath. Missy was too perceptive by far. Yes, she would go for him, if he was human. Who wouldn’t? On the surface, he was everything a woman wanted in a man. Strong, intelligent, wise. And he wanted her. Not Missy or the other far more attractive women scattered throughout the room. Her .

The butterflies returned in full force, attacking her stomach in a wave of flutters. To have captured such a man’s attention, to have it focused on her, to feel desirable and beautiful and wanted. Heady stuff, that. Too bad it would never work between them.

“But he’s not human,” she said slowly, reluctantly. “And that’s the reality I have to work with.”

“Oh, honey. Wise up here. The reality is that he’s lusty and hot and hung like a bull.”

Sonja nearly choked on a laugh, the brief touch of sadness washed away under Missy’s gentle teasing. “I had no idea you were so outrageous.”

“It’s the Southern coming out in me.” Missy jerked her chin toward the center of the room. “He just took down three at once. Three of our biggest Marines, mind you. Ain’t even breathing heavy.”

“He’s something else,” Sonja agreed, a bit too dreamily for her peace of mind. There was just something about him…

A young Chinese woman replaced the three downed men, at the approval of the Chinese ambassador. Aklan glanced at Sonja, and she read the questions in his expression so easily, it shocked her.

Should he fight a woman? Was that appropriate among humans?

She nodded once, hoping he understood that if he found human men to be frail, then human women would be even more so. To her relief, he defended only, deflecting the woman’s blows without once striking her no matter how hard or fast she came at him.

“Wowza,” Missy said sotto voce. “He hasn’t laid a hand on her. Is that a Xeruvian thing?”

“No idea,” Sonja replied. But she wanted to find out. He’d promised to teach her…what had he called it? Ky’Lota? Maybe she would let him, if only to test how far his impressive control went.

So far, it seemed endless. And she was impressed, by his courtesy and grasp of social nuances, by his evident skills as a warrior. Yet, she felt certain she’d seen only the tip of a very large iceberg. She wanted to know more, and perhaps that answered Missy’s question about dating him, and her own.