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He laughed while ducking and side-stepping her efforts.

Stings registered where their nails had connected with the skin on his arms and chest. The scent of his blood twitched his nose, and he huffed, unable to help being impressed.

But they hadn’t wanted to kill him—a foolish decision on their part.

Movement caught his gaze. Zive stood in the doorway, a blaster trained on Korre. He had an arm thrown over Yelur, propping up the injured male.

“Fire,” Cylo whispered.

Too late, Korre faced Zive and fell to the floor with a gasp. Eysso lay still, her eyes wide. Zive shot her, too.

“Help,” Zive muttered. “Yelur’s a heavy bastard. Or draw your weapon. I want no more surprises.”

Cylo shrugged on his armor and unstrapped his blaster. “What happened?”

“We have been deceived. That male is not Barro.”

“When claiming so put us at ease. We were the fools,” Cylo said. “Well played.”

“Normally, I would suggest we return to the Kevol …” Zive’s eyes narrowed. “But I am angry.”

“Indeed. What do you intend to do?” Cylo waved his blaster at the two females. “I assume this fake Barro is dead?”

“Correct. Comm Supreme Commander Kyah. Have him send males.” Zive propped Yelur against a bulkhead and withdrew his med-gun. “We will remain here until they arrive, then meet up with you and Lady Wren on Issneen.” Zive nudged his head at Cylo’s O.D.I.

Pursing his lips, he tapped it and raised his wrist to his mouth. “Supreme Commander Kyah, we require assistance at this location.”

“We are already en route,” the supreme commander said. “The situation did not sit well with me, so I sent a kuta. ETA ten minutes.”

“My thanks.” Cylo glanced at Zive. “Want me to wait?” He tried not to shuffle on his feet, not needing to reveal his eagerness to return to Wren. But he suspected pulling on his helmet had done that.

The elder medic ushered Yelur to the seat Cylo had occupied not five minutes ago. He rose and faced Cylo. “No, it is not necessary.”

“Go. We shall steer this ship to Issneen.” Yelur clutched his side, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow.

“These two are Serratu Kayarra. Be careful.” Cylo checked his sheaths again before rolling the females over until every one of his daggers had been returned to him. He stunned them again for good measure then strapped his blaster in place.

“Comm if you need me.” He bowed his head, knocked his heels, and launched through the shield toward the Kevol .

As interludes went, this one had been interesting. What happened in the comm to change Zive’s opinion on stealing? By taking the ship to Issneen, he was delivering stealth technology to Etteria. Cylo had chosen not to mention this.

The male’s eyes had swirled from dark to light blue, so angry was he, and not knowing the state of his void, he was capable of anything.

As Cylo aimed for the Kevol’s shuttle bay, a kuta barreled toward him. Beyond that was the looming shadow of the battleship Vindar. He hit the button on the inside of the door as he glided into the bay, sealing it behind him.

“And?” Ariez asked when Cylo strode into the common, tugging off his helmet.

Wren sat up and swung her legs off the side of the bed. She tossed him a smile. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight. A deep inhale filled his lungs with her scent, and that knot of nausea in his stomach faded.

“It was a trap. I suggest you comm Zive for the details. He did not share much with me.” Cylo set the helmet beside her, caught her hand, and pressed a kiss to her palm. “They remain on the ship.” He glanced at Ariez. “Be cautious. Zive’s void…” He didn’t know how to say it.

“I understand,’ Ariez said, turning away.

“You, me, a cleanse, and bed,” Cylo whispered, scooping Wren off the bed.

“I’ve just slept,” she said, resting her fingers on his bicep.

He hummed, peace descending on his chaotic thoughts. I am exhausted, ensa, but I need to hold you. If you give me an hour, I should be able to—

She cupped his cheek. “You can hold me for as long as you want to.”

He tugged her by the hand toward his quarters, pausing when the door shut behind them to comm Fyca. “Get us to Issneen as fast as you can.”

“Acknowledged,” the male said.

Cylo kept his focus on Wren until the comm ended.

With a tap at his chest, his armor slid off.

He unsheathed his daggers one by one, setting them on the table.

Her gaze wasn’t on his small arsenal but on him, on every inch he exposed.

He smiled at her open fascination when he removed his boots and pants.

You are fully clothed. He gestured to her.

“If I undress—”

Oh, I think I can spare you a little extra attention. He grinned.

She returned it. “I’d like that.” Under his vigilance, off went her garments until only his woman stood before him.

“Exquisite,” he rasped, testing out his huskier voice.

Her cheeks darkened, and her staccato heartbeat echoed in his ears. He threw back his head and laughed. As he’d realized, he was addicted to her.

He held out his hand, and she took it, letting him lead her into the spray. Water drenched them in seconds, but he cradled her close, savoring her silky skin over a hip, the sweet indent at the base of her spine, the way her hair clung to his fingers when he glided his hand to the nape of her neck.

He swept his lips over hers, but a compulsion drove him to linger, to inhale her breath in some insane attempt to capture her soul, to merge it with his.

Foolish, he knew, but holding her wasn’t enough.

Despite his weariness, he pinned her to the wall, spreading her thighs to take the width of his hips.

His malehood rubbed against her wet heat.

She whimpered but didn’t pull away. Instead, she looped her arms around his neck, angled her head, and deepened the kiss. Her tongue served only to intensify this craving to fully consume her. Everywhere her body touched his, he burned for her.

“Thamani,” he hummed when he leaned back to lose himself in her gray eyes.

“And all these scratch marks?” she asked, arching a brow.

Of no importance. He grinned, inching his Fuyra-hard malehood into her soft channel.

She gasped, and her eyes widened then narrowed when she groaned. Her legs tightening around his backside sank him deeper. He growled, pressed his temple to hers, and withdrew.

A thrust merged their ragged breathing. And as he brought her to her fulfillment, the skitter of joy to the head of his malehood drove him on, but what mattered more was the synchronization of their heartbeats.

He stole a kiss, then chanted ‘ensa ra ensa’ when ecstasy exploded across his body, stiffening every muscle, heightening each sense. She was his, and when they reached Issneen, he’d ensure all knew it.