Page 25

Something shifted in her expression—surprise, maybe, or recognition of something she hadn't expected to find.

"Raxen, you're different." Her voice carried a note of wonder. "You make me believe that there are still good men out there. I just don't know if I'm ready to jump into something serious right now."

His heart hammered against his ribs, but he forced himself to stay still and let her find her own words.

"My ex-boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend and business partner," she continued, her voice growing stronger with each word. "I lost everything. They destroyed me and my career, and I'm still trying to heal from that. I came here to get away from a life that felt empty and shattered, to rebuild myself and my confidence."

Rage—pure and molten—flooded through him at the thought of anyone hurting her that way. His lion snarled for blood, for the chance to hunt down the bastards who'd betrayed her trust and show them exactly what happened to those who dared harm his mate. But beneath the fury was something deeper: the recognition of wounds that mirrored his own, the understanding that they'd both learned to equate love with loss.

She's not ready for the mate bond. Not after being betrayed like that.

The realization should have frustrated him, should have triggered his need to control and accelerate the process. Instead, he found himself marveling at her strength, at the courage it must have taken to travel to an alien world and trust a stranger with her professional reputation after everything she'd endured.

He stroked her cheek, memorizing the way she leaned into his touch despite her obvious internal conflict. "I won't rush our mate bond. I won't force you to feel something or do anything you don't want to do. I will wait for you as long as it takes."

The words came from somewhere deeper than strategy or patience. They came from the part of him that recognized her worth—not just as his fated mate, but as a woman who deserved to be cherished, not claimed.

"I don't understand this fated mate or mate bond thing," she whispered, her breath warm against his palm. "But I do feel something for you. I cannot deny that. I just don't know what to do about it."

His control finally snapped.

Not the explosive loss of restraint he'd witnessed in lesser men, but something far more dangerous—the complete surrender of a man who had spent his entire adult life maintaining careful boundaries. He leaned in and captured her lips with his, expecting her to pull away, to retreat behind those professional walls. Instead, she kissed him back with desperate hunger, as if he were the oxygen she'd been searching for through months of suffocation. Her hands pressed against his muscular chest, and when his tongue sought entry into her mouth, she granted it without hesitation.

The kiss utterly consumed him. Twenty years of iron control dissolved beneath her taste, the soft sound she made when he deepened the connection, the way she pressed closer as if she couldn't bear even the smallest distance between them.

This was what he'd been missing without knowing it.

His lion purred with deep satisfaction, finally understanding why he'd waited so long to find her. Every other woman had been a pale imitation of this—this perfect storm of desire and recognition that made him feel more alive than he'd ever been before.

Raxen broke the kiss with a groan that felt wrenched from somewhere primal and desperate. His mind screamed caution—she's not ready, she just admitted she's healing, you're moving too fast—but his body had become a separate entity governed by the mate bond's relentless thrum. Her lips parted in a silent plea, and he surrendered, his mouth traveling down the elegant column of her throat, tasting the salt of her skin and her sweet, intoxicating essence. He found a sensitive spot just above her collarbone and sucked, earning a sharp gasp as her fingers twisted into his hair, pulling just enough to send a jolt of pure pleasure straight through him.

I should stop. She's vulnerable.

But then she arched against him, her body a language of consent he couldn't misinterpret. "Raxen," she breathed, her voice thick with want. "I want you. Right now."

That was all the permission his lion needed. His hands moved with a deftness born of decades of discipline, now channeled into an entirely different kind of focus. The small black buttons of her silk blouse gave way one by one. He parted the fabric like unveiling a treasure, revealing the delicate black lace beneath. The clasp of her bra was a simple challenge; a flick of his wrist and it fell away, and the sight of her—full, beautiful, her nipples already peaked and begging for his attention—stole the air from his lungs.

He leaned forward and took one hardened peak into his mouth, laving it with his tongue before suckling deeply. Her gasp was a symphony, her grip on his hair tightening to the edge of pain, which only made the pleasure more acute. He'd had lovers before, but nothing—not even the politically arranged courtship with Victoria—had ever felt like this. It wasn't just desire; it was a claiming, a homecoming, a fire that burned away twenty years of solitary leadership and left only raw, primal need in its place.

He stood up, the towel at his waist dropping forgotten to the marble floor. The bandages on his shoulder pulled taut, a distant echo of pain utterly drowned out by the pounding need in his blood. Her gaze swept over him, taking in his naked form without a trace of shyness, landing on the evidence of his arousal.

She reached out, her fingers wrapping around his hard cock. "Impressive," she murmured.

A low groan ripped from his throat. "I can show you something that's even more impressive."

He knelt before her again, his hands at the fastening of her tailored white trousers. He made quick work of them, pushing the fabric down her hips until they pooled around her ankles. Her black lace panties followed, and then she stood before him, gloriously bare, more breathtaking than any vista in Nova Aurora. Her scent, lavender and pear now layered with the rich, unmistakable aroma of her arousal, pushed him to the very brink of his control.

He leaned in and buried his face in the heat of her, his tongue delving into her slick folds, finding the sensitive bud of her clit and circling it with a precision that had her crying out. Her thighs trembled against his shoulders, her hands fisting in his hair, holding him to her as if she feared he might stop.

"Please… Raxen…" she begged, her voice breaking on a wave of pleasure.

He could feel her climax building, could taste it, but his own need was a raging beast. He stood up again, lifting her with ease and setting her on the cool marble edge of the massive sink. She reached for him again, guiding his cock to her entrance. The head pressed against her heat, and he paused, the last shred of his rationality offering one final warning.

She's human. She's been hurt. This changes everything.

Then she looked up at him, her green eyes dark with passion and devoid of doubt. "Raxen, don't make me wait."

He obeyed her willingly. He pushed forward, sinking into her tight, welcoming heat in one slow, deliberate thrust until he was fully seated inside her. Her sharp cry wasn't from pain. It was pure pleasure—he felt its rightness humming through the mate bond, a chord of perfect resonance.