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This whole thing just got infinitely more complicated.

Because if anyone discovered she was Raxen's fated mate, they could easily discredit her investigation as biased. Never mind that she was more determined than ever to find the truth—the political optics alone would undermine everything she hoped to accomplish.

She had to prove the records were doctored first. Then identify whoever was behind the conspiracy. If she could take down the real enemy before they could expose her connection to Raxen, maybe she could save both his territory and her own professional integrity.

Time to get to work.

TWELVE

RAXEN

Raxen prowled his office like a caged predator, his dress shoes silent on the marble floor as restless energy coursed through every muscle in his powerful frame. The afternoon light pouring through the massive windows cast shifting shadows across the room's elegant furnishings, but he barely noticed the beauty of his surroundings. His mind remained locked on the memory of claiming Amara in his bathroom—the intoxicating taste of her skin, the desperate way she'd gripped his shoulders, the perfect harmony of their bodies moving together as if they'd been designed for each other.

His lion stirred restlessly, still drunk on the memory of finally touching what belonged to them. The scent of lavender and pear lingered in his senses like a drug, making it impossible to focus on anything beyond the need to find her again, to hold her close until she stopped running from what they both felt. The rejection shouldn't have surprised him—he'd felt her confusion and fear through their growing bond—but it still cut deeper than any wound he'd ever sustained.

What did you expect? Vessa's voice echoed in his memory from their conversation an hour earlier. She's scared of the intensity of the mate bond, and probably of you at times. Any rational woman would be overwhelmed.

She'd been right, of course. Vessa usually was when it came to reading people's emotional landscapes. The mate bond between him and Amara burned hotter and more intense than anything he'd imagined possible—a connection so profound it made his previous understanding of desire seem absurd.

And she wants me just as desperately as I want her.

That knowledge should have been reassuring. Instead, it only highlighted how thoroughly she fought her own instincts, how determined she was to keep them apart despite the undeniable pull drawing them together.

Even now, he could sense her confusion, her fear, the way she kept trying to convince herself that what had happened between them was a mistake rather than the most natural thing in the universe. What she didn't know—what he hadn't told her yet—was that lion shifters could feel their mates' emotions as clearly as their own once the physical claiming had begun. She thought she was hiding her feelings behind professional walls and stubborn independence, but every flutter of desire, every spike of longing, every moment of terrified vulnerability broadcast itself directly to him through their growing connection.

She'd probably be furious if she knew how exposed she really is.

The thought made him pause mid-stride, one hand automatically reaching up to massage the tension building in his neck. Amara already felt vulnerable enough around him. Learning that he could sense her deepest emotions would probably send her straight back to Earth, convinced that staying meant surrendering every scrap of independence.

Give her space, Vessa had advised. Reveal things gradually. Don't overwhelm her with everything at once.

Sound advice, but impossible to follow when every protective instinct urged him to keep Amara close. The attack had proven that whoever was orchestrating the conspiracy against him had already identified her as a threat worth eliminating. Letting her leave the estate without his personal protection felt like sending her into battle unarmed.

But hovering will only drive her away faster.

The delicate balance between protecting his mate and respecting her fierce independence seemed impossible to maintain. She'd made it clear that she valued her professional autonomy above almost everything else, that she'd come to Nova Aurora to rebuild her confidence and prove her capabilities. Treating her like a fragile thing that needed constant guarding would undermine everything she was trying to accomplish—and probably convince her that he saw her as a liability rather than a partner.

But I want to abandon everything and show her every beautiful place in Solaryn.

The admission surprised him with its intensity. For twenty years, duty had been his constant companion, responsibility his closest advisor. He'd never allowed himself to imagine what it might feel like to simply exist in the moment with someone who made him forget the heavy weight of leadership. Amara made him want things he'd never dared to dream—lazy afternoons exploring the crystal caves beyond the purple grasslands, quiet evenings watching both suns set from the highest tower of his estate, mornings where his only obligation was making her smile.

The sharp chime of his doorbell cut through his brooding like a blade. He glanced toward the main entrance, frowning slightly. With a resigned sigh, he strode toward the front of the estate, his footsteps echoing through the high-ceilinged corridors. The doorbell chimed again just as he reached for the ornate handle, and he pulled the heavy door open to find two familiar figures waiting on his doorstep.

Tavian stood with his characteristic poise, immaculately dressed in a charcoal suit that emphasized his imposing frame. Beside him, Sori maintained her usual composed expression, her golden blonde hair pulled back in a bun. But both wore carefully neutral expressions that immediately put Raxen on guard.

"Uncle Tavian. Sori." He stepped back to let them in, though every instinct warned him this unexpected visit would bring complications. "What brings you here?"

"We need to have a talk," Tavian said without preamble, his eyes studying Raxen's face with unsettling intensity.

Just perfect.

The last thing he needed was a confrontation with his uncle when his emotions were already running hot from his encounter with Amara. But refusing to hear them out would only create more suspicion, more doubt about his leadership capabilities when his reputation was already hanging by a thread.

"Of course." He gestured toward the spacious living room. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."

The three of them settled into the leather furniture facing the estate’s sprawling gardens, Tavian and Sori claiming the sofa while Raxen took the chair that let him monitor both the conversation and the main entrance. Through the wide windows, he could see the twin suns beginning their slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose that reminded him painfully of the flush that had colored Amara's skin.

Focus. They can't sense anything unusual about your emotional state.