Page 48

The thought had barely formed when a sharp knock echoed through his private chambers, making them both freeze.

"Raxen?" Vessa's voice called from beyond the heavy doors.

Raxen moved with swift efficiency, grabbing the sheet and pulling it up to cover Amara's bare torso just as the door opened. Vessa stepped inside, took one look at the scene—Raxen's disheveled hair, Amara's flushed cheeks, the general air of satisfied intimacy—and her cheeks flamed red.

"Oh my. I'm so sorry," Vessa stammered, her hand flying to cover her eyes. "I didn't realize you two were... um... busy."

Raxen cleared his throat, his own composure admirably intact despite being caught in a rather compromising position. "We were just finishing up here."

Finishing up?

Amara bit her lip to keep from laughing at his matter-of-fact tone. Trust an Alpha to make completing their mate bond sound like a business transaction.

Vessa peeked between her fingers, still blushing furiously. "Well, um, Pax has some urgent information for you. He says it can't wait."

Raxen's expression immediately shifted to alert attention. "Alright, we'll be downstairs shortly."

"Sounds good," Vessa said quickly, backing toward the door.

She fled the room before either of them could respond, leaving them alone again. Amara sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest, but she felt no embarrassment. If anything, she felt settled. Vessa knew how serious things had become between them, and she was clearly pleased they’d stopped denying what had been building.

"Well, we'd better go see what Pax found out," she said, already reaching for her discarded clothes.

Raxen sat up beside her, the sheet pooling around his waist. "I hope he found concrete evidence that ties Tavian to my father's murder and to my assassination attempt."

The mention of Tavian sent a chill through the warm afterglow. They'd completed their bond, but the danger was far from over. If anything, it was more urgent now. Tavian knew about their connection, and he'd use it against them if given the chance.

Amara slipped out of bed and began gathering her scattered clothes. Her lace bra had somehow ended up draped over a chair, and her emerald blouse was crumpled near the windows. She felt Raxen’s gaze following her every move as she dressed, and through the bond, she sensed his renewed desire mixing with possessive satisfaction and deep contentment.

The combination was intoxicating. Part of her wanted to crawl right back into that bed and spend the day exploring this new connection between them, discovering all the ways the completed bond had changed them. But duty called, and they both knew it.

She fastened her bra and pulled on her blouse, hyperaware of Raxen's appreciative attention, and when she bent to retrieve her panties and trousers, she caught his sharp intake of breath. The new mate mark on her hip was clearly visible, and the possessive gleam in his blue eyes showed he was quite pleased with his handiwork.

Mine, came his voice in her mind, and she watched his eyes darken with renewed hunger.

This telepathic communication was going to take some getting used to. The intimacy was almost overwhelming—not just hearing his thoughts, but feeling the emotions behind them.

"You should probably get dressed too," she said, amused.

He rose from the bed with fluid grace, completely unselfconscious in his nudity, and Amara had to force herself not to stare at the magnificent sight he made. The morning light caught every sculpted muscle, every line and plane of his powerful body, and her mouth went dry.

Focus, she told herself sternly.

But when Raxen moved to his closet to retrieve a fresh shirt—apparently his previous white button-down had been a casualty of their passionate encounter—she couldn't help but admire the play of muscles across his broad back.

He caught her staring when he turned around, and his grin was pure masculine satisfaction. "Like what you see?"

"Always," she admitted without shame, and his grin widened.

He pulled on his boxers and dark slacks with efficient movements, then selected a crisp blue shirt that would bring out his eyes. As he buttoned it, Amara headed for the door.

"I'll meet you downstairs," she said.

"Of course. I'm just glad I finally get to leave this room," Raxen called after her, his tone teasing but with an edge of genuine relief.

Amara smiled to herself as she stepped into the corridor. Today wouldn't be filled with rest, relaxation, or savoring their newly completed bond. They had work to do—a conspiracy to unravel and a twenty-year nightmare to end. But whatever came next, they would face it together. As mates. As partners. And somehow, that made even confronting Tavian feel less daunting.

She descended the grand staircase with measured steps, her hand trailing along the polished mahogany banister as she made her way toward Raxen's office. The morning light flooding in through the estate's large windows caught the emerald fabric of her blouse, and she found herself hyperaware of every sensation—the soft whisper of her trousers against her legs, the lingering warmth where Raxen's mate mark pulsed beneath her clothing, and the way her body still hummed with satisfaction from their claiming.