“I’m scared,” she admitted quietly.
“Of what?”
“That he only likes me because I’m here and available, and if we ever got back to civilization he’d realize he could do better.”
Anya made an exasperated sound. “You’re an idiot.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re beautiful and smart and brave and you literally saved a baby’s life by promising his dying mother you’d protect him. You crossed a desert with no supplies while carrying an infant and keeping me from having a complete breakdown. You learned an alien language in three days just so you could communicate better.” She poked Corinne’s arm for emphasis. “Any guy would be lucky to have you. Alien or human or whatever. And Selik knows it. So stop making it complicated.”
CHAPTER TEN
Anya’s words echoed through Selik’s mind even as he methodically arranged training equipment he’d arranged dozens of times before.
“You two need to just make out and get it over with.”
Direct. Blunt. Accurate.
His tail lashed once before he brought it under control, wrapping it tight against his leg where it couldn’t betray the chaos churning through his thoughts. Holding Corinne during that training exercise had been exquisite torture—her soft body pressed against his chest, her scent filling his lungs, her pulse racing so fast he could feel it through the contact points between them.
She’d wanted him. He’d known it in the catch of her breath, the way she’d frozen in his arms, and the heat that had radiated from her skin. The desire had been mutual and overwhelming and completely impossible to act on in front of her stepdaughter.
He glanced across the training room. Corinne and Anya stood by the water dispenser, heads bent together in quiet conversation.The young female gestured emphatically, while Corinne’s expression shifted from embarrassed to thoughtful to something that looked almost like hope.
Mikoz made a fussy sound and Anya scooped him up, settling him on her hip with the practiced ease she’d developed over the past few days. She said something to Corinne, then headed for the door, draping her cloak over the infant. They were still trying to keep his presence a secret, although he suspected their efforts were not entirely successful.
“I’m taking Mikoz back to our quarters for a nap,” Anya announced as she passed. “He’s getting cranky and nobody needs to witness that particular meltdown.”
The door slid shut behind her with a soft hiss, leaving him alone with Corinne.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with everything unsaid. She stood by the water dispenser, cup clutched in both hands, eyes fixed on him with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. Her cheeks were still flushed, color high on those soft curves he wanted to trace with his mouth.
Focus.He was a warrior and a commander. He had faced down Vedeckian raiders and navigated political minefields and survived the death of his entire family. He should be able to conduct a simple training session without losing control.
“Shall we continue?” he asked, proud of how steady his voice sounded.
“If you want to.”
“What I want—” He bit off the words before they could escape fully formed. Dangerous ground. “We should practice the escapetechniques until they become instinctive. Muscle memory could save your life.”
She set down her cup and crossed the mat toward him. Her movements had become more confident over the past few days, no longer scared and exhausted.
“All right,” she said quietly. “Show me again.”
He moved behind her, aware of every centimeter of distance between them. His training had taught him to read opponents through the smallest shifts in stance and breathing. Applied to Corinne, that skill became something else entirely—an acute awareness of how she responded to his proximity, the subtle tells that betrayed her attraction.
The slight hitch in her breath when he stepped closer. The way her shoulders tensed and then deliberately relaxed, like she was fighting her own instincts. The pulse point at her throat that beat just a fraction faster.
“I am going to restrain you again,” he said, keeping his voice level. “This time, I want you to execute the full escape sequence without hesitation. Stomp, elbow, drop, twist, run. Do not think about whether you are doing it correctly. Just react.”
“Okay.”
He wrapped his arm around her chest from behind, careful not to hold too tight but firm enough to simulate a real threat. She went rigid in his arms and he felt the tremor that ran through her—fear mixed with something warmer, something that called to every instinct he possessed. Her sweet scent increased and he bit back a groan as his body reacted.
“Now,” he commanded.
She drove her heel down toward his foot. He shifted his weight at the last second, taking the impact on the edge of his boot instead of the vulnerable instep. Good. She’d put real force behind it. Her elbow came back hard into his ribs—not hard enough to hurt but with enough commitment that he approved. She dropped her weight like he’d taught her, throwing off his center of balance.
