Hunt checked in with his office and spoke with Deputy Westin. The search for Relda’s attackers had stalled. “You’re fully healed from your injuries?”
“Yes, sir,” the deputy said over the comm screen. “I’m sorry I let them get the drop on me?—”
“Enough. You’re alive, count yourself lucky. Dale, I want you to send someone over to run a check of all the starships at the spaceport. We’re looking for an expensive ship.”
“You got it, boss.”
“I’m keeping Ms. Dela-Cruz secure. And I’ll be keeping her location classified. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
By the time Hunt ended the call, tiredness was tugging on him. He was still covered in blood and all the cuts, while shallow, stung like a bitch. He needed some time with a medscope and sleep. But first…
He moved to the security panel on the wall. It was the one thing he did have added to his apartment when he moved in. Too often, he’d had to doze sitting up on some battlefield or while on a mission to some hostile, alien planet. He’d had to sleep lightly, ready to come awake fighting. Now, in order to sleep well, he had to know he was locked up tight and no one could get to him. He touched the panel, arming the alarms for the doors and windows. The front door was made of reinforced titanium and would need military-grade explosives to break it down.
Nothing could get in without him being wakened first.
He took a quick shower and then switched on the slim, metal medscope wand. It bathed his naked body in a blue light and the cuts knitted instantly. After pulling on some trousers, he wandered back into the bedroom.
Through the doorway, he saw his couch—far too short for a man with his frame. Then he glanced back at the big bed, and at Relda curled up on her side.
It didn’t take much to convince him. He lay down beside her, watching her face. Her tough façade was missing, and she looked softer, more vulnerable in her sleep. He knew her well enough now to know she wouldn’t like that. He reached out and rubbed one of her curls between his fingertips.
He’d lost everything he’d cared about as a young boy. Then, as a man, he’d forged a place in the Special Forces, only to losetoo much there as well. Most days he just felt tired and used up…but this woman burned hot, and ignited something inside him.
He had his suspicions on what she was. She possessed a power he knew should scare him.
But all he wanted to do was pull her close and keep her safe.
So he did. He curled around her body, liked that she fit perfectly in his arms. “No one’s getting to you, beautiful. They have to get through me first.”
Relda’s eyes popped open.Her entire body was vibrating with energy. It rushed through her veins, filling her to bursting.
It was always like this after using her abilities. She passed out, then woke like she’d taken enough stims to power a VelocityBall team…for a month.
She took a deep breath, her eyes adjusting to the moonlit room. Then the scent hit her. Man—soap and musk.Hunt.
She turned her head and saw him lying asleep beside her on the big bed.
Stars, the man was gorgeous. She let herself drink him in. There was so much of Hunt Calder to appreciate.
He was shirtless, leaving his heavily-muscled chest bare to her gaze. Bronze skin was marked here and there by scars and had a light covering of dark hair. One arm was thrown above his head, and she traced the thick muscles with her eyes. She wondered what his skin would taste like if she ran her tongue over it.
His eyes were closed, so she could study that ruggedly masculine face without the hard intensity of his eyes distracting her.
Hard slashes of cheekbones gave way to a nose that looked like it had been broken once or twice. She wondered why he’d never had it fixed, then she shook her head. Hunt wasn’t the kind of man to go spending e-creds on making himself pretty.
He was strength in so many different ways. Solid, trustworthy, and honorable.
Another frisson of energy sizzled through her, making her shift against the cool sheets. But looking at Hunt had that overflow energy coalescing deeper in her body, driving between her legs, making her wet with need.
She had to touch him.
Reaching out, she brushed at his short hair. She saw a few silver strands were sneaking in at his temples, and again, she knew he wouldn’t do anything to hide them. And he shouldn’t, they suited him.
She traced the strong line of his jaw, liking the scrape of the scruff there. He was always clean shaven, but she liked him like this, a little disreputable looking. She ran a nail down his strong throat.
A hand closed over hers.
