“That’s a risk,” he says.
“So is stopping,” I reply.
His grip tightens just enough to define the boundary, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me exactly where I am and what this looks like from the outside.
“Everyone on this ship needs to understand what you are,” he says.
“I’m aware.”
“This makes it clear.”
I tilt my head slightly, just enough to feel the shift of his grip. “Does it?” I ask, letting the question carry more weight than the words themselves.
“You disagree?”
“I think it tells them what you want them to see,” I say.
“And what do you want them to see?”
I meet his gaze without hesitation. “That I choose who I belong to…and who I don’t.”
Something changes then, subtle but undeniable, and I feel it in the way his hold adjusts, not loosening, but shifting, like the meaning behind it has changed even if the action hasn’t.
“That’s not how they’ll read it,” he says. “They will see the absence of a collar as proof you are unclaimed. There will be battles, blood, chaos, as they all fight for the right to take you. But make no mistake. One of them will.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, hating myself for the thrill that shoots through me. I guess on some level, I’m the type of woman who likes the idea of men fighting to the death just for the right to tame me.
But just because I like the idea doesn’t mean I’m prepared for the reality of it. I choose my next words carefully as he locks gazes with me. Those damn scarlet eyes should be terrifying, and they are. Yet they blaze with the warmth of a hearth stoked high in the middle of winter.
“I’m not talking to them,” I reply.
The space between us disappears in increments after that, neither of us rushing it, each movement answering the last until there’s nothing left to negotiate. He steps closer, and I don’t step back, and that becomes the moment where tension turns into something else entirely.
His hand tightens again, drawing me closer, and the shift in proximity sharpens everything, the heat of him, the sound of his breathing, the awareness of exactly how close we are. My own breath changes in response, not uneven, but deeper, more deliberate, like my body is adjusting to something my mind hasn’t fully categorized yet.
“You understand that you are mine, and mine alone?” he asks.
My voice sounds brittle when I speak. “Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I am for you, Captain Tyrok,” I reply, using the traditional, oft rehearsed Companion greeting.
He chuckles.
“You retreat to the familiar, because you are afraid,” he growls. “Not of me, no. But of what you think it means about you if you surrender yourself to me fully.”
“What do you want me to say?” I snap, my pulse thudding in my ears. I am keenly aware of him as a man, now. His scent, like gunpowder musk, envelops me. Muscles ripple beneath his jet black skin with every heavy breath he takes. It’s like a high tension wire about to snap.
“Nothing.” His voice is a velvet growl. He releases the grip on my collar and caresses my cheek. The unexpectedly tender touch is what nearly breaks me. Suddenly, I know he won’t hurt me…at least, not in ways I don’t want him to. “Not with words. Your body speaks truth of the highest purity.”
My mouth falls open. His thumb brushes my lower lip as he leans in closer. A tingle cascades from my clit all the way through my body.
Tyrok crushes my mouth with a fierce kiss. My eyes widen before slowly closing. God help me, he tastesgood. Wicked and sweet like barbed wire glazed with rock candy. His hand slides around behind my head, clawed fingers tangling in my hair. He holds me firmly in place, his grip tightening. Not that I want to get away, no matter how much my higher mammalian brain tells me that’s what I should want.
My hands unball from fists and plant themselves on his chest as of their own volition. I’ve wanted to touch him so bad, and I haven’t even been aware of it until this moment. His skin is warm, very warm, and not as rough as it looks. I prick my finger on the crown of spurs jutting from his sternum but I don’t care.
His tongue explores my mouth, claiming the new territory and stealing away my breath. I moan into his mouth, hands sliding down his chest, fingers enthralled by the hard knots of muscle I find there.
