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So soft, so fragile, this female. For all her bravado and determination, she was far from indestructible. If he couldn’t prove her innocence, he’d have to hide her from Earth Intelligence and Galactic Intelligence. That meant becoming a wanted man, hunted by his own people. Stenikov was right. That wasn’t any way to live. He couldn’t do that to her.
The air contained a hint of salt. Tears. His horns and insides twisted at the thought of any harm coming to her.
He wished she were his sholani. That would make any decision going forward easy. There’d be no choice. He’d do whatever it took to ensure her safety, despite the repercussions to him or GI7.
“Come, you need rest.” The moment he lifted her into his arms, she curled against him. A swell of pride, relief, and peace filled him. This must be what it felt like to have a sholani.
“I can still walk. I’m not that helpless.” She inhaled and released a shaky breath. “Though I guess I’m pretty pathetic right now.”
“Not pathetic. Recovering.”
Maggie’s breath warmed his skin, making the thought of putting her down harder as he entered the bedroom. He’d hold on to her forever if she allowed it.
“When I became a marshal, it was the proudest day of my life. And now it has ended in disgrace.”
He set her on his bed. “Every end is a beginning. A new path. New opportunities.”
“Very poetic of you. But I need more than platitudes. I need an actionable plan, intel, and a gun.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. My head’s going in circles. I’m so lost right now.”
She didn’t see it. She wasn’t lost, not with him there for her. But she needed something to ground her. He understood that. “I can get you a blaster.”
“You’d trust me with one?”
“Will you shoot me?”
“That depends. Will you call me Magdalena again?” When he stopped to think about it, she slapped his arm. “I was joking. I would never shoot you.”
“Good, because I like the name. It’s as beautiful as you.”
“Wow, no one ever said that before.”
“That your name is beautiful?”
“That I am.” She scooched close to the edge of the bed where he stood and tilted her head back. Sky-blue eyes pulled him in as she ran her hands over the planes of his chest, then under his vest to where his warrior tattoos had been.
He gripped her wrist, stopping her from touching the scars.
“Do they hurt?”
“No.”
“Then let me touch them. Let me know you better.”
They’d learned each other very well the other night. She hadn’t touched his scars then, though. But that hadn’t been Maggie, not really.
She didn’t remember much of that night. Not how he’d made love to her late into the morning and how he’d kissed every inch of her body, treasuring her.
He held both her wrists to keep her from touching him, even though his cocks came to life at the thought of tasting her sweet lips again. “What happened between us the other night was a mistake we can’t afford to repeat,” he said as gently as he could.
She sank into the pillows, but for once she didn’t argue with him.
“I’m sorry, Maggie,” he added, not sure why. He owed her no apologies, just the promise that he’d protect her. He took a pillow from the bed and the extra blankets stored in the bedroom closet and retreated to the living room.
As he settled on the floor, drawing a blanket over him, he heard the muffled cries of a female in his bedroom. Every part of him insisted—demanded—he return to her. Except she wasn’t his female. This affinity toward her was nothing more than an illusion created by a male whose past continued to haunt him, letting him fall for a woman he could never have.
