Prologue

PROLOGUE

A soft sigh escaped Mavrel’s lips. He sat back in the springy, wheeled, human-made chair and stared at the human mercenaries.

Fools.

One of them had his gun pointed directly at Mavrel’s head.

They were decked out in full combat gear, unwieldy garments of coarse, inelegant fabrics with bulky straps and holsters.

Their weapons were primitive by galactic standards: low-energy, slow, inaccurate at anything but close range.

Apparently, he was supposed to be a hostage here.

He was supposed to be the lynchpin that convinced his boss, former High Commander Jerik Garul, to yield to that human idiot upstairs, some self-important human called Garner who thought he could weasel his way into creating leverage against them.

Didn’t the human know anything?

Even if they were inside Garner’s building, a glass, cement, and metal monstrosity in a prosperous neighborhood of Earth, it didn’t mean he had any sort of home advantage.

If Jerik gave the orders, they could end this in an instant.

But his boss wanted to impress his future mate, not terrify her.

So for now, they were doing things the inconvenient way.

Mavrel didn’t mind. It was for a good cause. He respected Jerik and wanted him to find his mate.

Besides, he’d had the unexpected pleasure of encountering a rather pleasing individual.

Bea.

Here she was now, entering the meeting room through the sliding glass doors, carrying a tray laden with glasses of water and human food wrapped in small packages.

He watched in fascination as she walked across the room, betraying not even a hint of fear before the mercenaries, who had stormed into the meeting room without any warning.

Much to his relief, she’d been just as surprised as he was, meaning she wasn’t a party to any of this.

Mavrel couldn’t help but stare as she set the tray on the long table. She wore a sleek suit that was a hint darker than white, the garment shaped to accentuate every curve of her body. Her dark hair was immaculately arranged, slicked over her scalp, and secured tightly at the back, blossoming into a profusion of intricately defined coils.

He had to admit, she was exquisite.

“Your refreshments, as requested,” she said calmly to the mercenaries in an impressively professional tone.

“Thanks,” the lead merc said coldly. She was a hard-faced, blue-eyed woman who refused to listen to a single thing he or Bea had to say.

As Bea turned away, he met her gaze.

She had the audacity to actually wink at him.

A strange feeling stirred inside Mavrel—a sensation he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

She walked back toward the doors, intentionally veering a little so she was closer to him. “I’m sorry, Mavrel. They wouldn’t allow me to bring anything for you.”

“Do not talk to the hostage,” the merc woman snapped, moving her aim slightly so her gun was trained on Bea for just a fraction of a heartbeat.

That alone was enough to quietly infuriate Mavrel.

How dare she?

If Jerik hadn’t ordered him to stay put and keep the peace, he would have dealt with them by now.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” he murmured as she passed, gracing the air with a hint of her intoxicating floral-and-musk scent. “This will be over soon, and all will be well.”

“Quiet,” the merc snapped. Now, she was really testing Mavrel’s patience. “And you. Admin woman. Get the fuck out.”

Bea gave Mavrel a conspiratorial look.

Her lips quirked.

She rolled her eyes.

The mercs couldn’t see. Her back was to them, after all.

A silent communication passed through them—as if to say, this is tiresome.

He liked that.

As she walked away, he wanted to go after her, to reassure her that everything would be fine. Because no matter how confident she appeared on the outside, he could sense a hint of fear in the faint trembling of her hands and the change in her scent.

Don’t worry. I won’t let them harm you.

After she was gone, the glass doors closing behind her, Mavrel calmly looked at his human enemies.

“You do anything to harm her, ” he said slowly, in Kordolian, “and I swear on Kaiin I will make sure you all suffer a slow and painful death. ”

“Fuckin’ space-elf. What the hell are you going on about?”

You have no idea.

Mavrel chuckled softly.

They had no idea, did they?

Jerik would be here soon—once he’d secured his mate.

And this would all be quickly resolved, whether Garner and his lackeys liked it or not.