Chapter 8

Evie

Was insanity contagious? I was starting to think that Aramon’s particular brand of crazy was rubbing off on me. First, I’d curled against his chest, like it was completely normal for me to do so. That it had felt right—safe—had been the reason I’d stayed. I was so damn tired of feeling scared, and he had so much zest for life. Nothing daunted him; nothing seemed to bother him. He was the very definition of rolling with the punches, and I wanted a little of that for myself.

Now I was letting him hold me in his lap, all casual, while his erection pressed against my ass. It was utterly insane to remain where I was and let him get away with this. Evadne would have done much more than share a little banter and a slap against his ear. I’d held back at the last moment because I didn’t actually want to hit him; it had been a reflex from the surprise. But I was beginning to think that I should slap some sense into him, or maybe I needed to slap some sense into myself. I was still sitting in his lap…

I could get up at any time; I knew he’d let me go if I did. Aramon was a lot of things, but I’d quickly learned that if I set my boundaries, he’d come right up to that line but never cross it. He was a little hard-headed about where my boundaries were until I pointed them out, though. If Theronix saw me right now, he’d be furious. But the more I thought about it, the more I stopped caring about what Evadne’s last remaining guard thought.

I was risking my life for this cause, and it was perfectly acceptable for lovers and mated pairs to sit this cozily together in Xurtal culture. We weren’t risking the mission by sitting like this, so he needed to stop worrying. I deserved something for myself, and I really wanted to soak up some of Aramon’s strength and protection.

Ignoring the curious eyes of Aramon’s colleagues was harder than I thought it would be. The Viridara male had only briefly left the small cockpit to warn the Rummicaron in charge of my protective detail. He’d returned shortly after and kept smiling every time our eyes met, as if we were sharing a secret. Maybe I was reading too much into it; maybe he was just happy for his friend. Didn’t they know that once this was over, Evadne would disappear from their lives and leave Aramon in the dust?

Yeah, Evadne would, but I was not Evadne. As Evie, could I stick around after the mission was over? After Xurtal had its treaty and their safety was once again guaranteed? The option felt dazzling once I’d thought of it, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t push it away. It was too tempting, too tantalizing.

Those thoughts had to be pushed to the back of my mind when Aramon expertly brought the small ship down for a landing inside the protective courtyard of the retreat. The pearly white building was set next to a lush oasis with many yellow and pink trees on tall, nearly translucent trunks. A lake of shimmering water lay next to it, and vines had been encouraged to grow over the building’s exterior.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Aramon knew how to expertly fly a ship such as this small, short-range transport. When he landed it, it was with the gentlest of thuds from the landing gear, but then, he’d managed to make this ship do a freaking corkscrew earlier. Already, my decision to involve him in my protection was paying off. If not for him, we’d all be dead right now. If only I had as much faith in his acting abilities as I had in his flying skills.

The sight of a delegation of Ovters filing out of the arched, covered walkway that lined the courtyard was a sign. Time to get to work; nerves fluttered heavily in my belly. Was I going to have to dive straight into negotiations with the present delegates? I felt like a frumpy, rumpled mess, nothing like the princess I was pretending to be. It seemed to me that anyone would immediately see through the ruse; Evadne wouldn’t show up to such important talks in nothing but a plain jumpsuit. Not unless it suited her narrative.

As soon as the shuttle had completed its landing and post-flight checks, I rose from Aramon’s lap. Instantly, the cool air inside the ship provided a stark contrast to my warm thighs and back. My flesh tingled, and when I glanced down, it was to catch Aramon’s eyes firmly locked on my ass. I did not reprimand him for that. Instead, I forced myself to channel Evadne as much as possible and glide out of the cockpit without a backward glance.

Of course, escaping Aramon’s presence was impossible. He was supposed to be at my side every moment we were here—that’s what I’d asked for—and he wasn’t going to let me forget it. Hot on my heels, he caught my elbow as I rounded the row of seats at the center of the shuttle. “Slow down, princess. What’s the hurry?” he murmured, laughter tinting his voice.

I slowed my steps, my head swinging around to catch multiple stares from Aramon’s crewmates. Then my eyes caught sight of Theronix, his arm slung over the shoulder of one mercenary, and a gash decorating his forehead. He looked angry but awake, and when his eyes landed on Aramon, the storm clouds grew worse.

I recalled the moment my supposed fiancé had sent the ship into that corkscrew. The Viridara male, Tass, had grabbed me around the waist and pinned me against the back of the seats. Nobody warned Theronix about what was going to happen, and he’d flown across the seating area and banged his head. While Tass had kept me safely braced with his arms, Theronix had been left to fend for himself, and he’d failed. Tass’s arms had kept me pinned through the entire, crazy spiral. Honestly, it had felt like far too many arms to count holding me tight.

When the Xurtal male caught up to us, he said nothing about the way Aramon had slipped his hand around my middle. He didn’t mention the assassination attempt or his head wound either, but I felt unable to let that slip. “Theronix, please let a medic check that as soon as possible. You are still healing.” I tried to inject concern into my tone the way Evadne would in this instance, but it was clear he did not want to hear it. His frown only deepened; I’d offended him. I understood that. Evadne’s guards took great pride in their skills, and he was not in good shape. He wasn’t upholding his good name.

When he passed a mercenary who was Xurtal, like him, he ducked his head and refused to meet anyone’s eyes. Xurtal males were always prideful, and failing in front of his own kind was doubly painful. I recalled many a late night gossiping about such incidents with Evadne. Males in court would posture and brag, and anyone who didn’t measure up was laughed out of the royal tents.

By the time Aramon escorted me down the gangplank into the courtyard, my last remaining guard had gotten over his snit, or at least managed to hide it. He greeted the Ovter head of security in my stead, bowing politely before rushing to apprise them of the attack. He kept his voice low, not allowing me to overhear what was being said, but Jaxin butted in without hesitation. I felt a sense of relief at seeing that, and I couldn’t explain why I felt safer knowing that one of Aramon’s friends was part of that conversation.

Soon, Aramon and I were rushed into the cool interior of the building and out of the desert heat. One Ovter official led the way, dressed smartly in a white uniform, their preferred color of dress. “My deepest apologies, Your Highness. This is most irregular. We will perform a full security sweep; your safety is of the utmost importance to Ov’Korad.”

We were led to quarters in the south wing of the building, and then there was a whirlwind of activity as mercenaries tromped through the rooms for security sweeps. I saw them wield several scanners as they searched for bugs or cameras. They checked every nook and cranny, then stationed men on the balconies and outside my doors.

At least two Ovter security guards accompanied them on this task, waving their own devices around. I watched them carefully, wondering if they were doing their job or playing interference. The devices they wielded looked genuine; I’d seen Evadne’s guard use them at every visit she’d made. But that kind of protection was not my strong suit—hand-to-hand combat, yes, I knew about that. The reality was, I was the protective measure, simply by being there. I never had to consider these kinds of dangerous details before, and it all came down to who to trust: the males the Xurtal Kingdom was paying, Ovt security, with a vested political stake, or Theronix

My eyes darted to the Xurtal guard, who had stationed himself just inside the door to the sitting room. He was leaning with his back against the wall in a subtle manner, propping himself up without really seeming to. The gash on his forehead had yet to be checked, and I was worried he might topple over if he didn’t sit down soon. There was an unhealthy, silvery sheen that edged the markings on his arms. I knew what that meant: he was in a lot of pain.

I was about to open my mouth to say something about it—to hell with his pride—but one of the Ovt security guards passed right in front of me. Aramon shifted beside me, his body partially blocking the male from getting closer. Something tingled along my skin when all the green-freckled Ovter did was wave his device around. It wasn’t the same kind of tingle that I had gotten used to since I’d activated my illusion device that morning. This was different, sharper. And then it went away.

The Ovter moved on, and I locked eyes again with Theronix. His suddenly went wide, and he started shaking his head adamantly in warning. I didn’t know what it meant, just that he looked extremely worried all of a sudden. He lurched forward, his footsteps unsteady as he started plodding my way. His shoulder collided with a mercenary focused on a tall, elegant wardrobe against the wall.

The mercenary lifted his head. It was the Viridara male, but Theronix continued to collapse. At the last moment, he raised his hand and tapped his face, eyes still locked with mine. Then he passed out, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Several mercenaries, including Tass, reached out to catch him, their voices raised as they exclaimed in surprise.

My stomach went cold, and though I would have liked to race to the guard’s aid, I couldn’t. Aramon started to move around me, surprising me when it appeared he was going to assist Theronix too. I did not think there was any love lost between them, but it seemed Aramon’s instinct was to help. I caught him by the lapels of his long, flowing robe and threw myself against his chest before he could slip from my grasp. Burrowing my face against his skin was a shock to my senses, one that I should not enjoy, considering how dire the situation was.

He smelled so good—warm, musky, with a hint of something salty, like the ocean. His flesh was firm, but his skin was surprisingly soft and smooth. I had meant to hide, to burrow against him so no one could see what Theronix had: the failing of my illusion device. I couldn’t be sure, but it was likely the Ovter who had accidentally caused it to glitch. Hiding turned into seeking comfort for the sake of comfort as soon as Aramon closed his arms around me and held me tight.

“What’s wrong, my love?” he murmured against my hair. “Don’t tell me Theronix’s collapse is what disturbs you. I don’t believe it.” He rumbled a husky chuckle into the crown of my head, his nose buried in my hair. I didn’t know how to answer him, but I knew the truth was about to come out, and I wasn’t ready. Not by a long shot.

“It’s not Theronix,” I agreed quietly. “Please just hold me. Don’t let go.” He swore he wouldn’t in a fervent whisper, and tension eased from my shoulders, but only a little. I slipped my hands from his lapels to glide them beneath his robe and over the sides of his ribs. His chest shook lightly, but he said nothing, and I wondered if I’d just discovered that he was ticklish. Now my hands were as hidden as my face, and if everyone would leave, my secret would be safe. Well, as safe as it could be, entrusted to Aramon. There was going to be no way he wouldn’t find out.

“Then what?” Aramon asked, and the hint of concern I could hear in his voice made me mutter something silly about a wardrobe malfunction against his pecs. He was quiet, his body freezing against mine as he processed that, and then he laughed. “Seriously, princess? Your head guard collapses, and you’re worried about a crooked button?” But he raised his voice and addressed everyone around us with firm, cool authority that didn’t seem quite right coming from him. “Everyone out. Theronix needs more aid than a simple bandage. If our chambers are secured, my fiancée and I need privacy. Now!”

I did not witness it, but I could hear the quick shuffling of feet as male after male left the fancy apartment. The door thudded loudly as it shut, and then silence ruled. Still, I did not lift my head.