Chapter 2

2

T he shuttle’s cockpit reeked of her. Rhade’s nostrils flared, drinking in General Allen’s scent—flowers and something uniquely human that made his blood sing. Six months of catching traces of it in the academy hallways hadn’t prepared him for having her this close, this concentrated.

“Status report, Sub-commander?” That crisp tone could cut a diamond.

“Two minutes to landing, General.” He kept his voice steady even as she leaned forward to study the approaching lights of the diplomatic complex, the movement exposing the elegant line of her neck. Her upswept hair revealed skin that practically begged for his mark.

Draanth, that dress.

The deep blue silk clung to curves her uniform usually concealed. He’d nearly swallowed his tongue when she’d walked toward him across the hangar. Now, the whisper of fabric against leather sent fresh waves of her scent through the cabin, and his fingers tightened on the controls.

As he began the landing sequence, the city sprawled below them like a carpet of stars. Perfect precision—he was still a starfighter after all, manufactured academic struggles be damned. Her slight nod of approval shouldn’t please him as much as it did.

“Excellent landing, Commander.”

She reached for her restraints, and his jaw clenched against the sudden surge of need. The need to push her hands aside, to tend to her himself, burned through him.

“Thank you, General.” He moved quickly to assist her, offering his arm as she rose. The height difference hit him like a punch to the gut—the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Something primitive in him reveled in that. He was bigger, stronger. Built to shield and protect her.

Claim her.

Her fingers rested on his forearm with calm professionalism, but he felt the warmth of her skin through his flight suit. Their steps matched like they’d walked together a thousand times before. The evening air carried winter’s bite, and when she shivered, he automatically adjusted their path to block the wind.

Surprise flickered across her features before that professional mask slammed back into place. “Thank you, Sub-commander, but I can manage from here.” She withdrew her hand. “Return to the shuttle. Standard security protocols.”

The loss of contact was like a physical wound. “Of course, General.”

She walked away, the blue silk catching landing pad lights. Her spine was military-straight, but there was an underlying grace that made his hands itch. Would that rigid control extend to every aspect of her life? Or would she surrender... to him?

The diplomatic center’s doors spilled warm light across the pad as Murphy stepped out. The human President’s formal attire did nothing to disguise the predatory way he moved.

“General Allen.” Murphy extended his hand with practiced ease. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“Mr. President.” Her voice carried that same military precision, but there was a softness to it that set Rhade’s teeth on edge.

“Evelyn, please. We’ve known each other far too long for such formality.”

Rhade’s enhanced hearing caught the genuine warmth in their exchange, the easy familiarity of long acquaintance. His fingers curled into fists, leather creaking. Every instinct screamed to step between them, to establish dominance. Murphy’s expensive cologne mixed unpleasantly with shuttle fuel and ozone from the landing pad’s force field.

There was something in how Murphy carried himself—an echo of Latharian grace that spoke to ancient bloodlines. The rumors about certain humans carrying more Latharian DNA were suddenly more credible.

“Shall we?”

Murphy guided Evelyn inside, and Rhade forced himself to turn away. Six hours before he needed to fly her back. Six hours to plan his next move, to make her see him as more than just another officer under her command.

He returned to the shuttle, his steps measured despite the violence building under his skin. The cockpit still held traces of her scent, and he inhaled deeply, letting it fuel the fire in his blood.

Six months of careful planning. Six months of watching her, learning her habits. He’d turned down countless offers from younger human females at the academy. They were girls playing at being warriors. Evelyn was a warrior born, as much a match for him as any Latharian female would have been.

More of a match . The females of his species had been sweet and delicate, lacking that element of command that radiated from Evelyn’s very being. None of them could silence a room with just a raised eyebrow or inspire absolute loyalty with nothing more than quiet competence.

The diplomatic center’s windows glowed warmly in the gathering darkness. Was she dancing? The thought of another male’s hands on her waist made his teeth grind. He channeled his frustration into routine security checks.

He’d learned patience in his years of service, learned to wait for the perfect moment to strike. Evelyn was worth pursuing with careful strategy rather than brute force. He would make her see him as more than just another officer. Make her understand that he could match her strength for strength, challenge her in ways these human males never could.

The night stretched ahead, full of possibilities and frustrations. Rhade settled into his watch, already working through scenarios and strategies. He would have her—not just in his bed, but in every aspect of his life. It was only a matter of time and patience.

And if there was one thing Latharian warriors excelled at, it was waiting for the perfect moment to strike.