“You are in danger. Here, you will be safe.”

Her savior walked out. The door closed behind him, sealing Laura into his fortress.

“Wait! Where are you going?” She pounded on the stone door. “You can’t keep me here. The hospital is expecting me back at work. I still have half a shift!”

In the eerie silence of the crackling fire, alone and hidden in the cliff of a glacier, she had to face the terrifying truth.

The dragon had carried her to his lair.

And now she was his prisoner.

Four days earlier…

Laura ran into a wall of male.

She’d been crumpling her granola bar wrapper into her scrubs pocket and racing through the busy patient waiting room of the downtown Portland emergency department. She never even saw what she’d rammed into—except it was a hard, masculine chest, and her full force didn’t move it a millimeter.

“Excuse me!” She stumbled back. “I’m so sorry.”

Two bulging arms steadied her. Giant palms spanned her elbows.

She looked up—and up and up and up—into the face of the male who had caught her.

Her mouth went dry.

His face told a story. Not handsome, he had been ravaged by disaster.

Within the scarred wreckage, steely blue eyes pierced her like twin blades. They were clear and capable, like those of an ambulance driver or police officer fresh on his shift, ready to deal with anything.

Capability, in her line of work, was the most seductive.

He released her because she had regained her balance, and she was sorry again—this time, to be out of his deliciously masculine arms.

“You work here.” His voice was quiet, rough as gravel, but threaded with steel, and his gaze flicked to the badge clipped to the waist of her scrubs. “Take me to your medkits.”

She blinked. The order echoed in her brain.

Medkit wasn’t a common term in the ER; it was a sci-fi term from TV. Did he mean…

Wait, no, he was asking for a sci-fi medkit, and in fact, this hospital did have three of them because Saint General Restoration was the only hospital in all of Oregon treating dragon shifter aliens.

Which meant the huge, scarred, capable male in front of her wasn’t human. Or, he wasn’t entirely human.

Her ordinary night—no codes yet, the possible heart patient had turned out to be anxiety, and the out-of-control diabetic’s sugar was coming down—tilted into the surreal.

“Just a moment.” She moved around him, through the rest of the crowded waiting room, to the front desk.

Both clerks were assessing new patients for triage, and the charge nurse was busy delegating assignments.

Laura swooped around the counter and cleared her throat. “Sabrina.”

The charge nurse looked up in irritation. She was trying to fit fifty people into ten rooms, and this was the slowest part of the night. They were anticipating a rush. “What?”

Laura pointed over her shoulder. “He needs to see the medkits.”

Sabrina’s eyes went unfocused.

The clerks also paused.

No patient frothed at the mouth or complained of chest pains at this exact moment, so they could all take the second to be shocked.

Sabrina’s eyes cleared. “He have a name?”

“Oh, I—”

“Kyan,” the male said softly behind Laura.

He was closer than she’d realized. Moving swiftly and silently despite his large size.

Smooth. Capable. In control.

A little shiver of awareness tingled through her.

The charge nurse brought up a list on her computer screen. “Kyanite Onyx?”

“Yes.”

Like the rock. The mineral. How very dragon alien-y.

“Head of security for the Onyx Corporation?” Sabrina continued.

He nodded.

“One moment.” She dialed an outside line to the director of the hospital, at home in the middle of the night, and conveyed the request, speaking concisely in respectful tones.

Laura’s excitement increased a notch.

“I understand.” Sabrina hung up, stared at the male, then at Laura, and apparently decided that since Laura had already made first contact, she should continue. “You know where they are.”

She did, but she was mid-shift. “I’ve got tests coming back, and Dr. Richard said I’m not turning my rooms fast—”

“I’ll assign another tech.” Sabrina looked over the male and swallowed. “Check in when you get back.”

Her tone almost suggested if you get back.

The clerks picked up their assessments again.

Laura led Kyan down the hall, away from the moan of the waiting room. She swiped her badge over the elevator controls to activate them and pressed the call button. A moment later, the doors whooshed open. They entered.

The silent male filled the small space like a steel tank. A SWAT captain grown to world-saving size, or the superhero Hulk of legend.

She swept her badge across the inside controls so the floor buttons would activate, then pressed the top floor. The doors closed, and they began to move. Her patients—well, her preceptor’s patients—were left far behind.

In the small space, Kyan’s masculine scent teased her nostrils. Leather, body armor, and his own spice.

Laura breathed deeply, trying not to lean in. There were a lot of smells in the hospital, and most of them weren’t nice.

She visually traced the line of muscle at his neck. There was so much. A male in the tip-top peak of health. He put ripped bodybuilders to shame. The dark T-shirt and collar of his trench coat interrupted the perfect corded strength—

His blue eyes pierced her. “You’re staring.”

“Oh, um…” Yes, she absolutely had been. And drooling, but he didn’t need to know. “You look different from what I expected.”

“Different?”

“You are a dragon, right?”

He held up one massive hand. Iridescent blue scales shimmered beneath his human skin. They were the same piercing color as his eyes.

Wow.

He lowered his hand. “Better?”

That was amazing! Can you just do that? All over your body? was what she wanted to ask, but instead, she tried to match his level of nonchalance. “I guess that’s closer.”

His dark brows twitched into the ghost of a frown.

Oh no.

She rushed to explain herself. “I thought you’d look dragon-y. But you look ordinary.”

“Ordinary,” he repeated.

“You know. Like anybody else. Normal.”

The elevator slowed, and the doors dinged open. She strode onto the private wing.

“I look normal,” he repeated, and cut in front of her.

His head swiveled right and left, taking in the long hallway, whisper-soft carpet, and subdued lighting like a secret service officer securing the floor.

How protective. Even on the top floor of the hospital, he was taking care of her, watching for danger.

And she’d just called him “ordinary” and “normal” when it was clear he had military skills no ordinary, normal guy had. No wonder he’d reacted.

She hurried to say, “I hope that’s not an insult.”

“Insult,” he repeated, parroting her word again with a new nuance, and then stopped abruptly. “Laura.”

She jolted. Her name on his commanding lips made her heart thump double-time, pumping hot blood to her heating face.

She was so flustered, she stood on her tiptoes to avoid running into his broad back. Twice in one night would be…well, it would be yummy. And lovely. And also hard to explain.

He whirled to face her, his trench coat flying. The move highlighted muscle bunching in his iron-hard thighs, flexing in his tapered sixty-pack, and rippling across his pectorals.

Her mouth watered.

She’d love to peel off his black tactical shirt and see the real muscle instead of shadowy hints. The heart-pounding sensation descended from her chest to her feminine regions, and she came awake as a woman.

He looked down on her imperiously. “Did you get a good look?”

“Oh.” Yikes, he’d caught her again. She put her hand up in surrender. “I didn’t mean—it’s because you’re like a celebrity and I couldn’t help myself. You are actually very normal and ordinary, and I’ll only keep my eyes on the appropriate areas from now on.”

“Appropriate? No.” He shook his head as though encountering a strange sound. Reaching out, he grasped her hand. “Did you get a good look at my face?”

Hadn’t she?

His gaze bore into her like two blue gemstone lasers, melting her body and adding fire. His spicy scent flooded her nostrils, hitting her veins like the first warning signs of a new addiction.

She licked her suddenly dry lips.

His mouth was much more approachable only a few inches from hers.

“Do I look ordinary?” he demanded.

She tore her gaze from his commanding mouth. Firm jaw, high cheekbones, stern forehead. He was used to being obeyed.

Atop these features lay his scars.

His nose had been broken multiple times, and the skin stretched and twisted in rubbery paths as if he’d once been held down and scrubbed with thorns.

But although his scars dominated at first glance, they faded from her consciousness and she was intimately aware of everything else—his scent, his piercing eyes, and the dynamic energy that was Kyan.

His visage was fringed by brown hair tempered with lighter sandy threads.

Her fingers twitched to stroke them.

“Do I?”

Her mouth was too dry to form words. She shook her head.

No, he did not look ordinary.

He looked like a god of war incarnate. A male who had seen the blackest pits of hell and emerged scathed but triumphant.

And he held her hand. His broad thumb and powerful digits held her safe.

She wanted to melt into him, rub her pearled nipples against his hard chest, and taste the spice that teased her nose.

Heat soaked her lower regions.

His nostrils flared. A predator scenting his prey.

She ought to be afraid. After all, she was still a virgin. The last man she’d tried to trust with her body had turned into a real monster after she’d opened her bedroom door.

But she’d worked very hard to become the optimistic, hopeful, passionate woman still anticipating her dreamy first time.

Suddenly, maybe, it seemed like all her therapy had worked.

Kyan overflowed with patience, self-denial, control—and honesty. She did not fear him.

Maybe, just maybe, she could let a male—let Kyan—in to unleash her dreams.

He released her, stepped back to a respectable distance, and whirled away.

She sucked in a deep breath. Arousal tingled all over her body, which was not something she ever felt in her ciel-blue scrubs.

The sensation was a little terrifying, a lot exhilarating, and most of all, reassuring. This was progress. This was recovery. She was almost whole.

He reached the room and tried the door. The handle didn’t move.

She caught up with him and swiped her badge. The lock changed from red to green, and the latch clicked.

She’d been shown this room on her welcome tour of the hospital six months earlier when she’d been assigned her final round of clinicals. Laura flicked on the lights of the lush “Dragon” suite.

It was outfitted like all the other rooms on this top-level VIP floor. The shiniest bed with the highest thread-count hospital sheets, polished oak tables, gold brocade-upholstered chairs, and a giant glass vase filled with mounds of fresh roses, chrysanthemums, and spider orchids.

Kyan strode to a wall cabinet, pulled down a large metal case, and opened it. The contents gleamed. Slender implements mixed with short, fat tools. The foreign trays resembled an automobile toolbox more than a first aid kit.

He sorted the devices as though checking off a list in his mind.

Thinking about it, calling him ordinary probably had been an insult. Maybe he’d gotten his wounds while serving his Dragon Empire. Like a Purple Heart. Or maybe dragons scarred themselves on purpose. She didn’t know much about their culture. Her odds of meeting a rock star or Oscar-winning actor were much higher than her odds of meeting one of the few hundred dragons living on Earth.

But now she had met one. He’d called so much attention to his scars, he must want to talk about them.

“What’s the story?” she asked. “What happened?”

He closed the case. His frown deepened.

Or maybe he didn’t want to talk. That was fine too. She’d only thought—

“Someone committed great harm using a stolen medkit.”

Huh? Oh. That was why he was here. “You’re checking that ours weren’t stolen.”

He opened the second case and silently sorted through the implements.

Hospitals did fight inventory loss. Drugs were the obvious black market good, but some thefts were accidental. Laura herself had carried out pockets full of syringes, bandages, cold packs, and other items she’d grabbed for patients and forgotten to return. Someone could probably perform minor surgery in the back seat of her sedan with all the things she’d accidentally stolen in the last six months.

It would be harder to make off with a large glowing alien case. Kyan’s frown only deepened the more implements he examined.

“Was someone hurt?” she asked.

“He reached medical facilities in time.”

In time? Yikes. “I hope it wasn’t too bad.”

Kyan pulled a small device from inside his trench coat. Thin and rectangular, like a phone, it was no brand she recognized.

A holographic image of a man with a badly charred chest—fourth degree burns?—filled the screen.

She sucked in a breath. Burns were always breathtaking, and not in a good way. “So extensive. And he survived?”

“A dragon would not succumb without a fight.”

So, the man on the screen was a dragon like Kyan, and he’d lived through what would kill most humans. Dragon alien medical technology must be so advanced.

It required minerals and resources Earth didn’t possess, which was one reason their small planet on the farthest edge of the Dragon Empire had been ignored for centuries.

Only five years ago, dragons had landed their spaceships on the White House front lawn, shattering the belief humans were alone in the universe. The dragons were like a massively advanced colonial group barging into an isolated, primitive jungle village. But, unlike colonists of Earth’s darker past, they came for the sole purpose of exporting “colorful human clothes” back to the rest of the Empire. Not for conquest.

Earth didn’t have anything they wanted to conquer, honestly.

And, although they were each multibillionaires in comparison to a regular person, not too many dragons were interested in “roughing it” on Earth. Nothing had changed much since the first arrival.

Until now.

Kyan put away his device and closed the second medkit. “The perpetrator received the medkit implements through the mail. I must locate the source before additional parts cause more damage.”

“Got it.” Her heart ached for his injured friend. “I hope your patient has an easy recovery.”

“He will heal in a few days.”

Days? “His chest cavity was burned open!”

“He received proper care.” Kyan returned the second kit to the cabinet. “Pyro’s injury will heal quickly with little scarring.”

They’d cycled back to another opening for her to ask about his scars and why he’d wanted her to stare at them. She tried again. “Are scars attractive to dragons?”

“Attractive?” He snorted. “No.”

“Then why…”

Why hadn’t he used his superior no-scarring medical technology on his face?

He answered her unspoken question while staring at the open cabinet with a frown. “It is easier to heal new injuries than old. Mine are very, very old.”

“Why weren’t they healed when they were new?”

His rough voice dropped to a murmur she almost missed. “There is great evil in the universe.”

She held her breath.

Without taking his eyes off the cabinet, he spoke quietly. “Homes for orphaned dragonlets have limited resources. One ‘prank’ is a waste to heal. The next day, another ‘prank’ is also a waste. And then, eventually, there are so many ‘pranks’ that healing anything is a waste.”

“By ‘prank’ you mean the other residents of the home bullied you?”

“No. Others in my city objected to my face. They attempted to burn it off.”

Oh God. “And the adults didn’t stop it? They said healing you was a waste?”

“A low-caste dragon has no need for an unblemished appearance. He will never catch the attention of a female—unless her attention is disgust.”

Her eyes watered.

Since taking up clinical rotations, Laura was around when they broke tragic diagnoses to lovely people every night. And she’d gotten pretty good at burying her real feelings beneath the professional mask her patients needed—the mask that focused on symptoms and solutions and being a professional rock in a sudden, horrible storm.

But she wasn’t treating Kyan, and she hadn’t expected a story so sad. Imagining a cute little boy all alone in the world hurt and ignored by the adults who were supposed to care for him made her want to go into the past and hug him close, rock him, and tell him it would all be okay.

A lump formed in her throat, and her eyes watered so hard, she had to sniff furiously.

His gaze whipped to her in confusion. “Are you injured?”

“Not physically.” She scrubbed her cheeks. “Just…wishing I could…kiss it and make it better.”

“Kiss it?”

“It’s a…a childhood thing.” She waved her hand, sniffing. “Kids stub a toe, and their parents can kiss it and make it better.”

That was clearly something he’d never experienced. His parents had, for whatever reasons, failed to be there for him, and the orphan care adults had obviously had hearts made of stone—if they’d had hearts at all.

“I wish I could kiss them and make them better.”

“My dragon form is worse.”

Oh. Right, he had a whole other form. She regained her control. “Can I see?”

“No.” His jaw flexed. He finally closed the cabinet. “The scars no longer hurt.”

But actually, she thought maybe they still did. Otherwise, why would he draw her attention to them right after she tried to tell him he looked normal?

“You were so little and helpless.”

“I was never small.” He opened and closed the rest of the room’s cabinets, searching for the third medkit. “They targeted me because I was large. My soft attitude prolonged the attacks.” He looked at her sideways. “I hardened.”

He must have. Because now, he was as hard as a diamond. A fully capable head of security who had seen the evil in the world and fought to protect innocents.

He closed the final cabinet with a decisive click. “Where is the third medkit?”

Uh-oh.

They searched the floor, all the storage cabinets, and then they returned to the main floor and she ran the problem past Sabrina.

“Can this wait?” Sabrina clenched her pen and clearly wanted Laura back on duty. “The day shift will know where to find it.”

Or it would be another charge nurse’s problem.

“Someone attempted murder with a stolen medkit,” Laura explained. “Fourth degree burns into the chest cavity. One of ours is missing. It doesn’t look good.”

Sabrina swore under her breath and picked up the phone. Another hushed call to the director later, she motioned for Laura to give Kyan access to any part of the hospital he wanted. “The ambulance bay. Helicopter pad. Basement storage. Anywhere.”

They searched.

Laura hoped her workplace wasn’t at fault for the injuries, and she also used the time to try to think of something helpful to say. Something that wasn’t, Can I give you a hug? Or, the more adult version, Can I kiss you even though it’s too late to make it all better?

Kissing would make her feel better. Too much better in places that craved but didn’t have much experience with a man’s touch.

Kyan’s touch would be good.

Every time they entered a new hall, Kyan strode through the doorway first, his head pivoting and his trench coat flaring as he cased the space. The control in his movements held the grace of a dancer, but any performance would be lethal to a criminal.

Their search was mostly silent. Perhaps he rarely spoke and his extended conversation earlier had been out of character.

Laura didn’t mind peaceful silence. Everything about Kyan exuded serene capability and lethal confidence.

Only in the basement did he startle her.

“That’s all the light switches,” she said in response to his request for more visibility. “Sorry.”

“The lighting for these shelves is inadequate.” His voice echoed above her.

She glanced his way in the cramped aisle.

He was floating! Off the ground!

His black steel-toed boots hovered approximately one additional foot above the cement. His head brushed the cobwebbed ceiling.

She gasped.

He looked down at her. “Problem?”

It was too late to school her surprise.

Of course Kyan could fly. All dragons could.

Activating a rare mineral in his blood let him transform, ripping his shirt and jeans to shreds as he morphed into a scaled dragon straight out of a medieval herald. The dragon aliens had first surveyed Earth during the Middle Ages, and their impression had lingered in Earth’s cultural memory even though the history had been lost.

Or he could fly without transforming. That mineral, stellarium, reversed gravity in either form. Just now, Kyan hovered above the shelves like a special ops version of Superman.

Most of the universe had a genetic ability to shift into animals or fly. Only sad, backward Earth was populated by humans with a recessive gene that prevented them from changing form or taking flight.

Something about Kyan caused her emotions to vault to the surface.

“I forgot you can do that.” Laura tried to laugh off her reaction, but the sound warbled. “How convenient! Nothing is ever out of your reach.”

“Nothing…” His gaze narrowed. “Is that what you think?”

Hmm. He was not talking about physical objects. His words from earlier returned to her mind.

He will never catch the attention of a female—unless her attention is disgust.

But she didn’t want to jump to a conclusion. “We’ll find the missing medkit, and you’ll stop the bad guys.”

“You are strangely confident.”

“It will happen.”

“You know how?”

Because they’d been searching for hours, and he didn’t seem remotely tired. “You’ve survived. You won’t let the bad guys who scarred you harm others.”

“I am not involved in orphan care.”

“Evil,” she clarified. “You’ve seen evil, and you won’t stop until it’s vanquished.”

He blinked and then descended until his weight rested once more on his boots. A little too close. She stepped back to give him room. He stepped forward, hemming her against the basement column.

Her throat went dry.

“You pretend to know me,” he growled, low and rough. The sound nipped at her like sweet teeth teasing her peaked nipples. “Why do you play this game?”

She licked her lips, daring to challenge him. “Am I wrong?”

He focused on the quick movement of her tongue.

The heat, never really banked, flared between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together.

He smelled of Kevlar and male. Spicy. And also severe. Like his eyes, the blue of the underside of a glacier. So beautiful. So cold.

But right now, his irises seemed to crackle with a blue heat.

He’d backed her against the nearest basement support column. Would he bury his mouth in her kiss? Or grip her hips, undress her with his teeth, and thrust his cock into her while she held his rippling shoulders and gasped in ecstasy?

It wouldn’t happen. He had too much control, and his control was the aphrodisiac that allowed her to feel safe and enjoy the fantasy.

A girl could dream.

She started to turn away and bumped a light switch with her elbow. The aisle behind him went dark.

Something buried in the aisle glowed.

“Ah,” she said.

He followed her gaze over his shoulder. Spinning on his heels, he released her—unfortunately—and they converged on the missing third medkit.

It was jammed in with a bunch of old organ transportation cases, even though it was larger and more glowy. He operated the locks and opened it. Inspecting the contents, he frowned and slowly closed it again.

“Is everything there?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Oh, thank goodness. Their hospital was not the culprit. But that meant he had to start over with no leads.

They returned the medkit to the top-floor Dragon Suite cabinet with the others. But it didn’t fit, which was probably why it had ended up in the basement storage. Laura reorganized the cabinets so the doors could be closed again. Now all the medkits were reunited in the luxurious Dragon Suite where they belonged.

Laura led Kyan out, making sure the suite locked behind them, and down the hushed hallway to the elevator. After swiping the controls to call it, she checked her wristwatch. “What are you doing now?”

“Continuing the search for the contraband medkit.”

“Did you want to…?”

Oh, the words had popped out before she realized what she was doing. Asking a male out for the first time since her great mistake? Wow.

And now he was staring at her.

She heated.

Better to finish even though it might be too soon.

“Uh, did you want to go for coffee? I got off twenty minutes ago. There’s a really cute café next to my apartment.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened.

He didn’t enter, and neither did she.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because we could go, talk, drink coffee. You know.”

“Talk about what?”

“Anything.”

The doors of the elevator closed again, leaving them alone in the plush VIP hallway.

“Like this,” she said. “Just talk.”

He stepped into her space, backing her against the smooth, subdued wall. His masculine presence overwhelmed her. His muscular thighs radiated heat, and her fingers twitched to grip the loops of his black jeans and draw him hard against her, rub until she could feel the hard length of his cock.

His gaze searched her face. “You are not afraid of me.”

“Should I be?”

“It is an anomaly.”

“Why?”

“Again, you ask that question. Don’t you see…?” He changed the sentence, his gaze narrowed. “I do not like anomalies.”

Was it possible she unsettled him? Him, the giant, scarred dragon warrior?

She leaned forward, daring him to step back. “Then get coffee and figure me out.”

His jaw flexed. “I cannot.”

No, of course not. Her stomach dipped.

They didn’t know each other. Her attraction was sudden and weird. Just because she felt a connection didn’t mean he shared it. And he was like a celebrity. A billionaire at that.

She strove for a careless tone so she wouldn’t sound even more pathetic. “Too busy fighting crime, huh?”

“You are…” He shook his head. “An unusually tenderhearted female.”

What, because she’d teared up during his story of child abuse? “I’ve heard worse. You surprised me. I’m not that tenderhearted.”

“To swallow back your disgust for so long in my presence shows you are not an ordinary female.”

Disgust? “I’m not swallowing back anything.”

His disbelief remained.

Her anger flared.

Those orphan care employees had damaged him even worse than the bullies. How dare he continue to believe their harsh words? He was an adult now. Gorgeous, sexy, commanding. It was time for him to break free.

She reached a hand around the back of his broad neck and tugged his face down to her level.

After a slight, confused resistance, he lowered.

She cupped his scarred jaw.

His eyes flew wide.

“Those people lied to you. No female automatically looks at you with disgust.”

He nodded slowly in recognition. “You look with anger.”

“Can’t you guess why?”

Silence.

“You must read a lot of people in your line of work.” She stroked her thumb over his lower lip. Dry from the hospital air, and rough like the rest of him, but also tender. “When you read me, what do you see?”

“Anger.”

“And?”

His gaze flicked over her face and centered on her parted lips.

If she burned any hotter with desire, she’d burst into flames.

And then she’d hunt down and chastise all those people who’d said such terrible things to him. And she’d smother him in healing kisses and make certain he knew he was not so alone.

But really, as soon as he got her feelings, she’d let him go.

With their faces millimeters apart, her hot breath reflecting off his cheek, he’d have to realize it.

He almost looked like he understood…and then he shook his head. “You do not make sense.”

What?

He didn’t refuse her feelings. He hadn’t pushed her hand off or backed away. He seemed confused.

Her patience snapped. “Then let me be more clear.”

Their lips hovered millimeters apart. She closed the distance.

His lips lay lax against hers—with shock.

She pleased herself, tracing their firm shape and commanding presence. This was the mouth that growled orders. She teased him, nibbled softly, tasted.

He held his breath.

His spice filled her like a drug. She would never get tired of his taste. His glossy hair tickled her fingers. She stroked the locks.

He still held his breath.

Uh-oh. Was he going to pass out?

She pulled back.

He stared at her, as startled at the end as when she’d initiated the kiss.

She wiped his glistening lips with her hand and wiped her own mouth also.

He blinked and slowly straightened. Not pulling back in horror. Not rejecting her. Genuinely flummoxed and adorably off-balance. His hair flopped askew from her strokes. It was funny. Although she would have preferred him yanking her into his arms and passionately kissing her back.

“Did you figure it out?” she asked.

He blinked rapidly.

Every nerve in her body hummed. Her face flamed at her unusual bravery.

She hit the elevator call button.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure he had figured it out, but she was about to die of embarrassment for overstepping her natural boundaries and kissing a virtual stranger—even though he was really hot—only a few hours after meeting him. And at work, no less.

Although, the VIP floor was more like a fancy hotel than a hospital.

The elevator dinged, giving her an escape.

She tugged her scrubs to straighten them. “If you want another hint, I get off at the same time tomorrow. The offer for coffee is still open. You know where to find me.”

He seemed like the kind of person who could find her anyway, but she wanted no doubt.

The elevator doors started to close.

She darted inside.

Sensing her entry, the doors opened again.

She jammed the ground-floor button.

Kyan should know. Even if he wasn’t attracted to her, hopefully, he’d be complimented by her interest and gain more confidence in pursuing a “female” he did like. Her kiss might counteract the awful things he believed about himself. Just a little was okay.

He remained frozen in the middle of the VIP hall.

As the elevator doors closed a second time, his blue gaze nailed her. Sharp, as though he’d finally broken free of his stupor.

“You are not disgusted.”

She shook her head.

He frowned again, directing his gaze at the plush carpet. He’d worn the same frown when they’d opened the third medkit and known for certain nothing had been stolen.

He found something in her he wasn’t expecting. And he didn’t know how to proceed.

The doors shut out the last sliver of the hallway.

On an impulse, she hit the button to force the elevator open again.

It whooshed to reveal an empty hallway. The window at the far end of the hall hung open to the starry night.

Kyan was already gone.

The face of the nurse—Laura—crossed Kyan’s mind for the hundredth time.

He kept his expression blank so no one would read his thoughts. Today was the most important day since he’d arrived on Earth. He needed his full attention.

But he could not focus.

Laura was the first female to stare at his face without fear or horror. Anything outside of normal represented danger. Her fearlessness chewed at the back of his mind, requiring explanation.

“Any update on the contraband medkit?” Kyan’s older brother, Pyrochlore “Pyro” Onyx, asked.

His chest, still covered in bulky bandages distorting the tailored black suit, led to his question.

Pyro should not be standing in the executive suite of their former rival’s company—and so he was sitting behind the imposing CEO desk of Carnelian Clothiers. But the arrival of their newest employee could not be missed. He had cut short his convalescence to come to the office.

His injuries were Kyan’s fault.

“We confiscated additional medkit pieces from a farm outside Boise,” Kyan replied. “Human authorities are tracing the farm owners’ movements.”

And so was Kyan.

He had a guess as to who was responsible. But without proof, he could not bring charges. Not against humans. Not against dragons.

Red scales jumped beneath Pyro’s skin. He scratched at the edge of the bandages beneath his collar. “There’s no predicting the minds of lone crazies.”

Kyan disagreed. He spent all his time evaluating threats. Lone crazies were predictable.

Pyro had been kidnapped and assaulted by a human male who feared “lizard aliens” using mind control or psychokinetic powers to take over human politics. The cultish movement had been around long before dragons reappeared in the blue Earth skies, but coincidentally, dragons fit the “lizard alien” profile, and thus the cult had experienced an unfortunate resurgence.

Dragons could shift forms and fly. Females breathed fire. Smaller, weaker males needed to chew and partially digest brimstone to produce a flame.

They had no mind control or psychokinetic abilities. Numerous times in Kyan’s career, those powers would have been useful. But they were not his to have.

Dragon shifters also had zero interest in human politics. They had a vast Dragon Empire to fight over. Causing political instability on Earth would interfere with business.

But logic did not sway the followers of this lizard alien cult. Kyan had been tracking its members since shortly after the Onyx Corporation set its offices in a field outside Vancouver, Washington. The area had been far removed from the most active cult members, who hoarded guns and planned violent secessions from their human governments.

Now, they’d begun fanning out.

He’d shared warnings and information with other dragon families on Earth. But he hadn’t kept a close enough watch on his own cities.

Or on his own siblings.

Unlike Kyan’s fearful differences, Pyro easily passed as “normal” among humans. He should never have been a victim. Kyan’s protection had failed.

He would never fail again.

Not all humans fear Kyan.

Laura’s sweet face flashed in his mind.

She was the kind of female any male would crave to touch. Silken skin he wanted to stroke, luscious curves he needed to squeeze, blonde curls that would fan across his lair’s bed as he buried his iron-hard cock deep into her sweet wetness and she lost herself in ecstasy—

He tilted his head a fraction to shake loose her image.

No distractions today.

His clear earbuds clicked, and the slick voice of his ops manager filled his ears. “Target sighted. Heading to Carnelian Clothiers.”

He informed his older brother. “Chrysoberyl Carnelian will be here in minutes.”

Pyro grimaced. “You knew he’d come here. Too good to follow directions? What an aristocrat.”

Behind Kyan, the dragons in the hallway shuffled and coughed.

They too were aristocrats. All employees of Carnelian Clothiers were. Since the takeover by the low-class Onyx family, Kyan had been waiting for their resentments to boil over.

So far, they had exhibited exemplary self-control.

Illustrating it, the head of Carnelian Clothiers security, Syenite, approached Pyro. “Do you require coffee?”

“No.” Pyro tugged his collar to display the tip of a white med patch. “I stole one of Flint’s sugar-caffeine strips. It’s not properly dosed.” To Kyan, he said, “If I collapse, carry me to the meeting.”

Syenite glanced back at Kyan.

He cultivated impassiveness. The aristocrat’s eyes hid behind black tactical shades. Black security earbuds filled his ears. A bulky black leather jacket obscured his figure.

Kyan didn’t trust him.

And neither did Pyro. Which was why Kyan was here instead of at the Onyx Corporation home office.

Pyro’s desk intercom chimed at the same moment Kyan’s clear earbuds buzzed with an update. “Chrysoberyl Carnelian has arrived.”

Pyro pushed the intercom button. “See him in.”

“Sir.”

Disagreement filled the hallway. “—and you will let me through. This is my company!”

Pyro stood. His face drained to an unnatural paleness, he wiped the sweat beading on his upper lip and stared at the far wall of the lush office as though willing himself to remain upright.

Chrysoberyl Carnelian swept into the CEO’s office with an imperious flourish. “Get out.”

Shorter than his brother, Chrysoberyl nevertheless carried the weight and importance of his family. A formal black suit embroidered with custom red threads fit his broad shoulders. Aristocratic piercings dangled from his brows, cheeks, and nostrils. He was bald, like his brother, and his bared teeth gleamed with silver.

His aggressive yellow-green gaze hacked Kyan and Syenite to pieces before focusing on Pyro. Stalking across the room, his shiny piercings tinkled with authority.

“Did you hear? Get out.”

Pyro stared at him silently.

Kyan tensed. Syenite did the same.

Would they have to protect Pyro or Chrysoberyl? Normally, the radioactive red dragon answered any challenger with his fists. But today, Pyro remained still in front of Chrysoberyl’s growling rage.

“I told you to get out!”

Pyro rested his palms on the huge mahogany desk in a gesture of ownership.

The aristocrat frowned. “Are you mute or stupid?”

Pyro’s lips twitched.

“What is this joke?” Chrysoberyl’s head whipped side to side, searching the den of disapproving dragons. “Explain!”

Pyro held his position, silently making the point that there was one sole commander of Carnelian Clothiers—and it was him. “You’re expected at the Onyx Corporation.”

The imperious younger aristocrat raised his chin “This is my company, and these are my employees.”

“No.”

“Did you just challenge me?”

A dangerous gleam of radioactive red glowed in Pyro’s irises. “Did I?”

Chrysoberyl frowned and repeated his order more slowly. “I want you out of my office. Now.”

“I’ve already removed my items from your office.”

Chrysoberyl looked down at the desk that bore his family’s aristocratic crest. Scorch marks blackened the impressive wood.

His older brother, Sard, had occupied this desk until a few days earlier, when he’d given it to Pyro and returned to Draconis. That day had been peaceful. Fraught with the same tensions, but controlled.

Pyro placed his palm on the Carnelian crest. “Your new vice presidential suite is at the Onyx Corporation.”

The aristocrat growled. “Do not insult my status. I rule my family’s company. Now and forever.”

Pyro smiled with his teeth.

“Murkite!” The aristocrat turned to address someone who was not behind him. “Where are my employees?”

Pyro looked at Syenite.

“Detained,” Syenite said.

“Bring them here this instant.”

Pyro raised his brows at the impassive security officer.

Syenite’s opaque shades reflected nothing. “The building is closed during this historic merger. Security.”

“You do not appear to understand. He is not your CEO. I am.” Chrysoberyl thumped his palm against his chest. His hand shimmered with yellow-green scales. “This company bears my name. A pure aristocratic name found in the walls of the Palace! Unpolluted by a brimstone miner’s blood.”

Pyro’s irises gleamed red from the insult. The bad-boy brawler had changed since marrying his uber-responsible, elementary teacher wife, but he was still dangerous.

“I will not mingle with Outer Rim dragons. I will not lower myself to the level of fallen aristocrats. I am a pureblood, and I will be surrounded by the same!”

Chrysoberyl’s elitist attitude was the reason for this merger.

Syenite and the other employees of Carnelian Clothiers had committed a crime, lost favor with the Empress, or otherwise compromised their pure status and became “fallen.” Still aristocrats, and therefore ranked above Pyro or Kyan, they existed in a gray zone below pure Chrysoberyl.

Sard cared deeply about his fallen employees and had struck a bargain with the Onyx family to protect them.

No lower-caste dragon should dare take over an aristocrat’s company. No aristocrat should allow the dishonor. Only here, on this backwater “Earth,” could pure aristocrat Sard Carnelian merge Carnelian Clothiers with the low-caste Onyx Corporation. It was a historic moment in the Dragon Empire.

Historic moments tended to end in violence.

Pyro tilted his brow at the ranting, sweating younger brother. “Do you know exactly how far you are from Draconis?”

“The Empress rules over all planets in the Empire.”

“And the Empress offered marriage to my brother. Right there.” He jerked his chin at Kyan. “After Mal and I turned her down.”

“You turned her down! Bastard low-caste trash. You have no comprehension of what you’ve denied yourself.”

Pyro yawned. “We do things differently out here.”

Chrysoberyl sputtered. “You won’t get away with this—this—this theft! By right, I should be the CEO of both companies. I should be the…the…the ruler of Earth! Of this galaxy!”

Pyro finished his yawn with a click. “Ruler? No. This galaxy, and Earth, has no rulers. We are under a diplomatic protectorate like all the Outer Rim.”

“You—”

“As a resident of Draconis, you wouldn’t know.”

“Of course I am aware of the status of the Outer Rim!”

The intercom beeped. Pyro hit the button.

Their oldest brother shouted gruffly over the connection, “Pyro? Where’s my new vice president?”

The young aristocrat blinked.

Pyro’s smile finally held real amusement. “He’s here.”

“He’s there? Hellfire. Can’t he follow simple directions? Our meeting has been delayed for hours.”

“We’re on our way.”

“Finally!” The intercom clicked.

Chrysoberyl straightened. “Malachite Onyx? I refuse—”

“Mal’s gone.” Pyro released the button on the dead connection and nodded to Kyan and Syenite. “Shall we?”

Syenite opened the window and exited.

“You are making a serious mistake,” Chrysoberyl said. “I—”

Pyro followed Syenite, stepping off the sill and flying away from the building, his suit flapping in the breeze.

Chrysoberyl broke off. He eyed the empty desk as though considering a hostile takeover.

Kyan stepped behind him.

He jolted in sudden awareness. His gaze focused on Kyan’s scars. His lip curled in disgust.

He clambered out the window, muttering. “Low-caste ugliness. I should not be forced to witness this. Sickening.”

Kyan endured the familiar words and tone.

This should have been Laura’s reaction.

But instead of gagging, she had studied him. Touched him. Even pressed her soft lips to his wrecked mouth.

“I wish I could kiss it and make it better.”

That was the answer! Relief mixed with disappointment. He had figured her out.

She was a natural healer. So her kiss was nothing but a healer’s desire to ease an illness. She’d kissed him so her healing saliva would render his face more endurable.

That was the only possible interpretation.

Golden late-evening sun disappeared in the maw of high, gray clouds as the dragons soared across fields, along the Columbia River, and over the network of primitive roads, bridges, and infrastructure of the human villages.

“Native trash,” Chrysoberyl grumbled, smoothing his new suit. “Do you think I don’t know what happened to you, Pyrochlore? Kidnapped and tortured. If they dare to attack an aristocrat, Earth’s diplomatic protections will crumble. All lesser creatures will bow or be crushed under Draconis military rule.”

Pyro ignored him.

Kyan gritted his teeth.

His threat rang true. Injuries to non-aristocrats were ignored. Fighters in the Colony Wars had to be low caste or fallen because those deaths did not require avenging.

A pure aristocrat could petition the Palace for a flotilla of warships to avenge his injuries. Real or imagined.

“My uncle is captain of the Gnashing Teeth. It could laser every city to rubble before the natives even blinked,” Chrysoberyl bragged.

Kyan’s gaze flicked to Syenite.

The silent security head remained impassive.

Sard Carnelian had been a powerful adversary, but he had never threatened the diplomatic treaty. His younger brother was shaping up to become a bigger security risk than Kyan had thought.

They reached the brightly lit Onyx Corporation offices just after sunset and descended through the clear glass shaft into Pyro’s old office.

Mal Onyx, gruff CEO of the Onyx Corporation, greeted Chrysoberyl with his usual tact.

“About time. We’ve held up the next product launch for days awaiting for your arrival. This way.”

He pushed into the main office floor. Since it was long after the end of business hours, the warren of cubicles was empty.

Chrysoberyl caught up to the brusque CEO in the conference room doorway. “Mal—Malachite Onyx! I refuse to work in this office.”

“What?”

“I refuse.” Chrysoberyl drew himself up. “One of my pure blood should not be subjected to low-caste, fallen, or native trash.”

Mal stared at the male with the same tolerance and patience he’d give to anyone who interrupted his thoughts for a pointless reason. “This is your new workplace. If you don’t like it, go back to Draconis.”

Chrysoberyl’s mouth dropped open. “But my family’s company—”

“Read the annual reports.” Mal spun on his heel and entered the conference room.

Kyan remained in the hallway at an angle to see the office floor and also keep an eye on Mal in the conference room. Syenite stood nearby, apparently attempting to do the same.

Chrysoberyl stood in the middle of the doorway formulating new objections.

Raising his voice on the empty seats, Mal shouted, “Jasper? Where is everyone?”

Behind Kyan, the fifth Onyx sibling—Operations Manager Jasper—emerged from his office with steady patience. “The working day is over.”

“The working day is never over!”

“Perhaps the new vice president wants to get settled before his first meeting.”

“Settled?” Mal snorted at the foreign concept. “He has the rest of his life to get settled. We need to decide our next product launch now.”

Jasper ran a hand through his dark brown hair and summoned a tired smile. “I will assemble the officers.”

A few minutes later, the rest of the Onyx siblings squeezed around Chrysoberyl and filed into the conference room. Their closest human contractor, Darcy, approached the snooty aristocrat and stuck out his hand.

Chrysoberyl backed up a step. “What—”

“You must be the new vice president.” Tall and classy, Darcy grabbed the aristocrat’s lax hand, shook it, and unleashed his signature huge, white-toothed grin. “Mind if I call you Chrys?”

“Yes, I do mind,” the aristocrat said, staring at the handshake. “Which officer are you?”

“Oh, I’m more of a local consultant.” Darcy withdrew and joined the other dragons at the well-loved espresso machine. Over his shoulder, he casually added, “Of the human variety.”

Chrysoberyl stared down at his hand in horror. He had touched a native human with his bare skin. “You are a primitive non-shifter?”

Just then, Amber Onyx quietly selected her seat. Setting down her neat financial ledgers, she radiated meekness in auburn tights, demure maroon Mary Janes, an auburn cardigan, and a maroon skirt.

Chrysoberyl jolted away from her. “Another human!”

She glared. Fire crackled in her amber eyes. “Who are you calling a human?”

He swallowed and backed into the wall with a thump.

The other dragons also moved back. Anyone would hesitate to insult a female dragon. Regardless of class, Amber could barbecue a disrespectful male without a second thought.

Darcy set her favorite coffee in front of her and took the seat next to her with his characteristic fearlessness. “Human or dragon, you look lovely this evening.”

She tacitly ignored him.

The other siblings assumed their usual places. Kyan moved to his seat at the back of the room. Chrysoberyl’s seat next to Mal remained vacant.

Syenite hesitated inside the doorway.

Did his duties extend within the Onyx Corporation?

Mal stood at the head of the conference table, uncaring about Syenite’s foreign presence or that Chrysoberyl was still standing with his back to the wall. “Let’s begin.”

The last Onyx Corporation officer, Mal’s wife, Cheryl, tried to sneak into the room. A large, shy woman, her dark jeans and hoodie brushed Syenite’s bulky jacket.

He backed away.

She muttered an apology, jolted in recognition, and flushed.

Syenite had once kidnapped Cheryl from beneath Kyan’s protection. The burn marks on Sard’s desk were from her rescue.

Before identifying Pyro’s kidnapper, Kyan had returned the favor by taking Sard from beneath Syenite’s protection. Just in case.

Syenite hadn’t forgiven him.

Kyan wasn’t ready to do so either.

Their distrust had been awkward at Carnelian Clothiers. Within the Onyx Corporation home office, it was unbearable.

Cheryl stumbled past Chrysoberyl and threw herself in her usual seat between Mal and Pyro. Mal rubbed her shoulder possessively. Pyro smiled with brotherly kindness. She let her curtain of dark hair hide her face from the others and then, as though forcing herself, she tucked it behind her ears.

“Cheryl, meet our new vice president,” Mal barked.

She forced her gaze to Chrysoberyl, flushing an even darker shade. “Hello.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Don’t worry.” Darcy grinned from the other side of Amber. “She’s human.”

It was the last dig.

The aristocrat erupted. “Who is this human?”

Cheryl hunched in on herself, hugging her elbows and leaning away from him.

“Our art director.” Mal rested both hands possessively on her shoulders, his growl matched by elongated incisors and a deadly flash of green in his no-longer-so-human eyes. “And my pregnant wife.”

She relaxed and leaned against Mal’s forearm.

Chrysoberyl’s expression flattened. Even he saw the error of antagonizing the Onyx CEO in a small conference room surrounded by Mal’s siblings.

But he masked it with nervous imperiousness. “How dare you expect me to work under these conditions?”

Mal roared. “If you can’t work here, then go join my mother on Draconis! As our company owner, she will cherish a male for entertainment.”

Chrysoberyl closed his mouth and folded himself into the last empty seat. “I will attempt to endure.”

“Good.” Mal shook himself. Green scales retreated under the skin again. “Now, as our new vice president, I assume you studied every product both companies have launched and familiarized yourself with human attire in all cultures in all countries through all time. Now, propose five new products for our next launch.”

Chrysoberyl blinked.

Mal growled. “Well?”

Jasper cleared his throat. “Mal. He has only just arrived.”

“So? Sard Carnelian would have ideas. Is his brother deficient?”

“I am not deficient.” Chrysoberyl huffed. “I am overwhelmed by the crudeness of being surrounded by impure blood.”

“No excuses,” Mal snapped.

Chrysoberyl straightened indignantly. “Sard never worked in this office.” He searched for a target and gestured at Kyan. “What role can he possibly have?”

Mal growled. “He is an officer.”

“Of what?”

“Security.”

“Security!” Chrysoberyl recoiled. “He cannot protect himself from damage. How can he protect me?”

The old anger burned in Kyan. He doused the outward signs. It bubbled, an ice-hot acid in his belly, menthol with fury.

Chrysoberyl’s was a familiar complaint. First, in the Colony Wars, and then in private companies. Do not force me to be on his team. Do you expect him to distract the enemy to death? His officers had finally recognized that he worked most efficiently alone.

Since coming to Earth, he’d forgotten—sometimes for days—about his deformities. His siblings had grown used to his looks, and he largely avoided humans except in rare instances where their assistance was required.

“How can anyone concentrate with a ruined face like that darkening this conference?” Chrysoberyl continued. “His presence turns my stomach.”

Kyan would ask Mal to excuse him. Visitors from their new subsidiary would be too distracted. He was better off—

Mal slammed his fist on the conference table, spilling everyone’s coffee. “Silence!”

Chrysoberyl jolted in his seat, his tirade cut off midsentence. “But—”

“I will not tolerate these insults in my own corporation!”

“Well.” Chrysoberyl cleared his throat. “That is why I must be the CEO of Carnelian Clothiers.”

“You think you deserve to be the CEO of your brother’s old company when you can’t come up with one product launch idea for ours?”

“I am an aristocrat—”

“You couldn’t lead your way out of a paper bag.”

Chrysoberyl’s mouth flopped. “How dare you?”

“I dare—”

Down the table, Amber raised one finger.

Mal stopped short. “Amber.”

“The inability to recognize the value of assets is a critical failing.” Amber’s eyes crackled with suppressed flames. “If you were CEO, my financial forecast predicts you would declare bankruptcy in less than a year.”

“Bankruptcy? Ri-ridiculous.”

“Want to fight me for the CEO’s seat?” Radioactive red scales flexed across Pyro’s clenched hands. “When my injuries are healed, I welcome your challenge.”

He swallowed.

“I do not recommend accepting that challenge.” Jasper regarded the pale aristocrat with unusual dislike. “Kyan will be the only one standing between you and the grave.”

“He will not dare to attack an aristocrat.”

Pyro grinned. “Nothing I love more.”

“I will ruin you.”

“Right now, you only seem intent on ruining your brother’s good name.” Their sixth brother, exotic two-tone Alexandrite “Alex” Onyx, leveled his impeccable blond head at the aristocrat in disdain. “Sard Carnelian was a ruthless adversary and a brilliant strategist. In you, I see neither quality.”

Kyan’s throat closed.

His siblings rallied around him with more empathy and kindness than he deserved. He would give his life in an instant to protect them. Failures such as the incidents with Cheryl or Pyro crushed his shoulders.

As low-caste dragons, they’d each grown up tortured. His was the only type that had left visible scars.

Mal removed his fist from the now-cracked conference table. “Since you have nothing useful to contribute, we will adjourn the meeting. I expect a better result tomorrow from a dragon who carries the Carnelian name.”

Chrysoberyl curled his lip, exposing his teeth in a silent snarl.

Mal took his wife’s hand, lifted the frozen introvert gently from her chair, and exited. The other Onyx siblings streamed past Chrysoberyl with silent distaste.

He had not endeared the aristocracy to the low-caste Onyx family today.

Chrysoberyl followed Syenite from the room, seething. Would he burst free of his clothes, explode into dragon, and start a fight? It would be unwise. But Kyan had seen lesser dragons behave stupidly. He remained on his guard.

As they neared Pyro’s old office, Chrysoberyl regained his composure and complained, loudly, about the deficiencies of his new workplace—and his new security officer.

“—and he obviously will not ‘stand between me and the grave,’ or else Pyro wouldn’t have been injured. I am a higher target. If I am injured, there are no proper medical facilities for one of my blood.”

Jasper overheard and couldn’t help but correct him. “Our ship has a facility.”

“Poisoned with low-caste blood.” He sniffed. “I wouldn’t itch my scales with your machinery, to say nothing of trusting it with my life. No, I mustn’t be threatened. I deserve the best possible security.”

Mal turned on him abruptly. “Have your proposals on my desk by midnight tonight.”

Chrysoberyl jerked up short. “Impossible.”

Mal’s green eyes flared. “We do so all the time.”

“But…you…”

“Are quicker, harder working, and smarter than any aristocrat?” Mal turned on his heels and strode away. “Midnight!”

Chrysoberyl stormed into the vice president suite. “Low-caste dragons have no sense of the treatment I deserve.” He demanded to Syenite, “Bring me this human ‘coffee.’”

After a moment’s hesitation, the Carnelian security head operated the espresso machine in the corner of the office.

Chrysoberyl settled himself at his new desk with a disgruntled sigh. His luggage had already been delivered, an impressive stack of cases sealed with the Carnelian family crest.

Atop the chest-high stack sat a human-style gift bag.

Odd.

Kyan’s security hackles rose.

Odd things needed to be investigated.

He strode for the human gift bag, remotely calling through his earbuds for an analysis. The answer from his security team came back immediately, and it was not reassuring.

Something in the room buzzed with a signal.

Syenite delivered the requested coffee.

Chrysoberyl curled his human hand around the mug and glared pensively at Kyan. “How dare you approach my belongings?”

Kyan ignored him and searched the bag.

It was filled with brimstone candy and small tubes of colored, powdered ore. Celebratory items for the takeover they had averted. He dug underneath. A smooth, round ball stood out.

Anything that stood out was bad.

He pulled it from the bag.

It was a shrapnel detonator.

His heart slammed to black, and his vision tunneled.

In his hand, the sphere looked too small to be evil. This type he hadn’t seen since the Colony Wars. A portable, easily improvised, shrapnel-throwing bomb. Clean metal lines rimmed in yellow. Usually, they were blue, but the wrong color could be explained by scrounged materials.

He set it atop the cases. Burying it meant not only its own shrapnel load was a danger, but also any fragments of what broke off when it exploded. Shooting caused it to detonate.

The only choice was to shelter or escape.

The bomb blinked steadily.

Kyan jumped back. “Get out.”

Chrysoberyl frowned. “What?”

The blinking speed increased. It rose into the air, twisting and whining.

Kyan turned and raced for the vulnerable aristocrat, his arms spreading his trench coat to try to shelter Chrysoberyl from the deadly spray.

Syenite lifted his gun and fired.

Idiot! What security officer had such little sense?

He started to scream.

But it was too late.

The bomb ignited. Shrapnel exploded outward with deadly force.

“You’re taking too long to counsel patients.” Dr. Richard officiously tapped his pen against his clipboard. “Blondie, some nurses just aren’t cut out for the ER.”

Laura pressed her lips together so hard, they tingled.

She was almost done tidying the exam room. Her preceptor had given her permission to sneak away and eat her granola bar, which she actually had on her today. In her pocket. Chocolate cherry peanut butter. Extra nuts.

As soon as Dr. Richard, who couldn’t bother to remember her name and always referred to her by her hair color, finished his lecture and let her escape.

“An ER nurse can’t sit around and hold someone’s hand.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I saw you.” He gestured at the chair where she was still sitting, her patient long gone. “With my own eyes.”

Okay, so, yes.

For one brief moment, the worried young mother who didn’t speak English had gripped Laura’s gloved hand while a translator explained her daughter’s allergic reaction. She needed to carry an EpiPen and avoid tree nuts. The mother had thanked Laura profusely in her language and walked her now-easily breathing six-year-old out.

So sue her.

Once Laura finished this final clinical, graduated, and passed her RN-NCLEX then she’d be the one diagnosing and wouldn’t have time to stay with patients through counseling.

But she wasn’t working as a fully licensed nurse right now. Her preceptor had Laura take medical histories and make initial assessments. That was advanced med tech work, and it was nerve-wracking enough. Then Galina approved or disagreed with Laura, teaching her the nuances of nursing only learned by experience.

Dr. Richard would ultimately sign off on her work experience, and there was still a chance she could earn his approval—and coveted recommendation. Even though it seemed less and less likely as her clinical wore on.

Laura sucked in a breath. “Thank you for your advice.”

“Be sure you take it.”

Galina peeked in the door. Time to move to the next patient.

Oh, no.

Laura had lost her one opportunity for a granola bar snack. She hated Dr. Richard with the fiery passion of a hundred growling stomachs.

Oblivious to her hatred, Dr. Richard leaned in and did the brow wiggle that meant he was about to make her feel squicky in addition to irritated.

“If you want to hold someone’s hand so much, you can come and hold mine.” He lowered his voice near her ear. “Anytime.”

Outside the room, Galina rolled her eyes.

Laura had to choke back her gag. And to think, she’d once found his symmetrical features, full head of hair, and even teeth to be attractive. Wow, that had lasted about two minutes. “Okay, thank you.”

Dr. Richard stepped closer.

Was Laura about to be treated to a more extended pickup? The kind of gross “flirting” all the nurses received during slower hours in the ER?

Galina must have sensed it too and stepped in. “Excuse me, Dr. Richard. Laura’s needed in Room 7.”

“Well, she’d already be there if she wasn’t sitting around holding people’s hands.” He stepped back. “You’re going to hold people’s lives there soon, Blondie. Make sure your hands are washed, gloved, and sterilized.”

Like she needed to be told!

He departed.

Laura fumed. “In the amount of time he lectured me, he could have seen three patients and written ten scripts.”

“Yes.” Galina was five years older than Laura and five hundred patients ahead of her in nursing. “Richard’s taken a liking to you.”

Oh, unlucky her. “Why?”

Galina shrugged and headed out, expecting Laura at her heel. “Don’t let him get to you. The last one he took a liking to quit before she finished her rotation. You’ve got a lot to offer nursing, Laura.”

Laura hurried to keep up. “Why hasn’t someone complained?”

“Patients aren’t the only challenge in this profession.”

Galina had trained under an actual sexual predator now serving time in a county jail. She thought Laura might face worse than uncomfortable banter from an offensive jerk.

Then Galina sighed. “He’s not completely wrong. You could speed up a little.”

Her chastisement stabbed Laura’s tender heart. “I’ll work on that. The ER is a much faster pace than my other clinicals.”

“Of course. We make life-and-death decisions every moment. Your lack of confidence and constant second-guessing causes you to be slow, and slow can at times prove fatal.”

She closed her eyes. Her worst nightmare was making a fatal error, and that was exactly why she second-guessed herself.

But the problems went deeper. Her nature was approval seeking, whether wearing scrubs or civilian clothes.

She’d made mistakes trying to go solo. Painful enough she was scared to try again.

The bravery she’d shown speaking her mind to Kyan yesterday had been out of character. For some reason, during those few hours in his presence, she’d relaxed and possessed confidence. Vivacity. She’d asked him whatever she’d wanted and stated her own opinions without biting her tongue. She’d shared her real self. He’d even commented on her fearlessness.

And then she’d kissed him…

The memory of tasting his firm lips filled her with burning heat.

She’d gone home yesterday morning and taken a long, steamy shower with a glass of wine and a delicious fantasy. It was the first time since her great mistake she’d been able to let go of her hesitation, even in private, and experienced the passion she’d once dreamed about feeling with a man. Even if she never saw Kyan again, she’d have to thank him for giving back that part of her sexuality.

The magic had worn off by the time she’d awoken, of course. In her bed, alone.

If only she could be so brave every day, with everyone, she’d conquer fear and become a visionary nurse like in her favorite books and movies.

She’d surely live a more satisfying life.

Instead, right now, even her own preceptor thought she was lacking.

Galina stopped, softening her chastisement with hope. “If you gain anything from this clinical, let it be the confidence that comes with experience. Then, Laura, you will be unstoppable.”

Aw. “Thank you.”

Galina’s smile disappeared into professionalism as she switched to ER mode again. “Room 7. Let’s go.”

“Laura!” Sabrina rushed into the hall and thrust a chart into her startled hands. “There’s a patient for you in Room 2.”

Laura exchanged a questioning frown with Galina. “Room 2 isn’t one of ours.”

Sabrina lowered her voice. “It’s the guy. The guy.”

“What guy?”

“He asked for you.”

“Someone asked for me?”

“He brought in a patient. Another of his kind. You’re supposed to see them. Bob said to do whatever he wanted.”

Bob Kerrin, director of the hospital?

Oh.

Ohhhhh.

Kyan’s silent face flashed in her mind. And heat. Inappropriate fantasies of his large, capable hands sliding all over her naked body, in the shower, while she sipped a sweet rosé.

She swallowed. “Just me? Not Galina too? Or a doctor?”

“He asked for you.” Sabrina exchanged significant looks with Galina. “The patient is complaining loudly.”

Which meant it wasn’t serious.

The serious ones focused on drawing their next breath, not expelling it loudly—and pointlessly—at staff.

Galina looked curious. “Get started. I’ll drop in as soon as I’ve finished with ours.”

So, their usual arrangement.

But nothing about this was usual.

Her nerves twinged.

Laura straightened her scrubs, mindful her hair was pulled neatly under her cap and she had her scratch paper and basic supplies in her pockets. Her granola bar crinkled. She was no longer hungry.

Hurrying to Room 2, she could hear Kyan’s patient from the hall. A high, nasally voice expressed disdain for the surroundings.

“—and you’ve brought me to this human hospital, which is entirely insufficient for my health needs.”

She took a steadying breath and walked in.

Kyan towered over the small exam table, filling the room with his commanding presence. His black-on-black clothes, boots, and trench coat only made his piercing blue eyes stand out more in his brutal face.

She melted.

Her fantasies had been good. Too good. But they had missed his spicy black ops smell. Male, virile, and heady. A hint of new Kevlar and musk was indefinably him.

He fixed on her as though he had heard her breathe outside the door. Why not? He probably had.

But…he did not look as happy to see her as she felt to see him. No hint of friendliness escaped his black expression.

She schooled her own reaction to professionalism. Maybe he wasn’t happy to see her and maybe he was just doing his security job with the patient he’d brought in. If he was still around after her shift, she’d gauge his feelings then.

And if he still treated her like an unwanted stranger, then she’d curl up in a ball and cry.

The other male tutted with disdain. “And they’ve put me in Room 2. I should be in Room 1! I will not forgive this insult.”

“Um, the rooms are numbered in order of their distance from the door, not in order of importance,” she said, drawing the male’s attention. “If that helps. And Room 1 has a touchy blood pressure cuff. This is our best room.”

He glared at the low ceiling. “It is rather small.”

Well, her opening conversation had established that her patient’s airway was unobstructed, breathing clear, heart was beating, and he had the highest level of consciousness. He didn’t seem confused or particularly in pain.

Of course, it might be impossible to know with an alien.

“What brings you in today?” she asked, bracing herself for a foreign answer.

The male pointed at Kyan. “He did.”

“Oh, of course.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, what’s your chief complaint?”

“That I, a full-blooded aristocrat and rightful CEO of Carnelian Clothiers, have been insulted and forced into a position unbecoming of my status.”

“I see.” She finally looked at the chart Sabrina had handed her. Patient name: Chrysoberyl Carnelian. More minerals; very dragon alien-y. “More of a metaphysical injury than a physical one…”

Was he in for a psychiatric evaluation?

She tried once more. “Where are you injured?”

He frowned. “You are the medical professional. You should be able to tell from looking.”

It was going to be one of those nights.

“I’d like to hear it from your view.” Then she flat-out lied. “As the principal party, you are the most important eyewitness.”

He seemed to like that. “Yes. Very well. I will allow you to heal my injury.”

“…which is?”

“He burned his hand,” Kyan said shortly.

Of course! She set aside the chart and took a good solid look at her patient. One of the most important things was to actually look at the person in front of her. Chrysoberyl looked…

…extremely healthy, to be honest.

She pulled on exam gloves. “Burns are so painful. I didn’t realize fire-breathing dragons can suffer them too.”

“Of course they can, uneducated human.”

She mentally added “cranky” to his chart. “Let me see your injury.”

He regarded her outstretched hands with distrust. “What are those blue things?”

“Non-latex gloves,” she assured him. “So I can examine your injury without passing on pathogens.”

He puffed up. “Finally, someone understands. Grubby human fingers should not dirty an aristocrat’s skin.”

Actually, it was for preventing the patient’s pathogens from ending up on her. But anything that made him easier to work with made her a happier nurse. “Roll up your sleeve.”

He did so.

Was there a slight red mark on the back of his hand? Maybe if she squinted.

She checked with Kyan. “Should we use anything from the medkit for this exam?”

Kyan’s expression remained closed. “The medkit is designed for dragon bodies.”

“He’s a dragon.”

“In human form.”

“But the whole reason we have the medkits is for treating dragons.”

He focused on her with new clarity. Rage disappeared, replaced by his capable calm. “Treat his human form. Shifting exacerbates real injuries.”

“Real injuries?” Chrysoberyl huffed, listening way too closely to their conversation. “You dare to insinuate my injury is not real? I am deeply injured in my person! A concept you clearly cannot comprehend. Aristocrats aren’t used to rough treatment.”

Kyan stared over her shoulder, zoning in on the wall behind her, as he seemed to retreat again into the mask of cold, hard fury.

Well, at least she wasn’t the source of Kyan’s unhappiness. Or at least she wasn’t the only or most obvious source. That warmed her right in places where it shouldn’t.

She focused on her patient again. She’d seen worse sunburns at a junior league baseball game. A well-prepared Girl Scout could diagnose and treat this burn.

He was an alien…

The last injured dragon alien she’d seen had survived fourth degree burns. It suggested dragons were hardier than humans, not weaker.

So…

Urgh!

She was supposed to be confident. Based on her assessment of this minuscule injury, should she really just hand Chrysoberyl a cold pack and give him an ibuprofen? Laura willed Galina to appear in the doorway behind her and take away the responsibility.

Galina didn’t. But her words did.

Your lack of confidence and constant second-guessing causes you to be slow, and slow can at times prove fatal.

Not fatal for this guy, but maybe for the patient in Room 7. Or Room 10. Or somebody out in the waiting room.

Plus what would Galina really say? She could almost hear her preceptor’s chastisement. A simple burn? You should know how to treat that, Laura, so why are you coming to me? Is that really all it is?

Okay. Just to make sure she wasn’t missing anything, Laura reviewed her intake questions, skirting Chrysoberyl’s off-the-wall responses.

“Can you tell me what happened?” she asked, tilting his hand all directions under the light.

“I was attacked,” he said proudly. “In my own office. By a bomb.”

“A bomb!” Well, now she had a whole lot of new questions. “Were you concussed or struck by any material?”

“I was struck by that object.” He jerked his thumb at Kyan. “Who attacked my physical person. His indelicate movements dislodged my coffee, spilling scalding liquid all over my hand.” He sniffed. “I barely survived.”

“I see,” she said again, now itching to get Kyan undressed and have a good look.

Not only because she wanted to see him naked.

He was the type who would silently bleed out, die standing upright, and no one would ever know he’d been wounded.

Back to Chrysoberyl, she switched from a general investigation to specific concussion-trauma questions. Had he bumped his head? Lost consciousness? Was there a ringing in his ears, sensitivity to lights, any gaps in his memory? Then, just for good measure, she had him take off his shirt and measured his vitals.

“What is this about?” he demanded as she inflated the blood pressure cuff.

“It checks your pulse and blood volume.” She recorded his stats. “It’s important to be thorough after what you’ve been through.”

“Yes.” He lifted his chest and threw back his shoulders. “Of course. After what I’ve been through.”

“And I would also like to examine you,” she said to Kyan.

Kyan’s sharp gaze narrowed.

“Never mind about him.” Chrysoberyl sniffed. “He’s low caste. They’re used to roughness.”

Low caste? That sounded rude. But Kyan’s mask remained in place, not showing he felt any sting.

“He was with you during the ordeal,” she said. “It sounds like he could have been hit by the bomb.”

Or, if the description was right, Kyan had sheltered Chrysoberyl and absorbed the blast with his own body.

For some reason, her sentence made the aristocrat again puff up with some sort of pride.

“Indeed. I suffered an ordeal. I suppose you may check him for injuries as well.”

A gruff voice rose in the hallway. “Where is that dragon? It’s after midnight. No, I’m not the patient. He’s my new vice president.”

She turned to Kyan. “Please remove your—”

Kyan ignored her and strode into the hall.

The gruff voice quieted.

Well…okay. She was just an “uneducated” nursing student. Forget the lot of them.

She finished her examination and allowed her patient to dress. Then, she counseled him. Without holding his hand.

“You have a first degree burn,” she told Chrysoberyl.

“First!” He brightened. “I accept no degree less.”

“Er…right. Next time, soak the wound in cool water. You can take a gentle pain medication or use a mild anesthetic to soothe the skin. If it rubs or bothers you, apply an antibiotic ointment and cover it with loose gauze.”

He lifted his chin. “Although only a human, you are a credit to your profession.”

“Uh, thank you.”

“Indeed.”

He rose from the exam table. A key chain fell out of his pocket and clinked on the floor. He headed for the door.

She scooped up the key chain. It looked like a mini Magic 8 Ball on a thin metal loop. “Here, Chrysoberyl. Your keys?”

He recoiled as though offended. “That device is not mine.”

“It fell out of your pocket.”

“You are mistaken.”

“I saw it.”

He lifted his chin, imperious.

She wasn’t fighting about this. “Never mind. I’ll ask Kyan.”

“Give it to me.” He snatched it from her hand. “Did anything else drop?”

She studied the small, swept-clean floor. “I don’t think so.”

“Search, human! Someone attacked me with a bomb. This could be important.”

Good gracious.

She got down on her hands and knees and double-checked, praying Dr. Richard didn’t come in right now. If she got in trouble for “holding hands,” what would he say to her butt in the air, blowing stubborn dust bunnies from the undersides of sterile tables?

Then again, someone had bombed Chrysoberyl’s office earlier tonight. Maybe paranoia was justified.

“Nothing,” she declared, sitting upright.

The room was silent. Chrysoberyl had gone.

Okay. Sure.

Standing again, she unpeeled her gloves and threw them in the trash. Since Chrysoberyl hadn’t needed much in the way of assessment, there was also not much to tidy.

Her stomach growled.

This occasion certainly deserved a granola bar. Her first treatment of dragon aliens! Bring on the chocolate cherry peanut butter.

Yellow metal glinted on a tray, catching her eye.

Huh? That was weird. She’d just tidied the room. Had Chrysoberyl dropped this object, too?

But no, he wouldn’t have accidentally dropped it out of a pocket onto a tray at chest height.

The tray was near the open door. Anyone could have snuck it onto the table without entering the room.

Why?

Was it even a tool? Two strips of long, curved metal split into sections…honestly, it looked like a mini banana slicer. Like, a specialty kitchen item sold next to egg timers and cherry pitters whose only purpose in life was to evenly slice bananas.

Maybe another med tech was playing a prank?

Weird.

Oh, hey. It blinked a steady blue light.

Kyan argued quietly with his oldest brother next to the elevators.

Although the hospital churned with activity, from this location he could keep an eye on the exam room, the hall, and also the three major entrance/exits, while disagreeing.

“I want you to drop Chrysoberyl and focus on the stolen medkit,” Mal ordered gruffly.

Kyan gritted his teeth on his silent growl. Mal never interfered with his work. “If Chrysoberyl is injured by humans, we lose this entire planet.”

“That’s why he will remain under the supervision of Syenite.”

“Was that Syenite’s suggestion?”

Unusually, Mal looked away. “It will silence Chrysoberyl and allow us to get back to work.”

Syenite was up to something. He’d shot—and detonated—the bomb without any regard to its devastating consequences. No security officer should ever make such a mistake.

Kyan had turned on him as soon as he was certain Chrysoberyl was unharmed. And then he had yelled, “What are you doing?”

Syenite’s mouth had closed into a thin line. He hadn’t answered.

Either he was incompetent—which he had never demonstrated before—or he was dangerous.

What game was the impassive fallen aristocrat playing?

Luckily, the bomb had been a dud. Someone had altered it to remove its payload. But how had Syenite known? Either he’d wanted to kill them all—himself included—or he’d set the bomb himself.

“And the same perpetrators who sold the medkit that injured Pyro are likely behind this new attack on Chrysoberyl,” Mal continued.

Kyan disagreed.

Another dragon family, the Tourmalines, had medical connections and had recently lost a huge market share when their “rare human gemstones” were copied in labs and mass-produced on Draconis. Selling off a few crates of seemingly innocuous medkits gave them quick capital to regroup—never mind that it was illegal.

He just needed proof.

“Chrysoberyl aside, you must focus on avoiding the Empress’s marriage.” Mal apparently couldn’t bring himself to order Kyan to marry a local female. That was how he and Pyro had escaped her offer. “Perhaps we can arrange a video conference so she can see the male she intends to betroth.”

Kyan had already considered that.

His think tank didn’t believe his scars would put the Empress off. Or, if they did, she’d simply lock her new “husband” in a Palace dungeon to hide his deformed face.

She wanted something else from the Onyx family. Or, as her Palace advisers were rumored to believe, she really had gone crazy.

What rational female would want to marry him?

Laura’s image flashed in his head.

Tendrils of curly blonde hair had come loose from her cap. She’d listened to that arrogant aristocrat with such patience and competence. And then she’d looked directly into Kyan’s eyes and told him she wanted to examine him for injuries.

No one wanted to examine his injuries. He was always the last to be treated and the first to be shoved into the war zone.

“I wish I could kiss it and make it better.”

Hot blood pulsed in his cock.

Just like before, she looked past his scars and saw him.

She had once drawn his face down to her level and touched those sweet lips to his.

Would she do it again? Even though her healing saliva hadn’t helped?

Kyan fought his wild thoughts.

He’d intended to never return. He didn’t want to see that he’d been mistaken before, that she actually did look at him with disgust, that her friendliness had been a figment of his hungry imagination.

But then Chrysoberyl had refused to enter the Onyx spaceship medical facilities. Refused. He’d cried so loudly about Kyan’s “assault on his person” and then balked so insistently at using a medical facility “coated with impure blood” that Kyan had wanted to pick him up and throw him across the medical facility threshold just to watch him writhe.

The next most obvious place to bring the aristocrat for medical attention had been here. This hospital. And the one fearless nurse he knew would be working here. Laura.

When she’d walked into the room, her eyes had sought Kyan’s and she’d lit up in a smile. A genuine, heart-piercing, cock-flooding smile. She’d been happy to see him. Eager. As if she’d actually hoped he would return at the end of her shift to get coffee instead of dreading her unwise words.

She smelled of freshness and cool breezes, wildness and freedom. And he suddenly remembered her exact taste.

Pure, untamed, addictive woman.

Females swooned over Pyro, enticed by his dangerous confidence and bad-boy attitude. Until Pyro met his wife, the interest of those females had never lasted longer than one night.

Had Laura somehow confused Kyan for a devilish, charismatic dragon like Pyro?

Surely, if someone suggested Kyan for Laura’s husband, her lip would finally curl, her pretty eyes squint, and the disgust he knew must be hiding within her would reject him.

He crushed the image.

No female of any species should desire him. His poisoned soul would damn any who dared to feel kindness.

Back to the matter at hand. He focused on Mal. “Something is wrong with this situation.”

Mal shrugged. “Even Flint can’t say why the Empress wants to marry one of us. But that doesn’t change the facts.”

“No, about the bomb. Chrysoberyl just arrived. Few knew he was coming today, and fewer still were in the building when the bomb was planted. Syenite was there.”

“What are you saying?”

“If he gets Chrysoberyl killed, we’ll have a larger problem on our hands.”

“Murder between aristocrats is a private affair.”

“Syenite is fallen.”

“The Palace will not care.” Mal dismissed the problem. “Our only concern is preventing his death at the hands of crazed humans such as the ones that got a hold of Pyro.”

Chrysoberyl exited the exam room, saw Kyan with Mal, and his expression clouded. “You left me alone. I am injured to the first degree. What kind of security is this?”

Mal took charge, directing Chrysoberyl to the waiting room. “Your new security officer is out here.”

“You’ve reassigned me to a more competent bodyguard? Finally, you’ve seen reason.”

Mal growled something unintelligible.

Chrysoberyl strutted. “Due to my extensive injuries, I will not produce the research you desired.”

“You have a twenty-four-hour extension,” Mal snapped. “Then, we decide our next launch, with or without you.”

Chrysoberyl protested all the way out.

Kyan should exit with them, but his instincts directed him back to the exam room. Not to check on Laura. Certainly not to savor her curves or drink in her vivacious smiles.

No.

He only went because something was wrong about this situation, and he would not rest until his instincts were satisfied.

Right.

Laura was turning away from a medical tray, her hand on her pocket, lost in thought. She almost walked into him.

How many times now?

He steadied her with hands on her shoulders.

Her nearness pulsed through him like a shock wave. Her soft curves and feminine heat existed mere inches from his. Her rounded shoulders and delicate collarbones yielded beneath his rough hands.

Kyan was not a shrinking dragon to be accidentally wandered into, no matter how distracted.

She was odd. Strange. An anomaly.

“Kyan.” Her smile burst forth, clearing her distraction with pure sunlight. “I hoped you were still around. I need to examine your injuries.”

Her smile blinded him. He sucked in a breath, fighting his reactions.

What was wrong with him?

He dropped her shoulders. “I’m fine.”

“You must have absorbed the blast.”

“It was a dud.”

“A dud?”

“Shrapnel-bearing, but no load. Just a loud bang.” And a few burn marks on the wall and chips off the luggage.

“Oh.” She looked down at his arms. “Then you’re not hurt.”

“No.”

“That must have been a huge relief to you and your team.”

“I work alone.”

She lifted her brows.

He hadn’t meant to tell her, but now that he was in her presence again, he wanted, unusually, to share the truth. See her reactions. Sense her thoughts. Read her and get the answers to all his lingering doubts.

“Who was the guy in the hall?” she asked, and he could only assume she meant Malachite.

“My brother.”

“And today’s patient?”

“A new employee.”

“Oh.” She tilted her head.

“What?”

“No, nothing.” She shook her head. “When Sabrina said you were head of security, I assumed that meant the head of your team.”

“I have employees. Not a team.”

“Just employees?”

He’d seen the camaraderie and respect in well-functioning fireteams in the Colony Wars. Kyan had never experienced it. His employees executed his tasks. He didn’t ask for more and they didn’t give it.

“I work alone,” he repeated.

Her smile returned softly. “Well, I hope you’ll come alone in a few hours when I get off.”

His cock pulsed.

She still wanted coffee at the end of today’s shift? Temptation teased him. He might meet her…

No. He was too busy. There were criminals to track and rogue security agents to examine.

And she didn’t—couldn’t—intend to go any farther with him than her one kiss. She’d attempted to use her healing saliva, and now she should have seen that her healing effort had been in vain. No single scar had disappeared or lessened in severity. Even a soul of charity would admit defeat.

“Come in.” She tugged him into the room, her fingers peeling the trench coat off his shoulders. “I still need to examine you.”

“I am not injured,” he said automatically, even as he savored the soft touch of her delicate feminine hands through the thin fabric of his black shirt.

“I’m pretty sure you sheltered the other guy from a bomb.” Her fingers slid under the collar.

“The bomb was a dud.”

“Oh! Right, you said that.” She focused on his chest, her lips parted. “I won’t feel satisfied until I can see for myself.”

He set his feet, his cock flooding with hot arousal.

It wasn’t his first time. He had encountered beautiful, enticing females in the past, always knowing to keep his reactions to himself because he had no chance to engage with them.

For the first time, he considered the consequences of allowing her to strip him and learn.

Would she run away? Curl up in disgust? Dismiss him with horror?

Or was it just possible she would have a different…unfathomable…reaction?

A high-pitched warning whined behind him.

He whipped around, shrugging his bullet-resistant trench coat back onto his shoulders.

“Oh, it’s making noise.” She moved around him. “This mysterious object showed up on my room tray just now. It looks like an electric banana slicer.”

Electric what?

His gaze narrowed on the object: A stellarium-activated flechette grenade loaded with scale-piercing rounds.

And he, with blood full of stellarium, had just unwittingly entered its activation field.

The blue lights blinked faster.

A hundred flechettes would slice a human into unrecognizable goo.

She walked toward it and reached out. “It wasn’t here be—”

He caught her across the chest, twirled her into his arms, and slammed her to the floor.

The flechette grenade exploded.

With one palm, he ensured her face was mashed into his chest. The thickest, most bone-dense portion of his torso.

But he was in trouble.

Scales erupted over his fragile human skin. They wouldn’t provide much protection from these deadly razors, but it was better than the bullet-resistant trench coat and light armor shirt weave.

The small razor-tipped squares exploded with a hiss he knew all too well, slammed into the metal exam bed partially covering his torso, and thwacked his heavy canvas trench coat. Icy bites of deadly metal snarled into his less guarded arms and legs.

He grunted at the impacts.

One sliced into his buttocks; another, his outer thigh. They ghosted across his back like fingernails clawing for his vital organs.

The scent of his blood flowed freely.

Metal flechettes wiggled deeper, slicing through muscle toward his stellarium-dense bone.

Overhead, the screech of metal on metal told of the ones buried in the bed dislodging and relodging as they fought to immerse themselves in his blood.

He held Laura tightly, caging her from the razors with his body.

She must be protected. She must be safe.

And then, abruptly, the magnetized razors went dead.

His breath mixed with hers.

Outside, the rest of the hospital sounded unaffected. They were sole victims of a shocking attack, and they had survived.

In the doorway, a pair of boots appeared.

He looked up.

Syenite.

The impassive dragon held a demagnetizing wand. It was effective against only a few threats—one of which happened to be flechette grenades.

How very convenient.

How very, very odd.

“So is Kyan coming or not?” Mal’s voice demanded.

Syenite turned, hooking the wand on his belt. “Return to the waiting room and remain within my line of sight.”

“Within your… This night will not end,” Mal groaned, his voice receding. “I promised to return home before two. Cheryl’s going to be angry.”

To the nearby human security guard, Syenite lowered his voice. “Seal off this room. There has been an attack.”

“Attack!”

“A grenade. It’s deactivated now. Clear this hallway.”

“Uh…”

“Where are your security tapes?”

Kyan let out his held breath.

The rival security officer did everything right and had incredible timing. What preternatural instinct had possessed Syenite to come to the room at this moment with such a wand? Kyan considered himself prepared, but even he did not run around with a demagnetizing wand unless he was going into a job where he expected to need it.

So, Syenite must have expected to need it…

Beneath him, Laura trembled.

She had survived. She was safe.

Her face was buried in his chest. Her soft breasts pressed against his upper abdomen, the nipples hard as gemstones. His knee wedged between her thighs, and the heat of her cleft tantalized.

He wanted to mark her as his. He wanted to annihilate anyone who threatened her. He wanted to bury his cock in her feminine softness and claim her for his own forever.

But that was madness.

He flexed his elbows, shifting his weight to pull away.

Her hands burrowed under his trench coat and ghosted against his sides, settling around his unharmed waist. She nuzzled his chest. Her face was separated from his skin by a micrometer of fabric. She drew him closer.

He hesitated.

Did she know what she was doing? Or was she paralyzed by fright?

“Laura.”

She sucked in a long breath and tilted her head. Her cap had been pulled off, and her hair fanned just as he’d fantasized.

But the fright in her eyes left him cold. “Is it safe?”

“Yes.”

She went lax with relief.

So then, she had not known what she was doing. She had clung to him from fear, not desire.

He gathered himself to get up.

Her hands at his waist tightened.

He froze.

She laughed unsteadily. “That was too close.”

What was too close? Or did she mean he was too close?

Her smile wrinkled into a tremulous frown. Shudders racked her. She buried her face in his neck. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little… I’ll be fine in a moment.”

He cupped the back of her neck, supporting her. Her reaction filled him with dread. “Are you injured?”

“Not physically. Just…let me collect myself.”

She was upset. She needed medical attention.

But she was the professional. She said to wait.

His thumb stroked her silky locks. The curls clung to his fingers, soft and resilient.

She was the only female who had ever clung to him for comfort. The only female who would ever do such a fearless thing.

She had been badly frightened.

But not of him.

His chest squeezed, but this pain was very different. Hard and sharp, as if one of the flechettes pierced him straight through the heart.

Fierce protectiveness growled in his chest. He would find the villain who had set this bomb and destroy him.

“Okay.” She sighed. Her hot breath on his sensitive neck sent shivers down his spine. “I’m better.”

He lifted slowly, allowing her head to rest on his palm.

She turned as though to ask him a question. At the same moment, he dropped his chin to inspect her for injuries. Their noses touched each other’s cheeks. Her lips brushed the corner of his mouth.

They both froze.

He held his breath.

She rested on his palm and gazed up at him. Fearless. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and back to his eyes. Waiting? For some signal he didn’t know how to give.

And then she closed the distance, lightly swiping her lips against his.

Curious. Soft. Feminine.

His cock flooded with heat.

That was no accident.

She pulled back. Her expression questioned him. Gauging his feelings. She smiled, slightly and tilted her lips up in invitation.

Invitation.

He wanted another taste. He wanted her kissing him back. Proving with her reactions she was uninjured. She was safe. And he wanted her taste on his tongue, filling his senses, his cock buried in her softness.

He started to lower his head, to give in to his temptation, and stopped.

This was madness.

He was no male worthy of a female like her. He—

She lifted her head and met him halfway.

Her mouth captured his, tasting and exploring. She nibbled, teasing his thick lower lip between her small teeth. Enthusiastic, like she really did want him.

His control broke.

He tilted his head to more firmly command hers.

Her lips parted, yielding with a soft whimper.

He delved into her hot mouth, mixing their liquids. She tasted like water. Healing, soothing, and necessary for life.

He skimmed his tongue over her teeth, memorizing her shape, and plunged into her mouth.

She whimpered again. Her tongue met his, returning his commanding strokes with sweet, soft caresses.

His cock hardened into rebar.

She canted her hips as if she wanted to feel his arousal. Her thighs tightened around his knee and her back arched, sliding her hard nipples up his chest.

An intense, driving need to possess her throbbed within him. His mouth hungered to taste her skin and increase her needy whimpers with his teeth. His hands ached to cup her generous breasts and grip her wide, feminine hips and lose himself in the curvy shape of her thighs.

Her fingers tugged his belt loops, urging his cock closer to her feminine heat.

Footsteps sounded outside the doorway.

He broke the kiss and whipped around to meet the newcomer, arms up in a fighting stance as he half knelt over her protectively.

The human guard paused on the threshold. “We cleared the hallway. There was a bomb?”

“Flechette. Improvised. Much weaker than military issue.”

“Are you two okay?”

Kyan started to rise. The confusion of the kiss cleared to cold, hard reality. “Fine.”

“No!”

He returned to Laura.

She sat upright and pointed at his back in horror. “You’re bleeding.”

Razors stuck from the backs of his arms and legs. Bright red blood trailed across his blue, scale-covered hands. He’d felt the impacts, and he felt them again now, but there had been a period between those two events when he hadn’t felt them at all.

He’d only felt her. In his arms. Writhing beneath him.

Another hot pulse fired in his cock.

He yanked the razors out, forcing his attention to the present, and dropped them on the tile with clinks.

“Oh! We need to get the medkit.” She pushed to her feet.

He stopped her with a bloody hand around her ankle. “No.”

“But those scales—you’re in dragon form.”

“The devices in the medkit are for more significant damage.”

She hesitated, then knelt to his level. “Take off your clothes and let me clean you up.”

The hot pulse came again, this time so powerfully demanding, it made his bones ache. He mustn’t claim her. Getting naked was dangerous. Touching his skin…no.

“I must review the security tapes,” he said, closing the discussion.

“You can’t walk out of my exam room dripping biohazards. I’ll get disciplined. Now, strip.”

He shifted his arm and leg scales into his human skin. The movements stretched and pulled, aggravating the open wounds.

New gloves on, new tray beside her, she dabbed at the cuts.

“This should really have stitches,” she commented on the back of his left hand. “Otherwise, it could scar.”

He eyed her. Was she serious?

She looked back at him, guileless. As if she didn’t realize that no ordinary person, dragon or human, would ever look past the morass on his face to notice a scar on the back of his hand.

“No stitches,” he said, to be clear. “Don’t waste your time.”

“It’s not a waste,” she grumbled, but applied butterfly tape, plastic skin, and a movement-restricting bandage that he would only rip off as soon as he left her sight.

While he received treatment, his tactical employees arrived, and, on his commands, searched the hospital for evidence.

The director of the hospital, looking disheveled and disgruntled at the late hour, interrupted the search to demand answers. “What is the origin of this attack? Are we at risk?”

“No,” Kyan assured him while Laura fumbled the last of the bandage tape. “The weapon was designed to injure dragons. Not humans.”

“Are you involved in some kind of war?”

Always.

But, unusually, Kyan did not know who was leading the armies.

Chrysoberyl was the undeniable target. Someone had planted a weapon in his hospital room that could only be activated by dragon blood. Luckily, he’d already left, or else he would have been shredded.

Who had placed it? Where had it come from?

Nothing made sense.

Who wanted to start a war?

After the director left, Laura fixed Kyan’s last bandage and touched his forearm, worried.

“I know you didn’t want to talk. But have you changed your mind?”

He had no idea why she would ask that question. “Talk about…?”

“The bomb.” She huffed a laugh. “You work alone. I work with lots of people, and it’s made me a little unsteady.”

He wanted to feel her hand on his arm longer. He wanted her close to him, feeling her curves under his hands, squeezing her to his chest while he buried his hard cock deep in her feminine heat. Talking or any other excuse was a reason to be around her, staring into her fearless eyes and breathing in her clear, fresh scent.

His arm went around her waist almost before he could think about what she was saying. It’s made me a little unsteady. Then he steadied her. Yes. That was why his biceps tightened, drawing her against his solid front.

She rested both palms on his chest. “Your heartbeat sounds so calm.”

“Decades of training.”

Besides, there was nothing dangerous about holding an irresistibly soft female in his arms. Nothing that warranted—

She lifted one hand and cupped his jaw.

He froze solid.

She did it again. She touched my scars. His chest squeezed.

The agony of his desire crashed over him. I must possess her. His hands shook with the need.

He fought it.

Escape. Now.

Before someone got hurt.

Stroking the mismatch of flesh, she said, “If you ever want to talk—”

He shoved her back.

She rocked on her tennis shoes. Surprise flashed to regret. She curled her open palm into a fist. “Oh. Ah, I didn’t mean to—”

As though a silent emergency drill had executed in his head, he turned and strode to the end of the hall, shouldered his way through the crowded emergency waiting room, and flew directly away from the hospital into the night.

Laura locked her apartment door, set her half-consumed cardamom latte on the bookshelf, and collapsed in the living room chair.

Her feet throbbed on their ergonomic, extra-padded inserts.

She toed them off.

Twelve hours on her feet plus an impromptu shopping trip overwhelmed even the most pillowy shoes.

The last shift had been hands down the hardest shift of her career.

As tension drained out of her, the dangerous hiss of uncried tears sucked in. Would her eyes seal shut, drowning her in the oblivion of sleep?

No. That would be too easy.

Her breath hitched into the half hiccup of sobs.

Okay. That was okay too.

“Morning.” Her housemate Neve carried from the kitchen strong, independently roasted, fair-trade Kenyan coffee in a handmade ceramic mug. She studied Laura with gentle sympathy. “Rough night?”

Laura closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against the lids. “The worst.”

“Did somebody code?”

She shook her head. That was about the only redeeming thing about tonight. Nobody had died.

“I’ll get the bread flour.”

While her housemate pulled out the familiar ingredients and plugged in the stand mixer, Laura groaned to her feet and started her grief-catharsis routine.

First, she put Untamed Heart on the mini kitchen TV. Socially awkward Christian Slater saved cute waitress Marisa Tomie from rapists while Laura warmed a cup of milk on the small white stove to activate the yeast. By the time the protagonists had fallen in love, gone to a hockey game, and Christian Slater had suddenly collapsed from an undiagnosed heart disorder, Laura was pounding her sorrow into the sticky dough.

Neve disappeared to get ready for school, and her brother Tyler arrived home.

“Rough night,” he guessed, stealing Neve’s half pot and collapsing into the living room chair Laura had vacated.

They called it “the living room,” but actually, all the rooms squished together with only a few waist-height dividing walls organizing the space.

Tyler had a worse swing shift than Laura at an all-night alternative music store. But, since it was one of the last of its kind in all of Portland, or maybe in all the world, he didn’t mind.

“A code?”

“No codes,” Neve said, returning to the living room to put on her loafers.

He opened a pink box of boutique donuts and snagged a custard bar. “That’s good. What happened?”

Neve grabbed one of his donuts. “Nosy.”

“Talking is great therapy.”

“Maybe if any of us had proper credentials.”

Laura sucked in a deep breath.

Neve paused, a donut held between her teeth and her shoulder bag half stuffed with her master’s teaching materials. She waited to see if Laura would actually answer.

So much had happened.

First, Dr. Richard’s lecture, then treating the dragon shifters, the bomb scare, and ending in Kyan’s arms.

And then his total, absolute rejection.

She’d disgusted him. No, his final look hadn’t been disgust. She’d annoyed him? No matter how many times she played the scene over and over in a horrible loop, she couldn’t quite identify his feeling.

He’d jerked back. And stepped back. He didn’t want her touch, her interest, her.

That part needed no explanation.

There was too much hurt to unpack, so Laura skipped to after Kyan left. “I got called in to discuss ‘my performance’ with the director of the hospital.”

Tyler’s brows rose, causing his square glasses to slide down his nose. “You’re fired?”

“No.” She sucked in another breath and studied the ceiling. Warm morning sunlight caught dust motes and revealed invisible spider webs. “I got a warning. I was careless and I…I treated a patient.”

Neve exchanged glances with Tyler.

“That’s kind of your job,” Tyler said.

“I know. But I got so much encouragement from my preceptor, I overstepped.”

“Overstepped?” Neve repeated.

“You?” Tyler flubbed his lips, then took a huge bite of donut. “Somebody got their wires crossed.”

“There has to be a misunderstanding,” Neve agreed.

Laura huffed a mirthless laugh. Her housemates were well aware of her shortcomings. Overconfidence wasn’t one of them.

But that was exactly what the director had accused her of.

Her mind traveled back to the director’s office and their conference with crystal clarity, as if the whole horrible incident had happened minutes instead of hours earlier.

The frazzled director had tapped his hand on the small conference table. “Why did you treat him?”

She’d pressed her knees together in the hard chair. “Kyan was bleed—”

“Not him. The first one! The mild burn.”

Her mouth had opened and closed. “I was assigned.”

“You were assigned to evaluate him. Now they think we’re an alien clinic! Who knows how many more they’ll bring in here?”

She should have kept quiet.

But she’d gone and opened her mouth. “Um, but, I thought we were a dragon—”

“Don’t!” He’d held up his hand and then rubbed it over his exhausted face. “We are a depository for their special ‘medkits,’ which they are storing here in case of an emergency. We’re not an alien research hospital. We’re not even a human research hospital. Now we’re under bomb threats.” He’d pointed a long index finger at her. “This is your fault.”

She’d left his office certain he would call her back in and cancel her clinical, dismiss her, and inform the school she was unfit for the medical profession.

Knowing she’d gone through a bombing, Sabrina had kindly suggested she go home, but since it might be her last shift as a nurse, she’d been determined to finish.

Every time she’d tried to focus, she’d been slammed again with the director’s warning or Kyan’s rejection. She’d nearly typed on the wrong patient’s chart and later accidentally carried a back pocket full of prescriptions out to her car—which she’d immediately returned, to more discipline.

“These are the mistakes that kill people,” Galina had told her sternly, and Laura hadn’t said a peep because it was true.

Now in her sunny kitchen, as she faced her housemates’ kind but misplaced sympathy, the night seemed even worse than she’d remembered.

She thumped the bread dough one last time and put it under a towel for its second rise while the video froze on Marisa Tomei crying inconsolably over Christian Slater’s body.

“The misunderstanding was mine,” she said firmly. “If I screw up again, my career is over. I definitely killed my chance for a recommendation.”

A gold star of approval would never be hers.

Again, Neve exchanged a look with her brother, then raced for her bus to the university.

Tyler selected his second donut. “We’re in a health care crisis, so you’ll get a job even without a recommendation.”

She sniffed. “Yeah.”

Their final housemate, Tyler’s athletic girlfriend, Whitney, strolled out of their bedroom in a tank top and yoga pants. She yawned, bypassed the coffee and donuts, and helped herself to fresh kombucha. “Who died?”

“Coded,” Tyler corrected.

“Nobody.” Laura let out a sigh. She did feel better having confessed her problems. She washed the flour off her hands and dried them on the towel. “I’m never making a single decision without approval ever again.”

“Oh?” Whitney set a packet of Peace Corps materials on the crowded counter. She recruited for volunteer organizations and had brought home the packet at Laura’s request. “You might forget about this, then. Peace Corps sticks you in places where you have to rely on yourself and make all your own decisions.”

Laura’s fingers closed over the packet. “Uh…”

“I’m just being honest.”

“Hey,” Tyler said. “Where’s my welcome-home kiss?”

Whitney shrugged and went to Tyler, sorry to wreck Laura’s wishes, but perfectly able to bluntly declare the truth. Her honesty was something Laura admired even when it crushed her dreams. If Laura too could just say what she felt all the time…

…Dr. Richard would never steal another granola-bar break from her again.

…the director would understand that the hospital’s fractured chain of command had put her into the untenable position of providing treatments he apparently didn’t want her to provide—and denying services after agreeing to host the medical kits really felt like a weaselly administrator response that went against her inner beliefs.

…Kyan would know his reaction had hurt her. Deeply.

…and she’d probably be legitimately fired right now instead of just “under warning.”

Laura finished her kitchen cleanup. Tyler would check on her rising loaves, or Whitney would. She carried the Peace Corps packet to her bedroom and set it next to her Doctors Without Borders, Red Cross, and Amnesty International packets.

They were all full of colorful photos showing brave nurses making real differences in others’ lives. Challenging dangers, confidently striding into the heart of a disaster carrying medical supplies and hope.

She wanted to be the kind of nurse who carried hope. Just seeing her should make a patient’s face light up.

It’s okay now. Relief is here.

But, honestly, Whitney was right. Galina was right. And even Dr. Richard, curse his granola-bar-break-stealing squicky ways, was right.

While Laura’s disaster-team cohort strode confidently into the darkness, she’d flutter uselessly, asking if it was safe, if they’d been cleared, if she’d brought the right first aid supplies, if she was doing okay. If…if…if…

Kyan’s rejection flashed across her mind.

She twitched and headed down the hall to shower her pathetic existence away.

Tyler and Whitney laughed in the kitchen. Always having someone home, pretty much, no matter the hour gave her comfort.

I work alone.

Laura didn’t like to be alone. That was another reason the Peace Corps wouldn’t work for her. She’d always imagined taking part in her village’s life, but she’d probably get stuck in a lonely, isolated hut.

So it was just as well she never applied.

Hot water poured down on her sore back. Brushing her teeth at the same time, she strove to boil her worries away.

Kyan was clearly fine with being alone. He was a rock. He probably spent all his time clenching that sexy jaw, striding into disaster zones, and then cracking a solitary beer at his kitchen table. Alone.

He didn’t need a house full of nice roommates or to knead bread while watching tearjerkers to find catharsis. He probably shrugged off a hard day by punching up a sweat at the gym. Droplets flying, Rocky music playing—his strength was everything Laura desired for herself.

Of course, he would never want to know. He’d made his feelings clear.

She let the fiery water wash away any lingering unshed tears.

Her own method for dealing was a little different.

Laura’s first clinical rotation had been in a children’s ward. Every day on the floor introduced a new torture.

“It’s okay to grieve,” her first preceptor had said, accurately identifying how close Laura was to quitting. “Put on the saddest movie you own, pour yourself a glass of wine, and pound your grief into bread dough. Tears make the loaves taste sweeter.”

It had worked.

Even though Laura never got over the ones she couldn’t save, she was able to accept and focus on the ones she could. Her attitude improved, and her little patients responded. And she finally was able to see that many, many children did recover, even from the worst diagnoses, and got their chances to grow up and live.

She shut off the water and toweled dry. All those endorphins made her head pound and her lids sink with exhaustion.

Finally.

She pulled on her worn nightgown and robe, wrapped her wet hair in a threadbare towel, and returned to her room.

A new movie filled the living room.

She was never alone in this house. It was so nice.

Laura closed the blinds on the bright sunlight and slipped between her sheets. She closed her eyes.

Spinning had shocked and frightened her. In one instant, she’d gone from walking toward the mystery device to lying flat on the tile, covered by Kyan’s powerful body. But she had known she was safe because it was him.

Heat throbbed between her thighs.

Ugh. Go to sleep.

Her mind demanded she relive the good parts in exquisite detail.

His hand had cupped the back of her head, sheltering her from the tile. He’d stiffened as the deadly razors struck him, all the while protecting her. They’d shared a tender, soul-shattering kiss.

Then she’d offended him.

He was used to bombs. Her insistence on talking and touching, as if she had any right to do so, had made him walk off without another word.

She’d destroyed his good opinion. She’d never see him again.

Her heart ached.

Something banged outside her apartment.

What was that?

Laura rolled over and reached for her earplugs.

Something exploded. Her neighbors’ car alarms went off. An engine revved.

Huh?

She crawled out of bed, groaning, and stumbled to the window. She opened the blinds.

A dark shadow hit the glass.

Her bedroom window shattered.

“Are you interested in no females?” Jasper lowered his voice. “None at all?”

Kyan’s siblings gathered in the conference room for the daily officer’s meeting. He tried to ignore Jasper while making his espresso, but his brother would not be ignored.

“No,” Kyan growled curtly.

He didn’t have time for females. The attacks from three days ago were still fresh in his mind, wearing at his patience.

Had some lizard alien cultists slipped through his surveillance? Did the attacks against Chrysoberyl signal a new threat?

He was no closer to leads on Chrysoberyl’s attackers than he was to proof on the dragon family selling contraband medkits.

So he had no time for hungry whimpers, soft fingers tightening in his belt loops, or sweet lips meshing with his, tempting him to lose control.

His cock pulsed with heat. His body demanded he go to Laura now and claim her.

Kyan gritted his teeth.

She did not fear him. But if he went to her and lost control, then she would know fear.

He frightened himself.

Behind him, Chrysoberyl stalked into the meeting room with Syenite.

He watched them. Was Syenite drawing closer to the aristocrat? Kyan silently ordered the amplification of security around this room.

“Maybe one female?” Jasper pushed. “I could hire her for our company.”

He shook his head. Usually, that was enough to cut off the conversation.

“Are you certain?”

“There is no point.”

Jasper’s brows rose. “So you have found a female of interest?”

Kyan tried not to roar.

His complicated feelings about Laura could not be summarized into something simple such as “interest.” She had clung to him. Faced him fearlessly. Touched my scars. He still couldn’t deal with that last item, and so he shoved the feelings into a tight, dark ball in the pit of his stomach where they would never, ever arise.

Jasper awaited his answer.

Although Kyan had always taken pains to avoid hurting his steady, thoughtful sibling, he also could not allow Jasper to tread too closely into dangerous territory. He added a pump of vanilla to his mug and pushed the image of Laura from his mind.

“Employing your female hasn’t resulted in a bond.”

Jasper paled and glanced furtively at the open doorway. His voice lowered to a hiss. “You know?”

Kyan foamed milk in the steamer.

Almost one month ago exactly, their mother had opened a channel from Draconis and announced arranged marriages for them all—Mal to the Empress, and the others to various Palace advisers. Only Jasper had spoken up to express his interest in an Earth female. Their mother had, surprisingly, relented so long as he produced the female as his wife. And that had led the others to claim, falsely, that they too had Earth females they were just waiting to introduce to her.

Mal and Pyro had actually produced human brides.

Kyan would not.

At the time, his siblings had complimented Jasper on his quick thinking. They’d assumed he’d lied to their mother like they had. Only Kyan had known Jasper was telling the truth.

“Don’t—” Jasper glanced around the room as though his female would walk through the door at that instant. It could happen. She was, after all, employed in their building. “Do not speak of it here.”

Kyan gave him the usual look he offered when asked a stupid question.

Jasper’s tension eased from his shoulders. “Thank you. I have not lost all hope.”

Kyan had.

He shouldered away from the espresso machine and assumed his seat as Mal called the meeting to order. “First order of business: The next product launch.”

On the wall screen at their subsidiary company, Pyro cleared his throat. “That’s not what my agenda says.”

“What?”

Cheryl slipped a piece of paper in front of her husband.

Mal glared down at the paper. “I am the CEO!”

“And the agenda is typically drawn by the vice president,” Pyro drawled on the screen.

When he’d been vice president of the Onyx Corporation, he’d missed most of the meetings partying or sleeping off a weekend’s excesses in jail, leaving sole control to Mal.

“Fine,” Mal growled. Cheryl drew his attention to the first line of business. “Today’s most important first topic is…Aristocratic Dragon Safety in a Non-Shifter, Human-Filled Office.”

“Yes.” Chrysoberyl cleared his throat imperiously and glared at Kyan. “What has been done about the attacks against my person?”

Kyan’s gaze flicked to Syenite. Standing behind Chrysoberyl like a silent sentry at the wall, the male’s shaded expression was impossible to read.

Was there a connection between the contraband medkits and Chrysoberyl’s attack? Had Kyan’s own office been penetrated by the lizard alien cult?

No.

The medkits had been sold off by a dragon family. Most likely, the Tourmalines.

The attacks on Chrysoberyl had utilized dragon military weapons. The Tourmaline family should not have access to weapons, much less dare to sell them without Palace approval. Therefore, Kyan’s security measures at the Onyx Corporation had not been breached by cultists.

They had been breached by another dragon.

Every hour, Syenite appeared more and more responsible. But his background did not disclose why.

“The investigation continues,” Kyan said shortly.

His siblings turned to their agendas, used to his short nonanswers.

“What does that mean?” Chrysoberyl demanded. “Have you identified the perpetrator? Have you safeguarded this building against the villains who wish to do me harm?”

“Yes.”

His mouth dropped open and closed. “Then…why haven’t the villains been brought to justice?”

Syenite’s gaze burned him like a laser.

“It’s under control.” He sipped his latte. The coffee’s tasty black-gold flavor dissolved on his tongue.

The aristocrat looked deeply unhappy.

“Moving on,” Mal barked, finger on the next item but not reading it, “the product launch!”

Cheryl choked.

He stared at their faces, then actually looked at the agenda. “How is that not the second most important item of business today?”

A small smile curved her lips. “You would think that.”

The second order of business was the Empress’s marriage proposal. Mal chewed it in his mouth and spit it at Kyan. “Well? Have you scheduled a video conference with the Palace or found a suitable female to marry? You would fare no better than Pyro or I as the Empress’s consort.”

Chrysoberyl gasped. “Are you really so stupid as to turn down marriage from the Empress?”

The siblings ignored him.

Yes, the Empress was the most powerful female dragon in the entire Empire. She was also centuries old and, when her last consort had angered her, she’d chewed off his arm.

Kyan had no intention of accepting her proposal.

But he was also no fool.

His siblings did not need to know his plan. Not until long after he executed it. Possibly never.

“It is under control,” he said again.

The others regarded him silently.

Amber looked like she hoped rather than believed his words were true.

Mal looked down at the agenda, silently taking Cheryl’s hand in his own. On the screen, Pyro rubbed his bandaged chest. Both had avoided dismemberment by a furious, possibly senile female’s teeth.

Cheryl smiled up at Mal and spoke softly. “Now it’s the product launch.”

He gazed at her lovingly as if she’d personally given him a gift. “Finally. Chrysoberyl! Where are your proposals?”

While the aristocrat sputtered and made excuses, Cheryl blushed a deep color and rested her free hand on her belly. Barely a month along, she already carried Mal’s dragonlet.

He linked their hands as he blasted the aristocrat.

Cheryl was the only one who never seemed to mind Mal’s rampages. She closed her eyes as if she found his barked orders restful.

Mal wouldn’t have lasted a day in the Palace. Too blunt, too direct, and he didn’t pull his punches for those who were “higher” than him. Cheryl’s attraction was a miracle.

One that Kyan would never experience.

Laura’s soft smile forced itself into his mind again, and the almost-uncontrollable pulse of longing crashed over him. He tightened his hands into fists and allowed his claws to extend, threatening to pierce his skin.

He had no right to Laura. He had no right to love, comfort, or his own family. Protecting his siblings was his only mission. Pleasure, anticipation for dragonlets, and the peace of having a lair filled with happiness were not rewards for a brutalized, blackened soul such as his.

As they neared the end of their meeting, a signal from Draconis arrived with primary importance. Kyan silently approved it and cut Mal off mid-sentence.

“Our mother is calling,” he announced.

“Now?” Mal frowned at the wall screen opposite Pyro’s.

It hissed, and their mother’s face appeared.

Her long dragon snout dangled with gemstones, and her scales shimmered in the red light of the Outer Rim. She focused on her adult dragonlets with a yawn.

“These time differences are so disagreeable.” Fuzz gargled her words. “Kyanite. The emissary from the Empress would like to know if you will require their transport to reach your engagement party.”

His siblings stared at him in horror.

Using the Empress’s transport had factored into his original plans, but because of the unsolved attacks on Pyro and Chrysoberyl, he now needed to stay on Earth longer. He had to finish his investigation and be certain there would be no further victims.

“I do not,” he said.

His siblings breathed a collective sigh.

They cared. He’d had difficulty accepting them in the beginning, when Mal had first approached and convinced him to establish a business on a no-name little planet called Earth, but after five years of working together with his siblings, he knew their caring was real.

He would be sorry to give them up, but he had no choice. The harsh, solitary coldness of space waited.

His siblings would survive his loss. He had ensured they would remain safe even after he was long gone.

“Do you not need the Empress’s transport because you have found a human female to marry?” his mother asked.

He hedged. Saying yes would give him the extra time, but he hated to lie. “There are complications.”

“Complications? Such as?”

Under his breath, Chrysoberyl snorted. “His face.”

Two seats down from the aristocrat, Amber’s claws extended and dug into the thick conference table. Across from her, Alex and then Jasper also extended their claws in silent warning.

A show of loyalty.

Their protectiveness stuck Kyan with uncomfortable pins behind his chest. He looked away. Getting strafed by shadowed enemies hadn’t given him this kind of anxiety.

Actually, it would be a relief to escape from them all. Yeah. A relief.

Although his mother hadn’t heard, she focused on Kyan with clear-eyed belief. “Your scars do not make you unlovable.”

The pins burrowed deeper.

He sucked in a breath against the pain. Just as when Laura had touched his scars, his mother’s gentleness made him vulnerable in a way he couldn’t fight. The urge to flee boiled up, overwhelming. He gripped the conference table.

“You are very attractive. You are a beautiful human and an attractive dragon.”

This…he couldn’t…

“And I will tell that to your female also,” his mother continued, imperious, “and there will be no more complications. You will introduce her to me immediately.”

He somehow found his voice. “Yes.”

“Good. Then, my second reason for calling… You, there. You must be Chrysoberyl.” Their mother focused on the suddenly squirming aristocrat. “I heard from your aunt, my dear friend Ferocia Carnelian, that you are nearly as bright as little Sard.”

His cheek muscles twitched. “Little?”

Truly, only a female dragon would call Chrysoberyl’s older brother, the dominant heavyweight male Sard, “little.”

“We’re all expecting great accomplishments from you. Especially now you’ve partnered with my dragonlets.” She fanned herself. “You may know that I’m expecting to become a grand dragon any day now.”

“Con-congratulations,” he choked.

“Indeed. I will have so many grand dragonlets, even Ferocia will turn red. The Empress herself has proposed to three of my dragonlets, as you know. I’m certain you will become a credit to our families and earn a marriage proposal from a highly placed female as well. At least as high as the female marrying your brother.”

His teeth gritted. “At least.”

“So enjoy your playtime in my dragonlets’ company. Ferocia and I look forward to your advancement. As I’m sure do your mother and dear little Sard.”

She ended the conversation.

The meeting wound to a close. Mal reviewed the agenda one last time.

“Then,” Mal declared, “if there are no further product proposals, we will conduct test audiences on the three outfits I have—”

“No.” Chrysoberyl gripped the table. His furious gaze nailed on Mal. “I will prepare my proposal for tomorrow.”

“You’ve already had—”

“Tomorrow,” he repeated, growling. “You will not be sorry.”

Mal’s brows slowly lifted with grudging respect. “Tomorrow.”

The aristocrat rose and stalked from the conference room. Syenite moved like a ghost after his shadow.

The others rose more slowly.

Finally, it appeared Chrysoberyl would stop focusing on the position he felt he deserved and instead focus on contributing to the company. Their mother had sorted him out.

Kyan followed his siblings from the conference room.

Alex fell into step beside Kyan. “When you have time, I would like to discuss something with you.”

“I have time.”

“At the moment, I do not.” Alex passed Chrysoberyl’s office. His two-tone gaze, lavender and turquoise, narrowed on Syenite. “It is only a hunch…at a later time, I would like to review the security footage of the explosion in the office.”

“Any time.”

“And of the emergency room attack.”

“I will acquire it.”

Alex glanced at him with a raised brow.

The director refused to hand over the tapes from three days ago. Kyan therefore snuck his own security-bypassing collection mechanisms into place. He had the footage; he simply hadn’t collected it from the hospital yet.

The reason for his reluctance was something he did not want to analyze.

“What do you expect to see?” he asked.

Alex hesitated on the threshold of his office. “I am not certain.”

“But?”

“But if it was targeted, truly, at the aristocrat, the attempt was made by a poor assassin.”

Kyan had considered the placement of the flechette bomb after Chrysoberyl had left the room to be luck.

Underestimating his enemy was deadly.

The assassin could have expected Chrysoberyl to return. And the weapon used was deviously clever because it would have waited, hidden in plain sight, until another dragon had walked close enough to trigger its proximity field. And that other dragon could have been Chrysoberyl.

But Alex suggested a different conclusion. “You believe the target was someone else?”

His lips thinned. He had not come to any certain conclusions.

The only other person in the room had been Laura.

His blood pressure rose, and darkness seeped into his field of vision.

No. Impossible.

He suddenly needed to know her exact location.

But he had not placed a tracker on her. Unlike the trackers secretly embedded in all his siblings—on all those he cared about—he had not placed one on her.

Pyro’s tracker had informed Kyan the instant Pyro disappeared from his sight, even though he hadn’t been close enough to stop the kidnapping or subsequent torture, but he’d known, as he would know if anything happened to any of them.

Except Laura.

Alex checked his gold wristwatch. “Excuse me. I have research and development.”

Which was code for wining and dining future suppliers.

Alex had first brought Darcy into their company. He was an expert at making connections, but not at keeping them. Only Darcy had latched onto Pyro, Mal, and Jasper and become like one of their siblings.

Darcy had a tracker.

Kyan strode to the building’s tactical operations room. His first intention had been to review the footage of the office attack, but he’d seen it many times already.

Alex’s statements gnawed on his mind.

Was Laura a target?

His stomach acid burned.

Logically, she could not be a target of any stellarium-activated grenade. She did not have stellarium in her blood. No human did.

And no one could wish a sunshine-filled, openhearted, beautiful female such as Laura harm.

There is great evil in the universe.

No.

He was misled by his desires. His hunger to see her—to remove all their clothing, bare their bodies and souls, and mate her—had taken control of his brain in an insidious new way. It twisted his thinking.

Laura was not and would never be a target.

The only way she would ever be in danger was if he did put a tracker on her. Yielding to his desire to possess her—to claim her, to become one with her—that would be the true danger.

The scars on the outside only masked deeper ugliness inside. A dragon with a soul as black as his would poison her. Strangle her sunshine until she too descended into darkness.

He had to know her location. Now.

Kyan hacked into the hospital computers using the back door he’d long ago established. He reviewed her schedule, confirming what he’d already memorized. Her next shift started soon.

He’d collect his footage from the hospital tomorrow morning. After her shift ended and she’d left.

She was not a target.

He reviewed alerts he’d skipped while devoting himself entirely to the attacks.

This would be easier if he had a team. Even one other person he trusted could monitor his feeds, glimpse the total scope of his investigations, and smartly intervene.

But he trusted no one.

His own employees received assignments. Short, sweet. No one saw the full picture.

That was the only way to remain safe.

He tracked the movements of the lizard alien cultists, especially those most likely to move in the Portland/Vancouver area, and updated his database. Then he visited their secret forums.

A post from two days ago stopped him cold.

“This is the new face of betrayal,” the post read. “In a hospital helping the lizard aliens take over our brains. Here’s her name, address, and work. Go get her!”

The picture of their newest victim was Laura.

Laura was having a hard time finding her morning sunshine.

Especially since it was nearly six in the evening, she’d had to scramble for the bus and run across the hospital campus to reach her locker on time, and now all she wanted to do was catch her breath, wipe her sweat, and finish tying her shoe covers on before checking in with Sabrina and Galina for the night’s assignments.

“Carelessness is a trait a nurse absolutely cannot allow,” Dr. Richard said imperiously, standing way too close to the door of the women’s locker room for his lecture. “Neglecting the brakes on your car is how people die.”

She finished the tie, straightened, and jammed her hair under her cap, trying to count to ten without crying.

“Are you listening to me?” he demanded. “Or do I need to come in there?”

Laura did not need this lecture right now. If she didn’t get all the way to ten, there was a chance she might channel her brusque roommate, Whitney, and give Dr. Richard a real piece of her mind.

Luckily, he waited until she reached nine. “Laura?”

She bolted to her feet and stormed out. “You can’t come in here. This is the women’s locker room.”

“Like a woman’s body is something I’ve never seen before,” he said, managing to sound suggestive and annoying in the same sentence. “Any time you need an exam, Laura, you know who to see.”

Gross.

She sucked in a breath.

Behind him, Galina strode down the hall. She subtly shook her head, both a warning to Laura not to lose her patience and a shot of empathy for having to deal with this thought-he-was-flirting-or-something doctor.

She gritted her teeth. “I’m perfectly satisfied with my primary care physician, thanks.”

“Obviously he’s not doing his job.” Dr. Richard grabbed her ungloved hands and held them up. “These are the careless hands that neglected basic car maintenance, crashed your car, and caused you to be late.”

She desperately searched for a clock. “I’m not—”

“And these shouldn’t touch patients until you clear your head.” He had the gall to appeal to her preceptor. “Right, Galina?”

Galina remained stone-faced. “Laura is needed in my rooms.”

He released her. “We’ll see how long she lasts.”

His doubt hurt. She wanted to swear at him as he walked away.

Galina looked at Laura without mercy. She wore her professional face, and it was sometimes hard for her to switch modes, so Laura didn’t take it personally. “Your car broke down?”

“It’s in the shop. The brakes should be fixed by my next shift.”

Although, Dr. Richard was a little right about needing to clear her head. Laura couldn’t afford another distracted shift like three days ago. She sucked in a breath and let it out, striving to release the fears and focus on the job.

She’d been backing out of her spot slowly like always when the brakes had failed. Her sedan had rolled at the terrifying pace of one mile per hour backward until it had gently bumped her neighbor’s trash cans and dinged the paint.

The tow truck driver later asked why she hadn’t shifted back to Drive or, at that speed, Park.

Duh.

It had been the stupidest mistake ever, all because she’d lost her cool and been unable to deal with the emergency, and now it was going on her insurance.

Kyan wouldn’t have made a mistake like that. Neither would the other doctors and nurses. Capable people didn’t make dumb errors. Why did she think she could be a nurse?

Galina asked her outright, “You neglected the brakes?”

“Last week, there was a little squeak, but I swear it didn’t feel spongy.”

“Are you okay today?”

Honestly, she didn’t know. “Sure.”

“Then let’s go.”

Laura tried to stow her distraction and concentrate on her patients.

Ever since Kyan had rejected her and the director had yelled, things had gone wrong.

That first morning, kids had thrown a bottle rocket through her window. Whitney had chased the kids’ car, but even a semipro athlete couldn’t catch it once it got on the main street, and Tyler had given them both a hard time for missing the license plate.

The next day, still a little paranoid from the bottle rocket, she’d felt like shady people were following her around taking her picture. The apartment had been unusually quiet with everyone at work, so she’d visited her parents. They always had guests. She’d spent the day with out-of-town cousins and a German foreign exchange student and returned feeling a million times better.

But when she’d gotten home, Neve was washing graffiti and rotten eggs from their front door.

“I sprang a pop quiz on my upper 200 class.” Neve wiped her face. The rotten sulfur smell clung. “You’d think college sophomores would be above this behavior.”

Then came the incident with her brakes. And Dr. Richard, like an angel of irritation, practically pushing his way inside the women’s locker room to make his point.

Laura rubbed her temples.

Today, she just needed to get through her shift. Not overstep. Not treat someone she wasn’t supposed to treat. Not come on to any of her patients.

Not that she ever did. Her patients arrived at the ER during their worst nightmares. They didn’t feel sexy, and neither did she.

Kyan was just…

…another regret.

And she needed to stop thinking about him during lulls. This busy—

“Laura!”

She jolted. Please do not let me have spaced anything important. “Yes!”

Galina glared. “I asked if you were done with that patient summary yet.”

She looked down at the clipboard in her hands. Flu patient complaining of kidney pains that went away with rehydration. “Yes. Almost. What is it?”

“A patient in Room 2 is asking for you.”

Her heart throbbed. That was the room where she’d treated Kyan. Where he’d saved her life.

Galina wrecked her fantasies. “We think it’s a psych eval.”

Great. A patient with psychiatric problems was asking for her? By name?

“Why me?”

“Who knows?” Galina checked her watch. “Serge will observe.”

Serge was another RN. Room 2 was his tonight, and since Laura was the expendable nursing student, he’d make the final call about her assessments.

Her stomach growled.

No time to eat.

She nodded to Serge as she entered Room 2.

Their patient, a scruffy young male, looked twitchy. And unfamiliar. She’d treated a lot of patients, but couldn’t have forgotten one like this.

“Can I help you?”

He twitched. “You’re Laura?”

Maybe he’d meant to call for someone else. “Yes?”

“Laura Jamison?”

Less of a coincidence. “Yes?”

He reached under his coat and shook something loose, scratching like he had a bad itch. “Betr—mhph.”

She glanced at Serge. The RN was frowning.

“I’m sorry?” she said.

“Betrayer,” the nameless patient enunciated, and swung a knife.

The blade arced in front of her face, missing her by a good foot.

She jerked back and screamed.

Serge beat her into the hallway. “Security!”

The twitchy man lunged at her again. The knife missed her by several feet.

She scrambled down the hall after Serge. Men and women ran to her aid.

“He has a knife!” she gasped.

Striding down the hall, deadly calm, trench coat flying, was Kyan.

He’s coming to save me.

Guards and other nurses swarmed the hall. Pushing through them, she stumbled toward Kyan.

His gaze flicked beyond her to the psych patient.

Oh.

Kyan was not coming to save her. He’d probably happened upon this scene on his way elsewhere. Subduing a maniac was easy for him and had nothing to do with her…

His protective arms closed around her.

She hit his chest. It was like a solid wall.

Rescue.

The rejection, the confusion, and her doubts evaporated. Kyan offered his protection. She sheltered in his arms.

The twitchy man threw off the guards with the unnatural strength of the truly insane. He screamed and lunged. His blade arced for her chest.

Kyan lifted his arm.

The blade sliced through his trench coat and slammed into blue scales. It bent as though striking rock.

The man lifted the warped blade to stab again.

Guards grappled him once more. The knife twisted out of his hand, and he landed facedown. The guards and nurses subdued him.

Thank goodness.

Kyan’s blue-scaled arm protected her. His solid chest warmed her back and held her up.

She leaned against him.

Everything would be al—

He pulled away.

Oh!

“Excuse me.” She straightened, flushing hot. How many times would she assume too much and drive him away?

He curled one powerful hand around her wrist. “Come with me.”

She followed him down the hall, away from the incident, to the elevator.

The sliced sleeve of his trench coat flapped.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

The elevator opened, and more security guards ran out.

He pulled her into the now-empty elevator, released her wrist, and swiped her badge across the controls, then pressed the button for the roof. “Yes.”

She parted the slit fabric of his sleeve. Scales glittered like blue glass. They receded under his human skin. Unblemished male skin with a dusting of dark hair the same color as on his head greeted her exploratory fingertips.

“You’re not hurt.”

The razors from the bomb before had cut deeply into his dragon scales, and shifting to human had exacerbated that damage, but this time, he was unhurt.

“The flechette grenade was a dragon weapon,” he said, as though reading her thoughts. “This knife was meant for a human.”

Suddenly, her heart thumped double-time, her hands felt like ice, and she couldn’t catch her breath. She shuddered. The elevator swam before her fuzzing vision.

Shock. Ordinary, nonlethal, sympathetic shock.

She would not faint.

But she might like to sit down.

“First my car,” she gasped. “Before that, my apartment window. Now, a stabbing. This has been a terrible week.”

The elevator doors opened onto the roof. Wind howled across the blinking helicopter pad. She wove after Kyan across the rough concrete and stumbled.

He pulled her against his firm chest.

That was exactly what she needed.

She buried her face in his male-scented undershirt.

Everything was fine. Her reaction was normal.

Laura wasn’t the first nurse to be attacked by a psych eval and she wouldn’t be the last. Not every hospital had metal detectors. Patients could turn violent with a number 2 pencil.

Violence was rare.

Kyan was here.

She was fine.

He drew his trench coat around her for warmth.

“Thank you.”

“Hold on.” He rocketed them into the night.

Her heart rate rocketed at the same acceleration. She shrieked. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you somewhere safe.”

Well, if she was flying across Portland, then she was definitely not at risk of another stabbing. So that was a relief.

Her tennis shoes dangled over the twinkling city without a parachute or any sort of safety harness. And she still had to file an incident report.

They floated so very, very high.

Fear sliced her shaky calm to ribbons.

She whimpered. “Please be careful.”

He pressed her head to his broad shoulder. “Close your eyes.”

She obeyed.

With her eyes closed, she could concentrate on the sensations of being held safe in his arms.

His iron quadriceps heated her trembling thighs. His pectorals hardened beneath her swelling breasts. His arm snugged her close, pressing her throbbing female center intimately against his tapered male waist. She knew exactly where the belt ended and his hard muscle began.

As her heart rate slowed, new awareness slivered into her with hot arousal.

She should really return to work.

But she didn’t want to.

Nestling in his arms after her shock felt even better than it had three days ago. Even better than her hot-shower fantasies. She’d never been so safe and protected.

Oh well. No fantasy lasted forever.

Laura opened her eyes.

Endless white snow shimmered below.

She was not in Portland anymore.

They flew over a vast wilderness. In the distance, a majestic mountain posed against a pale sky as though they’d passed time zones and reached one going into dawn.

Laura clutched Kyan. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere safe.”

He zoomed to the mountain. Off one of the side peaks, deep in a blue crevasse, a stone fortress emerged. He aimed for the roof.

A tiny slot opened in one crenelated tower. He sped rocket-fast, and the slot grew in size like the rest of the fortress. It was a trap door wide enough for several of him.

They whooshed in, descending past blinking-on lights illuminating mysterious electronics. It was like falling into Batman’s cavern.

Overhead, the slot closed.

Kyan came to a rest on the stone floor and released her. She rocked on her tennis shoes.

He strode to a door. A small light flashed across his retinas, and the door opened.

Glacial chill made her shiver.

She hugged her elbows and hurried after the burning-hot dragon who had apparently been warming her like a yummy personal heater.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

He strode inside.

The stone carried on throughout multiple floors and unfurnished rooms. As he crossed each corridor, lights blinked on. In a main room, a huge fire sprang to life in the fireplace, throwing heat across the cold stones like a flamethrower.

“Hey.” She caught Kyan’s elbow.

He looked down at her hand, then finally at her face. “You are in danger. Here, you will be safe.”

“In danger?”

“An anti-dragon cult outed you for assisting us. Some cult members harassed you. Tonight, one sought your death.”

The strange accidents of the past week—the bottle rocket thrown through her window, Neve’s “disgruntled student” graffiti, and the failure of the brakes in her car—returned with new, sinister meaning.

Her hands trembled.

She sucked in a deep breath and struggled to keep her voice even. “Somebody wants to hurt me? For doing my job?”

“Treating dragons is not your job.”

“Bob said the same thing.”

“The director?”

“I wasn’t supposed to treat you or Chrysoberyl, but how would I know? I’ve never denied a treatment.”

His eyes narrowed.

“And now somebody else feels the same way.” She hugged her elbows, cold despite the warmth of the crackling fire. “What should I do?”

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you are safe.”

Sure, at this exact moment, she was safe. She didn’t know where she was, so how could her stalkers?

Kyan crossed the barren rooms.

She wandered after him, gazing over the elaborate stone work. “What is this place?”

“My lair.”

It was spare and harsh, just like his soul.

She rubbed one elbow. “Kind of empty.”

He waved a scarred palm across an empty counter. The counter flipped over, again like something out of Batman’s cave, to reveal a pantry and a faucet.

“Whoa,” she said.

“There is food. Water.” He strode to the next room. A large bed faced a smoldering fireplace. “Shelter.”

She stopped in the doorway just as he brushed past her, leaving again.

The bed was huge and inviting, perfect for lying together, watching the fire crackle, and sharing a sweet kiss.

Need twisted in her feminine center.

How intimate, to be carried off across the world by a powerful dragon shifter.

Laura turned. “Kyan…”

He’d returned to the external door and now leaned into the eye scanner. The door opened, and he strode out.

She raised her voice. “Hey, where are you going?”

“You are safe.” His voice faded as though he were striding—or flying—quickly away.

Wait a minute.

She started after him. “Are you leaving?”

The door closed on his answer.

Assuming he even gave one.

She raced to the closed door. There was no handle to unlock or open it, and the eye-scan thing didn’t shine in her eyes.

She pounded a palm on the cold stone. “You can’t leave me here. I still have half a shift!”

But in the eerie silence of the crackling fire, alone in a stone fortress on the side of a glacier, she knew the answer.

The dragon had brought her to his lair.

And now she was his prisoner.

Kyan forced himself to leave Laura.

It ripped his soul in half.

This was the only way to keep her safe. Not only from the evil bent on her destruction, but also from the dark desires raging in his black heart.

In his secure operations center at the top of the highest tower, he reviewed the hospital security footage.

Nothing conclusive.

He communicated with his police and FBI contacts, dissected and analyzed threats, and sent orders to his employees.

On one small screen, he watched her.

At first, she crept around the floors below him, quiet and cautious. But soon she grew bold, slapping her palm on countertops and walls, sidestepping the appliances she revealed. Her surprised or thoughtful noises punctuated his activities, drawing his eye continually from his current task to her small screen.

Once, something made her laugh.

The sound curled strangely in his chest.

She dozed on the bed fully clothed, woke hours later, and ate breakfast. Then, she inspected his wall screens and attempted to operate his computer to contact her housemates. The networks were separated, so the messages bounced. She crossed her arms and muttered.

Another full day passed. Once more, she lay atop his bed and fell into a deep sleep.

He wanted to join her as she rubbed her scent all over his lair and claimed it for her own.

Kyan crushed the urge.

Laura was not here as his mate. She was here for protection. She did not mean to claim his lair or any piece of him. She was a human who could not fathom the significance of being carried into his most intimate space.

He finally reached a stopping point in his investigations. Now, he required information from his contacts and employees to proceed.

Kyan stretched out on the small military cot he sometimes used when operations were too intense to leave.

He did not think about how Laura was sleeping in his bed just a flight of steps below.

Nor did he think about the softness of her curves pressed against him, the way her fingers had clutched at his shirt, the way he could almost feel her right now…

He jolted awake with Laura’s piercing scream.

* * *

Laura clenched her fists in her frizzy hair and screamed.

She had not seen nor spoken to another living being in two days.

Two days.

Those lakeside-cottage-in-the-woods fantasies she sometimes had? After a hard day at the hospital, escaping into the wilderness where she never had to speak with another disgruntled patient had seemed like a good thing. But in actual fact?

It was torture.

Her shriek hissed. She sucked in another huge lungful, screamed, and pounded the door where Kyan had last disappeared.

He wasn’t here. He had left her.

Getting her blood moving invigorated her spirit and released some frustration.

“Let me out!” She screamed and pounded. “Let me out! Let me—”

“Stop,” his gruff voice commanded.

She choked. “Y-you’re here?”

Silence.

Had she imagined his voice? After two days, she was clearly going crazy.

She renewed her pounding. Harder now, more desperate. “Kyan? You can’t make me a prisoner like this. I didn’t do anything wrong. Kyan? Kyan!”

The stone fortress echoed with her cries.

She had to stop and catch her breath. Sweat pooled above her lips and forehead. She wiped it away.

The fortress returned to eerie silence as if she’d been sealed into an icy, glacial cocoon.

Did he always live in silent isolation? She couldn’t do it.

“Let me out!” She slammed both fists into the wall. “Let—”

“Stop,” he ordered again.

Relief seeped into her. Even if he was far away, he could see her. She wasn’t alone.

But she wasn’t obeying him either. She pounded harder.

“You will injure yourself.”

“I’m dying!”

“You are not dying. I have provided everything you need.”

“Not everything.” She dropped her hands and gasped with hysterical laughter.

There was no bread oven, no streaming videos, no herb garden, no art market, no cute little café attached to an independent bookshop, no quirky neighbors with a thousand accents and delicious scents, no roommates or family or friends. His lair didn’t even have her after-shower detangling spray. Just a vast, rugged landscape as solitary and forbidding as Kyan’s heart.

She gestured at the wall. “You’ve locked me into a stone box with nothing.”

“I have provided food, water, and shelter.”

“That’s not everything.” She shook her head, not sure where to address her captor, so wheeling slowly while searching the corners. “Not by a long shot. Don’t you know Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs?”

He fell silent.

“Hello?”

Still silent.

Had he gone away again?

Finally, he responded, but he sounded more confused. “You desire self-actualization?”

“No! Well, yes, but not right away.” She pleaded with the wall for understanding. “You’ve taken me away from everything I know and love.”

“It is for your safety.”

Of course it was.

“I can’t survive all alone.” She thumped her chest. “I can’t see or speak to or touch another person. This is making me sick. I can’t spend another hour by myself. I’ll die.”

The silence stretched.

“Kyan?”

No answer.

She dropped her face into her hands.

The slight whoosh was her only warning.

She lifted her head.

Kyan strode through the doorway. It sealed behind him.

Relief filled her with tears. She ran at him to throw her arms around another actual person—

He grabbed her hands, turning them palm-up to seek injuries. “You are hurt.”

“Not physically.” She sniffed and scrubbed at the tears with her shoulders. His large hands cupped hers. Warmth. “In my heart.”

He released her and pulled back.

“No!” She grabbed his forearm. “You can’t leave me alone again.”

He stared down at her, retreating behind the shield of words. “It is for your safety.”

“Safety from what? You?”

His jaw clenched.

She hated that look. The unworthiness in his eyes, put there by the bullies and orphan care adults, and now sustained by his own shame.

Laura grabbed his cheeks, yanking him down to her level. “I’m not afraid of you.”

His rough voice growled. “You should be.”

“Why? Because you kidnapped me for two days? Because you have scars? Why?”

“The scars on the outside are only the beginning.”

“Obviously.” She splayed her fingers across the wrecked skin that shaped Kyan into the male he was today. “And?”

“I have hurt people. Innocent people. And I would do it again. To—”

“To protect the ones you love?”

He blinked.

“This isn’t a psych eval”—she stroked his cheeks—“but you’re not a sociopath, Kyan. You’re a warrior. You have regrets. I regret every patient I couldn’t save. And I know right now you’re trying to save me.”

His brows drew down.

“I know it, but this”—she indicated his vast, empty fortress—“isn’t the way. I need company. I need you.”

He hardened again. “You don’t need me.”

“I do.” She brushed his lips with her kiss.

He froze—just like the other times—and then he shoved her back.

She stumbled, catching herself. Hurt flashed in her heart. He’d rejected her. Again.

She should apologize.

But she couldn’t

“If you don’t want me, then you have to let me go,” she cried.

His blue eyes flew wide.

“I need someone who won’t reject me. Who will give me the touch I need!”

“Touch?” His lips curled in a barely contained snarl. “Do you know what I want to do to you? What it is taking all my will to avoid?”

No, she didn’t know.

His tortured gaze seared her body like liquid flames. She felt his desire. Without his trench coat, the profile of his jeans showed the hard mass of his cock, and she finally understood he wasn’t rejecting her because he didn’t want her. He was rejecting her because he didn’t want himself.

He tore his gaze away and clenched his fists, staring at the stone with self-loathing. “Now you understand.”

She wanted to go to him, but he would only reject her again and again.

How much rejection could one heart take?

If she could persevere, then could she break through his barriers and reach Kyan in his core? In his damaged heart?

She wasn’t good at braving disapproval. Even before her great mistake, making solo decisions had lodged her heart in her throat. She always choked.

Visualizing that she’d made the right choices had helped. Seeing a therapist and working through her trauma had helped. Her loving, supportive family and understanding roommates had all helped. The past didn’t own her, but the future was still too far away. She was stuck in limbo.

Acting on her true desires was her first step in becoming the person she wanted to be.

Kyan was worth it.

She took a tentative step toward him.

As she’d predicted, he lifted a hand in the “stop” gesture.

Yes, the rejection stung.

She swallowed and took another step.

“Don’t come any closer.”

And another step.

His voice broke. “Please.”

And another.

Then she stood before his broad shoulders, so powerful and capable, now slumped in defeat. She rested a palm on his shoulder.

He was her choice.

Kyan’s gaze fixed on her. No longer fierce, his anger had drained, marinating her in sadness. He grieved for not being a male who deserved her love.

But he did deserve it.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said again.

“You don’t understand what I want.”

“Then make it clear.”

His brows drew together, and his voice was softer than she’d ever heard it. “I will destroy you.”

She cupped his wide jaw. “I’m not afraid.”

His arms slipped around her, hesitant and so careful, as if he thought she might break from his touch. She stepped closer, encouraging him with soft murmurs, nuzzling into his neck. He buried his head in the loose hair at her shoulder and sucked in a deep breath. When he let it out, his whole body trembled.

She stroked the broad base of his neck. “It’s okay. I like you. It’s going to be okay.”

She said it for both of them.

And then he lifted her.

Floating in the air, her toes dangling over the stone, she clung on as Kyan soared into the bedroom. He laid her gently in the middle of the soft, rumpled sheets and released her, hovering inches above her body. Because he could do that. Because he was a dragon.

His hot gaze swept her body like a caress. Frizzy hair, button-up blouse, beige trousers, cotton socks.

Hmm. Not exactly dressed to seduce.

He read her mind as he so frequently seemed to do. “There are other types of clothes in the closet.”

“I saw them.” She’d been planning on escaping, not settling in. “Next time.”

Still, he hovered, so close, obviously terrified of making the first move.

She understood the terror.

But she was ready. This was her decision. She chose Kyan.

She looped her fingers in his belt and drew him down.

He collapsed on top of her, gently crushing her into the bed with his welcome masculinity. His iron-hard thighs nudged hers apart. The deliciously powerful length of his cock pressed against her throbbing hot feminine core. He rested on his elbows, keeping the weight of his torso off her, but letting her luxuriate in the breadth and width of his powerful chest and world-carrying shoulders.

She tightened her arms around the small of his back and tilted her mouth up to meet his fiery kiss.

No hesitation any longer, his mouth claimed hers and his tongue thrust into her, marking and branding her, filling her with him. His spicy scent seduced her nose. His hard cock ground against her aching cleft.

He stole her fears and her doubts. Desire smashed into arousal and combusted into an inferno of want.

He kissed down her jaw, nibbling and sucking, drizzling desire.

She gasped, writhing against him.

With careful fingers, he undid each button on her blouse and peeled back the silken halves, baring her satin bra and trembling belly.

His gaze heated her skin, and he traced a circle in the soft expanse around her belly button. “So smooth.”

His voice hitched.

Her heart swelled. There was awe in his voice. Because of her.

That had been missing before.

And she knew, just like she’d known from the beginning, being with Kyan would be more fulfilling than her deepest fantasies. He saw her, listened to her, respected her. A single word would stop him in his tracks. She never had to fear him. Never.

She knotted her fingers in his hair. “You can kiss more.”

He obeyed, placing feathery nibbles from her waistband up to her bra clasp.

Another shaft of desire throbbed between her legs. She arched her back, offering her breasts.

He deftly twisted the front clasp. The two satin cups eased apart. With infinite care, he scooped her aching breasts free and, with a quick glance at her face for permission, cupped the heavy globes in his huge palms.

Desire streaked to her center.

She whimpered and tugged his mouth to hers to make him feel the hunger in her desperate kiss.

His tongue stroked her mouth while his rough hands teased and pinched her aching nipples.

Where was the male who was going to “destroy” her? Kyan’s touch, his kiss, his gaze all told of nothing but caring. Tenderness. Worship. For being such a large, rough dragon, he teased her with the gentleness of a feathery-soft lover.

She went up in flames.

He released her mouth and nuzzled her breasts.

“Yes,” she murmured and pulled him closer.

Tentative nibbles changed to long, hot strokes of his tongue that caused her nipples to contract and ache with pleasure. He sucked one into his mouth and then the other, tasting and teasing.

Sparkles of pleasure washed over her.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, needing his cock to fill her and end this wonderful agony.

Sensing her need, he closed his hands on her trouser fastenings. Unbuttoning and unzipping, he slid the pants down and rested his large, hot palm on her lace panties.

A twinge of nerves broke through the hazy cloud of passion.

This was what she wanted. He was what she wanted.

He caressed her, and it was good, but the worry in the back of her mind grew, distracting her.

His fingers ghosted along the edge of her damp panty line.

She grabbed his hand.

He froze.

She opened her eyes, prepared to apologize, but he was studying her as if he’d been aware of her distraction for some time. Why not? He seemed to read her mind when they talked, so why not when she was half-naked?

He would go as fast or as slow as she wanted. He would stop right now.

She didn’t want to stop right now.

Why was she not over this trauma? She’d visualized and dreamed and fantasized. She’d done therapy and rediscovered her inner goddess and projected her ideal first lover.

Her past was still holding her back.

Okay. She wasn’t as healed as she wanted to be. Accept and move on.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s weird, but do you mind very much if I touch myself? I like being in control.”

He shook his head. No, he didn’t mind at all.

Threads of relief shimmered through her. Of course he was fine with her awkward request.

She could still have everything she wanted.

Because her lover was Kyan.

Laura placed his palm on her waist and shimmied out of her panties.

His brows rose. Without lifting his hand from where she had placed it, his gaze strayed to her feminine vee and jerked back again, then strayed a second time. It was as though he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to look but couldn’t help himself.

She tugged his hand up her belly to her breasts. If she didn’t demonstrate it was okay, he might put his hand in jail when she wanted it roving and bringing her more delicious caresses.

“You can touch everywhere else.”

Closing her eyes, she cupped her mons. She was soaking wet with arousal, and now that her mind was free of her worry, it was easy to slip right back to the delicious sensations of making love with Kyan.

He caressed her cheek with his knuckles.

She opened her eyes.

His penetrating blue gaze saw so much. More than she ever intended to reveal. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She felt a million times better, actually, because she’d been honest. She’d shared what she needed, and he’d respected her.

Now, she wanted to enjoy the male she wholeheartedly chose.

Seeking his waistband, she unbuckled his belt. His cock remained reassuringly hard against her thigh and she wanted to see it, hold it, and caress it.

Unlike her, he had no hang-ups. He allowed her to unbutton his black jeans and tug down the zipper. Black boxer-briefs cupped his manhood. She delved under the tight waistband and pushed it down.

His hard cock emerged. A thick, curved, tapered work of art nestled in brown curls the same color as his hair.

She curled her fingers around the thick base.

He sucked in a breath.

This was her first hard male cock, and she savored it. Caressing the length from base to tip, she teased the lip of the head and the damp slit.

Amazing.

His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. He held his breath, just like when she’d kissed him, as though he were afraid to move or speak. He mustn’t break the spell.

“So smooth,” she teased.

His blue eyes pierced hers. “Laura.”

She yielded to his unspoken wishes. Rummaging through her trousers at her feet, she pulled a condom out of the back pocket. She passed them out at work, but recently she’d stuffed a few in her pocket for more personal reasons.

He stared.

She stopped. “Oh. Did you not want—?”

“I want what you want.” He focused on her clearly. “Whatever you want.”

Well then, she was a nurse, and safe sex was not just a spiel she gave to high-risk patients. One day, she’d feel his naked cock plunging into her, slippery and sliding in their shared heat, but that would be after he declared he loved her and wanted marriage and dogs and houses and children.

She rolled the thin latex over his cock.

He pulsed beneath her, hot and hard. Good, her talk hadn’t killed his mood. No, if anything, her touch made him swell again.

He wanted what she wanted.

She had trusted him from the moment they’d landed in bed. He is worthy. She lay back, her blouse and bra open, naked below the waist.

Caressing his cock, she threaded her fingers through his soft hair again. Trusting him. Telling him what she wanted. “I want more kisses.”

He possessed her mouth, tangling her tongue in hot passion.

Her core throbbed, begging for his fulfillment.

She pulled her mouth free. “And caresses.”

He suckled her aching nipples, shooting pleasure mixed with sharp need deep into her center.

She wrapped one thigh around his and tugged his cock toward her slick, pounding entrance. “And you.”

He tore his mouth free and pressed forward, following her guiding hand, into her tight entrance. Her wet cleft spasmed with pleasure.

He was her first experience, and she wanted it slow. Savory. Delicious.

Kyan made her every unspoken wish come true.

Slowly, gently, sweetly thrusting, he stretched her, filling her fuller, connecting in a way she’d never connected with anyone before.

She canted her hips, adjusting to the pressure, breathing deeply.

He slid all the way home. United as male and female. Kyan and Laura. Forever.

He pillowed her head and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. A terrible protectiveness filled his gaze. The silent promises squeezed her heart.

“You’re holding your breath again,” she said.

He released it in a gust, dropped his forehead to her shoulder, and groaned. The movement pressed his cock into her deepest, neediest spot. Pleasure throbbed in her center. She released a hungry whimper.

He lifted his head.

She tightened her legs around his muscular waist, asking for more. And he gave it. Watching her closely, he found the spot and thrust, hot and wet, to the edge of a white-hot orgasm.

She shattered with pleasure, arching her back and screaming with intensity.

He stilled, forehead to hers, breath held. He shuddered silently as he unleashed his own passion.

They both caught their breaths and then he eased free and disposed of the condom.

How funny. Her first time, and they’d barely gotten undressed. He was wearing his black shirt, and she was tangled in her bra and blouse.

Oh well. Right now, she just wanted to bask in the afterglow.

Sex was everything she’d dreamed. She was so glad she’d waited to share her first time with Kyan.

Life would never be the same.

He returned to the bed, and she snuggled against him. For the first time, in a very long time, she felt yummy and safe.

Kyan squirmed with risk.

Laura snuggled against him, her head resting on his biceps, her calves tangled with his. She slipped a hand under the hem of his shirt and slid her fingertips over his flexing abdomen.

“Next time, we should take our clothes off.” Her voice held a warm, sleepy smile.

That was exactly his problem.

He stroked her hair. The curls clung to his fingers. And she clung to him too.

But she didn’t want him.

“Unless you don’t want to,” she said, and he realized he’d been silent.

“I want what you want.”

She snuggled closer. He returned to stroking her softly.

The parts she would allow him to stroke.

Dragons mated with no barriers. Complete nakedness, male and female, so there was no doubt. Everything was laid bare. And once they had mated, they were temporarily married in the dragon way until the birth and presentation of their first dragonlet to the family matriarch. After the matriarch recognized their dragonlet, the marriage was validated—or, if the dragonlet was not recognized, their marriage was destroyed.

His parents’ marriage had been destroyed. Seven times. Once for him and then once for each of his unrecognized siblings.

Laura had barely removed her clothing, then she’d introduced a barrier to prevent him from filling her with his seed.

She did not want to carry his dragonlet.

She did not want to truly know him.

She did not want to bare herself and preferred to keep their coupling anonymous, for relief rather than for marriage.

It scored his heart with a new, deep wound.

To be so close to everything he’d ever wanted and then to be shown forcefully that he was not her chosen mate tore into his soul.

“You feel so good.” She rubbed her cheek on his clothed arm.

Her gentleness broke him.

She is human. Her ways were different. Humans performed a ceremony to marry. They spoke vows and signed a paper and exchanged metal rings. He had researched it when first Mal and then Pyro declared their intentions to escape the Empress’s proposal by capturing human mates.

She does not know my ways.

Although he knew this in his head, it was impossible to convey to his aching heart.

He was used to being broken. He was used to shutting down pain.

So long as Laura did not accept him as her mate, his plans for the Empress’s marriage proposal remained unchanged.

A different awe clung to the underside of his hurt.

A female, any female, had chosen him for her partner. Even as an anonymous partner. Even just for relief. His bitterness came from wanting more. Wanting all of Laura.

And that bitterness shamed him.

Laura had given him a gift more precious than any he’d received in his whole life. Instead of being overwhelmed with gratitude, he silently complained.

His greediness made him sick.

But something else bothered him, unrelated to the soul-deep hunger for that which he could not have.

“You apologized.”

She sucked in a breath; her even breathing suggested that she might have allowed herself to drift off to sleep against him given a little more time. “Hmm?”

“When I touched you. You apologized.”

She remained silent for several seconds.

He’d known when he’d cupped her feminine mound. She had stiffened and seemed to try to force herself to relax, but her efforts had failed, and she’d stiffened again. Unlike her enthusiastic arching when he bared her belly or tasted her sweet breasts, she had virtually shouted at him to halt. He had kept his touch light, hesitant, exploratory—waiting for the direction that she eventually gave to stop.

Perhaps she had already answered fully. She liked control. But he sensed—

“I made a bad choice once.” She lifted his shirt, baring his abdomen, and splayed her fingers across the muscle. “I dated a guy who seemed nice but got pushy in bed. Even though nothing happened, I got scared.”

He stilled.

Nothing had happened, but she’d gotten scared?

He pushed. “Nothing happened?”

“Oh, well, he fingered me. That hurt because I didn’t want it and I wasn’t ready. And then, even though I begged him to stop, he used his mouth and…”

She shuddered.

His heartbeat thudded in his temples.

He was going to hunt this human male down and annihilate him.

“And then my roommates got home, and I was saved.” She nuzzled his pectorals and breathed deeply, her nose in his armpit. “I knew right away you were different. You look different, you smell different, and you listen.”

When had he last showered? His armpits couldn’t emit the best smell. But if she found it comforting, he gave her that comfort.

He focused on his new target. “Who was this male?”

“Huh? Oh, just a guy in my college sophomore—” She broke off and sought his gaze. Suspicion filled hers. “Why?”

“Who?”

Her eyes narrowed. She rose and put one hand on either side of his torso, a teasing smile lightening her dark memories. “Murder is a crime.”

“No one will miss this ‘guy.’”

“I suddenly can’t remember him at all.” She stroked his brows, smoothing the wrinkles from the scar tissue. “You’ve replaced all my bad memories with good ones.”

His breath caught. A familiar sensation of pins pierced his heart. It was getting easier to bear, as though the constant tenderness from his siblings’ protection, then his mother’s kindness, and now Laura’s acceptance permanently softened the scarred walls.

“Besides.” She sat up and scooted to the end of the bed, reclasped her bra, and buttoned her blouse. “I used to be even worse about telling people what I needed.”

So the “guy” had a higher level of responsibility to pay attention. But Kyan doubted she was to blame. She said she’d begged the human male—who would soon be eliminated—to stop. That was clear communication.

“And I was the one who suggested we get physical,” she continued. “So I brought it on myself.”

He understood why she blamed herself. Shouldering blame wrested control of the bad situation from the aggressive, soon-to-be-dead male.

She frowned. “You’re being quieter than usual.”

He touched the bridge of his scarred nose. “I went with them the first time.”

She looked back over her shoulder at him. “The bullies? Why?”

He’d ignored his instincts. He’d been young, stupid, and lonely. “I thought they were being friendly.”

“How many?”

“A group.” The first had been largest, but a core of bored, aristocratic dragonlets had shown up for all his tortures. “They held me down and slashed my face until they knew it would scar.”

Her lower lip trembled.

He hadn’t meant to hurt her. “We are the same.”

She crossed the bed and stroked his head, pressing him gently against her heaving breasts. “What happened to you is not the same at all.”

“I answered their questions. Told them how to find me.”

“You were a child. You didn’t know.”

She had been older, but clearly inexperienced. She hadn’t known either.

“I should have known,” she murmured, kissing his head as though she could sense the scars hidden by his hair.

Perhaps there was something to her healing saliva. The places she kissed did feel slightly better.

A soft ping sounded outside room. One of his employees or contacts.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Information for the investigation.” He rose, pulled on new briefs and jeans, and strode barefoot to the door.

She raced behind him, bouncing as she pulled her trouser leg over her knee. “I’m coming with you.”

He did not argue.

Leaning in to the retinal scan, he led her to the shaft, drew her close, and flew to the ops center.

“Wow.” She stared at the wall of monitors tracking terrestrial and spatial targets. “This is so James Bond.”

Her teeth chattered.

He rested his trench coat around her shoulders.

She leaned into his warmth.

He reviewed the message from his FBI contact. They’d located a warehouse of contraband medkits.

His stomach sank. So many? This was more than a quick cash-flow fix.

“I’ll be right there.” He ended the call and turned to tell Laura goodbye.

She held the lightweight straps of an antigravity flotation device. “Is this an alien defibrillator?”

“No.” He strapped the harness around her waist and shoulders and handed her the controls. “Press the green button.”

The device yanked her upright, dragging her for the ceiling. The straps were misadjusted, and she oozed out.

“Help, please!”

He floated up to her, took her finger off the Ascend button, and placed it on Descend. They returned, controlled, to the floor.

She laughed with an edge of hysteria. “That surprised me!”

Him too.

“So it’s a jet pack.” She shrugged out of the harness. “That would be useful for going to the store when you’re not around.”

“Do not use it near here.”

She looked up at his inflexible tone.

“The winds around the glacier are unpredictable. Going out in this device would be deadly.”

“Then why do you have it?”

“Testing.”

He’d intended to provide it, if necessary, to Cheryl. Mal’s wife had expressed unhappiness at being left alone in Mal’s lair on Mt. Hood. Kyan had thought to provide this to ease her anger, but she had resolved things with Mal on her own, and his intervention had never been needed.

He returned the antigravity flotation device to its shelf, resolving to return it to storage, and strode for the door.

She dropped the new thing she was examining and raced after him. “Where are you going now?”

“Out.” He shouldered his second trench coat. The liquid fibers would stop most bullets, and it concealed weapons.

“Out where?”

“To a warehouse in Idaho.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Until the investigation is complete.”

“I want to go with you.”

“No.”

She crossed her arms. “Then I want to go home.”

He refused to compromise her safety. He strapped on his steel-toed boots.

She darted in front of the door, blocking his exit. “I’m serious. I can’t live like you can, all alone for days. I’ll go crazy.”

“Crazy is still safe.”

“My employers don’t know where I am. My cell phone’s in my work locker. My housemates probably called the police.” She insisted, “The school is going to kick me out. I’ll never get my nursing license.”

“You’ll be alive.”

“How do you know?” She poked his chest with her index finger. “The safest place for me is right next to you.”

Statistically, that was unsound.

But there was an undeniable compulsion to keep her as close to him as possible.

So long as she was in his arms, he knew exactly where she was. If danger did strike, he could protect her with his own body. And the Idaho warehouse would be secured by agents, not at risk for criminal activity.

She sensed his weakening resolve. “I’ll be silent as the grave. Nobody will even know I’m there. And if anyone’s hurt, I can be useful. I’m a trained nurse.”

He pulled her close. “Do not share your healing saliva with anyone.”

“My…huh?”

“And wear this.”

He picked up the tiny tracker he’d prepared days ago and then refused to put on her. He didn’t want to acknowledge she was one of his few critical vulnerabilities. His siblings, yes. Mal’s and Pyro’s wives. Darcy.

Not her.

Now, he pressed the gun against her lower jaw and pulled the trigger. A tiny hiss, and the tracker embedded under the bone.

She jumped and rubbed her jaw. No way she’d felt the minuscule device. “What was that?”

“A tracker.”

“So you always know where I am?”

“It’s my condition for leaving this lair.”

She dropped her hand and twined her arms around his neck, his overly large trench coat bunching at her elbows and swinging down near her feet. “Can we stop by my apartment so I can check with my housemates? And pick up a few videos and some bread flour?”

He felt control of the operation leaving his hands. “We’ll see.”

Laura kneaded bread dough on Kyan’s huge counters.

It was neat to wave a hand and bring out an appliance, then wave her hand again and make it disappear. Infinite counter space plus infinite appliances was an oxymoron, but it had become her dream.

On the cabinets above her, icy flakes swirled over the glacier.

Kyan had shown her how to make the walls into screens that projected different views so she could create the appearance of a window on an inside wall. And the view was so real, she could only tell it was a screen when she squinted at a corner.

The trip to the Idaho warehouse yesterday had been pretty boring and Kyan hadn’t gotten too much new information, but afterward, he’d acquiesced to all her wishes. Her housemates had been relieved. She’d cleared her absence with the school and the hospital. Bob had been especially understanding, agreeing to extend her clinical after the cultist threat had been removed.

Paying her rent and bills on unpaid emergency leave were problems she’d worry about another day.

Laura thumped the dough on the floured counter, pulled a towel out of a drawer, and rested it over the lump.

Kyan was at his office now. He’d had to go to a daily business meeting, but he was coming straight home as soon as he was done. He would never abandon her again.

Little sparkles of happiness filled her chest. She hugged her elbows.

Last night, they’d cuddled until morning. When was the last time she’d felt so rested? He, on the other hand, had looked like he might not have slept.

Well, he needed to get used to sleeping with another person. Waking beside her. Opening his heart and letting her in.

When he got home from his meeting, she’d show him how nice that could be.

A low thud reverberated through the fortress.

She rested her palms on the counter.

A second thud made a slight but unmistakable tremor.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

What was that?

It sounded like it was coming from above and toward the glacier side of the fortress. She started for that side to look out the window before she remembered the fortress didn’t have any windows and she could control the view from the kitchen cabinets. She skipped back into the kitchen and reviewed the possible gallery, turning the “window” into a wall of screens like in Kyan’s black ops room.

Overhead, a smoking gold object hurtled toward the fortress.

A jet? No wings. Ooh. Maybe that was why it was going down.

It crashed into the camera, and the picture disappeared. A loud screech set her fillings on edge. The smoking jet plummeted off the fortress tower.

Huge cannons emerged from the fortress walls and fired lasers. Each fired with a deep, resonant thud.

The jet belched black smoke.

It glanced off the nearest peak, spun, and skidded across an icy plain. Snow mounded over it, embedding it in a cave. It skidded to a stop.

Lasers strafed the snow, reflecting off the ice.

Everything became silent again.

Dark smoke boiled from the wrecked jet in its ice cocoon. Snow on her fake window turned a grayish-black.

Huh.

Wasn’t this fortress supposed to be secret? Kyan had said she was safe. Certainly, no ordinary person would be able to trek to this location.

What if it was a misunderstanding? Alaskan bush planes weren’t usually gold, but it had already been hit a couple times before she saw it.

Oh!

What if the pilot survived? And needed her help?

She washed her hands, dried them on the towel, and patted her pockets.

What was she waiting for? Permission?

She dressed for braving the glacier, collected her supplies, and then had to be honest.

Kyan didn’t have much in the way of medical supplies. She’d thoroughly tossed his whole lair on the first day looking for something to do, and she’d gone over it a second time, even more carefully, when trying to make her escape.

Were a few adhesive bandages and ointment really going to do a plane crash survivor any good?

But…oh, hey! She hadn’t explored his black ops room.

She ran to the door and waited for the light to flash her eyes. He’d reprogrammed his controls to allow her access to the whole fortress. Running up the stairs took much longer than floating up in Kyan’s arms, but she was sweating and shivering, with burning thighs and calves, when she finally reached his tactical tower room.

Inside she found…

Nothing useful. No medical supplies and no medkit, which was just as well. She didn’t know how to use one.

But she did know how to use the jet pack.

Do not fly around here. The winds are dangerous.

Okay, so the winds were dangerous. What about the antiaircraft laser cannons?

Plenty of birds and wildlife moved past the lasers without a problem. She should be fine.

Should be…

She put Kyan’s spare trench coat over her parka and cinched on the jet pack. Here were the controls. She was not going to be dumb and forget to take her finger off the Ascend button like last time. That had been as stupid as rolling her car into her neighbor’s trash cans.

The jet pack silently lifted her.

The trench coat bunched, and she slid through the straps, a puppy being carried in her mother’s mouth.

She descended, tightened her straps, and tried again.

Better.

Floating out of the tactical room, she hovered on the landing and stared up at the exit.

What was she doing?

She was crazy. This was a bad idea. Someone was going to get hurt.

But maybe someone was already hurt. Helpless and alone. Waiting for help.

Help only she could give.

Laura gripped the controller.

Don’t second-guess. Don’t hesitate.

Lives might be at stake.

She pressed the Ascend button.

Rising, she approached the trap door. It opened automatically. The sun shone brilliantly in the cloudless, freezing sky. Icy winds whipped across the slot.

She pushed into an invisible hurricane.

Howling winds dragged her across the fortress in the same route as the downed jet, whipped her back and forth, and beat her with her own clothes. Icy fingers tore at her goggles.

But she didn’t turn back.

The laser cannons remained silent. Thank goodness.

The jet pack did a great job of keeping her upright when the winds tried to grip her ankles and flip her over and over.

Laura descended toward the wreckage. The wind shook her like a monster and tried to tear the controls out of her hand.

Uh-oh. Was she going to pass it by?

Trying to reverse direction, she pushed into the wind.

And stood still.

The wind refused her like pushing into a wall. Ice particles serrated her cloth-covered face.

Hmm. With winds this aggressive, how was she ever going to get back?

Laura talked herself through her problems.

In the worst case, she had Kyan’s tracker. When he got home, he’d see she wasn’t inside the fortress. He was stronger than the wind. She’d shelter in the wreck until he arrived.

The wreckage loomed below.

She gripped the controls too hard and fell the last twenty feet, smashing into the ice-coated rock. The impact jarred her body and snapped her teeth. Her left ankle collapsed, and she crashed.

Ow.

Of all the ridiculous mistakes. How could she help anyone if she got herself hurt? So stupid.

With the wind howling overhead, she rolled over and rubbed her ankle through the thick winter boot. It throbbed hotly.

The bone felt unbroken. A sprain? No, the pain receded to a dull ache.

She hauled herself carefully to her feet and tried a couple of test steps. No urge to limp. Good. But she wouldn’t clear herself until she peeled off the boots and performed a visual inspection, preferably with X-rays. There still might be a hairline fracture.

What would the Peace Corps say?

She staggered through the glacial winds to the smoking wreckage.

Black smoke erupted from the back. A hole gaped in the middle of the aircraft, which was about the size of a medium airplane. Around the hole, the skin peeled back to expose massive, foot-thick walls of some dark material that looked like lead.

How did it fly?

She clambered inside.

Foreign lights glimmered on every surface. All the bare, empty walls and floor and ceiling. They all glowed. The metal itself gleamed like Kyan’s alien medkits.

Oh.

Was this a spaceship?

She shook off the melting snow—it was warmer inside—and made her way to the cockpit.

The blunt nose stopped at a blank wall.

Right, because if it was an alien spaceship like Kyan’s fortress, the windows could be on any wall.

She moved through what was shaping up to be a hollow, tubular shuttle. The inside was pretty open. No chairs. Unlike on Earth, these aliens weren’t sitting around all day like truckers in space.

Making her way to the opposite end, she clambered over a concrete lump in the middle of the floor.

The rear of the shuttle, if she’d identified the ship correctly, had been crunched in.

Nobody could have survived.

Huh. Maybe there were no survivors. Or maybe it had been unmanned.

A wasted trip. Ugh. She’d worry and inconvenience Kyan for no reason.

When was she going to learn—

Behind her, someone moaned.

She whirled.

The ship…was empty.

Another moan drew her toward the gaping hole.

Where was it coming from? She stopped and listened. Howling wind, eerie silence… Her boots thumped the concrete. Step, step, squish.

Squish?

She looked down.

Fingers! They stuck out of the concrete lump. What could it mean?

The lump moaned.

Oh!

She rapped the base of her Maglite on the gray concrete. “Hello?”

A muffled noise echoed inside. The lump sounded hollow like an egg. She rapped harder. The metal flashlight cracked the concrete.

She tore into the structure. Kyan’s gloves were more functional than her usual fluffy women’s mittens and she was able to grip and make real progress. Gray plaster walls broke into chunks, and she cleared them away to unearth a pale, heavily bruised male in a plain gray uniform.

A survivor!

He squinted up at her. Blood streaked his face and dried under his nostrils. He said something in a language she didn’t understand.

Ha ha! He was alive. Despite the meager supplies and howling winds, she promised to get him back to Kyan’s fortress and keep him that way.

“It’s okay now,” she said. “Relief is here.”

His brows cleared. A hopeful smile tugged at his bruised cheeks.

Then he winced and moaned. “Arms…shoulders…”

“Hold on.” She finished breaking him free. Both shoulders were dislocated, and his gray flight suit was too thin for the weather conditions, putting him at risk for hypothermia.

“How did this happen?” she asked, trying to check him carefully for any other injuries.

“Weapons,” he said. “You…me…surprised.”

“Me too. I had no idea those were there. You’re a dragon, right? Can you float?”

He elevated a few inches, grimacing. “Enough?”

“That’s enough.” She eased him to his side and walked her fingers over each vertebra. No cracks or crunches. Good. “And I’m so sorry it blew a hole in your ship.”

“That was I.” He sweated, shaking and pale. Internal bleeding or shock? Hopefully the latter. “I grip the edges of the door to time my escape. But a gun, boom! I hold on. Ouch.”

So he’d blown his own airlock. Being a dragon, he wouldn’t need to pull a parachute. And his story was consistent with a double dislocation if he’d wrenched both arms at once.

“And then?”

“I fall inside and the gray squirt.” He made a noise of being covered in plaster.

The dragon version of an airbag? Hmm. It didn’t sound like internal injuries.

“Are you on your own here?”

“Someone will come. After the mission.”

“How long?”

He shook his head, winced, and stilled.

So, possibly not very soon.

She rolled him onto his back again.

Unfortunately, talking hadn’t distracted him enough to relax his shoulder muscles. The balls wanted to go back into their joints, but would need extra guidance.

“Let’s try relocating your shoulders,” she said. “Once the muscles relax, they should pop back into place. Then you’re going to want to ice and rest in a sling. Both shoulders. Okay?”

“I understand.”

A sudden blinding light seared them.

“Close eyes!” the male shouted, clenching his lids tight as he disappeared into the light.

She did so as well.

The light wasn’t hot, just bright, as if the sun had crashed onto the ice and bathed them in a harmless reflection.

It faded.

She blinked and rubbed her eyes. Orange and blue spots chased each other across her vision. Another thing she’d have to deal with, like her sore ankle, while transferring the pilot back to the safety of Kyan’s fortress.

A second later, Kyan’s fortress exploded.

Laura’s tracker winked out.

Kyan flushed hot and then ice cold. He jolted from his seat.

His siblings paused in the middle of discussing Chrysoberyl’s product proposal. They’d overlooked the simple scarf, and he made an impressive case that now was its time.

“Kyan,” Mal acknowledged, assuming he had something to add to their business discussion.

His heart beat loud in his ears, and a sour taste filled his mouth.

No. Impossible. It was not her tracker. There was some mistake.

A malfunction.

Something…

He pivoted and strode out of the conference room.

“Kyan?” Mal called.

He flew to his ops center within the Onyx Corporation. Beneath the ferns, his office was well outfitted, but the ops center held additional things.

Like weapons.

And if he’d gone to his ops center when Pyro had disappeared instead of tearing for his last known location, Kyan might have trained satellites and observed the criminal in the act of the kidnapping. That was a mistake he would not repeat.

The darkly tinted, radio-canceling doors whooshed open. He entered, and they slid shut.

His employees were glued to their screens.

“Calculate its trajectory,” his slick ops manager ordered the excitable comm tech. “When it decloaks again, we must be ready.”

The graying building security manager looked up, and worry mixed with admiration in his eyes. “You already know?”

Kyan’s heart thunked, but the rest of him cooled to crystal clarity. “Know?”

“A Draconis warship announced its arrival with a test shot on an isolated glacier.”

Thunk.

“We also have a new lead on the medkits.” The building security manager opened folders. “Someone made the mistake of selling inventory to two of Chrysoberyl Carnelian’s unemployed aristocrats. And they—”

“Which glacier?”

The building security manager dropped the medkit folders and pointed to the map, used to switching to whatever topic Kyan deemed most important. “In the northwestern quadrant of the continent.”

Thunk.

“The mountain area known by humans as Denali.”

He studied the map for a full minute.

In the back of his mind, a voice was screaming.

She was supposed to be untouchable. She was supposed to be hidden. She was supposed to be safe.

“Do you have a visual on the test shot location?” he asked coldly.

The building security manager shook his head. “It’s in a visual dead spot. We’re moving a satellite there now.”

Of course his lair was in a visual dead spot. It emitted only encrypted waves, hiding the structure as if it didn’t exist.

A warship could read encrypted waves. His measures hid his lair from ordinary adversaries. Not a warship.

“Identity on the warship?” he growled.

“Not yet.”

Behind him, the door whooshed. Amber appeared in the reflection of the glass. The meeting must have ended early.

He focused on the map. “Trajectory?”

“There are too many possibilities.” His comm tech groaned and rubbed his head. “We didn’t identify the engine. They could be across the galaxy by now.”

“When did they cloak?”

The ops manager checked his log. “Six minutes ago.”

Wait.

“When was the test shot fired?”

“Twenty-two minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“The warship fired on a nonessential target. We wanted to present you with more information.”

The times. The times did not add up.

Kyan strode to a screen, hacked his safeguards, and revealed his tracker logs, not even caring that his employees and Amber could see it over his shoulder.

There.

Laura’s tracker had disappeared closer to eight minutes ago. Not twenty-two.

She had survived the attack.

His heart began thumping again. Hot, tingly blood rushed to his lips and toes.

Entering their warship would cut off a tracker. Just after Laura’s signal cut off, the warship cloaked itself. She could still be alive.

“Find the warship,” he ordered.

“It’s impossible! They could be in the same place, or they could be on the other side of Jupiter. They could be hovering over this very building right now.”

Kyan would know if they were hovering over this building. The sensors in this office building, relics from his black ops days, were capable of reading cloaked, encrypted military signals.

“Calculate again.”

The comm tech scrubbed his eyes and wiped his calculations, starting over. “If we had more data…if we knew what they wanted…”

Behind him, Amber spoke quietly. “Who’s Laura?”

“A female under my protection.”

Her brows lifted in surprise. “A female? Then, the Empress—”

“It is not what you think.”

“What should I think?”

He considered not answering. It would be simpler than trying to explain.

But perhaps there was no need to complicate his answer. Laura had gifted him with her body, her sunshine, and her smiles. No more. She was not his mate, no matter how much Kyan might crave such a connection.

“She is not my mate,” he finally said.

Amber frowned.

Meanwhile, the comm tech’s words slapped him. Why wasn’t he thinking with his usual clarity? He closed his tracker log, broke into his network a second time, and began dialing.

The video snapped on the fourth ring. His youngest brother, Flint, appeared.

Amber made a noise.

Their reclusive youngest brother rarely called, and she’d missed his first in-person appearance in nearly five years—at his request.

His owlish gray eyes focused on a tiny planet the size of a bead which he was painting with a single-bristle brush. His tongue stuck out at the corner of his thin lips. Longish dark hair curled over his sloped brow, and he wore a jeweler’s magnifying glass over one eye.

“Can this wait?” he asked without removing his gaze from his work.

“A warship just destroyed my lair. Who is it and what do they want?”

His employees startled, then quickly resumed their assigned tasks.

Flint dabbed paint, examined his work, and smiled.

Kyan knew that expression. He calmed down.

Nothing made Flint prouder than figuring out something ahead of his slow siblings.

“A warship? Can’t you guess?” He lowered the planet and turned his superior expression on Kyan. “Of course it is the Gnashing Teeth.”

Of course.

Kyan directed the comm tech. “It will be close. This side of Jupiter. Possibly approaching our building.”

He could only hope.

The comm tech blew a focused breath, wiped his half-formed calculations, and began yet again.

Meanwhile, Amber gasped. “Why?”

Flint’s eyes twinkled with amusement he clearly expected no one to share. “His uncle has come to rescue Chrysoberyl Carnelian from the horrors of a world filled with low-caste dragons, fallen aristocrats, and nasty humans.”

“But he had a good idea today. We’re going to use his product for our next launch.”

“Even a pureblood aristocrat can make a mistake.”

Flint implied having a good idea was Chrysoberyl’s error.

“Why did the Gnashing Teeth destroy my lair?” Kyan asked, more out of irritation than because he expected an answer.

Flint only raised a brow. “Perhaps you did something to draw their attention.”

His lair was the only one in this galaxy ghosted so completely. That changed Kyan’s question to why had the Gnashing Teeth targeted what was obviously a hidden lair? And he would only get that answer one way.

“We have five of the most likely locations for decloaking,” the comm tech said.

“Put them on screen.”

Flint leaned back and picked up his brush. Kyan reached over to close the connection.

“Wait.” Amber rested a hand on Kyan’s arm. “Flint, why don’t you come to our meetings?”

“Why don’t I come to your meetings?” He raised one brow. “For the same reason you’re still single.”

Her lips parted and her eyes went unfocused, then she shook herself. “No. That can’t be true.”

“My conclusions are never wrong.”

“But you’re…”

“Not a dominant, fire-breathing female?” The wry smile returned. “Unlike you, I am unable to suppress my true nature.”

She clenched the hem of her conservative cardigan.

“Kyan, farewell. I’ll miss our little chats.” Flint reached forward and closed the connection.

She frowned. “What does he mean, he’ll miss your chats?”

Flint had guessed Kyan’s strategy for avoiding the Empress’s marriage offer. Kyan would never share it with his siblings, for their safety.

Without answering Amber, Kyan strode to the armory and keyed in his codes. The huge vault whooshed open on well-oiled hinges. He’d cached weapons in a few locations around this galaxy, but nowhere as extensively as in his lair. He’d be hurting from that loss for some time.

He stripped and strapped on body armor.

Amber lingered in the doorway. “Are you going to get revenge?”

“And collect my female.”

He shouldn’t use the possessive. Laura wasn’t his female. But he used it anyway.

Kyan cinched on his signal-canceling biceps shields too hard and had to loosen them.

Clear your head.

“Can I help?” she asked.

“No.”

She clenched her hems again.

He finished dressing and activated the mirrored fibers. His body disappeared as the light bent around him, hiding him not only from plain sight but also from any cameras. A slight blurring smudged his outlines.

He was as close to cloaked as an individual could become outside of a paramilitary unit, and as armed as he could be without sacrificing stealth.

“I can be intimidating.” Amber’s hair crackled with licks of red flame to prove her point.

“That is not needed now.”

“Then what is needed now?”

“Nothing.”

She doused her flames, and her colors dimmed.

Her sadness touched him. She was as solitary as he was, and their burdens were obvious to anyone with eyes. His were scars and size.

Hers was existing as a female dragon.

Males hated and feared her. She could control their lives, crush them until they obeyed her wishes, tear them apart if they disobeyed. Relatives, enemies, strangers, all had to respect her regardless of their true feelings.

Amber never flexed her power. She tried, as much as possible, to remain quiet and just observe. Only contribute when required. Suppress her true nature to let her siblings live without the burden of her presence.

Just like Kyan.

He reached out and cupped her cheek.

She blinked, but she did not move away.

This was the gesture of comfort Laura would make. Kyan would walk past Amber’s sadness to get on with his job. But Laura would stop, comfort Amber, and tell her it was okay.

Kyan couldn’t go so far as to tell her it was okay. He didn’t think it would be. But he could share this silent moment, the two of them frozen like a statue, and she could know by his touch and his respectful silence that he heard, understood, and empathized.

“I work alone,” he said finally and dropped his hand.

She touched her own hand to her cheek. “Let me know if I can help.”

“I will.”

“Sir!” The ops manager summoned him. “A ripple has appeared next to one of the five projected locations of decloaking.”

“Contact the Vermillion family. Tell them to prepare for a salvage operation.”

The ops manager looked up. “They’ll want to know what they’re salvaging.”

He closed his tactical helmet. His rough voice growled from its speaker with a soft, metallic echo. “The wreck of a Draconis warship.”

“I’m a nurse,” Laura told the severe captain of the warship one more time. “I promise you. Just a nurse.”

The captain, sitting on the single elevated seat like a futuristic throne, stared down his long nose. “Then why do you, a human, own a lair designed to hide from dragons?”

“I told the other people already. It’s not my lair.”

An armed team had appeared outside the wreck shortly after the destruction of Kyan’s fortress. They’d taken her patient and ordered her into their small spaceship at gunpoint.

“Er, it wasn’t my lair,” she corrected, because her last glimpse had shown a smoking crater.

“We received intelligence that it was.”

She rubbed her eyes.

Kyan had to rescue her soon. He must have noticed she was missing by now.

She really should have gotten his cell number.

Of course, her cell phone was still in her work locker. Kyan had taken her to her apartment but deemed the hospital still too dangerous.

The captain sniffed imperiously. “So many human lies.”

In the same nondescript gray uniform as his crew, his rank was only obvious from the throne and the way his commands were instantly obeyed. A long nose and thin, high brows gave him regal disdain.

“I’m telling you—”

“And I am informing you, the crime for attacking an aristocrat of the Dragon Empire is death, destruction of your bloodline, and, across your entire planet, the immediate institution of martial law.”

“But—”

“Resistance will result in strafing the major cities until all natives are in full compliance.”

“But I didn’t attack anyone!” She dropped her hands. “I don’t even know how to operate those guns. They went off all by themselves!”

He raised a thin brow. “Weapons do not discharge ‘by themselves.’ They are programmed.”

“I didn’t program them.” She sucked in a breath and let it out. “Look. I really am a nurse. And I wasn’t trying to attack your pilot. He had two dislocated shoulders and putting a ball joint back into its socket can cause anyone to scream.”

After the shock of the laser cannon, she’d fixed one dislocation before the warship’s troops arrived. And then, over her and the pilot’s protests, they’d arrested her for being a spy.

The captain waved her explanation away. “I am not talking of the pilot. You attacked an aristocrat.”

“There’s a difference?”

“My nephew.” The male eyed her severely. “Chrysoberyl Carnelian.”

“Chryso—no! No, no, no.” She shook her head wildly. Relief filled her with a semihysterical laugh. “No, there’s been a mistake.”

“There is no mistake.”

“But I didn’t attack Chrysoberyl. I was his nurse. I got attacked because of him.”

The captain frowned.

Oh, thank goodness. This was all one big misunderstanding.

“There’s an anti-dragon cult on Earth. After I treated Chrysoberyl, they broke my window, vandalized my apartment, and cut the brakes on my car. They even sent someone to stab me.”

Huh. When she described what had happened, it sounded more serious than she’d realized.

Laura’s laughter died. She rubbed her bare elbows.

The dragons had removed her bulky outer clothing to prove she didn’t have weapons stashed in Kyan’s borrowed trench coat. They’d been impressed with the shrapnel resistance of the fabric.

“So that’s why I was in this secret lair,” she finished. “I’m hiding from cultists.”

“Then why was the lair designed to hide from dragons?”

“The owner’s a security freak.”

The captain considered her for a long moment, then slowly shook his head.

Her stomach sank. “It’s true!”

“Chrysoberyl’s attacker hid in a secret bunker on this planet. You hid in a secret bunker on this planet.”

“Am I the only one? Alaska’s not Idaho, but it is populated by rugged individuals who don’t like crowds.”

He cast his gaze over his stiff, silent crew. They manned their screens. Mysterious whirs were the only sounds.

He clicked an intercom button on his glowing armrest. “Medical. What was the disposition of the away ship pilot?”

“One dislocated shoulder, one swollen shoulder.”

The captain’s gaze flicked to her.

She bounced on her sock-clad toes. Her ankle barely even bothered her. “That was me! I fixed one shoulder. He should keep it in a sling until it’s healed.”

The captain’s gaze slid back to the intercom. “Carry on.” He closed the connection, then studied her. “You treated Chrysoberyl?”

“He was burned by hot coffee.” Patient confidentiality flew out the window when her life, her family, and the freedom of her planet were at risk. “Ask him. He’ll remember me.”

She hoped.

The captain’s gaze narrowed. His fingers hovered over the buttons on his armrest, then he unbuttoned his uniform cuff and rolled up his sleeve. “If you truly are a nurse, tell me what is wrong with my forearm.”

A test.

Oh God.

She needed Galina, all the equipment of Saint General Restoration, and an encyclopedia of dragon-human ailments. Stat.

But there was only her. Would she be enough?

She approached.

A red bump rose in the middle of his forearm.

Infected mosquito bite? Allergic reaction? A single case of hives?

She turned his forearm over, mentally crossing off diagnoses until the picture clarified.

“I think you have an ingrown hair.” She tapped the puffed skin near the whitehead, and he grimaced. “This one’s turned into a cyst. I recommend lancing. Normally, if you have a warm cloth and acne medication, you can treat it before it gets to this stage.”

“Acne medication? Lancing?” he repeated as if those words had no translation.

Maybe they didn’t. Kyan had said minor injuries would not be healed. Like the other dragon injuries she’d thus far treated, none made use of her medical degree.

How strange. Dragon technology could heal a fourth degree burn in days, but they couldn’t treat one ingrown hair? And that neglect caused a minor irritation to swell until his uniform brushing his arm probably hurt.

Chronic, endless pain put anyone in a bad mood. No wonder he looked pinched, easily irritated, and didn’t believe in her.

She rummaged in her pockets. “I don’t have topical acne medication, but the others…”

Yep, she still had tweezers, gloves, a packet of antibiotic cream, and a small plastic bandage in a back pocket, along with another condom.

Ooh. Her feminine parts clenched. Kyan would rescue her, and she would be so glad to see him, and then she would have a reason to use up the last condom. And then they’d have to discuss acquiring more.

She arranged her implements on the armrest and lofted the tweezers. “Can anyone sterilize this for me?”

In a short time, she cleaned out the cyst and bandaged the dragon captain all up.

“Because we removed the hair, you’re at risk for a reoccurrence,” she warned him sternly. “Rub the area with a warm wash cloth twice a day until it’s grown out.”

He nodded his understanding.

She stepped back—into an audience. The entire bridge crowded around silently watching. She was like a superstar surgeon in an operating theater.

Except…it was only an ingrown hair.

Seriously.

And to be honest, the dislocated shoulders could have been treated by any reasonably qualified sports coach.

Still, it was good to be useful, and she was glad to have helped out.

“Impressive.” The captain’s gaze flicked to his first officer, who hugged a hand to his chest. “Can you heal his injury?”

She examined the first officer. Infected hangnail on the ring finger.

“Soak it until the skin softens, then cut off the rough edge and bandage it with antibiotic cream. And rub on vitamin E to prevent a reoccurrence. Repeat the soaking and bandaging twice a day for four days. If it’s not looking better by that time, you may need a prescription.”

His posture straightened with new hope. “Then it can be healed?”

“Absolutely.”

“I have suffered for years.”

“Okay, then, stay hydrated, wear gloves when you do rough work to protect your cuticles, and invest in a quality hand cream. Everyone gets hangnails, but there are measures you can take to head them off.”

The next officer limped forward. Rubbing his hamstring, he launched into his problem. “I was running and felt a sharp pain…”

She diagnosed shin splints, a sinus infection, tinnitus, lower back strain, plantar fasciitis, carpal tunnel, and overexertion. Halfway through the bridge officers, she was just starting on a possible vision disorder when the warship shuddered and the lights flickered.

The officers raced to their screens.

The captain pressed his intercom button. “Engines. Report.”

Shouts filled the bridge. A rubber band sound twanged across the connection. The shouts turned to screams.

The captain punched another button. His voice tightened. “Security Team Four. Assist engines.”

Silence.

“Security Team Four?…Security Team Three, answer.…Security Team Two?”

No answer.

“We are losing power to all systems,” the first mate reported tersely. “Switching power to backups…backups are also failing.”

The captain focused on Laura. “What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing. Oh! Did anyone tell Kyan I’m still alive?”

The captain paled. “Kyanite Onyx? What is he to you?”

Ooh, good question. She licked her lips. “Um, we’re kind of seeing each other.”

The officers whirled from their stations. Their terror matched the captain’s alarm.

“You see him?”

“No, I mean, dating.”

They didn’t appear to understand.

“We’re together.”

No comprehension.

“We had sex,” she said flatly.

The captain grew horrified. “You are his mate?”

“Well…” They hadn’t exactly discussed it. She skipped to the point. “You blew up his lair. I thought blowing it up would be okay because I’m wearing his tracker.”

“No signals can escape the warship.”

“Then he might think I was inside when it blew up.”

“Heat shields are down,” the first officer reported. “Exposure to radiation is imminent.”

The captain jolted to his feet and slammed buttons. “All hands protect the core!”

The order echoed. It was an all-ship broadcast.

All the bridge officers flew out the door except for the captain, his first officer, and one grizzled security guard. The trio tightened, vigilant.

“He must be on this ship right now,” the captain mused.

“Impossible,” the grizzled officer growled. “There is no record of an intruder.”

“Kyanite Onyx was a Black Shadow. A ghost! They retook Broken Sun Station when we nearly lost the Colony Wars.”

The grizzled officer shut his mouth, removed a gun from his side holster, and faced the closed door.

The captain gritted his teeth. “Life support?”

“Failing,” the first officer reported. “And so is navigation. Planetary gravity is sucking us into its well.”

A giant window appeared on the main wall. Earth floated below their ship…and it grew as their spaceship tilted.

The captain’s gaze darted around the bridge. Suddenly, he slammed his palm on the intercom again. “Kyanite Onyx! Desist. We have your mate.” He motioned to her. “You talk.”

She swallowed and spoke in the general direction of his armrest. “Kyan? It’s Laura. Don’t crash the ship. I need it to get home.”

Silence.

She cleared her throat. “I’m on the bridge. There was a misunderstanding. They thought I was a bad guy, but now they know I’m just a nurse.”

Silence again. She met the gaze of the captain. He released the button.

They were probably going to die.

“You are not just a nurse,” said Kyan.

She whirled.

The wall behind her, filled with blinking lights and tiny screens, was otherwise empty.

Weird.

His voice hadn’t sounded like it came from an intercom. It had sounded like he was right—

The screens and lights shimmered and faded into a hulking male the size of a steel tank coated with bulky black ops armor.

Kyan.

He wrapped one arm around her, drawing her against his armored chest, and leveled a gun at the captain. “Explain.”

Kyan held Laura to his chest. Her soft, rounded derriere pressed against his lower waist.

She was unharmed.

The dragons on this warship would be allowed to live.

He pressed the interference signal in his pocket. The survival systems restarted.

Meanwhile, he needed to have a chat. “Misunderstanding?”

The captain stared down Kyan’s barrel and spoke fast. “I answered a distress call from my nephew. He was badly disfigured, and the human aggressor was hiding on this planet. We had no idea that was your lair.”

“Your mistake.”

He swallowed and glanced at his grizzled security officer. The experienced male had the good sense to remain seated with his hands in his lap.

“I need that distress call.”

“There was more than one.” The captain clicked buttons on his armrest. “If you restore our power, they’re yours.”

Laura leaned against Kyan. “We’re not really going to crash, are we?”

The lights blinked, and the warship shuddered. Engines revved to reverse the warship’s free fall and regain cruising altitude. On the wall screen, Earth tilted to a safe distance.

“No,” he said.

She released a big sigh. “I didn’t think so.”

The doors flew open, and the officers raced in. They fanned out, seeking an opening to attack.

Foolishness. Kyan would not give them one.

The captain held up a hand. “At ease! At ease.”

They froze.

“Here. The distress calls.” He offered Kyan a clear military file.

Laura took the file. It was big in her small hands. “Neat.”

“Where can we escort you?”

“The Onyx Corporation head office.”

The captain nodded to his officers. They returned cautiously to their seats, gazes never straying far from Kyan’s gun—unless it was to Laura under his arm.

His fingers tightened possessively.

“I hope you weren’t frightened when your lair blew up,” she said. “I’m really sorry about that, by the way.”

“You are not to blame,” he murmured, his mouth near her ear.

She shivered.

What a delicious reaction.

He nuzzled her, unable to stop himself. The thought of losing her had shaken something dangerous loose in his soul.

She turned her head and tilted her lips up, silently inviting him to claim her.

Cravings warred with his control.

Control won.

“Were you treated well?” he murmured.

“Hmm?” Her lids opened wider. “Oh. Yes. Actually, once we got past the misunderstanding, everyone was super nice. I’d like to come back.”

The captain’s taut shoulder seemed to ease. His officers’ hard gazes softened.

Laura made friends in the most unlikely of places.

“You want to come back,” Kyan repeated.

“They could use the services of a nurse. I want to come back with real medical supplies and treat what I diagnosed.”

Possessiveness fired through him. “They should be treated by their medics.”

“But their injuries are minor, you know? The ones that ‘aren’t worth it.’ Except even minor injuries can turn into major problems.” She shook her head. “It’s criminal to ignore the pain of a child, and flat-out stupid to deny good health to adults. How can ill soldiers give their best? They should be in peak physical condition. It only makes sense.”

He didn’t know what to say.

The captain did. “The Gnashing Teeth would be well served by your healing. In exchange, we could take you anywhere in the galaxy you wished.”

The sentiment on the bridge seemed to match.

“Wow.” She blinked, stunned. “I always wanted to travel to exotic places. Around the galaxy is farther than I imagined.”

“It is an unparalleled opportunity to leave Earth’s orbit and experience the Empire.”

“I graduate in a month.”

“We would be honored by your return.”

Kyan’s arm tightened. “A month is a long time.”

The captain’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Their warship hovered over the Onyx Corporation office.

The captain rose and straightened his uniform. “I will personally escort you to the doors so there will be no further misunderstandings.”

Kyan lifted Laura, but kept his weapon trained on the captain’s chest.

The grizzled security officer’s fingers twitched. Otherwise, the captain’s bridge dragons remained under perfect control.

They flew through the ship.

At the external doors, Laura stroked Kyan’s neck. “Do you think I could get my boots back?”

He addressed the captain. “Her belongings?”

The captain ordered the nearest crew member. A short time later, Laura released Kyan to pull on her boots and his oversized trench coat, bundling her parka and alpine gear into an easier-to-carry package.

Kyan strapped on his weapon. He still had the captain under guard, but by the exit, he no longer felt at risk from the crew.

The captain watched Laura lace her boots. “She is your mate?” he asked under his breath.

Irritation warred with pain. “No.”

The captain eyed him with surprise and schooled his expression. “Good.”

Possessiveness flared. “She will not mate any dragon on this ship.”

“Good.” The captain stared down his imperious nose, an aristocrat lording over lesser creatures. “Humans are kind, fragile creatures. Mating a military dragon compromises their safety.”

Kyan’s irritation increased. Did the aristocrat think he didn’t know? Of course she would be safer far from him.

He swallowed his growl. “A dragon family is selling Draconis technology to local humans.”

“Weapons?”

“Medkits.”

“It is still illegal,” the captain commented, almost to himself. “Which family?”

“I will contact you.”

“Do.” He rested his hand on the butt of his weapon—a jeweled gun he had likely never drawn. “They will answer to the Empress.”

Laura finished lacing her boots, rolled up his trench coat sleeves, and bounced to him. Her warm smile evaporated, and she stroked Kyan’s scarred cheek. “Don’t be sad.”

“I am not.”

“Hmm. Okay.” She turned to the captain and held out her hand. “It was nice to meet you.”

His serious expression broke, and he cleared his throat several times, then shook her hand. “Indeed.”

“I hope the next meeting is less exciting.”

“Indeed.” He stepped back and nodded at his technician.

The external doors cracked. Fresh air scented with late-afternoon rain whooshed in.

She twined her arms around Kyan’s neck, and he snugged her close.

The captain’s disapproving gaze rested on them like a weight.

Disapprove. Kyan felt a sudden rebellious streak as if, once again, he’d channeled Pyro. First, because a gorgeous female plastered herself to him, and second, because he wanted to attack the captain recklessly without provocation.

Neither was him. He was not the kind to do such a thing. Laura made him forget himself. Forget his control.

And that was the most dangerous of all.

They exited the warship and flew over the sunset-filled sky of Portland, Oregon. But, instead of descending to her side of the Columbia River, Kyan flew north and east to an ordinary office building in the middle of a grassy field.

He angled for a hole in the roof. A glass shaft plunged through the building. He hovered in front of a curved glass door and entered a lush, serene office.

A mahogany desk ruled a room filled with a trickling fountain, Ming-style vases on restful museum pedestals, and endless cascading green ferns.

She stepped onto the thick blue carpet. “Where are we?”

He crossed the carpet soundlessly. “My office.”

She would never have guessed. It was the complete opposite of his spare stone fortress.

She followed him into the hall.

His office lined a corridor of similar offices. On the other side of the hallway existed a maze of cubicles. All were empty.

What time was it?

“Wait here.” He took the clear memory-stick thing the captain had given her and strode down the hall toward the elevator.

A diminutive redhead appeared in one office doorway. Kyan stopped and answered her murmured questions with short replies. The woman released Kyan, and he continued past the elevator into a secure room with tinted windows.

The woman minced to Laura. Her plaid skirt, maroon sweater, and matching tights looked quietly stylish. Deep and demure, like one of Neve’s philosophy undergrads.

“Are you Laura? I’m Kyan’s sister, Amber.”

Sister!

Kyan’s gruff brother had come to the hospital with Chrysoberyl. How exciting to meet a sister. “How many siblings does Kyan have?”

“He is one of seven.”

“Seven!”

Had they all been in orphan care? Neither the brother nor Amber bore any scars.

“Our parents were optimists,” Amber said. “They tried seven times to present a dragonlet to my grandmother for marriage validation. Most couples give up after the first rejection. Would you like coffee?”

“Uh, sure.”

Amber crossed Kyan’s office and removed ferns from a dusty espresso machine. “Latte? Cappuccino? We have all the flavorings.”

“Whatever you like is fine.” She was fascinated by the window into Kyan’s world. “So, a marriage isn’t validated until the grandmothers ‘recognize’ their grandchildren?”

“Grand dragonlets.” Amber inspected the ground beans and sniffed the container. “Only the matriarch of the mother’s family must approve.”

“And yours didn’t.”

“Seven times. That is why we are all low caste, like our father, while my mother is an aristocrat.”

“Curious.”

“Is it?” Amber primed the machine. “What, besides dragonlets, is the purpose of marriage?”

“Love, companionship, and a commitment to find each other’s misplaced dentures when you’re both old?”

“Those are human values. Not dragon.”

Huh.

“Did you see Kyan much as a child?” she asked, returning to her earlier question.

Amber shook her head. “We were separated. I saw Alex occasionally.”

“In different orphan cares?”

“No.” Amber tamped the espresso. A mild frown marred her demure calm. “Alex’s exotic coloration made my grandmother regret denying him. He was allowed to be raised by distant cousins. And females are raised by their mothers regardless of their caste.”

Another fascinating detail.

Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen any females on the warship. Military sexism? Or something more?

Amber squirted flavoring and poured three shots of espresso into two tall cups, then added the steamed milk to each. She stirred, dusted them with cinnamon, and handed one to Laura.

Flecks of gold sparkled on the surface. She breathed in the scent. “Cinnamon?”

“Cinnamon gold car bomb.”

Neat. She took a cautious sip. “Tasty.”

“Good.”

Amber led her to a small table next to the tinkling fountain. The feature watered more ferns with a pleasant, musical mist.

“This is nice,” Laura commented. “Very meditative.”

“Jasper built it. He wanted to remind Kyan there is more to life than security.”

“Kyan never uses this office,” Laura guessed.

Amber nodded. “He works in the secure operations center.”

They sipped their coffees.

After the events of the morning—flying across the glacier to rescue the pilot, nearly getting blown up, and then the confrontation on the warship and Kyan’s rescue—it was nice to sit and drink a coffee in peace.

The car bomb caffeine jagged in her veins like crinkly wires.

Amber crossed her legs and smoothed her plaid skirt. “Did you want a job with us?”

Well, that was out of nowhere.

Laura rolled with it. “I just got offered one on the Gnashing Teeth.”

“Will you take it?”

The nice things the captain of the warship had said set Laura’s mind to racing.

She’d wanted to join the Peace Corps to challenge herself, do good work, and have an amazing adventure in a foreign culture. Becoming a travel nurse for the Dragon Empire, flying spaceship to spaceship with a basic first aid kit to heal the injuries deemed too minor to be cured by their advanced technology, would accomplish all that and more.

Clearly, these dragons needed her help.

But in reality? Rather than in the fantasy where she was brave and did whatever she dared?

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I still have to finish my clinical and pass my exam. Besides, Kyan is here.”

“Then you are in love with Kyan?”

For the second time today, Laura was being asked to put a label on a relationship she wanted to be important, but wasn’t sure how Kyan felt.

She went with the label the captain had jumped to. “We’re kind of, I guess you call it…mates?”

Amber’s eyes flew wide, and she almost dropped her coffee. The liquid sloshed. She fumbled it onto the table to keep it from pouring out. “You are?”

This was different from the captain’s reaction. Laura jumped up and grabbed napkins to sop up the mess. Amber couldn’t stop staring at her.

Laura finally asked. “Is that okay?”

“Yes. No. I’m not sure.” Amber clutched the napkins with a deep frown. “I asked him earlier today. He denied it.”

Her heart sank.

“Maybe I used the wrong word.” She scrubbed the dry table. “I’d say we’re dating, but we haven’t exactly discussed it.”

What would she call it on Facebook? It’s complicated?

Sleeping with someone meant a lot to her. She’d never gotten fully naked with anyone before. Had Kyan? He was compelling. Though he was no classical heartthrob, his charisma was impossible to refute. When his hot gaze rested on them, women must melt.

And he possessed such control. He’d made love to her like he knew what he was doing. Everything she’d wanted, he’d known almost before she did. Stop, start, harder, more. Weren’t they attuned to each other? Like they magically knew each other’s wishes and desires because they had a special connection.

He probably didn’t believe in soul mates.

Amber chewed her lower lip. “You think you’re mates…”

“No, I’m just repeating words.” Laura held up her hand. “Sorry. This might be too much information, but we did actually mate, so to speak, so I probably misunderstood.”

“You mated in the human way or the dragon way?”

Aha. “There’s a difference?”

“In the dragon way, you must both…” Amber translated a phrase from a different language. “‘Unite with your eyes open.’ This means to bare your naked bodies in a brightly lit place. No accessories or jewelry. No rings or socks. Then you are mated in the dragon way.”

Oh. “No, we didn’t exactly get around to that.”

“Who stopped? You or Kyan?”

“Kyan never took off his shirt…”

Actually, he had been undressing her and then she’d gotten nervous and made him stop.

“He didn’t say anything.” Amber’s tone whined, accusatory.

“Does Kyan often say something?”

“Yes. To me. And this is important!”

Amber set her mug aside and rested both hands on Laura’s. The manicured nails shone with clear polish. Her small hands were warm.

“Please become Kyan’s mate,” Amber said.

“Maybe he doesn’t want me.” And Laura wasn’t just saying that because she felt grumbly he had let her stop. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to get naked with her in the first place.

“You are the only female he has ever taken under his protection.”

“He’s hasn’t been on Earth long.”

“Not the only human. The only female. You are special to him. He has broken all his rules for you.”

“Oh?”

That was different. Warmth glowed in her chest.

“If you care for him at all, please mate him now. You are the only one who can save him from returning to Draconis and marrying the Empress.”

The office tilted.

“Marry?” Laura repeated stupidly. “The Empress?”

Amber explained that dragons viewed marriage as functional rather than for love, their mother wanted grand dragonlets, and the Empress of the Dragon Empire was so old, everyone thought she’d gone senile for trying to marry the low-caste Onyx family.

But all Laura could hear was that Kyan didn’t want to mate her and he was nearly engaged to another woman. Not just any other woman. Royalty. And not just any royalty. The highest ruler of his Empire.

It was a little hard to compete.

Kyan entered his office.

He’d slimmed from the thick tactical gear bristling with weapons to his usual yummy, formfitting black shirt, thigh-bulging black jeans that strained against his barely contained muscles, and the heavy steel-toed boots that only he could wear and still move silently.

She rose. “Is it true you’re returning to Draconis and marrying the Empress?”

He stopped. His glance landed on Amber, then moved back to Laura. “It is.”

No flicker of regret crossed his face. No uncertainty. Just a basic acknowledgment of the facts.

Amber moved to his side. “You won’t last a day in the Palace. They might chain you in the dungeon for arriving.”

“I have no choice.”

“But you do.” Amber looked at Laura standing numbly at the table, then gave Kyan’s elbow a little shake. “You’re not alone.”

His brow smoothed. He removed Amber’s hand from his elbow and moved past her. “I am always alone.”

Amber’s gaze seemed to crackle, and her nails extended into long dragon claws.

He stopped in front of Laura. So close, but not touching. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go where?”

“Somewhere safe.”

Again. Keeping everything to himself. Shutting out not only Laura, but also his own sister.

Why was she hurt? Or even surprised?

She hugged one elbow to her side. “I’m not sure.”

“You are upset.”

“Yes.” She rubbed her forehead. “I thought what happened between us was serious.”

“Serious?”

“I don’t sleep with people. Ever. So I thought sleeping with you was important. I thought it meant something special to you the same way.”

A divot formed between his brows. Confusion or worry? “It did.”

“Then how can you marry some other woman? You only do that when this”—she gestured between the two of them—“means nothing. And if it means nothing, then don’t worry about me. The police will work out a protection plan. You can marry your Empress, and we’ll forget any of this—any of my one-sided feelings—ever existed.”

“Your feelings aren’t one-sided.”

Hope curled in her chest. “But you told Amber we weren’t mates, which is like dragon-speak for steady dating.”

“It’s dragon marriage,” he corrected tersely.

Marriage? Oh. So, wait. The only way to save Kyan from marrying the Empress was to marry him herself?

He watched the realization cross her face. Knowing filled his, as if he’d been expecting her shock and rejection.

But she felt more drawn in. “How was I supposed to know?”

“You weren’t.”

His words thunked into her chest like heavy blocks, only deepening her confusion. “So you didn’t ever intend to propose?”

His normally guarded blankness slipped. True surprise— shock—stunned him. “Would you want me to?”

“Maybe.” But that wasn’t honest. It was just safe. She stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and cupped his jaw.

He started to jerk away and then held himself still.

Oh.

Maybe what she’d taken to be rejection was really muscle memory. He wanted to protect his face. And that made her heart squeeze.

She gently stroked his scarred jaw. “I’m sorry, Kyan. I like you, and I don’t want you to go away.”

She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and tugged him down to her level so she could nuzzle his cheek, his nose, his lips.

He held his breath

It made her smile, even as it made her sad. He was so cautious, so careful, so concerned about her that he couldn’t bear to breathe out.

She needed him to relax, accept her feelings, and, someday, feel comfortable with them. He hadn’t been loved enough in his life. She wanted to spend the rest of her life filling the deficit.

“Amber said I shouldn’t have kept my clothes on. I didn’t realize because we don’t have that rule.”

He swallowed. “I know.”

Behind them, Amber clicked the lock, exited, and pulled the door closed behind her.

“I want to try it out now.” She kissed the corner of his mouth and stared deeply into his clear, smoldering blue eyes. “Please.”

Kyan stilled as his female once more declared her attraction with a soft, loving kiss.

Her confusion and hurt had startled him deeply. Not because her wishes were unwelcome. He had fantasized about peeling off her clothes and claiming her, licking her body until he knew every taste and she writhed in ecstasy. Bury himself, finally and completely, in her tight, wet, warmth. Giving himself to her just as completely.

But it was impossible.

She pulled back and met his gaze with a tender smile. “Breathe.”

He sucked in a huge gulp.

She stroked his cheek. “Do you want to marry your empress?”

His answer stuck in his dry throat. He cleared it. “No.”

Her smile grew, then faded to seriousness again. “Do you want me to be your mate?”

“Yes.”

Her smile glowed. Sunshine in a dark storm. She nuzzled him. “Okay.”

Her fingers trailed to the hem of his shirt. She pulled, untucking it from his pants. He peeled his shirt off one-handed and tossed it to the floor.

Her gaze dropped to his pectorals and continued across his abdomen to the rim of his jeans. “It’s smooth.”

“The attackers targeted my face.”

Her gaze returned there. “Can I see your dragon form?”

He shook his head. He didn’t want to ruin this moment with a vision that would sear into her mind and turn her stomach.

“Is it necessary to see your dragon to count as mates?”

“No.” He cleared his throat again. For some reason, every time she said that word, his throat filled with a painful lump and his heart squeezed as though she had stuck him with a pin. “Human form is enough.”

She accepted his answer and lifted her hands. “May I?”

He nodded.

She rested her hands on his nude chest. Her fingers were cool and gentle on his burning hot flesh. She spread her fingers across his broad muscles, studying the mountains and valleys, as though truly enjoying his naked torso. His cock, iron-hard since he’d entered the room, filled tighter with heat.

She took a deep breath. Her breasts strained the blouse. “Turn around.”

He did.

Her soft touch claimed his lower back, his waist, his shoulder blades, and the curve of his spine. Up to the back of his neck, she skimmed across his knotted shoulders. And then she snugged her arms around his chest and pressed her soft breasts to his back. The pearled nipples rubbed a sensual torture over his shoulder blades. Her femininity teased his taut buttocks.

He sucked in another breath. Oxygen deprivation was the reason for his light-headedness. Not because she claimed him.

Right. Oxygen deprivation.

She unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans, and slipped her fingers under the rim of his briefs.

He clenched his teeth on his groan.

She felt like his dream. He wanted her so hard, his scales threatened to burst over his skin.

“You’re shimmering.” She pulled one hand from his briefs and stroked the scales jumping under his biceps. “It’s beautiful.”

His heart was pierced with another pin.

She made him vulnerable in ways he couldn’t guard against. And instead of protecting himself, he wanted to draw her close and hand her more pins.

Laura pushed on the briefs. The elastic swelled over his enormous, throbbing cock. He eased the fabric lower.

She paused. “Oh. Your boots.”

He did not have time for boots. Flexing, his calves elongated, hardening with scales. Razor claws burst the denim. They shredded his boots and the bottoms of his jeans.

“Oh!” She laughed. “That surprised me.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it was neat.” She stroked his distinctly inhuman form. “I’d like to see more.”

Was she referring to his face again? His arousal flagged. She would not like to see more, no matter what she said. He allowed a few exploratory strokes of the scales and then he flexed back to human skin.

Her breathing changed. Hotter, faster, as her fingers contacted his nude, hard-muscled thigh. “That was so cool.”

Her uneven tone made his cock harden right up.

“You can turn around again.”

He obeyed, stepping free of what remained of his soles and kicking off the shredded jeans.

Her lips parted and her eyes glistened.

He stood before her entirely bared. His half of the mating ritual was complete.

She focused on his arousal.

He swelled for her.

She swallowed and put her fingers to the buttons of her blouse. Then she hesitated.

Nerves twinged. “What?”

“Is it okay if I undress myself? Or do you have to?”

Have to? “Either way.”

“I thought maybe…” She laughed self-consciously as she began to part the buttons and reveal her satiny bra. “But I didn’t want to do it wrong again.”

He watched her natural, totally unselfconscious striptease with his arousal thickening and throbbing. “There is only one rule. Honest acceptance of male and female.”

“And light.” She slipped her blouse from her shoulders. “And nakedness.”

Those “rules” only expanded on the original.

She unsnapped her bra, releasing her gorgeous breasts, and let the satin fall to the carpet. Then, she unbuttoned and unzipped her trousers, revealing a slip of satin. Bending over to remove her boots gifted him with a deliciously naughty image to treasure.

She removed the last article, pulled something out of her trousers pocket, then stepped forward and took his lax hand in her empty one.

Her hopeful smile filled his chest with another pin of pain. “We’re both completely naked.”

His throat went dry.

“Turn around,” he said hoarsely.

It wasn’t necessary. He just wanted to see all of her as she had seen all of him.

She did as he asked, her head turning and golden curls fanning over her shoulders as she lost and sought his gaze again.

She was so beautiful. All creamy curves and luxurious softness. Her vee was topped by a thatch of gold just like on her head.

Stopping in front of him again, she stepped into his embrace. The object in one hand crinkled.

His hard cock brushed and then pressed into her silken waist.

She rested her empty palm on his pectorals, gently squeezing. “Now we make love?”

Yes.

He caressed her from shoulders to thighs, filled his palms with her derriere, and squeezed. She moaned and tipped back her head. He claimed her mouth and then her jaw, her cheek, her slender neck, and her delicate collarbones.

Resting her hand on his shoulder, she arched her back and offered her breasts.

He took her invitation, kneeling down and pulling her to rest on his knee. She was wet, so wet he couldn’t stop his moan.

He took her sweet nipple into his mouth and rolled it with his tongue, then suckled the other.

She rocked on his knee, pleasuring herself as he gave all he had to feed her hunger.

He squeezed her thighs, loving the way she tightened on him, and careful to keep away from the vee she had forbidden.

She captured his hand. “It’s okay…for you…to touch.”

He rested his palm against her mons.

Her belly tightened, and she opened her eyes to meet his, but he didn’t move, and her gaze softened into trust.

She canted her hips and gave him easier access.

He swiped his gentle thumb across her glistening pink. She sighed, opening herself and moving to his rhythm.

More. He wanted more. He wanted all of her.

He wanted to taste.

Rolling backward, he lay on the carpet, knees bent, and she straddled him. Bringing her wet cleft to his mouth, he—

“Wait!” She grabbed his hair, stopping him. Fear shone in her eyes.

He froze.

“I just—I’m not—I’m ready. Without that.” She laughed nervously. “Sorry. Next time.”

He released her, allowing her to sit back on his abdomen.

She feared him.

Fear.

He had frightened her.

Kyan swallowed. He didn’t know what to do. Lying on his back, flinching like he was a dragonlet all over again, he went limp and waited for it to be over.

Her brows drew together. She cupped his face, raining kisses on his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids. “It’s not you. You’re the one I like. My favorite. I’ll get better. You’re beautiful. Sexy. Strong. Controlled. And I love you.”

Her tender words, along with her soft, earnest kisses, tingled in his chest like a healing balm.

She lifted her head. Her worried eyes searched his. “Kyan?”

His arms came up of their own will and crushed her to him. Their lips met in a tangle of hunger and need.

He was her favorite? She was his. The only woman he would ever desire. The only one he would ever need.

She wiggled down his body and cupped his hardening cock, encouraging him with long strokes and hot gasps to return to his full arousal.

He felt stronger. More controlled. Clearheaded, like he was going on a mission.

His mission was her.

She grabbed the crinkly packet she’d dropped at his head and unrolled the latex barrier across his powerful erection. Then she positioned herself and sank onto his hard, long cock.

Sweet oblivion.

Pleasure soaked her smile and clenched his balls.

He fought for control. Her moans, her shimmies, her scent, and her smile all urged him to spill his seed.

He thrust into her tight, wet core. Timing his thrusts with hers, he watched closely. Her cheeks reddened and her moans increased. She arched her back, bucking against him. And then her channel clenched his cock, and she screamed.

His release poured into her.

She collapsed on his chest, breathing hard. Neither spoke.

He did not dare.

She was the mate he wanted. The female he craved. The only being in this entire universe who flayed open his vulnerabilities. Only she could sew up his wounds or rip out his heart.

He rested a hand on her back.

Such a small, fragile, beautiful back. The gentle curve had been targeted.

Because of him.

His life would always put hers in danger.

When he most wanted to protect her, like tonight, being with him brought her fear.

That was why he must leave her.

Soon.

They’d finally connected. Finally. And now they’d be together forever.

Laura snuggled closer.

Kyan stroked her back. His cock pulsed, still hard inside her, and if she had another condom, she might be talked into doing this again.

He’d been so amazing.

The first time had been earth-shattering, but the second time had been even better. What would the third time be like? She couldn’t wait to find out.

Her muscles twitched from the unfamiliar position, and so they separated. She rolled off.

He dealt with the condom, dried himself with his shirt, and went to a wall cabinet that turned into a closet. Behind crisp dark blue suits, he pulled out a pair of black jeans and his usual black shirt.

No briefs.

He glanced back at her as though sensing her gaze.

Did she blush?

She reached for her crumpled trousers. Funny how they’d had sex, but now they were mates, she felt shy.

His gruff voice broke into her thoughts. “Were you truly treated well on the Gnashing Teeth?”

“Absolutely.” Once they’d gotten past the misunderstanding. She buttoned her trousers and reached for her bra. “I’m considering their offer. Seriously.”

He hesitated.

She snapped the closure on her bra and shrugged on her blouse.

He spoke while looking away. “Do not share your healing saliva.”

“My what?”

“Your healing saliva.” He closed the cabinet. “The part that makes it better in your kiss.”

Her jaw dropped. “I think there’s been a—I don’t know—do you mean the thing I said about kissing it and making it better? That’s not a real thing.”

“I had never heard of this phenomenon. However, when you pressed your lips to certain places, although there is no outward improvement, it feels better on the inside.” His blue gaze nailed hers. “Do not share this with any other males.”

She shut her mouth with a click. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He nodded, satisfied, and then he stiffened and strode around her.

She turned to ask where he was going.

An instant later, his door rattled. A knock sounded on the outside. “Sir?”

“Report,” he said gruffly.

His slight glance back at her explained everything. She furiously buttoned her blouse to be presentable.

“We analyzed the distress calls. And we have a new lead on the medkits.”

She twirled to show she was dressed.

He opened the door. “New lead?”

The younger male nodded eagerly. “It’s the Tourmaline group. We have proof.”

“And the attacks on Chrysoberyl?”

He shook his head.

“Keep investigating.”

“Sir.”

“And contact the Gnashing Teeth.”

The employee nodded and left.

Kyan turned to Laura. “Put on the trench coat.”

“Your trench coat?”

“Yes.” He waited for her to do so and then pulled her into his arms and flew them up the glass shaft. The moon hung low in the dark sky. “Stay with your parents tonight. Tomorrow, you may go home.”

“Can I go back to work?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure it’s safe?”

“The medkit sales records will confirm what I tasked my employees with tracking—that the cult members are identified to human authorities.”

How long had he been watching her apartment? She asked, but he didn’t exactly answer.

“It is safe,” he repeated and stepped back.

“Kyan.” She stepped forward and grabbed his hand.

He did not flinch.

Progress.

She placed a kiss on his lips.

He lasered in on her with dark blue intensity.

She grinned, happy all over, and stepped back. “Be safe.”

He nodded shortly, then, like Superman, he rocketed into the night.

Seeing her parents was wonderful. She shared her adventures and basked in the loving glow of her family. The next day, she repeated her tearful reunion with her housemates, who were still stunned and amazed by all that had occurred, and the school was accommodating, and even the director didn’t yell.

“You’re certain the danger is over?” Bob pressed.

“Kyan is.”

“And you have how many weeks of clinicals left?”

“With the extension? Five.”

He shook her hand. “Let’s make them uneventful.”

She agreed wholeheartedly.

To top it off, Dr. Richard had taken a week’s vacation. It was a great homecoming. She slid into her routine as if she’d never left.

The only problem was not hearing from Kyan for three days.

Three days.

On her next day off, she looked up the Onyx Corporation in the directory. An older woman with a smoker’s growl transferred her call to Kyan.

He answered on the first ring. “Have you been attacked?”

“No.” Like that was the only reason she’d call? “I haven’t seen you. Can you come over?”

Silence.

“If you’re too busy, we could schedule—”

“Why?”

Seriously? “Because people who are…seeing each other should see each other.”

She’d almost said “mates,” but that was his word, not hers. She didn’t want to use it incorrectly and make this awkwardness worse. “So, what time works for you?”

“I’ll be there in four minutes.” The line went dead.

Four minutes!

She splashed makeup on her face and shoveled dirty clothes off her bedroom floor. Sexy outfit, sexy outfit… She hadn’t planned for this! No lover should visit in less than an hour.

Kyan tapped on her second-story window three and a quarter minutes later.

Laura opened the window, flushed. “Hi.”

He looked as gorgeous, impenetrable, and serious as the last time she’d seen him. Maybe even more so in his trench coat and with his arms rigid at his sides.

“Come in.” She was only a little breathless. “This is my bedroom. We could watch a movie. Are you hungry? I made—”

“You’ve seen me.” His terseness cut her off, and he made no move toward the open window.

Oh. “You can’t stay?”

He floated back as if he were going to leave.

“Wait!”

He looked at her, his shoulder already turned away.

She searched for one of the many, many questions she’d wanted to ask. She’d planned on talking a lot. It was hard to compress her hunger for his presence into a quick question.

“How did everything turn out? Did you catch the bad guys?”

He floated to his original position. “The Tourmalines confessed. They and their accomplices are in the brig of the Gnashing Teeth, soon to be transported back to Draconis. All medkits were confiscated, and the lizard alien cultists were put on watch lists.”

“Great! I knew you’d catch them.”

His expression did not look pleased.

She sobered. “Any luck with the bomb maker who attacked Chrysoberyl?”

“No accusations, but a repeat is impossible. We are always watching.”

A little shiver crawled up her back.

Kyan in the cloud-muffled sunlight was the most lethal, gorgeous, dangerous male she had ever known. And he was using all his hard lethality to protect instead of destroy.

Her feminine parts flushed with awareness.

“Are you sure you can’t come in?” She squeezed her thighs together. “Just for a minute.”

“I cannot.”

Ugh. How frustrating. But wasn’t it a stereotype that cops were always married to their work? She shouldn’t be surprised. “Then just come closer.”

He floated a foot closer, still out of her reach. “Why?”

“So I can kiss you.”

His blue eyes flared, and he finally looked away. “That is not a good idea.”

A heavy weight settled in her stomach.

She tried to ignore it. “What do you mean?”

He remained silent.

“What’s going on here?” She crossed her arms. His attitude and his reluctance to meet her made the hairs on her body stand up. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“We were never together.”

So that was it. The gauntlet was thrown.

Her heart panged. She sucked in a breath. “We’re mates.”

He shook his head shortly.

“We had the naked sex!”

“In a dimly lit office.”

“What do you need? Stadium lighting?” She tried to lower her voice. No need to broadcast to the neighbors. “Why didn’t you say something? Or turn on more lights?”

His expression turned accusatory. “You put on clothes.”

“I did not.”

“The barrier.”

Her whole world crashed around her ears. “The condom? You count a see-through latex birth control device designed to fit on your cock—inside my vagina—as ‘clothes’?”

His jaw flexed, but his bitterness was unmistakable. “You do not wish me to father your dragonlets.”

Oh.

Okay.

Amber said the whole purpose of dragon marriage was to produce offspring. But humans were a little more complicated.

“Well…”

His face closed.

“It’s not that I… It was sort of, I mean… You still haven’t proposed.” She gesticulated. “I fully intend to have kids. I just thought… You’re going against the natural order.”

“Natural order?”

“We’re supposed to date. Spend every Friday arguing whether to go to our favorite restaurant or the one down the street, and whether we watch one of my sappy chick flicks or one of your testosterone-fueled action shows.”

“Dragons do not use testosterone as fuel.”

“I know. Or, actually, I didn’t. Huh.”

He stared at her.

“No, look.” She tapped her index finger into her empty palm for emphasis. “The point is, we’re supposed to date and then we buy a house and then we get married and then we have kids. But you’re too busy with your investigations or hitting on other women or whatever is stopping you from coming to see me. And how can we bring in a kid if we don’t know what our relationship is right now?”

“I do not hit women.” He frowned as though listening to a correction in his translator. “Or entice them.”

She crossed her arms again. “Well, you enticed me.”

“You are odd.”

“Not that odd. You’re so busy putting up a cold front that no one else has braved your arctic manners to reach your heart. You could entice a lot of women if you tried.”

He shook his head violently.

“You’re sexy as sin. Let up a little and women will flock to you.”

He snarled. “How could anyone accept this face?”

“How could they not?” She grabbed him.

He drew back in surprise, clearly not having intended to get within her reach, and she was dragged out the window. Clawing on, she wrapped her legs around his waist and started to slide.

His protective arms closed around her. They dropped like a stone and hit the ground roughly. He absorbed the impact. Cradled in his arms, she felt only a mild bump.

His fury wiped away to worry. He stroked her head.

“How could they not?” she repeated in a whisper, and covered his parted lips with hers.

He exploded under her kiss. Passion heated as if their office sex had been moments instead of days earlier. His tongue plunged into her mouth, tangled with hers, and drew her out. Weaving, tempting, tasting. Heat flared to her center. His cock hardened against her waist.

She would reach him. He would understand. She would never give up.

He jerked back and dropped her.

Her socked feet thumped against the cold, nasty concrete.

He stumbled away, one hand clapped over his mouth. “With me, you are not safe.”

“I’m perfectly safe so long as I’m right next to you.” She stepped toward him.

He flew out of reach.

She stopped. “We’re mates, Kyan.”

“You do not wish to be. Not seriously.”

“I’ve already tried twice to be very serious about it. The first time, I didn’t know, but the second time, I gave it my best.”

His jaw flexed.

“Be honest. Is the condom holding you back? I’ll take a pill. Or, let’s get on with the house-buying and marriage-proposing and we’ll just have a baby. Okay?”

He shook his head. Again.

Well, there you go. “If you keep denying we’ll ever be mates, you must be the one who doesn’t want to be.”

He froze.

The truth broke over her like a migraine. She sucked in a harsh breath. Her heart squeezed with excruciating pain.

“That’s it, isn’t it? You deny I’m serious because you don’t want me to be serious.”

He didn’t answer.

She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry.

He hovered like an ice statue.

“I accepted you a long time ago, you know. Not just your face.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut, trying all her tricks to stave off the burning tears. “You’re the one who won’t accept me.”

“I accept you.”

She dropped her hand. Anger was much better than sorrow. “Then why are we still doing this dance?”

He looked away.

“You want your empress.”

He fixed a cold gaze on her. “I will never marry the Empress.”

If they weren’t mates, then what was his plan? Wait, she knew it. “You’re going to pretend to go along with it, then fake your own death and hide out all alone for the rest of your days?”

His eyes widened.

She’d guessed it. “It’s a stupid plan.”

He looked shocked and deeply disturbed. “Is it that predictable?”

“No, I know you. Nobody else would be so eager to give up their home, their friends, and their family.”

“I don’t want to give them up,” he muttered. “There is no other choice.”

“There is another choice.” She thumped her palm on her chest. “Me.”

Concern melted to sorrow.

She gritted her teeth. Speaking clearly, honestly, so there would be no mistake, she declared her truth. “I want you.”

His face clenched with soul-deep pain. His voice roughened to a whisper. “I do not.”

Her heart clenched as hard as his expression. She’d thought, more than once, that they were connected. Soul mates. But when she reached out and opened her heart, he shut up in his soul’s arctic fortress and shot down anyone who got too close.

And she had to accept that.

She turned and picked her way to the sidewalk, then up the stairs to her apartment. He watched her, seeing her safely inside.

How noble. How protective.

How infuriating.

At the doorstep, she looked down on him. “You can’t be a team of one forever. You need other people. One of these days, you’re going to realize it.”

I want you.

The vow echoed in Kyan’s mind like a mantra. A chant.

A threat.

He fought it while he attended business meetings, stalked Syenite, and finalized plans to escape the Empress. It wriggled under his skin, tightening around his heart when he least expected it, waking him from a troubled doze. He had no time for sleep.

I want you.

He had lied.

He didn’t want her? No. He wanted her with his whole bitter, black soul.

She was something he could not have.

Being with him would only bring her pain. The terror in her eyes when they made love in his office? As long as she was with him, it would only grow. And someday, her soft, sweet tenderness would be erased. She would only gaze at him with fear.

The meeting, whose contents he couldn’t have repeated even at gunpoint, ended. His siblings filed out of the conference room.

Chrysoberyl rose from the table.

Syenite’s black shades seared Kyan as he passed, following Chrysoberyl. They left together as usual.

How to separate them?

Syenite was hiding more than eyes behind those black shades. Kyan followed, shadowing them down the hallway.

Amber stepped in front of him. “How is Laura?”

A sharp stab stole his breath.

He stopped short and tightened his control. “Fine.”

“Does she require the human wedding ceremony like Cheryl and Amy did?”

I accepted you a long time ago, you know.

He shook himself. “We are not mates.”

Amber frowned. “Go apologize.”

She assumed Laura had rejected Kyan.

He pushed past Amber. “She is safer this way.”

“What about you?”

“I do not matter.”

“Kyan.” Amber’s rising voice arrested him. “I will collect her for you.”

He spun to face her. “I do not ask for your assistance.”

“And I do not ask to lose my brother.” Smoke curled from her nostrils and her dark red hair crackled. “Act. Now. Or I will act for you.”

His hands flexed into clawed fists.

The other dragons gave them a wide berth. Managers and employees in the cubicles stood to look over their walls at the brewing fight.

It was not unusual. Siblings disagreed. But Kyan was rarely the center of the argument.

He did not want to fight his sister.

But he also would not bend. “Do not force my obedience.”

“To save your life, I will.”

His elongating incisors stabbed his lips.

“Ah, Kyan.” Alex stepped between them. “Excuse me. Do you have time?”

Amber’s inhuman gaze snapped to Alex. Her eyes narrowed to dragon slits.

Alex cleared his throat. His voice pitched too high as he fought his natural urge to run. “If you have a moment, I would like to discuss the security footage of the attack here.”

Kyan did not take his eyes off Amber. “I have time.”

She growled low.

“I’ll be waiting in your ops center.” He swiftly backed away. “Syenite, please come also.”

The security head for Carnelian Clothiers flinched. He glanced at Chrysoberyl and excused himself, striding after Alex.

Kyan turned his back on Amber and followed the other dragons. Danger prickled his back with deadly risk.

“We are not done,” Amber hissed to Kyan.

He spun once more to face her. “Laura’s shift begins in one hour. I will speak with her tomorrow.”

The smoke increased. “The final day?”

“It is how I desire to resolve this.”

Her dragon teeth pulled in and her eye slits dilated to round human pupils. “You have until tomorrow.”

“Understood.”

By this time tomorrow, he would have escaped to the icy reaches of space.

Kyan strode to the ops center, assigned two employees to secure Chrysoberyl, and joined Alex and Syenite in the inner conference room. It was the most private room in the building. Actually, now his fortress was gone, it was the most secure room on the planet.

Kyan queued the footage. Syenite sat stiffly.

“Just a moment.” Alex rested an ankle on his knee, more relaxed without a female dragon threatening his immolation. “We should drink coffee and make small talk.”

Kyan operated the espresso machine in the corner. “Small talk?”

“I believe neither of you were listening in today’s meeting. Ask me how my expedition to the silk art studio went.”

Kyan looked at Syenite.

The male turned to Alex. “How did your expedition to the silk art studio go?”

“So literal.” Alex smiled. The sharpness did not leave his two-tone eyes. “It went well. I learned to produce beautiful dyes. It is especially good timing for our launch of silk scarves.”

Kyan set a black espresso in front of Alex, a chai latte in front of Syenite, and settled into his own seat with a vanilla-flavored espresso.

Alex regarded Syenite’s drink with interest. “Do you enjoy that?”

Syenite looked down at the chai latte. “Yes.”

“I don’t suppose he has ever made it for you before?”

“No.”

“Good observation, Kyan.”

Irritation needled his skin. He did not have time for Alex’s game. He still had to arrange the final events to ensure his seamless escape. “The footage is queued.”

“Of course.” Alex leaned forward. “Go ahead.”

They watched Chrysoberyl lounge in his suite, Syenite hand him coffee, and Kyan walk to the luggage. The bomb rose above the luggage. Syenite shot and detonated it.

“Stop there.” Alex leaned forward, addressing Syenite. “Will you remove your tactical shades?”

Syenite stilled.

Kyan tensed. Had Alex discovered how to trap Syenite? He should have given Kyan warning. A male this unpredictable could only be taken down with caution, not by backing him into a private conference room where no noise could emerge.

“Please,” Alex said, unbothered by the delay.

Syenite’s hand paused over his shades. “You are not my superior.”

“I can contact Pyro.”

The male’s nostrils flared. Anger. And then another emotion. One both familiar and jarring.

Self-loathing.

“Please,” Alex repeated. “Your dark shades make it difficult for even our most talented to understand you.”

Syenite removed his shades, folded them, and set them on the table in front of him with a click.

Then he looked up.

Muddy, distractingly ugly irises made Kyan’s stomach flip. No wonder he wore shades so black they disguised all color.

And how ironic that a male as disgustingly ugly as Kyan could feel the same disgust at another similarly cursed.

Perhaps Syenite was unluckier. He had been a pure-blooded aristocrat once. And his ugliness was natural.

His nostrils flared, and every muscle in his body tensed. He hovered a hand over his folded shades. “I will put them back on.”

“Do not.”

His palm flexed into a fist. “It is…distracting.”

“From now on, please remove your shades when you enter the Onyx Corporation.”

His head jerked up. “But I will disgust you!”

Alex raised one brow. “Have you not heard? We are low-caste bastards who reject the Empress and surround ourselves with human trash. We will soon become accustomed to your imperfections too.”

Syenite grimaced at the table. His claws emerged and disappeared, but he did not otherwise protest.

Kyan struggled to piece together this new revelation.

Could this male’s cursed eyes have caused him to hate and destroy the more attractively colored Chrysoberyl? Or did he wish humans to fall under Draconis military rule because he had been treated badly on Earth?

“Now, to business.” Alex straightened and pointed at the frozen screen. “You shot the bomb. Why?”

Syenite grimaced again. Without the mask of his shades, his emotions spilled out. Shame, guilt, anger. And again, self-loathing. “I was stupid.”

“No, I don’t think you were.”

“I made a mistake.”

“What was your mistake?”

He gritted his teeth. “I shot before I identified my target.”

“Are you sure?”

Long seconds ticked by.

“Are you familiar with this?” Alex set a small ball on the table. It was slightly larger than the bomb and decorated with iridescent scales.

Syenite nodded.

“I am not,” Kyan said.

“Of course you wouldn’t be. Syenite, will you operate it?”

He pressed the scale on the top.

The ball rose in the air and exploded.

Kyan flinched for a weapon. But the others watched calmly and so he remained still.

Shiny powder poofed in an iridescent cloud, and brimstone candy clattered on the table.

“It is a celebration popper.” Alex rubbed his ears. “Common in aristocratic households for birthdays and graduations.”

He scooped up the ball and rested it on the table. The scales had fallen off. Yellow lights gleamed around the outside exactly like a wrongly colored shrapnel bomb.

The bag Kyan had pulled the bomb from had been filled with iridescent powder and brimstone candy.

“I reacted to a celebration popper?” Kyan struggled to control his voice. Why had no one explained? How foolish. “Filled with brimstone candy?”

“It could be filled with anything. Actual shrapnel is a common prank. It is significantly weaker than a real bomb, but can still cause injury. Detonating one in the air is not a bad method of defusing it.” Alex turned on Syenite. “I ask you again. Why did you shoot it?”

Syenite grimaced. “I did not see the device. I reacted.”

And if it had been a different type of bomb, no one would be having this conversation now.

“You saw it,” Alex insisted. “Perhaps not consciously, but you correctly defused a ‘prank’ shrapnel-filled popper.”

“What about the flechette grenade in the hospital?” Kyan pointed out. “You defused it with a demagnetizing wand.”

Syenite regarded Kyan blankly. “And?”

“That is not an ordinary object to carry.”

“Not for a head of security?”

“Not for anyone.”

Syenite frowned. “That’s why you’ve been following me?”

Alex interrupted. “Syenite. Go get your coat.”

He exited the room and returned a moment later wearing the bulky jacket. Alex made him spread it across the table. The demagnetizing wand, along with a hundred other security devices, was hooked or sewn to the interior.

“Pyro told me you had been wearing a customized jacket.” Alex flipped up the collar. Needles filled with counter-poisons and salves hid inside. Alex flipped it back down. “You have only started wearing it since the Onyx Corporation merger.”

“That is not true.” Syenite grimaced again. “I am not an experienced security officer. When Sard Carnelian took pity on my…situation…and invited me to Earth, I researched what threats I might encounter.”

“Flechette grenades are common in the Colony Wars,” Kyan said. “Not on Earth.”

“I researched threats on planets with a weak dragon presence.”

Which would certainly include planets under dispute in the Colony Wars.

“The coat restricts movement. I stopped wearing it.”

“Until a historic merger threatened the bedrock of dragon society,” Alex said.

“And because I did not want to show a true security officer my inexperience.” Syenite looked away.

Some devices in his coat were common. Others were obscure. So, he had been carrying the rare wand because he wanted to appear experienced in front of Kyan?

It had worked. Kyan had credited him as being well above his experience level. Multiple times.

“I wear the most common devices in something my girlfriend designed called a ‘utility belt.’ It is less bulky. She can lift it herself.”

Kyan blinked.

Girlfriend?

Carnelian dragons courted local females, but he had never seen Syenite in their company. “Human?”

Syenite nodded. “She doesn’t mind my…” He gestured at his eyes. “I have not seen her since the merger. I have not left Chrysoberyl’s side. She grows dissatisfied with my absence.”

That matched Kyan’s understanding of human females. Laura had become extremely dissatisfied after not seeing him for sixty hours.

And it also removed several of Syenite’s possible motives for the attack. He would not wish his girlfriend’s planet to fall under military rule. She had accepted his eyes. He would not hate the humans.

Had Kyan misread him?

Alex grinned without mirth. “Let’s solve this mystery so you can leave Chrysoberyl’s side and meet her.”

Syenite nodded.

“We must identify the source of the flechette grenade,” Kyan said. “That is no ordinary weapon.”

“Collectors exist amongst aristocrats. Perhaps the grenade was the only one in our attacker’s arsenal.”

“What of the distress calls to the Gnashing Teeth? And the post identifying Laura to the cultists?” Human police had been unable to trace its origin.

Alex leaned on his elbows. “You now know it is not the other attempting to start a war.”

Kyan met Syenite’s eyes. The meshed colors no longer forced him to flinch or look away.

The fallen aristocrat stared Kyan in the face. He’d long ago lost his discomfort with Kyan’s scars.

They still did not trust each other, but much had changed. There was hope of trust in the future.

“Good.” Alex stood. “Then, if you agree to share your information, my work here is done.”

They worked together in fits and starts, trying out ideas that fit the facts and then discovering more facts to make new theories. They worked through the night and reached an impasse.

Kyan checked the time.

Laura would be ending her shift soon. Even though he shouldn’t, he reviewed her tracker location.

The hospital.

In a few hours, Amber would confront him. Rather than executing his plans to escape the Empress, he was still here, working together with his former prime suspect.

His mind wandered.

“Why ‘girlfriend’?” he asked Syenite. The human term had no equivalent in dragon culture. “Has she not accepted your claim?”

Syenite looked up. His startling eyes caught Kyan by surprise, but he looked at the table quickly as though too aware of his impact. “She has.”

“Why are you not engaged?”

“She says both parties must date for at least a year or else a marriage won’t last. Therefore, in seventy-six days, I will propose. She will accept.”

“You know how?”

“She has accepted me.”

“You believe her?”

“I have chosen to believe.” He fixed Kyan with a hard look. “She is worthy of my faith.”

She is worthy of my faith.

By refusing Laura, Kyan protected himself—and declared her unworthy.

She was worthy.

He was the unworthy one.

She had proved over and over that her heart was larger, more open, and more generous than his would ever be. She accepted him with both arms open. Loving him with her entire soul.

How could she?

Life mated to him would be impossible. She might be targeted by crazed cultists or a mastermind bomber. His new lair might be compromised. She would never be safe.

But as this investigation had proved, he was not Flint.

He’d been wrong about Syenite. He’d been wrong about his “impenetrable” lair. He’d been wrong about the control and integrity consistently demonstrated by the fallen aristocrats at Carnelian Clothiers.

Perhaps he was also wrong about himself.

He might be worthy of her love.

Keeping close might protect her.

Their life together might be difficult. Not impossible.

And her presence might just save him. Not from the Empress’s marriage proposal, but from a lifetime of fighting the wrong wars against himself.

“What are we missing?” Syenite asked, focused on the investigation. He had a human girlfriend he wished to see, the sooner the better.

Kyan suddenly felt the same way.

“Maybe the obvious.” Kyan leaned forward, energized. “I assumed our bomber was a mastermind. But perhaps he is an amateur. His first ‘attack’ was an empty celebration popper I triggered.”

No. That was wrong.

“There was a delay between my touching the popper and its explosion.”

“They can be activated remotely,” Syenite said. “The remote detonation device is a small, black ball on a loop. It is unmistakable.”

“Then the flechette grenade in the hospital placed too late to strike a dragon target. Improper reconnaissance?”

“Wasting such a rare weapon would not be the work of an amateur,” Syenite said. “That would be total incompetence.”

Total incompetence?

Yet it had resulted in him taking the worst of a flechette grenade, later losing his lair, and nearly losing Laura along with it. Only her determination to heal an injured pilot had saved her life.

Luck. It all came down to luck.

And that was unacceptable.

He checked her location again, obsessively.

Still at the hospital.

“What if the luck was in the attack’s success?” Syenite asked. “First, hurting you, then in giving a description to the warship that happened to match your lair.”

As he reviewed the attacks through the lens of total incompetence rather than a diabolical game, a new suspect began to form.

Kyan reviewed the distress calls to the Gnashing Teeth. They had originated in the Onyx Corporation offices and traveled across dragon networks. He’d assumed the criminals had ghosted his network. No one would be so stupid as to use their personal terminals.

But the perpetrator had.

Syenite stared at his conclusion, then flicked his sober gaze to Kyan. “There is one other aspect you are not considering.”

Kyan prepared to confront his new prime suspect. “What?”

“If the attacker is this incompetent, he might not have realized the flechette grenade would only be activated by dragon stellarium.”

“How stupid…” But he couldn’t complete the sentence. A new nightmare was beginning.

The suspect had slipped his surveillance.

Syenite continued. “The target of the flechette grenade then would not have been a dragon. It would have been a human.”

He checked his trackers. Everyone was where they were supposed to be. His siblings were on their way to the office for the morning. Laura was still at the hospital.

Odd.

How many hours since her shift had ended?

“And there is only one human who could have been the flechette grenade’s target.” Syenite spoke the words that shredded Kyan’s heart. “Laura.”

Laura’s shift started out normal.

It helped to keep busy and not think about the things—or dragons—she couldn’t control.

Asthma attack in Room 7 responding to oxygen, steroids, and a new inhaler. Probable broken foot in Room 8 waiting on X-rays. Septic scare not responding to rehydration in Room 9, transfer to the intensive care unit imminent. And she was tidying Room 10 from a pretty nasty norovirus with projectile vomiting and diarrhea—which she’d dodged, but the adolescent’s mother might never wear those jeans or shoes again—when Galina stopped by the room.

She did the thousand-yard stare of a nurse who had smelled worse but still reacted to the sour stink of a digestive mishap.

“Is this room clear of biohazards?”

“Yes, but to be safe, I called the team.”

She nodded and glanced down the hall. “Your transfer is here.”

“On my way.”

Galina fell into fast step beside her. Laura signed off on the transfer paperwork, Galina double-checked it, and her very sick patient headed off to the next stage of care.

“Two rooms clear. And the other two?”

“Waiting on X-rays and…” Laura checked her watch. “Five minutes on the asthma, and that will also be good to go.”

“Tell Sabrina.”

“I already have.”

Galina allowed herself a brief smile. “You’re doing well. A few days off cleared your head.”

It was true. Not in the way Galina meant, but getting attacked, kidnapped, blown up, kidnapped again, and rescued had given her a new confidence. Here at Saint General Restoration, she knew what she needed to do. The guesswork was contained to making the best health decisions for her patients—not begging a furious military dragon to spare her planet.

Treating the simple maladies of his bridge crew hadn’t hurt her confidence either.

Kyan’s face when he’d rescued her meshed with his cold gaze when they were breaking up. Hurt panged her chest. She shook herself.

“We might turn you into an ER nurse yet.” Galina saw something over Laura’s shoulder. Her smile disappeared.

Laura turned.

Dr. Richard bore down on them, his symmetrical features tanned and a white smile Laura could just tell was going to irritate her.

“Looks like you ladies enjoyed my vacation if you have time for a gab-fest. Don’t gossip about me too hard.”

Laura had enjoyed his vacation.

She turned on her heel and headed to her next assignment.

“Hey, Blondie. Blondie, wait.” He grabbed her hand.

The X-rays were coming back, so Galina continued to the exam room.

Laura spun to face Dr. Richard. “What?”

“Didn’t you miss me?”

“No.”

His brows rose.

The movement of other staff crowded them. He pulled Laura to the side of the hallway between empty gurneys.

“With an uncollegial attitude like that, it sounds like someone doesn’t care about her recommendation.”

Her blood boiled. She channeled Whitney. “Was there any actual chance of me getting a recommendation?”

He blinked. “If you deserved one.”

“You’ve made no secret that I’m not fit for nursing. You can’t even remember my name.”

He looked nonplussed. “Blondie is a pet name.”

“Is that what I am? Your pet?”

“Well, no—”

“Because it’s disrespectful. And furthermore”—she lifted the hand that he was still holding—“you’re harassing me.”

He let go like it burned. “Just because I took your hand—”

“And also because you implied that you wanted to give me a physical, you held a conversation with me while I was in the women’s locker room, and you’ve cornered me multiple times to deliver comments that are not only inappropriate for a professional environment, they’re also creepy.”

His mouth flapped.

“I don’t want to report you for harassment.”

“Report!”

“I want to finish this clinical, get my degree, and become a travel nurse. The first intergalactic travel nurse, in fact. I’d appreciate support for my dreams.”

His mouth closed as though she’d finally said something reasonable. “You’re not going into the ED?”

“No. Valuable as I think it is, I have other plans.”

“Good.”

She braced for a jerk comment that proved he’d make the last month of her clinical even more miserable than the first months.

“You have a good bedside manner. It will get more exercise in a less hectic environment.”

He actually sounded normal. And he wasn’t giving her his usual smarmy grin.

She spoke cautiously. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” Worry darkened the wrinkles around his eyes. “Say. Can I talk to you after your shift?”

No. She’d had enough of him talking to her on her shifts. He could not talk to her after her shift.

“In the cafeteria.” He put his hands up. “Just a coffee. I’m not hitting on you, Laura. I want to explain something.”

So he actually did know her name. “…Okay.”

“Good.” He nodded at Galina as she exited from the exam room. “I better let you get back to your preceptor.”

She escaped.

What the heck was going on? He’d been almost normal.

If he creeped on her in the cafeteria, she was out of there so fast, the whole hospital would spin.

Their paths didn’t cross for the rest of her busy shift and, afterward, she landed at her car on autopilot.

Sigh.

She tossed her belongings into the repaired sedan with a groan and returned to the hospital. Was this a mistake? The dread in the pit of her stomach said so.

Dr. Richard was waiting for her in the cafeteria, both feet tapping nervously. When he saw her, he stood and waved.

As if she could overlook him.

The morning coffee vendor had set up, so she ordered a double. It wasn’t a cinnamon gold car bomb, but it would keep her awake through the next few minutes.

“What’s that?” Dr. Richard asked, making small talk as she sat down.

She channeled Kyan. They might be broken up, but he was still useful. “Coffee.”

“Black coffee?”

She stared at Dr. Richard over the rim of her white cup.

He looked down at his nervously tangling hands. “I, uh, asked you here because I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I’m playing a role.” His expression twisted into that weird grin she knew and hated. “Dr. McDreamy is an ER stereotype.”

“You’re not dreamy.”

“Hah!” He coughed as though she had surprised him. “I didn’t start out this way. The problem was my residency.”

She raised one brow.

“In the last weeks, a supervisor discovered my orientation.” He picked at his clipped nails. “In her mind, a gay man couldn’t become a doctor. She made false reports. I barely got my degree.”

So he was gay? And a bad residency caused him to make life hard for all new nurses?

“My partner thinks I overcompensate.” He chuckled dryly. It tapered to an unhappy sigh. “I guess he’s right.”

“You made my predecessor quit.”

He looked up. “She stole opioids.”

“I stole opioids.”

“You returned them.”

“So you didn’t harass her into quitting?”

“No.” He raked a hand through his sandy hair. “I told her she could leave or I’d report her. She chose to leave.”

And so Galina had assumed the reason was his attitude.

“Please don’t report me,” he pleaded. “I can’t afford more marks on my record. This hospital, this ED has been my home. I can’t start over.”

Maybe it was the double hitting her veins, but she felt confident and clear-headed. She knew exactly what needed to be said.

“Don’t harass any more nurses. And give new ones a chance. We don’t get much choice over where we do our clinicals. You should guide instead of criticize.”

He nodded.

“And stop being creepy. You’re the supervisor. Don’t perpetuate the abuse.”

He rubbed his hair again. “I’ll tone it down.”

“Turn it off.”

“I’ll…do that.” The lines around his eyes, which she’d never noticed, were honest too. He was probably exhausting himself from trying to play that stupid role. “Then, you won’t report me for harassment? Or the other things I told you?”

“We have four more weeks.” She did not promise anything. “Let’s make them collegial.”

He blinked and frowned pensively, twisting his hands again. “What happened to you? I heard about the stabbing.”

“That was nothing.” She sipped her coffee. “Cultists vandalized my apartment and cut the brakes on my car.”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “That’s what happened?”

“And then, in the middle of setting a double shoulder dislocation, my safe house got blown up and I was held hostage at gunpoint.”

His brows rose.

“It was all a misunderstanding.”

“That’s a heck of a misunderstanding.”

“So, that’s what happened to me.” She rose. “I just want to pass this clinical.”

He rose too. “I’ll see what I can do.”

They didn’t shake hands, but they’d passed a normal half hour. Maybe it was possible to get along.

She couldn’t reach out to Kyan, but she could reach out to Dr. Richard, fix his mistakes, and they could end the clinical with a new understanding.

And she was finally coming into her own.

Leaving the hospital once more, less than an hour after her shift ended, she exited the ED and ran into Chrysoberyl.

Wearing a fancy black suit with silver and red embroidery, the multi-pierced bald dragon was unmistakable.

The shock was so great that she actually said aloud, “What are you doing here?”

And then it occurred to her that he wasn’t her patient, so it was none of her business.

But he oriented on her and set his shoulders. “I need your assistance.”

“I’m not allowed to treat you.”

He frowned. “I mean, Kyanite needs your assistance.”

Her heart dropped to the concrete and soared above her head. She flushed hot and cold.

Crossing her arms, she lifted her chin. “Oh yeah? With what?”

“An important matter. At his office.”

“Yeah? That’s nice.” She started for her car, patting her pockets for her keys.

He hurried after her. “You will not assist him?”

“He wants something, he can come here and ask me.”

“But he is here.”

She stopped abruptly. “Where?”

“This way.” Chrysoberyl headed back to the hospital. “The place where you found the medkits.”

“What, the basement?”

“Yes. The basement.” He puffed his chest. “Take me there.”

Ugh. Seriously? She was no longer on shift. But she could just imagine bringing him to the day charge nurse.

That nurse would call the director. The director would want to know what Laura was doing talking with dragon aliens in the hospital again.

What a headache.

“Come on, human. I have limited time. You are wasting it.”

It was so tempting to snap at him like she’d just snapped at Dr. Richard, but she wasn’t mad at Chrysoberyl. She was mad at Kyan for sending a representative and not having the balls to face her himself.

She headed back inside and led him to the basement organ transport shelves. It was eerie in a way she hadn’t noticed when she’d been here with Kyan.

“Here’s where we found the missing medkit.”

“Where is it?”

“Oh, we moved it upstairs.” She gestured at the shelves, extremely not reliving her first fantasies with Kyan. “It was moved here by mistake. Nobody comes down here.”

“Perfect. I prepared for this possibility. Take this end.” Chrysoberyl handed her a glowing string. Neon, like a bracelet someone would wear to a rave. “Drape it over your wrists.”

She did so. “Why?”

The string cinched around her wrists like a too-tight snap-bracelet.

“Now you cannot transform,” he said.

“Oookay. You know I can’t transform anyway. I’m a human.”

“Of…of course I know that.” He pulled the other end of the string around the column. It hugged her to the cold concrete and locked.

She struggled. “What are you doing?”

“Making myself a galactic ruler. I had intended to destroy the Onyx Corporation. But that will have to wait.” He activated his cell phone device. “Uncle? I am being detained and injured by humans!”

“Chrysoberyl?” The captain’s voice sounded panicked. “Where are you?”

“Destroy this enclave of filth that dared to harm my illustrious person.”

“We are moving to your coordinates now.”

“W-wait until I am free! Then, destroy this refuse pile.”

“Contact me when you have found your freedom. Hold strong, my dragonlet!”

Laura screamed. “It’s a lie! He’s not being hurt. He’s trying to hurt us!”

He showed her the blank device. “Interrupting private conversations is rude. Does your species know nothing of propriety?”

“Does dragon ‘propriety’ include lying and murdering innocent people?”

“Nothing on this planet is proper.” He sniffed. “Low-caste dragons receive marriage proposals from the Empress. Turn them down. Merge and rule over aristocrats. Lord their positions over me.”

“God forbid,” she muttered.

“Clearly it is the fault of your planet’s hedonistic pursuit of pleasure. The concepts of marriage for ‘love’ and the ready availability of that sinfully delicious coffee have given willfulness to dragons who no longer know their place. This planet must be wiped clean. Correct, utilitarian, aristocratic rule will teach you what is proper.”

“And that teacher would be you.” She struggled. “Why tie me up? What did I ever do to you?”

“I have been trying to eliminate you since the moment you found my remote detonator.”

“Your what?”

He knelt down to her level and produced the mini Magic 8 Ball keychain.

“That’s a detonator? How would I know?”

“You were going to show it to Kyanite.”

“But you took it away. I forgot I even saw it.” What the heck? “So you left the banana slicer bomb too? The one that only activated near dragons? That makes no sense. It would never have gotten me.”

“That was my most brilliant move.” He messed with the remote detonator. “It almost removed Kyanite’s disgusting visage from my sight.”

She gritted her teeth. A nurse swore to do no harm, but if she could get free of the column, Chrysoberyl would find out exactly what happened when she got off duty.

“Brilliant,” he repeated.

“Not really,” she snapped. “It could have gone off on any dragon. I might not even have been in the room.”

He shrugged. “No aristocrats would have been harmed.”

“I almost carried it out to ask if it was yours.”

His eyes widened. “Human, how dare you? That would have been truly stupid.”

“You’re the stupid one.”

His yellow-green eyes narrowed. He rose and slid the detonator into his pocket. “Soon you will be dead and this entire block destroyed. I only have to go outside and tell my uncle I’m out of the way. He will unleash the wrath of the Gnashing Teeth.”

“You can’t do that.” She struggled. “This is a hospital. It’s filled with innocent people!”

“But no aristocrats.” He turned away and glanced over his shoulder in triumph. “So nobody important.”

“Your uncle and I are friends!” she shouted at his receding back. “Hey!”

Not that his uncle would know. She’d seen the smoking crater left of Kyan’s fortress. If the same happened to this hospital, no remains would be found.

And her tracker must say she was still in the hospital, so there would be no reason for Kyan to notice anything was wrong. How long had it been since she’d gotten off? An hour?

That assumed he was even still paying attention to her.

Her heart sank, and a lump formed in her throat.

She had tried to love him. Starting a relationship required two people. He wasn’t ready.

But she was.

She wanted to commit. She wanted marriage. She wanted kids.

She wanted Kyan.

Maybe it was okay to rent. She could be flexible on the house thing.

Most importantly, she had been honest. She didn’t second-guess her decision to love him. She was proud of herself for that much. He had pushed her away, and she hadn’t taken her declaration back. She hadn’t apologized for her feelings.

If someday he decided to open his “team of one” to others, she would be right there, first in line, offering to join.

Supposing she was still alive.

Footsteps sounded on the concrete, and she perked up. Kyan! He’d found her already?

Chrysoberyl reappeared in a cloud of villainy. “I cannot operate your elevator.”

Oh. Right. She had the badge with the security clearance.

“Untie me, and I’ll operate it for you,” she said.

“No.”

“Then I guess neither of us is going anywhere.”

“Hmm.” He pulled out what was unmistakably, even though it was advanced dragon technology, a gun. “Then I guess I’ll have to kill you now.”

“Chrysoberyl left the building hours ago,” Kyan’s ops manager reported. “He declined security.”

“You should have watched him,” Kyan snarled.

“He was supposed to be under the personal supervision of Carnelian Clothiers.” The normally slick ops manager couldn’t quite make eye contact with Syenite. “We did not know the order had changed.”

Hellfire. The downfall of almost all operations was a communications failure.

Kyan stormed for the door. Even though he shouldn’t go to the hospital, that was his destination. He had to know Laura was safe. “Find him!”

“Sir!” The comm technician stopped him at the door. “The Gnashing Teeth is decloaking.”

“Where?”

“Directly over Portland.”

Hellfire and brimstone! He spun on his heel, returning to the console. “Hail them.”

“They are not responding.” The technician drew a deep breath. “Their weapons are hot.”

“I will force them to respond.” He turned to Syenite. “Go to Carnelian Clothiers. Confirm your people are safe.”

Syenite shouldered his bulky coat and replaced his tactical shades. “What of your building?”

Jasper strode through the open door. “I will take over.” He had clearly heard the last of the conversation.

Kyan protested. “You have no experience.”

“As general operations manager, it is my role to assume responsibility for our physical assets.” Jasper took Kyan’s usual seat and reviewed his protocols for a building evacuation. “I observed you conduct drills. You assumed I did so only for curiosity.”

Fine. He did not have time to argue. “Contact…”

Who could he send to the hospital? He needed to confirm Laura was safe—without compromising the safety of his siblings.

Jasper awaited his order.

Kyan could not split himself in two. But he was the only one who could board the warship, and he was the only one who could find Laura.

Mal yelled through the operations door, “There’s a warship over Portland! Whose incompetence brought them over human airspace?”

“Chrysoberyl’s,” Jasper replied.

Mal’s lip curled over his elongating teeth. His eyes flashed green. “He was not working on the design portfolio? I knew I should have demanded it by midnight last night! Our mother will hear of this.” He stormed away.

The internal phone system clicked. Their gravelly voiced receptionist, Jeannette, reported. “The mayor of Portland is on line two. Who will take the call?”

“I will take it.” Alex strode in and picked up the phone receiver next to Jasper. “Madam Mayor? Yes, we are aware of the warship. … There is some misunderstanding. … No, there is no cause for immediate alarm. … Yes, we will ask them to keep the airport flight lanes clear.”

As his family rallied around him, Kyan’s heart swelled. This was what he had refused for so long—the team working together under pressure.

Many times, he had assisted Mal, Pyro, or the others during a crisis. Now, they assisted him. He’d had his team all along. He’d just feared relying on them.

Syenite followed him down the hall to the glass shaft. “Someone must check on the human nurse.”

He felt the pull in his soul.

But the warship threatened the entire planet and the future of human-dragon relations. “The warship is the priority.”

“I will go to the warship.”

Kyan turned.

Amber stood in the middle of the hallway, her financial files held close to her chest.

“I know how to board,” he argued.

“They will not dare to refuse me.”

The military did not bow to singular females. “This ‘help’ is not requested nor—”

“And neither will you.” She dropped her files and hunched, exploding into dragon.

Oh, no.

He wheeled and flew.

Amber raged behind him like the fury of a storm, not the sister who frequently silenced herself to let her brothers shine. He raced Syenite up the glass shaft to the morning sky.

The gigantic warship blocked out the sun, a giant disc of lethality.

Syenite split west toward the Carnelian office. Kyan flew south, toward the warship.

Behind him, Amber roared. She streaked across the sky, a molten sliver of the sun’s plasma, curling and twisting toward the warship. Although as a human she was much smaller than her brothers, as a dragon, she displayed her full dominant power.

Perhaps the warship captain would listen to her. They might at least accept his technicians’ hail.

He dove for the hospital.

Landing on the street in front of the emergency department, he dodged the people pointing up. It was not his imagination that the warship was centered over the hospital. Was it?

“No,” his comm tech confirmed via his clear earbuds. “It is centered. And watch behind you. Syenite is coming.”

The head of security landed a moment behind him. “Pyro already evacuated Carnelian Clothiers and released me to assist.”

Kyan accepted his assistance. Together, they jogged into the emergency department.

He did not recognize the head nurse. “Where is Laura Jamison?”

“Who are you?” the nurse demanded.

“Her mate.”

He had said it. And when he found her, he would say it to her face.

“I can’t tell you private information,” the nurse said.

“She is not supposed to work this hour, but she is still here.” He checked his tracker. “Twenty feet below this level.”

The nurse blinked. “The basement?”

Kyan gripped the desk so hard it creaked. “Take me there.”

“I…I have to ask the director.”

“Ask. Now.”

Endless seconds ticked by until he finally received permission. A guard escorted him and Syenite into the elevator, swiping his badge to move it down.

“What are you doing in the basement?” the guard asked, wary.

“We do not know yet,” Syenite told him.

The doors opened.

Battle sense broke over him. It had saved Kyan more than once.

He dodged sideways out of the elevator with one order to the human guard. “Stay back!”

Syenite flew on his heels.

Down the dark aisles, a muffled fight sounded. Laura’s voice, rising in pitch, set his heart at ease. She was still alive. But her words set him on edge again.

“…so then I’ll be dead and you still won’t be able to get out.”

“I will exit via a window.” Chrysoberyl sounded both pleased and irritated.

“There are no windows! This is the basement. It’s subterranean.”

“Stupid human. Give me the elevator key.”

“Untie me and call off your attack.”

“I cannot call off the attack. My uncle will know I lied.”

“So I can’t unlock the elevator.”

Kyan silently assumed his position and nodded at Syenite. Despite his lack of official black ops training, the fallen aristocrat flew to his place as though he had participated in hundreds of missions.

“I swear I will kill you,” Chrysoberyl said.

“Then you’ll be discovered in the basement with my dead body. If you thought it would be hard to explain before, no one will believe you then. And Kyan will kill you.”

“He would not dare.”

Kyan stepped from the shadows. “Try me.”

Chrysoberyl jolted, his shoulders up, and wheeled.

The gun swung away from Laura.

Just as Kyan had planned.

He burst to dragon and flew sideways. His shredded clothes fell to the cement.

Chrysoberyl shot.

The laser sliced his clothes and scored the cement.

“Kyan!” Laura shouted. “He has a gun!”

Kyan smashed the gun out of Chrysoberyl’s hands. It skittered across the basement floor and slid under a far shelf.

Chrysoberyl erupted into yellow-green scales and attacked wildly, slashing at Kyan’s shoulder.

Kyan rolled under his claws.

Chrysoberyl snapped at his exposed neck.

He wheeled over the aristocrat’s teeth.

The younger male had mass and good health, but not training.

Kyan shot up and slashed his face. His claws raked Chrysoberyl’s jaw.

“You struck me.” He gaped at the dripping blood.

Kyan tackled the aristocrat in a lock.

He squirmed.

Syenite knelt beside Laura. Using his rare tools, he demagnetized the rope and release her.

She dodged Syenite and fell on the shreds of Chrysoberyl’s suit.

Kyan started to snap at Syenite to move, but the security head maneuvered into a protective stance.

Chrysoberyl edged up one hand and cuffed him.

Hellfire.

Blood flowed over his eyelid, half-blinding him. He tightened his lock.

The aristocrat whimpered.

Laura lofted Chrysoberyl’s personal communicator. “Hello? Hello?”

The captain of the warship answered. “Are you at a safe distance?”

“No, Chrysoberyl isn’t.” Laura waved at the screen she was holding. “Hi, it’s Laura again.”

“Laura!”

“This is my hospital. Chrysoberyl lured me to the basement and tied me up. No one was hurting him. That was all a lie.”

“Where is he?”

“Fighting with Kyan.” She pointed the device at Kyan as he held Chrysoberyl.

“Uncle!” Chrysoberyl struggled in Kyan’s lock. “This is abuse.”

“You were trying to blow up innocent people,” Laura accused.

He whined. Blood dripped from the cuts on his face. He shrank to human form, looking pitiful. “This low-caste attacked me.”

“You attacked him first!” Laura cried.

“I am the victim, Uncle. I am the right one. Listen to me!”

The captain’s gaze turned flinty. “It is a very serious charge to attack an aristocrat.”

Kyan returned to human form for a better grip. “I had no choice. He threatened Laura.”

The captain’s brows rose and then lowered. “And what is Laura to you?”

“Mine.”

The captain frowned. “Yours?”

“My female.” He growled. “My mate.”

She fumbled the phone. “What?”

Chrysoberyl stiffened. “She is no such thing.”

“Laura. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” She danced. “Oh, give that guy to Syenite so I can hug you.” To the captain, she added, “Please don’t blow up the hospital or the city.”

A second call rang in the middle of the first one. The screen split. Mal’s face appeared on one side. “Chrysoberyl! My mother is recalling you to Draconis to discuss your recent performance. You are to leave immediately.”

He paled. “Your mother?”

Mal ended the call.

The captain cleared his throat. “It seems as though everything is resolved. Please call off your amber female dragon and we will withdraw.”

“Uncle, they are disrespecting me!” Chrysoberyl whined.

“Take your complaints to their matriarch.”

“Normally, you would blow them up.”

“I have unprecedented patience and generosity since the healing of my arm.” He rubbed his sleeve. “There is no need for violence. This can be resolved peacefully.”

Laura brightened. “Will you still be interested in having me visit when I’m done with school?”

“We await your arrival.” He gave a rare smile. “Let today mark a new era of tolerance between the military and Earth. I will issue an advisory that all injuries to aristocrats must be investigated by the Palace to avoid false claims.”

Chrysoberyl whitened. “The Palace?”

“At the very least. Or the Gentleman’s Society.”

He moaned.

“Farewell, Laura, Kyan. Chrysoberyl.” The captain ended the call.

Syenite took custody of a wilted, naked Chrysoberyl while an equally nude Kyan took possession of Laura.

She melted into his arms. “So I’m your mate?”

He tightened. This was where he needed her. And he needed her to say yes. “If you agree.”

“I already agreed! You want me to say it again? Then ask!”

He had not prepared. His heart was not ready. But he asked anyway. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” She hugged him tight. “Now take me back to my apartment so we can make it official. Dragon-style.”

Laura nestled in Kyan’s arms for the short flight to her apartment.

He’d gotten a change of clothes from one of his siblings—she didn’t know which one—and they’d left.

Later there would be inquiries, statements, an update to the first police report, and an incident report for hospital administration. But for now, there was only her and Kyan.

She is mine.

Kyan didn’t take back his statements. His promises were binding.

My female. My mate.

They landed at her apartment, and she used the key to let them in. Tyler sprawled in the living room, passed out on the couch in front of a movie. He snorted awake and yawned, saw she was with Kyan, and straightened. Laura did the introductions, pleased Kyan was finally inside.

“Hi.” Tyler shook Kyan’s hand, staring at how his own disappeared entirely inside Kyan’s fist. “Wow. You are just like Laura described you.”

Kyan released him with a frown.

Tyler backed up. “So. I just remembered that I have to go shopping. At a friend’s house. And so does everyone else. We’ll be back at dinner. Or you can text.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely.

He grinned, a little goofy, gathered up his thin jacket and tied on his red Converse, and headed out.

Kyan watched him go. “He is leaving you alone.”

“Isn’t it nice?” She snuggled up to Kyan. “These walls are pretty thick for an apartment, but it’s still considerate.”

His arm rested on her shoulders for a long, soul-satisfying moment. This was how it felt to hug the male she loved and be hugged, naturally, like she was right where she belonged.

But then she was excited to show him her apartment and gave him the quick tour to her bedroom. Leading him in, she toed off her tennis shoes and crawled up on the bed.

He lingered by the door.

“You’re still frowning,” she noted.

“You were once rescued by your housemates.”

“Tyler respects that I trust you. There’s no need for anyone but us.” She leaned over, caught hold of his hand, and drew him toward her. “You are my one.”

He moved to the edge of her bed. “I have frightened you. Twice.”

“And you stopped so I could recover.” She tugged him.

He put a knee down on the bed beside her, turned, and sat with his steel-toed boots on the floor.

“I can feel you listening, Kyan. I hear your caring in your silence, in your gaze, in your movements. I trust and love you. Only you.”

Her words finally seemed to penetrate. Or he chose to believe in her. He leaned over and unlaced his boots.

She hugged his back. Stretching her arms around him was like trying to stretch around a sequoia, majestic and strong. She clasped her hands over his heart.

He removed his boots and socks, straightened, and rested one large hand over hers.

But his profile was still worried. Concerned about frightening her again? He was unable to trust in their connection and feared what would happen now that he had declared she was his mate. He feared who he would become, and who she would become.

“Don’t be afraid.” She nuzzled his cheek, placed a soft kiss near his mouth, and let him know how much she cared. “I’m right here with you.”

She straddled his hard thighs. His bulging shaft caressed her inner seam. She lifted his shirt. “No barriers. No excuses. This is official.”

He removed her blouse and bra. His broad thumbs pearled the nipples, shooting pleasure to her core. He took one into his mouth, then the other.

Twin aches of desire twisted in her.

She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. His cock strained the briefs.

He stood, holding her safely against him, and removed their remaining clothes. Then he sat again with her naked on his lap, female to male.

He ghosted over her sensitive areas.

She rested his hand firmly on her mons. “I want you to touch.”

He hesitated to confirm her wish.

“Please.”

He gripped her gently. Slowly, so achingly slowly, he slid his fingers around her throbbing nub, the slick lips, and her inner slit.

Pleasure shivered through her.

His cock pulsed.

He stared at her pinkness with delicious hunger. As if he wanted a taste.

“You can taste,” she said between her gasps.

He froze.

She had regained her faith in her sensuality. Kyan had given herself back to her.

Now, she wanted to experience every pleasure with him.

“It’s okay.”

Ducking his head, slowly and carefully, he laid her back on the bed and massaged her creamy body. Desire swirled. Her feminine core clenched, craving him. She stroked his powerful biceps, urging him to fulfill her desires.

He kissed her inner thighs, watching and waiting for her to stop him.

But she didn’t need to.

No second guesses.

He nuzzled her vee.

She opened for him.

As he cast his gaze over her body, a strange expression crossed his face. Almost pain. Her trust overwhelmed him. Just a moment, and then the pain was gone. He focused totally on giving her pleasure.

Licking her slippery area, he found her nub and massaged gently, teasing with his tongue.

Need flooded her center.

She gasped. “Yes!”

Encouraged, he continued, and she rose on a tidal wave of pleasure, rolling over and over with his patient, insistent, enraptured caress.

She exploded with release.

He lifted his head. A small, pleased smile crossed his face. Rare, proud, and beautiful.

Laura stroked his cheek, earning a sweet kiss on her palm, and urged him to move up her body. Positioning his hard cock at her channel, she asked, “Do you accept that this will be the dragon version of getting engaged?”

He nodded once. Firm, decisive. Her Kyan.

She drew him into her body, sliding his bare, naked, hard cock deep into her slick wetness. He stretched her with tantalizing fullness until he rested against her core.

They both shuddered.

The heat was intense without the condom. She felt everything a hundred times more. It was delicious.

This was right.

He opened his eyes, and his blue gaze pierced her. “You are mine.”

Laura nodded.

She was his and he was hers. She had waited a long time for this day. This confession. This male.

Exquisite surrender filled his gaze. He began to move, thrusting in and out of her channel harder and faster. Her orgasm grew.

It was frightening in the way of new beginnings. At the same time, exhilarating.

She wrapped her legs around his flexing buttocks and drove him home.

The full power of his passion rushed her, and she exploded for the second time. Pleasure tingled her nerves, squeezing him with her abandon.

He caged her, holding her safe and warm as she came down. And then he gazed at her with such love, it broke her heart and repaired it again, stitching her together in a new way—one that included him, always and forever.

She stroked his cheek.

He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to her shoulder. Breathing deeply, enjoying her scent the way she was addicted to his.

“I’m so glad you changed your mind and came back,” she said.

He lifted his head. A hint of the familiar sharpness returned. “I should have considered you were the target from the beginning.”

“No, I mean, for us.”

He softened.

“Just out of curiosity, what changed? Why did you?”

“You accepted me.”

But she’d said so days ago. “Why did you finally believe me?”

He shook his head slightly as if reminding himself of how he’d been an idiot. “You were worth my belief.”

“Then, can I ask something else?” She was pushing it, but in this moment of absolute honesty, she wanted to know everything. “Will you show me your dragon?”

The old resistance returned to his face. He had dealt with his scars in human form, perhaps, but dragon was another matter.

She stroked his forehead. It was okay if he was still unable to show her. She’d glimpsed him during the fight in the basement, and he had only shifted because he’d had no choice. She would be patient.

But a new decision filled his expression. They untangled, and he rose, nude, in her bedroom. Checking his space, he hunched.

The scales flew over his body as if he’d been doused with a bucket of blue crystal. His legs and arms elongated, crushing together to fit in her room, and his long tail curled over the bed. His neck elongated. His dark hair pulled back while his nose and teeth stretched to dragon.

That was where his deepest vulnerabilities lay.

Where other dragons had smooth snouts, his was lumpy and misshapen. One eye protruded while the other was smashed in. The hollows and pits in his cheeks showed where tissue had been removed and never filled back.

Her heart ached.

These were no minor pranks. The deliberate unkindness he had endured swelled her heart again. Her throat grew tight, and her eyes watered.

He rested his head against her arm, trying to comfort her when clearly he was the one who needed comfort.

She threw her arms around his neck. “I love you so much. Okay? I love you so much.”

He morphed to human so he could return her hug, pulling her onto his lap and rocking her.

Perhaps this grief would never fully leave him. Grief for what he had endured, the innocence he had lost, the hardness he had assumed to survive.

He should have grown into a kind, gentle giant. His attackers had stolen so many things from him.

But they would never steal her love.

Finally, she got ahold of herself and cleared her throat. “Thank you for showing me.”

He nodded, and she heard as clearly as if he had said it aloud—Only for you.

After, she checked the time and texted her housemates to return so they could share a meal with her and Kyan as a couple, then she dragged him down the hall to her shower. It was a tight fit, but that was part of the fun.

“We never got to use the shower together at your old lair,” she commented, lifting her elbow so he could reach the soap and boogying to wash the suds from her hair.

“We will in my next lair.”

“Are you rebuilding on the same plot?”

He shook his head. “It was compromised, and you were unhappy. I will plan a new lair with you.”

Her heart swelled. “You would do that?”

“It is the natural order for marriage.”

Ah yes. They needed to date, buy a house, and get married before having dragonlets.

Well, so, she’d skipped ahead.

It would be great if he could build in an adorable neighborhood, close to family and friends, quirky shops, exotic cafés, and include a bread oven.

“Is it okay that I travel?”

“The Gnashing Teeth is a good ship.”

“I was thinking maybe of visiting others too.”

“Humans do not travel frequently across the Empire. You will need a bodyguard.”

“Is that bodyguard you?”

He nodded.

She hugged him. “What about your responsibilities here?”

“I have a good team.”

He had a team!

“Great, because I was always hoping to be on your team.”

“You are.” His blue eyes warmed. “Among the stars, our team will be two.”

“And, after we have our dragonlet, we’ll be a team of three.”

The pained expression crossed his face again. He swallowed hard.

She nuzzled him while hot water sprayed off his shoulder. “Don’t be sad.”

“I am not,” he insisted. “It is a kind of happiness. I will endure.”

“Good.” She threw her arms around him and kissed him until his eyes glowed. “Because you’re going to keep experiencing it. I am going to make you the happiest ever for the rest of our lives.”

His smile reappeared.

“You believe me?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes.” He held her safe and tight. “Because this happiness is what I always feel in your arms. Your healing has already begun.”