Page 37 of Sublime Target

“N-nothing’s wrong.”

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely.”

She was flustered by him. She was denying it, but he could tell. A faint pinkish hue suffused her cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered wildly, showcasing her long, delicate lashes.

The notion that he’d destabilized her somehow—it was strangely exhilarating.

When she found out that he’d targeted her all along…

Would the deception put her off? Infuriate her?

Even the possibility of her anger was alluring to him.

He decided he wouldn’t let it go on too long, though. He’d have to be upfront with her at some point.

First, though, he’d deal with this Garner and the minor issue of land rights. Then, he’d make sure she had enough faith in him that she’d be confident to attend the Cultural Event.

The whole damn thing was Xalikian’s idea. The former prince was responsible for orchestrating the event. Jerik didn’t care much for the ceremony and the formalities, but he would use every opportunity he had to get closer to her.

“I will take you up on your offer. Allow me to use your facilities to clean up. Your assertion that pink gunk suits me is inaccurate.”

Normally, he would go up to his ship—the very one that was hovering in the sky above, cloaked against detection—to decontaminate, but he wanted to take her up on her hospitality. If he showed her that he was amenable to such things, she might be less intimidated by him.

He caught her staring again, her eyes drifting up and down, her true thoughts concealed behind a slight widening of her eyes; an alluring parting of her pink-tinted lips. “W-what? Oh, yes. Let’s go inside. I’m terribly sorry for all this disruption. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure the rest of the day goes a lot more smoothly.”

“No need. The Universe is unpredictable,” Jerik said simply. “I’m used to far worse things, believe me.”

But in truth, he wasn’t sure if there were worse things than having to endure this uncontrollable agony; this prolonged, drawn-out torture.

He’d taken a big risk, and yet he knew that if it ever came to pass, the reward of claiming her would transcend any satisfaction he’d ever known.

FIFTEEN

Clarissa sat in a deep, comfortable chair, waiting for the Kordolian to finish. She had her holo-device in her lap and a steaming mug of jasmine green tea on the small table beside her.

It was the very least she could do to try and calm herself down.

What the hell just happened?

They’d been outside, standing in the middle of the street in the aftermath of the chaos, with the pavement stained with red and pink powder and the air filled with ephemeral tendrils of dissipating smoke.

Then, he’d taken off his mask.

And the sun was shining down, and the balmy breeze swirled around them, and for a split-second, her world spun on its head.

She couldn’t stop staring.

At his lips, which had parted in a pained kind of grimace, revealing a pair of sharp, gleaming fangs.

At his strong jawline, above his broad, powerful neck.

She’d never seen anything so masculine in her life. Not pretty or handsome, just… primally attractive.

But then she’d gotten the impression he was in some sort of pain. There was a moment when he looked unsteady on his feet, and his gaze, still half-concealed behind that protective lens, had clouded over.

She only half-registered his discomfort because she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

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