Page 75 of Sublime Target

Jerik thought about it. Xal’s offer was tempting, but he was a bit of a stickler for punishment, and he believed the reward of claiming her would be sweetest if he held out.

Besides, he didn’t want to meet her when he was fresh out of sedation, dopey and muddled. That would fucking ruin it.

“You think… you think she’ll go for me?” he asked, unable to suppress the note of hopefulness that entered his voice.

“My brother, she has agreed to attend. If she wanted nothing to do with you, she never would have contacted me in the first place. Now, all you have to do is hold out until the event without becoming a menace to everyone around you. If you need any help, you know where to find me. If you ever fear you’ll become a danger to her, contact Tarak or myself immediately.”

“That will never happen,” he said thickly.

“I trust you. Everyone knows you’re a man of your word. But matters of biology aren’t always controllable, and just in case, we’ll be watching you—and there are measures in place to protect both of you should anything get out of hand.”

“Hm.” Jerik didn’t like it, but at the same time, he was grateful his comrades were so experienced and foresighted in such things. “It won’t be necessary.”

“I suspect it won’t, but you know we’re not the sort to leave anything to chance. Oh, and a word of advice from me, Commander. Why don’t you try to dress up for the occasion? You might have forgotten, but our culture has formal and ceremonial wear, too. I’m sure humans would find some of it fascinating and aesthetically extravagant.”

“Hm.” Jerik hadn’t even considered dressing in such a way. That sort of attire was for the nobility.

But if it would make her see him in a different light…

Perhaps his usual armor-suit could be substituted.

Just this once.

“Well, I’m out. Call me if you require a consultation prior to the event. I’m happy to advise even on matters of attire and formal customs. In the meantime, best of luck, brother.”

Luck? Unnecessary.

He’d done his research, bided his time, acted honorably, and felt a deepening respect and admiration between them during their time together. She was the kind of woman he could have only dreamed about, and she was so close to being his.

There wasn’t a single thing about her he disliked. Her cool, calm demeanor—even in the most heated of situations—was an antidote to his bluntness and fiery temper, and astonishingly, her presence had helped him handle the Garner situation in a more measured way than he usually would.

But there were times when he’d glimpsed a fleeting hint of something deeper—a spark of desire or heat; fierce emotion suppressed, waiting to be unlocked.

He wanted to see her unravel before him.

To see her drop her shields completely.

To claim her.

Make her completely his.

It would happen.

It had to happen.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Finally, it had arrived.

Clarissa had been waiting for this for the past four days. At first, she’d been rather calm about it, but as the event drew nearer, nerves, anticipation, excitement, and disbelief all combined to make her feel this constant fluttering in her belly.

She slipped into her cropped black leather jacket, smoothing over the front, satisfied that it sat perfectly over her deep blue dress.

The gown was made of lustrous silk that skimmed her figure and left little to the imagination. It was a one-off creation by the sought-after designer Sabrina Wong. Of course, she couldn’t ever afford to buy such a thing, so she’d hired it from a designer rental service. The jacket was her own, though; well worn and comfortable, yet still looking as good as the day she’d bought it. It covered her back, where the silk of the gown gave way to a delicate, stretchy mesh.

She’d heard it could get cold up in space.

That’s where she was going. To an orbital station far above the surface of the Earth.

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