Page 124 of The Edge of Dawn

Still, he missed her.

He would do anything to make sure the Universe was safe for her.

“Don’t move,” he said softly as a single malevolent eye snapped open.

Amun’s tail twitched but held fast under Dragek’s blade. Dragek was pressing down hard. His dagger wasn’t going anywhere.

The other Kordolian didn’t move. Only the corner of his mouth quirked, forming a cold half-smile. “Well, you have me pinned.” He spoke at last, his voice deep and resonant and annoyingly calm as he regarded Dragek with a sharp, calculating stare. “So you’re the one they sent to get me. I’m flattered. I didn’t detect you at all.”

Dragek stared back, wondering what in the Nine Hells he was supposed to do with this guy now. This wasn’t what he’d expected. Surely, there should have been a fight or some sort of retaliation.

But Amun Kazharan was as calm and still as the frozen sea on Kythia.

He kept the tip of his blade trained upon Amun’s neck, just above his steadily pulsating artery. “You were expecting me.”

“I’m not as stupid as some of my comrades—I have never underestimated your commander’s ability to read between the lines. I won’t fight back, katach. As long as Tarak al Akkadian listens to what I have to say.”

“That’s for him to decide,” Dragek said coldly. He didn’t trust this strange Kordolian one bit. What the fuck was Amun plotting? How could he be so calm when he was a heartbeat away from certain death?

This was the man who had organized the fragments and factions of the Old Empire against the Darkstar Mercenaries. The one who would bring the tyrannical rule of the Old Empire back to the Nine Galaxies.

Corruption.

Enslavement.

Senseless suffering and death.

That’s what he stood for. Even Dragek’s very own precious mate would be treated as little more than chattel under their rule.

And so would he.

How many needless deaths had this man’s family caused? The imperial family was responsible for creating The Program, turning those of Dragek’s kind into mindless killers and stripping them of all freedom in the process.

How much had they made him suffer?

The darkness in him reared—the desire to kill becoming so powerful that his Second Sight blurred—and for a moment, his mind’s eye perceived the distinct hue of black.

It clouded everything, threatening to strip away every last fragment of his self-control.

In his mind’s eye, he had a vision of himself slicing through Amun’s neck, tearing that aloof, arrogant expression of his apart.

He could. He so very well could.

There was nothing standing between them right now.

He could lie and tell Tarak it was unavoidable, that Amun had fought back viciously, that he was mad beyond the point of no return.

But that would jeopardize everything they’d fought for.

Keep it together.

He just had to hang on until they arrived.

“It’s obvious you want to kill me,” Amun stated. “Your aura is enough to make a lesser man want to jump into the fire to save himself. But you won’t. In case you hadn’t already figured it out, killing me would doom everyone on this ship—including you.”

Ah, there it is.

The catch.

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