Page 19 of A Delicate Conquest

He wanted her so badly that he feared what he could do.

“You look like you’re stuck in some kind of chaotic orbit.” A familiar voice made him look up.

“Rykal,” Mavrel growled in annoyance, rising to his feet. The First Division guys weretoostealthy. “What are you doing here?”

Rykal shrugged, a deceptively innocent expression crossing his deceptively delicate features. “Just happened to be in the area. I heard—knew it was you right away.”

The warrior wore a fine, deep greenkashkanwith delicate silver embroidery at the edges—a swirling abstract pattern that reminded Mavrel of an atmospheric wind current.

“You’reattending this event, too?”

Rykal smiled, showing his fangs. “My mate’s excited, so what am I supposed to do? We Kordolians aren’t a very festive people, are we? This whole thing has been set up for the benefit of humans. To show them that we’re more adaptable than what they’ve been led to believe. That we can, indeed,party.”

“Hmph. Sounds like this whole thing was engineered to attract more viable mates. A strategic move wrapped up in pleasantries.”

“So what?” Rykal shrugged. “It isn’t like the humans were coerced into doing anything they didn’t want to. Each woman received an invitation and was given the option to decline or accept. Those that are here reallywantto be here—your prospective mate included.”

“You know about that?” Mavrel asked sharply. Did the entire cursed Fleet Station know about his predicament?

Rykal’s expression was infuriatingly indecipherable. “You’re going to have to sort yourself out soon. There’s only one way out of this that doesn’t involve you going completely mad or dying. Take control, brother. Or else, you’ll be pulled off your regular duties.”

“I don’t recall you or any of the First Division being suspended from normal duties when you were going through it,” Mavrel said testily.

“That’s because the Mating Fever’s conducive to aggression.”

“So… what in Kaiin’s Hells am I supposed to do now?”

“Hm.” Rykal inclined his head, his golden eyes narrowing. “You’re going to implode if you keep going like this. Why don’t you come and spar with me?”

“Spar?Withyou?” An incredulous laugh escaped Mavrel’s lips. Like all Kordolians who entered the military, he had basic combat training, but for him to go up against one of the deadliest fighters in the Nine Galaxies was absurd.

“Don’t worry. I’ll meet you at your level. You need to get that pent-up aggression out, and this is one of the quickest and most effective ways to do it. I have lots of experience. We can talk strategy along the way.”

Mavrel shook his head, rising to his feet. “I need to fix a shoe. Later.”

“You’re going to go insane.”

“I’malreadyinsane.”

“You’re a stubborn bastard, you know that?”

“Doesn’t that apply to us all?”

“Thanks for reminding me.” Rykal’s aura shifted, becoming slightly threatening. “Follow me. If you don’t, I’ll have to exercise my right to pull rank on you.”

Mavrel hissed in frustration. Being First Division, Rykal certainly did outrank him. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because, my friend, I see that a brother, whose sharp mind and quick thinking have helped us out on many occasions when I was in a tight spot, is now in a situation of his own. I see that you’re suffering, but you’re also set in your Kordolian ways and completely unprepared for what’s to come. I’ve had to learn the hard way, but we know a fair bit about humans now. Enough to help you master a predicament like this. So why not let me teach you the secrets over a bout of much-needed violence?”

Rykal was looking at him intently now, his brow furrowed, his expression earnest. How could he be so threatening one moment, then so sincere the next? But that was the nature of the First Division, and Rykal obviously wasn’t going to be deterred.

Besides, Mavrel could only hold out for so long.

This thing was going to destroy him.

Curse Zharek.

Curse the Godess’s infernal timing.

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