Page 61 of A Delicate Conquest

“Nothing… that you should be concerned with.” Perhaps the darkness of Zharek’s predicament lingered somewhere in his actions and demeanor.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Mavrel forced himself to bury the feeling. He’d dealt with much worse things, and the last thing he wanted was to take away from this rare and special meeting—only theirthird.

And yet, they’d done so much.

“Well, if you don’t feel you need to talk about it, that’s fine, too. Life isn’t meant to be all sunshine and rainbows.”

“That it isn’t,” Mavrel replied, getting the gist of what she was saying, figuring it was another one of her word plays. “But it seems you have no trouble finding the good in this life.”

She shrugged. A shadow crossed her face, so fleeting he thought he could have imagined it. “Some people think I’m naive, but really, Iknowhow bad things can get. I just try to live in a way that means I’ll have no regrets at the end of it. I know what it’s like to nearly lose everything. When I was younger, I got really sick with a rare autoimmune disease, to the point where I nearly died. Fortunately, I was accepted into a clinical trial for a new treatment. It worked. It saved my life, although it took me years to recover. It was only when I felt strong for the first time in my adult life that I got my tattoo of the Nile Lotus. It’s a plant that can survive in really poor conditions. But once it gets into deeper water, it thrives.”

Mavrel’s heart clenched. His precious mate had come so close to dying before they’d even had a chance to meet.

Suddenly, Zharek’s actions made even more sense.

He’d been wrong to think he could put things off until he deemed the time was right.

He should have just gone after her in the first place, from the very moment he’d encountered her in that Garner idiot’s building.

“You aren’t naive at all,” he whispered, holding her tighter. “Just strong.”

“Strong? Well, I’m in very deep water now, and I seem to be doing just fine, but that’s because you’re here with me.”

NINETEEN

God,he was beautiful.

She ran her hand down his bare chest, between the enticing V of his burgundy robes, over sculpted silver.

Bea could hardly believe he washere, in her modest apartment, burnished by the setting sun, holding her in his arms as if they’d known one another forever.

They were standing on her little balcony, which was half-concealed by the large heliconias growing in pots.

She didn’t care if the neighbors saw them.

It was still early days, but the Kordolians were here to stay, and humans were just going to have to get used to them. From what she’d witnessed on the Fleet Station, it was clear they had no intention of hiding.

Mavrel had arrived exactly on time, impeccably dressed, and with perfect manners. He’d brought a gift—a sublime violet, turquoise, and emerald-green vase from a distant planet called Veronia. Crafted into intricately patterned glass from minerals that didn’t even exist on Earth, it was the most exquisite thing Bea had ever seen, and she’d exclaimed her astonishment over and over again, and that seemed to please him immensely.

After talking over drinks while seated on her old, comfortable velvet green sofa, she’d served him dinner—crispy fried whole tilapia fish, with the addition of sweet potatoes and steamed greens for her. She knew for a fact that Kordolians mainly ate protein, and she was rewarded with witnessing his obvious satisfaction, for he’d eaten not one but two of the succulent fish, making low noises of appreciation in his throat—sounds she’d never heard before.

In fact, there was something raw and primal about the way he’d reacted to her cooking. She’d even foundthataspect of him arousing.

After dinner—she didn’t bother with dessert because she also knew for a fact that Kordolians didn’t like sweet things—they’d talked some more, about Kordolians, Earth, and the wider Universe, about their respective families and their jobs, about their hopes and dreams for the future.

Which were now hopelessly intertwined.

She now knew that Mavrel was a bit of a workaholic. A stickler for detail. Difficult to rattle except in the most unexpected of situations—like meetingher.

Outside of his Kordolian duties, he was interested in the natural world, and he wanted to see more of the wild and untouched places on Earth. He liked studying the architecture of different civilizations.

He seemed to have an eye for detail.

Well, so did she—in a different kind of way.

The last vestiges of the long day were slipping away, turning the air cool, shrouding them in surreal twilight.

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