Page 61 of Aria's Ascension

“My regrets for surprising you. I see now I should have waited for you to find me,” he quipped with a wink.

He spoke directly to her and his gaze never wavered, as though her men didn’t exist or he thought they didn’t present a threat.

If he knew just how wrong he was…

A second scan of his body didn’t show any weapons, so she holstered her gun, knowing her men would keep theirs aimed, and took a second to really look at him.

Her first impression was that he reminded her of a tattooed, pierced bad boy which was only reinforced by the smirk he aimed at her and the cocky way he carried himself.

She estimated him to be six foot two or three. His low slung, spray-paint pants showed off the cutVof his hips, the defined muscles of his abs and chest, and broad shoulders, but he had a lankier build than what she was used to seeing on the gladiators there. She had the feeling people underestimated him because of that, likely to their own detriment if the way he moved was any indication.

He didn’t just walk, he prowled.

One movement flowed into the next in a lazy, almost seductive kind of saunter and, yet, each motion was controlled, precise, intentional. That told her this was a man who knew how to use his body, both in the bedroom and in combat. He actually reminded her, quite strongly, of a cat. If a cat had horns.

A set of thick, mottled grey and black, spiraling horns eight or nine inches long rose from his upper temples. They arched back over the top of his head and ended in wicked points.

Every bit of his whitish-grey skin was decorated with sharp, tribal-esq, bluish-colored tattoos. They weren’t heavy and overpowering, nor did they detract from his appeal. Instead, they appeared to intentionally enhance it, defining his musculature.

They flowed over his body, crawled up his neck, and even adorned his face. They cut through the corners of his lips, curved over to his cheekbones, then slashed diagonally over his eyes to end in a design on his forehead that reminded her of a crown.

He was the first alien she’d come across, other than Tirox, that had tattoos and piercings.

His pointed ears, both corners of his lower lip, nipples, and his slashing, black eyebrows were all pierced with what looked like handcrafted metal rings and barbells.

Silver dreads cascaded down to mid-back and spilled over his shoulders, framing a face that was, by anyone’s standards, sexy as hell. Full, defined, utterly kissable lips, a strong jawline, cut cheekbones, and an expression that promised wickedness and pleasure in equal measure combined to make him the most attractive man she’d ever seen. Ever. But there was calculation and darkness there, lurking beneath the invitation to sin.

That told her he knew his appeal and that he used it as a weapon.

He was trying hard to hide those haunted shadows in his beautiful, fiery orange eyes, and it might have worked on anyone else. They probably wouldn’t look past the flirty, come-hither look he wore. But she saw them.

He’d been hurt, badly, in a way that left scars where most people didn’t care to look: on the inside.

That sense was reinforced by the fact that, despite her being naked, and contradictory to the seductive vibes he was giving off, he hadn’t once looked at anything other than her eyes. It wasn’t from a lack of sexual interest in her, because she was definitely picking that up. It felt more like respect or consideration.

So he knows what it feels like to be leered at like a piece of meat.

Cocking her head, she narrowed her eyes. There was something else in his expression, something… sneaky. Knowing. It took a moment before she realized what it was.

“You were listening in,” she accused mildly.

It was a guess, but a good one. The surprise that flashed through his vivid, orange eyes confirmed it. He didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to. Some of the cocky flirtation he wore like a mask eased from his face, revealing the man beneath.

“There you are,” she whispered, smiling just slightly in approval.

His brows twitched together in a frown before he smoothed his expression, but he couldn’t quite hide the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

She’d taken him by surprise, thrown him off balance. He obviously wasn’t accustomed to people actually looking at him. Not at his body, or his handsome face, but at the man under all that.

Aria wasn’t willing or able to let down her guard fully. He was still a stranger, after all. But, now that she knew he wasn’t there to try and hurt them, she moved closer and perched on the boulder across from him so they were seated less than three feet apart. It was a show of trust, one she hoped would encourage him to trust her, at least a little, in return.

Tirox and Kix took up positions behind and to either side of her, like bodyguards, and lowered their guns, but remained silent, content to let her do the talking.

“Who are you?”

He blinked slowly—something she immediately recognized was his way of taking a moment to get himself back under control—and adjusted so that he was facing her with an arm propped behind him and his legs spread slightly.

It was a practiced move, one that made him look deceptively relaxed and drew the eye to both his bare, muscular chest and the bulge between his legs, but he was poised to attack or retreat in a heartbeat.