Page 56 of Marked By the Bounty Hunter

He sheathed himself in one brutal thrust. The stretch burned glorious and bright, every ridge searing itself into nerve endings I didn’t know existed. My legs locked around his hips as he stilled, both of us panting.

“Fuck,” he breathed against my neck.

“Eloquent.” I rolled my hips, drawing a ragged groan from his chest. “All that—nngh—snarling bravado reduced to?—”

His next thrust stole words. Each snap of his hips lit wildfires beneath my skin, the delicious ache of overstimulation building anew. The bond surged open—his awe at how I sheathed him, my desperation for the specific angle that brushed that hidden spot?—

“Here?” He angled upward, grin feral when I screamed.

The climax hit like a solar flare, muscles clamping down as pleasure fractured my vision into prismatic shards. Through the haze, I felt his rhythm stutter, heard my name burst from his lips like a prayer.

He collapsed atop me, both of us slick and trembling. Distantly, a breeze carried petals from the floating gardens onto our tangled limbs.

“Research,” he panted into my shoulder, “paid off.”

His hips stuttered, that final push driving me down onto the stone bench as heat flooded my core. I felt each pulse through our bond—not just physical release, but the shuddering vulnerability he rarely showed. His forehead dropped to my shoulder, breath sawing against sweat-slick skin.

“Naal...” The broken syllable carried more weight than any endearment. His hands gentled on my hips, thumbs sweeping circles where bruises were forming.

I cradled the back of his neck, fingertips tracing the raised edges of his neural ports. The bond hummed with something richer than satisfaction—a resonance that made my throat tighten. “I feel you,” I whispered against his temple. “All of you.”

He turned his face into my palm, lips brushing the life line. Our mingled scents hung heavy—sex and mineral water and the faint ozone tang of overworked pheromone glands. When he finally lifted his head, the gold flecks in his eyes burned brighter than Lysaria’s twin suns.

“Look.” He nodded toward the pool’s edge where our joined fluids dripped onto flowering vines. The plants glowed faintly violet where droplets touched their petals. “Seems we’re fertilizing the local flora.”

I snorted, the tension breaking as he nuzzled the claiming marks on my neck. “Romantic.”

“Practical.” His teeth grazed my earlobe. “Now they’ll bloom year-round. Living testament to?—”

I pinched his flank. “Finish that sentence and I’m tossing you over the edge.”

His laughter vibrated through me as he lifted us both, carrying me toward the pool’s shallows. Water swirled around our ankles, then thighs, as he sank onto submerged seating carved from living stone. The sudden temperature shift made me gasp, muscles clenching around the slow trickle escaping me.

“Easy.” His hands spread across my lower back, kneading the tension. “Breathe through it.”

“You first.” I pressed our foreheads together, watching his pupils dilate as another aftershock rippled between us. The bond shimmered with echoes—his awe at the way my body milked him dry, my fascination with the pearlescent streaks his come left in the water.

He captured my mouth in a languid kiss, all earlier urgency replaced by a sweetness that made my chest ache. When we broke apart, he kept his lips moving against mine as he spoke. “Never thought I’d want this. Want... permanence.”

The admission hung between us, fragile as the soap bubbles forming around our legs. I traced the scar along his collarbone—a relic from our first messy job together. “Permanence has its perks.”

His mouth cut off the retort, hands sliding up to frame my face. The kiss tasted different now—softer, with an undercurrent of something that tightened my throat.

Through the bond, I felt it first—the shift from satiation to reverence. His thumbs brushed my cheekbones, smearing the dampness I hadn’t realized was there. When he pulled back, his own eyes glistened in the fractured light.

“Tyrix...”

He pressed two fingers to my lips. “Let me.” His other hand slid between us, gathering the pearlescent strands swirling around my thighs. With deliberate care, he painted a spiral across my sternum—mating marks glowing faintly beneath the residue. “My heart. My anchor. My?—”

The words dissolved into our joined foreheads, the rest conveyed through the bond in a rush of warmth that stole my breath. Distantly, a chime sounded—the resort’s automated system signaling sunset. Golden light gilded the droplets on his lashes as I sealed my promise against his pulse point, notwith words, but with the steady thrum of our synchronized heartbeats.

The next fewdays passed in a blur of indulgence and discovery. We explored the resort’s countless amenities—restaurants offering cuisine from across the galaxy, spa treatments tailored to every species imaginable, and quiet gardens perfect for meditation or stolen moments.

I developed a fondness for floating meditation pods that drifted lazily through the air, offering perfect solitude and breathtaking views. Tyrix preferred the training facilities, though he seemed just as content watching me experience everything for the first time.

One morning, I woke to find him already at the windows, silhouetted against the rising binary suns. Their light painted his gray skin in shades of gold and purple, highlighting the markings that mirrored my own.

“Credit for your thoughts?” I asked, joining him.

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