Page 15 of His Clever Captive

"Vex, I... I love you. I know it's crazy. I know it's sudden. But I can't deny what I feel. And I believe... I believe you're my fated mate."

His eyes widen, something predatory and possessive flashing across his face, soon followed by an aching softness.

But it’s gone in another instant.

CHAPTER 6

VEX

Ilove you.

The words hang there in my head like a detonation countdown.

Lacey’s naked and satiated beside me. Radiant as ever. Her hair is wet, her body glistening with sweat and waterfall mist. She’s staring at me like I’m the answer to some prayer she’s been reciting since her sheltered childhood.

And—Quorr devour me—I’m frozen.

My blood pumps so hard I can taste its metallic bitterness.

“You don’t mean that,” I rasp, getting up and yanking on my clothes like there’s a blaster pointed at my ribs.

Her face crumples. “You’re really going to dismiss meagain?”

Yes. No.Vrekking hells.

“You’re confused,” I snap, ignoring her dizzying scent all over me. “This was fun.Morethan fun.Amazing. But it’s just…pheromones. The thrill of danger. The?—”

Her brow lowers. “Stop hiding behind your stupid pirate slogans!” She snatches her discarded camisole, her voice cracking. “You don’t get to tell me what I feel. I know my heart,Vex. It wants you. Even if you’re too much of a coward to admit yours does too.”

Coward. The word sticks like a blade in my chest.

We return to the ship in silence.

“We’ll be at the drop-off location shortly,” I say.

She stalks off to the bunk room and I go…anywhere else.

The ship’s vents hum a low, judgmental drone as I hide in the engine room, nursing the last of my Denorian rum. Faylid’s bootsdoreek, but the stench is a welcome distraction from the havoc in my skull.

Love.A currency I’ve never traded in.

A footstep creaks behind me.

“Go away, Berrix.”

“Am I wearing Faylid’s cologne?” The reptilian navigator leans against the bulkhead, arms crossed. Her scales flash peacock-blue—meaning she’s amused. I’m glad someone is. “Lacey’s packing her things. And soon she’ll be gone.”

I take a swig of my rum. “Good.”

She gives a derisive hiss. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?.”

“And you’re overpaid.”

“Correction: underpaid for babysitting a lovesick Kraetian-whelp.” Her tail flicks, smacking a pipe with a loud clang. “You’ve been glowering at the nav screens so hard, Nor’Veth thought you short-circuited them. But evenIcan’t reroute the disaster you’ve set in motion.”

“I didn’t?—”

“You did.” Af’soq’s soft voice cuts through my growl. The avian medic perches on a crate, iridescent feathers rustling. His black eyes pierce me. “You opened the door. Now you fear what walks through.”

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