Page 62 of Shielded Heart

Drakkal shoved himself to his feet. “Don’t try it unless you want to lose a leg, little sedhi.”

As the azhera walked away, Arcanthus called, “Use soap! If you just lick your hand and wipe it off, that doesn’t count as cleaning.” He paused for a moment before leaping to his feet. “You’d better not lick that atall, do you hear me?”

Drakkal eyed him from atop the platform. “Open the door before I wring your neck.”

Arcanthus didn’t look away from the azhera as he brought up the door controls and opened the concealed door near Drakkal, who walked through without another word. Once Drakkal’s tail was clear of the opening, Arcanthus shut it again.

He’d barely taken a step toward his desk when the door alert tone sounded. Arcanthus’s tail flicked in irritation.

Switching on the intercom, Arcanthus growled, “If I have to come out there, Drakkal, you’re going to regret it.”

Drakkal triggered the tone again and snorted.

Arcanthus mounted the platform and sat in his chair, leaning back to peruse the many displays he’d already had active before Samantha arrived. There was work to be done—there wasalwayswork to be done—but how could he focus on any of it now? Though his arousal had faded, his body still ached, and what he’d hoped would prove a passing threat was far more dangerous than he could’ve imagined.

The fucking Syndicate.

The Inner Reach Syndicate was a conglomeration of numerous powerful crime organizations; though it existed in Arthos as a singular entity, one of many such groups, it was in contention for being the wealthiest and most influential of them all. Arcanthus’s work as a forger had often necessitated accepting jobs from such organizations, but he’d never once met with any of their representatives directly, had never once let any of them see his face—because many of those organizations also had a presence on Caldorius.

The Inner Reach Syndicate kept itsheadquarterson Caldorius. It had been the Syndicate that moved against a pesky young sedhi fighter who’d had the audacity to cut into the profits they made from the gladiatorial arenas of that world. It had been the Inner Reach Syndicate that took Arcanthus’s ambitions personally, and they’d demonstrated through yesterday’s events at Samantha’s apartment building that they were willing to do whatever it took to finish the job they’d started so long ago.

They’d used Samantha to lure him out.

Arthos had already been cruel to her, had already attempted to crush her on its own. She certainly didn’t deserve to have the Syndicate after her, too.

The fear Drakkal’s revelation had sparked in Arcanthus burned to ash in a blaze of fury. Samantha was Arc’s terran, his female, hismate.

There’d only been a brief time when he’d entertained the possibility of finding a mate. Those dreams, indistinct as they were, had faded when he’d left home to become part of the Crimson Raiders, a wing of the Sedhi Defense Coalition. A life of combat and bloodshed had been the only future he’d truly been able to envision for himself.

A lonely life.

And even during that brief window during which he’d dreamed, he’d never once considered his mate would—orcould—be from another species. There were stories of sedhi finding their mates amongst volturians, even a few—often relayed with some horror—whispering of tretin mates, but he’d never imagined any other possibility.

Certainly not a terran—he’d not even known of their existence when he was young. Samantha’s people had only entered his awareness when they began migrating to the city two short years ago, about a year after Syntrell Vantricar Caltraxion, a volturian ambassador from the Entris Dominion, had sponsored the terrans’ formal request for admittance to Arthos. The Consortium had issued the invitation with surprising speed—they’d taken over a decade to approve the requests of some other species.

Then I’ll let Straek take your terranji’tas. Maybe we’ll sample her before we sell her.

This went beyond them utilizing Samantha as bait to draw him out—the Syndicate didn’t use someone and then let them move on with their lives; once a person’s usefulness to the Syndicate had expired, they were silenced forever.Silencingjust as often meant a trip to the slave markets of Caldorius as it did a plasma bolt to the brain. She was involved now, and that meant the bastards would come for her, too.

Arcanthus leaned forward and set his hands to work, issuing commands on the console to begin locating the sorts of near-invisible plexus access points organizations like the Inner Reach Syndicate often used for communication.

“I don’t care how many resources you sewer skrudges have,” he muttered, “you threatenmymate, and it’s a fucking war.”

Twelve

Samantha was wary as she retraced the route back to Arcanthus’s room, silently praying that she wouldn’t run into anyone along the way—especially Kiloq. While she wasn’t afraid of the cren—or anyone else who might’ve been in the building—shewasafraid that he’d take one look at her and know what she and Arcanthus had just done.

She wasn’t sure if she could die of embarrassment, but an encounter like that would probably get her close.

Fortunately, the corridors were empty, and she reached the bedroom without any issues.

Once she was inside, she leaned back against the closed door and drew in a shaky breath. Tremors still coursed down her legs, her inner thighs were wet with her slick, and her sex felt somehow heavy and hollow after her mind-shattering orgasm.

Arc dominated her thoughts. She’d already known his sensual voice alone could make her weak in the knees and flood her with heat, but histouch?

Sam’s face warmed, and she pressed her hands over her cheeks. She was grinning like a fool, but she couldn’t help it; she was just so damnhappy.

It would’ve been stupid to think a man could fix her, and that wasn’t what Arcanthus was doing; he was pushing her to fixherself. Through encouragement, praise, and compliments, he was helping Sam rebuild her self-esteem while earning her trust.

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