Page 58 of New World

Yes. Yes, I did. It was a damn good, curling-toes kind of kiss.

Her pulse quickened at the memory. The taste of him, the way his hands had locked around her waist, the way his breath had shuddered against her lips before he pulled her deeper, devouring her like a man starved.

A shiver ran down her spine.

Alright, fine. Maybe she had enjoyed it a little more than she should have considering the location and the fact that a Turbinta assassin, along with about another hundred people, were getting an eyeful. She had never been one to display her emotions, much less do it in public.

Just… knock on the damn door.

She could almost see Sergi’s incredulous expression at her indecision. He would be thoroughly enjoying this moment at her expense and would tease her to no end.

Mei took a deep breath, channeled her inner determination, curled her fingers again into a loose fist and lifted her hand to knock.

Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.

“Just talk to him,” she muttered under her breath. “Apologize. Explain that you weren’t using him?—”

Before she could second-guess herself again, the door slid open. Mei startled with a squeak, her mouth parting as Dorane’s broad form filled the threshold. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, hazel eyes unreadable as he studied her.

Mei stared back at him, unaware of the longing and uncertainty reflected in her eyes. She swallowed as the silence between them grew. His presence was commanding, his posture deceptively relaxed, but there was something simmering beneath the surface.

Something intense.

Something hungry.

The scent of him—a mix of worn leather, spice, and something uniquely Dorane—hit her senses all at once. She was momentarily speechless, her carefully thought-out words vanishing into thin air.

Dorane raised a single brow. “Are you planning to talk, or should I leave you to argue with yourself a little longer?”

Mei scowled. “I wasn’t arguing with myself.”

His lips twitched. She scowled when he flicked a finger upward. She followed the motion, realizing that he had been watching her the entire time.

“Smartass. You probably enjoyed that,” she muttered.

He didn’t say anything, just turned and walked back into his quarters, leaving the door open in silent invitation. She hesitated only for a fraction of a second before following him inside. The door hissed shut behind her.

Dorane’s personal cabin was a perfect reflection of him—structured but not sterile, refined but lived-in. It was a far cry from the tethered bunks on the Gliese, her makeshift bed on the freighter, or the narrow cot that she slept on in Yi’s compact apartment.

The walls were lined with dark, textured steel, softened by deep, warm lighting that cast long, golden hues over the room’s furnishings. The main living space was dominated by a low, sleek table surrounded by two leather chairs, positioned in front of a massive viewport showcasing the vast expanse of space.

Decorating the walls was a collection of rare artifacts and weapons, some haphazardly acquired— through theft, undoubtedly—others carefully chosen. A Gallant Staff rested in a secure glass case near the entrance, a quiet testament to his heritage.

And then there was the bed.

Large. Built for comfort. Its black sheets slightly rumpled, as if he had been tossing and turning before she arrived.

Mei’s stomach tightened.

Dorane moved to the sideboard, reaching for a decanter of dark amber liquid. “Drink?”

Her mouth opened—then closed. Her gaze flickered to the bed, then back to him. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest.

What came out next was completely unfiltered.

“I want more than a drink.”

Dorane stilled.

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