Page 40 of Third

Returning was the logical choice—but even as he clung to strategy, the searing bond between them eroded logic with every pulse, dragging him closer to a breaking point he could no longer ignore.

He shifted his attention back to Anya. Her body still trembled under his hands, her skin hot through the thin fabric separating them. Her breathing was shallow, ragged, her body trembling with feverish heat as the craving gnawed at what little strength she hadleft.

“We are returning to the ship,” he said, his voice rough with restraint. “It offers better protection.” His hand tightened fractionally against her spine. “You will stay close.”

She nodded, ajerky movement, her eyes wide and luminous in the dim light. He could see the struggle etched into every line of her body. Her craving clawed at her, just as his rage gnawed athim.

It would be a race—one that would end with either survival or surrender, with their bodies lost to need and their minds swallowed by thebond.

Which would break first: their bodies—or their wills?

Without another word, Tor’Vek rose, hauling her against him with rough urgency, the suppressed desire vibrating through his every movement. Holding her was agony—the searing heat of her body pressed against his, the scent of her pheromones thick in the air, each ragged breath from her mouth scraping over his control like a blade. Every instinct demanded he take, possess, claim—but he forced himself to move, to endure, knowing that surrender would be absolute. Her arms wrapped around his neck instinctively, her legs gripping his hips as he lifted her completely.

The instant their bodies locked together, the bond surged—ajolt of pure, electric need slamming through them both. Their heartbeats thundered in wild synchrony, muscles seizing with the force of restraint. Heat poured off their bodies, ablinding, urgent energy that made Tor’Vek’s vision blur for a heartbeat.

Every inch of Anya’s soft, trembling form molded against his hardened frame, fanning the firestorm roaring through him. The bond howled in his blood, demanding more, demanding everything, as they clung to the shreds of control slipping fast from their grasp.

Anya choked on a soft cry, burying her face against his throat.

Tor’Vek set his jaw and moved, every step hammering his control thinner, weaker.

They had to reach theship.

Before it was toolate.

Tor’Vek moved swiftly, despite the ache of his injury, navigating the broken terrain with Anya clutched tightly against him. Every stride jarred her closer, his need for her outweighing the pain from his wound. Every heartbeat deepened the dangerous, burning awareness between them. The broken ground shifted treacherously underfoot, but his focus never wavered from the fragile burden in his arms—fragile only in body, never in the force she exerted overhim.

She buried her face against his throat, her shallow breaths burning against his skin. Her scent—sweet, sharp, and searing with hunger—wrapped around him, making his blood thunder in his veins.

His muscles flexed beneath her weight, bunching with each stride, vibrating with the brutal, contained force of his rage and the answering pull of her desperate need. Every step became a war against the primal instinct to stop, to claim her here and now with no thought to the danger still surroundingthem.

The desire radiating off Anya battered Tor’Vek relentlessly, astabbing intensity that made his heart slam against his ribs and sent a dangerous tremor through his locked muscles. He could feel her slick heat against him, her need so raw and potent it stripped the air from his lungs.

Every tiny shift of her body against his own was a torment, stoking the fire under his skin until his restraint burned to ashes. Her nails dug into his shoulders, adesperate, pleading pressure he felt in every nerve. He welcomed the bite of her touch. It was a sharp pain that held him to purpose.

Tor’Vek snarled, locking every muscle to keep from throwing her down and losing himself completely. The bond between them pulsed harder with each step, aferal drumbeat in his blood, sharpening both their struggles to a razor’s edge. His pulse roared in his ears, deafening him to everything but the feel of her against him, the scent of her soaking into hisskin.

None of this was normal. He was a creature of logic, bred for discipline and control. He had lived his entire existence mastering emotion, not surrendering to it. But with her trembling against him, soft and searing and impossibly vital, he found he no longer gave a damn. Control was an illusion. All that mattered now was her—needing her, protecting her, takingher.

He felt her shaking against him. Heard the tiny, gasping breaths she fought to suppress. Smelled the intoxicating proof of her desperate need. She clung to him, thighs tightening around his hips with each jarring movement, breasts flattening against the hard planes of his chest.

Every instinct in him roared to answer her, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles ached, his vision darkening at the edges with the violent, consuming need to take her. To sink into her heat and fuck her until the rage—and the world—disappeared. His hands tightened possessively on her thighs, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh as he fought to hold himselfback.

“Hold on,” he rasped, his voice a broken growl, half-command, half-plea.

Anya whimpered, squeezing her legs tighter, her hips grinding against him in helpless friction. Tor’Vek’s breath hitched violently, his entire body jerking under the onslaught of sensation. The hard ridge of his arousal pressed against her, abrutal reminder of how close he was to losing every shred of control he still clung to. The friction set his blood ablaze, the sensation short-circuiting his every thought but one—get her safe, then claim what already belonged tohim.

His control shredded a little more with every step. It felt like walking through fire, every muscle locked, every breath a battle.

The ship loomed ahead, battered but still standing, adistant promise of shelter they had to reach. He tightened his hold on her and pushed harder, the pounding of his boots against the cracked earth echoing the violent rhythm of his heart.

They had to makeit.

Or they would tear each other apart before they ever reached safety.

They were nearly at the ship when the last threat revealed itself.

Two primitive hominids burst from the undergrowth, their guttural cries cutting through the smoke-heavy air. They carried crude weapons—clubs fashioned from scrap metal and stone—but it was not the tools that made Tor’Vek pause.

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