Page 24 of Stripe for the Picking
"You know what I've learned in thirty years of military service?" Kael asked, his voice gentler now. "Strength and great leadership isn't always about control. Sometimes it's about knowing when to trust others. When to share the burden. When to let someone else carry half the weight."
The words hit their target with surgical precision. Rylan felt something crack in his chest, a fissure in the armor he'd spent years perfecting.
"It's obvious she's your fated mate," Kael continued, turning to face him directly. "I've never seen you this torn up about anything. You're walking around like a man at war with himself."
"I'm not?—"
"Don't." Kael's tone brooked no argument. "I've known you since you were a rookie officer with more pride than sense. You're scared out of your mind because that brilliant woman threatens every misconception you've held about what makes you strong and a great leader."
Rylan's tiger rumbled in agreement, the beast recognizing truth when it heard it.
"She might surprise you," Kael said, his voice warming with something that sounded like affection. "Accepting her fully, telling her what she means to you—it might make you better than you've ever imagined."
"I don't know what to do." The admission felt like admitting defeat. "Between the cyber attacks, the conspiracy with Arvox, the Protocol Trials in four days—she has enough pressure without me dumping the mate bond on her."
Kael studied him for a long moment, then shook his head with rueful amusement. "You're overthinking again, son. Maybestop trying to control every variable and just... let things happen naturally. Especially where she's concerned."
After Kael left, Rylan found himself drawn to the boardwalk where he'd sat with Wren just twenty-four hours ago. The memory of her warmth against his side, her soft laugh carrying on the ocean breeze, the way she'd kissed his cheek with such sweet boldness—it all crashed over him with devastating clarity.
The stars stretched endlessly above, their light reflecting off the pink waters in patterns that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of his heartbeat. He could almost smell her lavender scent on the night air and could almost feel the electric awareness that crackled between them whenever they were close.
She's not a distraction,he realized, the truth hitting him like lightning.She's not a weakness.
Wren was extraordinary. Beautiful. Brilliant beyond measure. And she was his.
The mate bond thrummed between them even now, a golden thread that connected them across the short distance. It wouldn't be denied forever, no matter how hard he tried to bury it under logic and duty.
Maybe Kael was right. Maybe Wren wasn't the thing that would derail his success. Maybe she was the key to everything—victory, purpose, and the man he was meant to become.
ELEVEN
WREN
Wren adjusted her green blouse and checked her ponytail in the reflection of the coffee shop window before pushing through the glass doors. The morning bustle of Defense Nexus personnel grabbing their caffeine fixes created a comfortable hum of conversation, but her mind remained fixed on yesterday's abrupt dismissal.
Forty-eight hours on an alien planet and I'm already getting the professional cold shoulder from Rylan.
She ordered her usual caramel latte, her fingers drumming against the counter as frustration simmered beneath her composed exterior. Yesterday had been going so well—they'd uncovered compelling evidence linking Arvox to the cyber attacks, working in perfect synchronization like they'd been partners for years. Then Rylan had basically told her to run along and play tourist.
And pawned me off on his mentor like I was some kind of inconvenience to him.
Not that General Kael hadn't been absolutely delightful company. The man was hilarious, regaling her with stories about Rylan's early days as a rookie officer while showing her the floating markets and crystal falls. Kael's warmth and genuinecare for Wren had been obvious, but it still stung that Rylan hadn't wanted to share those moments with her himself.
One minute we're dancing at the Council dinner, the next he's treating me like a stranger.
The elevator ride to their floor felt longer than usual, anticipation and uncertainty warring in her chest. She had no idea which version of Rylan she'd encounter today—the warm, protective man who'd held her close on the boardwalk, or the distant commander who'd dismissed her like an unwanted distraction.
As the doors slid open, she squared her shoulders and walked toward their adjacent workstations. Rylan was already there, his broad shoulders filling out his fitted black t-shirt in ways that made her pulse quicken despite her irritation. His tactical pants and combat boots completed the look of dangerous authority that never failed to make her stomach flutter.
Focus, Wren. Professional distance, remember?
"Good morning," she said carefully, setting her coffee down and reaching for her console.
"You're coming with me. Right now."
Wren blinked, her hand freezing midway to the holographic interface. "Excuse me? I need to log in and check the overnight security reports," she said, gesturing toward her workstation. "Make sure no new attacks?—"
"Already handled." His tone was clipped and authoritative. "Everything's secure. No new breaches. The countermeasures from two days ago seem to have completely thrown the syndicate off their game."
