Page 6 of A Darkside Interlude

Her scent—warm, earthy, and sweet, like some sun-touched Earth fruit—surrounded him.

His cock stiffened.

Fuck.

“Sorry,” she whispered in Universal, and for a sublime moment, her husky voice obliterated the commotion. “It was an accident.”

They both knew it was anything but.

Her fingers grazed his scarf, as if she wanted to pull it down and reveal his face. Glistening red lips parted, promising the world.

Bad idea.

Bad, bad idea.

Iskar’s hands closed around her slender wrists—both of them. “What are you doing?”

She froze. He glanced down, trying not to get distracted by her lush breasts. One of her hands was closed. He squeezed her wrist, forcing her to unclench.

She yelped in pain as her fingers uncurled, revealing…

“That belongs to me,” he growled. His Kathari war medallion lay in her palm, still attached to its leather cord. Its polished obsidian surface gleamed in the lurid glow of the street signs.

The stark High Kordolian runes spelled out a single word: katachai.

There was no Universal equivalent for the word. It meant duty, sacrifice, honor, dominance, and supremacy, all at once.

It was his lucky token, awarded to his father, Madar Gar-Kurai, by Emperor Ilhan himself.

Kathari war medallions were only ever awarded to soldiers who had sacrificed their lives in battle. They were the highest honor the Empire could bestow on its soldiers.

Iskar wore his father’s medallion out of respect. It was a reminder, a talisman, a precious fragment of lost glory.

Anger rose up inside him. This human temptress had tried to steal his talisman?

“I—” She looked around wildly before her gaze flicked back to Iskar. Despite her breathless, innocent-sounding tone, her eyes were sharp and calculating. She tensed. “I’ll give it back. Just let me go.”

“Be careful who you try to steal from.” Iskar kept his grip tight as he tried to fight the tempest within him. Lust, fury, and icy self-control warred inside his heart and mind. “You shouldn’t go after unquantified targets.”

Curiosity made him study her through narrowed eyes. She was formidably beautiful, yes, and if one stripped away all the distractions—the blue hair, the revealing clothing, the elaborate jewelry—Iskar suspected he would find a cunning mind.

You wanted me to underestimate you, no? Your beauty is a weapon. He tried to think strategically, but all the blood had departed his brain.

It seemed the vast majority of it was pooling in the vicinity of his cock.

“I-I’m sorry.” A hint of desperation colored her husky voice.

If she spoke to him like that—injecting just enough truth into her words to reveal the cracks in her confident façade—a small part of him feared he might conquer the world and deliver it at her feet if she ever asked.

All of a sudden, he was tempted to release her and let her disappear, but that went against all his principles. She was a thief, and she’d tried to steal something very important from him.

He should turn her over to the Earth authorities.

Iskar didn’t believe in granting second chances. He didn’t believe in blurring the lines. He did things by the book, and sometimes, he wrote the book.

“Please let me go,” she pleaded again, her voice cracking slightly. A sliver of fear entered her gaze. Impossibly long eyelashes fluttered. Wide eyes glistened with the threat of tears. “I made a mistake.”

Iskar got the feeling her remorse wasn’t for the fact that she’d tried to steal from him, but because she’d picked the wrong fucking person to mess with.

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