Page 40 of Taming Chaos

Damn. Caught by surprise, Torin blinked as pain mingled with the fierce torrent of his arousal.

Was it wrong to become horny when he was in the middle of a battlefield, wounded and on his knees? Perhaps, but Torin’s dick had a mind of its own, and ever since he’d first caught sight of Persephone Winters, it had been quite happy to go rogue on him.

As she applied more pressure, his cock strained.

What was he supposed to do when she was currently pressing against his lower body with her firm, steady hand? When he could smell her intoxicating musk and hear the rhythm of her heart?

When he could feel her tantalizing warmth?

“I’ll mend,” he rasped, suddenly having the presence of mind to retract his helm. “You don’t need to do that.”

“But your wound is—”

“Take a look.”

“But I shouldn’t—”

Torin raised his eyebrows, nodding in the direction of his injury. Listen to me. Slowly, Seph removed the bundle of fabric.

Smooth silver skin stared back at them. His wound was gone.

She shook her head in disbelief. “I swore I just saw…”

“Don’t worry, Seph, I promise you’re not going insane. I just happen to heal… quite efficiently.”

“Capable of healing massive trauma in seconds,” she muttered, her gaze traveling over his half-exposed torso. “I didn’t read about that particular ability in my Kordolian datatext.”

“That’s probably because it’s biologically impossible.”

“And yet you just did it.” Her eyes lingered on the planes of his stomach, making Torin wonder what exactly was so fascinating down there. If only it were her bare fingertips lingering there instead, tracing small circles on his bare flesh.

“I”m not entirely…” Torin searched for the right word, “natural.”

“You’ve been modified somehow? Like a cyborg?”

Torin shook his head, gently taking her cloak. Not a single microscopic speck of nanite-imprgenated blood remained on the black fabric, because even when it was outside his body, his blood was alive, and it always returned to the whole.

“Not quite. I’ll explain later.” He unfolded the cloak and draped it around her shoulders, fastening the clasp at her neck.

Unable to help himself, Torin stole a glance at her body, becoming fatally obsessed with her magnificent curves.

The full-length suit she wore was tight in all the right places, serving up a feast for his hungry eyes.

How he wanted to run his hands over her shapely waist, which flared out to gorgeously wide hips. He wanted to worship her deliciously thick thighs, to feel her soft luscious skin beneath his fingers, to curve his hands around her generous ass and pull her close.

To have her underneath him…

Torin carefully pulled the edges of her cloak together, hiding her sinful curves. He wasn’t even fully healed, and yet here he was, thinking about sex again.

You’re going to get me into deep trouble, Persephone Winters.

Well, he was currently on a hostile Bartharran pirate ship without any form of communication, heading for the War Planet itself. All because she’d caught his attention in the first place.

Most importantly, he’d strayed from his mission.

If that wasn’t trouble, then he’d misread the definition of the word. He didn’t know how the hell he was going to explain all this to General Tarak. Hopefully, Enki had things under control on Zarhab Groht. Hopefully, his offsider wasn’t tearing the trading post—and its clientele—apart.

“Let’s go,” he said gruffly, rising to his feet. “We can’t stay here for too long. I don’t think the Bartharrans on this level have received the message yet. Well, now they’ll understand.” He held out his hand. “Come.”

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