It felt so good to be doing something she loved again.

Sam moved the pan over the heat. She had ingredients spread all over the counter tops. Most of them were strange and wonderful. The House of Galen chefs had looked shocked when she and Galen had first arrived in the kitchens. The head chef himself had helped her select equipment and ingredients—ones he knew were friendly to a human palate. Then the kitchen staff had disappeared to give her some privacy.

And right now, she was smiling and felt relaxed. She thought of her mamá—Dolores, known as Lola to her family—and knew she’d be happy Sam was cooking.

Galen had watched Sam for a while with a bemused expression. He’d explained a few of the fruits and vegetables to her, including pointing out the fidea he loved, before he’d finally headed back to his office for a meeting.

She reached for a bowl and stirred it. A cloud of…well, she was calling it flour, but who knew exactly what it came from, puffed into the air. After Galen had left, she’d tracked the chef down again and asked him a few questions.

Sam wiggled her hips, imagining the music that her mother liked to listen to when she cooked was playing. She was going to have to ask Mia for some music, next time. She remembered her nieces’ giggles whenever they’d cooked together. The girls would probably be taller now. It felt like a lifetime ago since she’d seen them.

And now she never would.

The sharp pain made her bite her lip and her hand clenched on the utensil. Closing her eyes, Sam let the ache wash through her until it finally dulled enough that she could breathe.

She knew the loss of her family would hurt for the rest of her life, but she had to find a way to deal with it. For now, she was going to focus on cooking a meal for a man she suspected never let anyone take care of him.

When the food was ready, she dished it onto plates she’d rested on a tray. She’d wanted to make her favorite pasteles, but trying to find a substitute for banana leaves to wrap the pastries had proved too difficult on a desert planet. The chef had told her a trip to the underground market would be necessary. She’d made arroz mamposteao with meat and beans instead. Okay, it was sort of like rice, and the beans were…not quite the same as beans, but close. She’d had to substitute everything. She had no idea what animal the meat had come from, but the chef had assured her that when he served it to Galen, his plate always came back empty. She’d experimented with spices and taste-tested everything. It was all pretty darn good.

For dessert, she’d attempted to make tembleque. Her mamá would probably be horrified at the result, because it wasn’t quite the same as the coconut pudding her mother made. But after several failed experiments, Sam had managed to make a sweet-tasting dessert she hoped Galen liked.

She pulled a final tray out of the oven. Her pan de Mallorca looked pretty darn good. The Puerto Rican sweet rolls were her secret addiction. She placed a few of the rolls on a plate.

Holding the tray, she left the kitchen and made her way up to Galen’s office.

She passed some young gladiator recruits, who nodded at her. She smiled back. The recruits looked fit and healthy, and well-equipped with staffs and axes. She realized she liked the House of Galen. Quite a bit. She liked the solid, stone walls, and the gorgeous wall hangings, depicting battles in the arena. There was a sense of history here, more evidence that Galen ran his house well.

When she reached his office, she saw his head bent over his desk as he read something. His brow was furrowed.

Did the man take any time off?

Sam sauntered in and his gaze flicked up. For a second, her mind went blank. Dios, he was something to look at. Not handsome, but something beyond that—tough, rugged, and strong. Strength radiated off him, and made you know that he’d shield you and keep you safe.

“Dinner is served.”

He raised a brow.

She set the tray down on his desk. “Arroz mamposteao, a sort of fried rice with meat and whatever those things are.” She pointed at her bean substitute. “And for dessert, my own version of tembleque. A sweet treat my mamá makes. Plus a few Puerto Rican sweet rolls.”

He eyed it all. “You cooked for me.”

“I promise there isn’t any poison in there.” She perched on the edge of his desk.

He grabbed a utensil and tried some rice. His eye widened.

She laughed. “Were you expecting it to be bad?”

“I had no idea.” He scooped up some more, trying the meat. He smiled, clearly liking it.

Sam liked seeing that smile. He was pretty stingy with them.

His gaze traced her face. “You have so many facets. I can’t seem to get a handle on any of them. I expected a battle-hardened warrior.”

“I’m that.”

“I didn’t expect a gourmet chef.”

“I think gourmet is stretching it.”

As he tried some of the dessert, she saw the faintest flutter of his eyelid. Hmm, the workaholic imperator had a sweet tooth. As he took another spoonful, she felt a spike of satisfaction. She liked watching him enjoy himself and relax a little. He also ate more than one of her sweet rolls.

“What are you working on?” she asked.

“I’m going over everything I have on the Thraxians, and all the information I’ve accumulated on Zaabha.”

Her muscles tensed. “Tell me.”

They talked about the implants and Thraxians. He spun the screen around so she could see the data.

“What the hell are they planning, Galen?”

He grabbed her hand. “I wish I knew. But we will stop them. We will take them down.”

She linked her fingers with his, feeling his calluses brush her skin. “I know.”

The air felt charged and their gazes locked.

He cleared his throat. “I have some House business to attend to.”

“Let me help.”

He studied her for a second, then nodded. She pulled a chair around the desk, and watched as he pulled out some paper files. Carthago was such a perplexing mix of low and high tech, and she found that fact strangely amusing and endearing.

Galen started going through inventory issues and training schedules. Sam offered some suggestions, and they talked about several improvements. For a moment, she felt she was back on Fortuna Station, locked in her office and working on her security paperwork.

She watched him take a bite of another sweet roll and hid her smile. “I’d really like to go over your training schedules.” She leaned over and pointed at the chart. “I was watching your recruits train, and I have some ideas.”

He nodded. “I’m sure my recruits and trainers would benefit from any advice from the Champion of Zaabha.”

Sam felt a warmth rush through her. She could add value here. “I had some ideas for how you could mix up the weapons training.” She walked him through her thoughts.

He grunted. “That’s an excellent suggestion.”

She looked up and smiled. Then she stilled. Their faces were close together.

“You smile more than I guessed you would,” he said, after a long moment. “After what you’ve been through.”

“Being the boss, or having gone through a hard time, doesn’t mean you have to be serious all the time, Galen.” She reached out, gently rubbing the groove in the center of his brow.

A strong hand reached up and gripped her wrist. Then he turned her hand over, studying her palm.

“Such elegant hands.” He stroked her skin “Strong enough to wield a sword, talented enough to cook an exceptional meal.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the center of her palm.

Sam shuddered, her gaze glued to him. She thought she saw surprise on his face. Surprise he’d initiated such an intimate gesture.

His lips moved up to her fingers. His tongue darted out, licking between the digits. Sam’s belly tumbled with the zing of pleasure and anticipation.

“I can taste the dessert you made me.”

“I may have tested it.”

“Sweet.” He licked again.

Sam couldn’t help it, she moaned.

He stilled, his face hardening. “I’m trying to stay away from you.” The words were a growl.

“Why?”

“You need time and space to heal.”

“That’s nice, Galen, but unnecessary.” She cocked her head. “Don’t you ever just do something spontaneous? Something you want?”

“No.”

She shifted closer to him. “You’re allowed pleasure, Galen.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth. The icy blue of his eye glittered with heat. “I’ve never wanted something so badly before.”

Desire hit her, coiling low in her belly. She leaned closer to him.

The knock at the door made them both jerk apart.

“Excuse me, Imperator.” Two guards stepped inside, both wearing red-and-gray cloaks, with swords sheathed at their hips. “We’re here for the evening security report.”

“Duty calls.” Sam sat back, her heart beating hard. Ignoring the guards, she reached up and stroked Galen’s stubbled jaw. “I’ll let you get back to your work. I’ll see you later, Galen.”

She felt his gaze on her as she walked out. The sensation put a smile on her face.

* * *

Late the next morning, Galen found Sam going over training plans with Kace.

“Sam?”

She spun, shooting him a smile. “Hi.”

Need slammed into him and he beat it back. “I had word from Magnus. They found something.”

Her smile dissolved, her face turning serious. “What?”

“Magnus told me he’d tell us when we get to the House of Rone.” Galen took her arm and nodded at Kace. “We’ll update everyone when we get back.”

Together, he and Sam strode out of the House of Galen. He tried not to notice the way her leather trousers hugged her form. Or how her thick, brown-gold hair was pulled back in a long tail that fell past her shoulders.

“You’re sure we can trust the cyborgs?”

“Yes,” he replied. “The House of Rone is our ally. Magnus is an honorable man.”

Sam released a breath. “Sorry. I saw too many augmented fighters at Zaabha. None of them were very friendly or honorable.”

Galen touched her arm. They continued down the tunnels, and soon turned another corner. The doors of the House of Rone were ahead, with the House logo embossed on it—a gladiator helmet resting on crossed swords. Cyborg guards flanked the doors, and Galen nodded at them. They silently opened the doors.

“Sam.” Ever rushed forward to give Sam a hug.

Magnus was just behind her, his face cool, and his muscled body clothed in black. He was holding a sleeping baby in the crook of his arm.

Galen shook his head. There was a sight he’d never thought to see. A huge, seemingly emotionless cyborg carting a baby around like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

As Galen watched, Sam moved forward and gently stroked the baby’s cheek.

Something shifted inside of Galen. What the drak? He’d never given any thought to kids. Protecting Raiden had been his life, his duty.

But watching Sam bend over that small baby… He frowned.

“Let’s talk in the main hall,” Magnus said.

They went inside and sat down on some couches.

“Winter and the healers sent your implant to us, Sam,” Ever said.

“We’ve also been studying several of the smaller implants from the House of Zeringei,” Magnus added.

Ever leaned forward. “These newer implants are fascinating, and the Thraxians have made remarkable improvements. The implant is smaller and more powerful.”

“What did you find?” Galen demanded.

Ever shared a look with Magnus. “We found a blueprint in the data.”

“About how to make the implants?” Sam asked.

“No.” Magnus’ voice was ice cold. “The Thraxians plan to infiltrate the Kor Magna Arena.”

Galen frowned. “What?”

“They want to rule it,” Ever said.

“The imperators rule the arena,” Galen said.

“The Thraxians want to implant gladiators and control all the Houses.” Now Magnus’ tone vibrated with anger. “They want to rig the fights to make more money.”

Sam shook her head and Galen felt his own fury boil up inside him.

“Sand-sucking cowards,” he snapped.

“Galen.” Magnus stared at him and Galen saw the glimmer of rage. “We have to stop this.”

Before Ever, Magnus had shown very little emotion, but since the cyborg had fallen in love, he showed glimpses of emotion more freely.

Sam’s hand fisted and she bumped it on her leg. “This is bigger than just Zaabha.”

“Zaabha was their testing ground,” Ever said quietly.

Galen gritted his teeth. “This is war.”

Magnus nodded. “War.”

Sam reached out and squeezed Galen’s thigh. That touch helped him find some control.

“What do we do next?” she asked.

“I’m going to call a meeting of all the Houses and their imperators. Next, we put our army together.”

She nodded, her face calm and composed. He wasn’t looking at the smiling woman who’d cooked for him, or the interested woman who helped him with House business. This was the battle-hardened warrior.

Sam stood. “Then we go to war.”