Kyan squirmed with risk.

Laura snuggled against him, her head resting on his bicep, her calves tangled with his. She slipped a hand under the hem of his shirt and slid her fingertips over his flexing abdomen.

“Next time, we should take our clothes off.” Her voice held a warm, sleepy smile.

That was exactly his problem.

He stroked her hair. The curls clung to his fingers. And she clung to him, too.

But she didn’t want him.

“Unless you don’t want to,” she said, and he realized he’d been silent.

“I want what you want.”

She snuggled closer. He returned to stroking her softly.

The parts she would allow him to stroke.

Dragons mated with no barriers. Complete nakedness, male and female, so there was no doubt. Everything was laid bare. And once they had mated, they were temporarily married in the dragon way until the birth and presentation of their first dragonlet to the family matriarch. After the matriarch recognized their dragonlet, the marriage was validated — or, if the dragonlet was not recognized, their marriage was destroyed.

His parents’ marriage had been destroyed. Seven times. Once for him and each of his unrecognized siblings.

Laura had barely removed her clothing. Then, she’d introduced a barrier to prevent him from filling her with his seed.

She did not want to carry his dragonlet.

She did not want to truly know him.

She did not want to bare herself and preferred to keep their coupling anonymous, for relief rather than for marriage.

It scored his heart with a new, deep wound.

To be so close to everything he’d ever wanted and then to be shown forcefully that he was not her chosen mate tore into his soul.

“You feel so good.” She rubbed her cheek on his clothed arm.

Her gentleness broke him.

She was human. Her ways were different. Humans performed a ceremony to marry. They spoke vows and signed a paper and exchanged metal rings. He had researched it when first Mal and then Pyro declared their intentions to escape the Empress’s proposal by capturing human mates.

She did not know his ways.

Although he knew this in his head, it was impossible to convey to his aching heart.

He was used to being broken. He was used to shutting down pain.

So long as Laura did not accept him as her mate, his plans for the Empress’s marriage proposal remained unchanged.

A different awe clung to the underside of his hurt.

A female, any female, had chosen him for her partner. Even as an anonymous partner. Even just for relief. His bitterness came from wanting more. Wanting all of Laura.

And that bitterness shamed him.

Laura had given him a more precious gift than he’d received in his whole life. Instead of being overwhelmed with gratitude, he silently complained.

His greediness made him sick.

But something else bothered him, unrelated to the soul-hunger for that which he could not have.

“You apologized.”

She sucked in a breath; her even breathing suggested that she might have allowed herself to drift off to sleep against him given a little more time. “Hmm?”

“When I touched you. You apologized.”

She remained silent for several seconds.

He’d known when he’d cupped her feminine mound. She had stiffened and seemed to try to force herself to relax, but her efforts had failed, and she’d stiffened again. Unlike her enthusiastic arching when he bared her belly or tasted her sweet breasts, she had virtually shouted at him to halt. He had kept his touch light, hesitant, exploratory — waiting for the direction that she eventually gave to stop.

Perhaps she had already answered fully. She liked control. But he sensed—

“I made a bad choice.” She lifted his shirt, baring his abdomen, and splayed her fingers across the muscle. “I dated a guy who seemed nice but got pushy in bed. Even though nothing happened, I got scared.”

He stilled.

Nothing had happened, but she’d gotten scared?

He pushed. “Nothing happened?”

“Oh, well, he fingered me. That hurt because I didn’t want it and I wasn’t ready. And then, even though I begged him to stop, he used his mouth and…”

She shuddered.

His heartbeat thudded in his temples.

He was going to hunt this human male down and annihilate him.

“And then my roommates got home, and I was saved.” She nuzzled his pectorals and breathed deeply, her nose in his armpit. “I knew right away you were different. You look different, you smell different, and you listen.”

When had he last showered? His armpits couldn’t emit the best smell. But if she found it comforting, he gave her that comfort.

He focused on his new target. “Who was this male?”

“Huh? Oh, just a guy in my college sophomore—” She broke off and sought his gaze. Suspicion filled hers. “Why?”

“Who?”

Her eyes narrowed. She rose and put one hand on either side of his torso, a teasing smile lightening her dark memories. “Murder is a crime.”

“No one will miss this ‘guy.’”

“I suddenly can’t remember him at all.” She stroked his brows, soothing the wrinkles from the scar tissue. “You’ve replaced all my bad memories with good ones.”

His breath caught. A familiar pins sensation pierced his heart. It was getting easier to bear, as though the constant tenderness from his sibling’s protection, then his mother’s kindness, and now Laura’s permanently softened the scarred walls.

“Besides.” She sat up and scooted to the end of the bed, re-clasped her bra, and buttoned her blouse. “I used to be even worse about telling people what I needed.”

So the “guy” had a higher level of responsibility to pay attention. But Kyan doubted she was to blame. She said she’d begged the human male — who would soon be eliminated — to stop. That was clear communication.

“And I was the one who suggested we get physical,” she continued. “So I brought it on myself.”

He understood why she blamed herself. Shouldering blame wrested control of the bad situation from the aggressive, soon-to-be-dead male.

She frowned. “You’re being quieter than usual.”

He touched the bridge of his scarred nose. “I went with them the first time.”

She looked back, over her shoulder, at him. “The bullies? Why?”

He’d ignored his instincts. He’d been young, stupid, and lonely. “I thought they were being friendly.”

“How many?”

“A group.” The first had been largest but a core of bored, aristocratic dragonlets had shown up for all his tortures. “They held me down and slashed my face until they knew it would scar.”

Her lower lip trembled.

He hadn’t meant to hurt her. “We are the same.”

She crossed the bed and stroked his head, pressing him gently against her heaving breasts. “What happened to you is not the same at all.”

“I answered their questions. Told them how to find me.”

“You were a child. You didn’t know.”

She had been older but clearly inexperienced. She hadn’t known either.

“I should have known,” she murmured, kissing his head, as though she could sense the scars hidden by his hair.

Perhaps there was something to her healing saliva. The places she kissed did feel slightly better.

A soft ping sounded outside room. One of his employees or contacts.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Information for the investigation.” He rose, pulled on new briefs and jeans, and strode barefoot to the door.

She raced behind him, bouncing as she pulled her trouser leg over her knee. “I’m coming with you.”

He did not argue.

Leaning in to the retinal scan, he led her to the shaft, drew her close, and flew to the ops center.

“Wow.” She stared at the wall of monitors tracking terrestrial and spatial targets. “This is so James Bond.”

Her teeth chattered.

He rested his trench coat around her shoulders.

She leaned into his warmth.

He reviewed the message from his FBI contact. They’d located a warehouse of contraband medkits.

His stomach sank. So many? This was more than a quick cash-flow fix.

“I’ll be right there.” He ended the call and turned to tell Laura goodbye.

She held the lightweight straps of an anti-gravity flotation device. “Is this an alien defibrillator?”

“No.” He strapped the harness around her waist and shoulders and handed her the controls. “Press the green button.”

The device yanked her upright, dragging her for the ceiling. The straps were misadjusted, and she oozed out.

“Help, please!”

He floated up to her, took her finger off the ascend button, and placed it on the descend. They returned, controlled, to the floor.

She laughed with an edge of hysteria. “That surprised me!”

Him too.

“So it’s a jet pack.” She shrugged out of the harness. “That would be useful for going to the store when you’re not around.”

“Do not use it near here.”

She looked up at his inflexible tone.

“The winds around the glacier are unpredictable. Going out in this device would be deadly.”

“Then why do you have it?”

“Testing.”

He’d intended to provide it, if necessary, to Cheryl. Mal’s wife had expressed unhappiness at being left alone in Mal’s lair on Mt. Hood. Kyan had thought to provide this to ease her anger, but she had resolved things with Mal on her own, and his intervention had never been needed.

He returned the anti-gravity flotation device to its shelf, resolving to return it to storage, and strode for the door.

She dropped the new thing she was examining and raced after him. “Where are you going now?”

“Out.” He shouldered his second trench coat. The liquid fibers would stop most bullets, and it concealed weapons.

“Out where?”

“A warehouse in Idaho.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Until the investigation is complete.”

“I want to go with you.”

“No.”

She crossed her arms. “Then I want to go home.”

He refused to compromise her safety. He strapped on his steel-toed boots.

She darted in front of the door, blocking his exit. “I’m serious. I can’t live like you can, all alone for days. I’ll go crazy.”

“Crazy is still safe.”

“My employers don’t know where I am. My cell phone’s in my work locker. My housemates probably called the police.” She insisted. “The school is going to kick me out. I’ll never get my nursing license.”

“You’ll be alive.”

“How do you know?” She poked his chest with her index finger. “The safest place for me is right next to you.”

Statistically, that was unsound.

But there was an undeniable compulsion to keep her as close to him as possible.

So long as she was in his arms, he knew exactly where she was. If danger did strike, he could protect her with his own body. And the Idaho warehouse would be secured by agents, not at risk for criminal activity.

She sensed his weakening resolve. “I’ll be silent as the grave. Nobody will even know I’m there. And if anyone’s hurt, I can be useful. I’m a trained nurse.”

He pulled her close. “Do not share your healing saliva with anyone.”

“My … huh?”

“And wear this.”

He picked up the tiny tracker he’d prepared days ago and then refused to put on her. He didn’t want to acknowledge she was one of his few critical vulnerabilities. His siblings, yes. Mal’s and Pyro’s wives. Darcy.

Not her.

Now, he pressed the gun against her lower jaw and pulled the trigger. A tiny hiss and the tracker embedded under the bone.

She jumped and rubbed her jaw. No way she’d felt the minuscule device. “What was that?”

“A tracker.”

“So you always know where I am?”

“It’s my condition for leaving this lair.”

She dropped her hand and twined her arms around his neck, his overly large trench coat bunching at her elbows and swinging down near her feet. “Can we stop by my apartment so I can check with my housemates? And pick up a few videos and some bread flour?”

He felt control of the operation leaving his hands. “We’ll see.”