“I told you, chaos loves you.” Arin laughed as Rykal held her in his powerful arms. Her back was to him, and he nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply as she basked in his solid, unwavering presence. “Even when we’re trying to have a peaceful night, you end up incapacitating some random assassins.”

“It isn’t my fault Admiral so-and-so is an insufferable prick with many enemies,” he protested. “I’m just the innocent bystander who happened to get involved.” He sucked on her earlobe, and the decadent caress of his tongue made her weak at the knees. She imagined him doing other things with that hot, persistent mouth of his, and she wondered why they were still on the balcony.

“Innocent?” She laughed, poking him in the chest. “Don’t mess with me, Ry. You are the devil incarnate.”

“Then you must be chaos.” His fangs gleamed in the dim light.

The midnight breeze swirled around them, filling the air with the salty tang of the roaring ocean. They were back in their suite, a sumptuous set of rooms on the penthouse floor of the Aquinas Towers. Rykal had almost convinced Arin that he could sprint all the way back to the hotel with her in his arms, but in the interests of not scrambling the many covert surveillance systems on the island, she’d convinced him to take a bot-car.

The discreet ride home and given Rykal’s fingers time to regenerate, and by the time they entered their room, his hand was as good as new.

Thank the stars for those freaky black nanites.

Arin looked out across the sea. Night had transformed it into an endless black void, vast and mysterious, dotted with the distant white and green signal lights of slow-moving sea vessels.

Night on Earth was when Kordolians were in their element. She marveled at the fact that she was in a room she could never afford with a man she could never imagine living without.

Kordolians had a way of getting what they wanted at any cost. This room in the Aquinas Towers was a classic example.

Using his mysterious powers of negotiation—or intimidation—General Tarak had worked out an arrangement with Senator Julian Aquinas that allowed the Kordolians to have access to private rooms in Aquinas Towers whenever they were on Nova Terra.

On a small island where every square inch of land demanded a premium—after all, Nova Terra boasted some of the most expensive real estate on Earth—that was no ordinary feat, and when Rykal had suggested taking advantage of the arrangement for a much needed weekend escape, Arin had leapt at the idea.

And now they were here. Together.

Alone.

“So here we are,” he said softly. “Back on Earth.”

They had been to Kythia’s dark orbit and back. They had witnessed the downfall of an empire and the rise of a new order in the Universe.

They had survived.

“Here we are,” Arin agreed, becoming boneless in his arms. She was ready to surrender to him, and he knew it.

Rykal spun her around and captured her face in his hands. He kissed her slowly, tenderly, running his fingers through her short hair. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. “It is always so difficult,” he whispered, “to be out with you amongst the people, where I have to control myself, restrain myself, act civilized, when in reality, you uncover everything that is savage in me.” A shudder coursed through him. “Tonight was torture, just like it always is when I’m around you.”

“You did well,” Arin replied, clasping her arms around his neck. “Thank you for handling things… the way that you did. I think you made quite the impression.”

It could have been so much worse. She turned her face upwards and kissed him again, appreciating everything about him; his honesty, his rawness, his immense power, his vulnerability.

Rykal pulled her into him, and she could feel his hard, insistent erection through the soft fabric of his robes. “Worth, it,” he growled. “Restraint comes easily when the reward is you.” He pushed her skirt up her thighs and lifted her up.

“Charmer,” she teased, even as his words set her heart on fire. Arin wrapped her long legs around his hard body, drawing on his strength. His cock was pressed up against her, with only a thin layer of material separating them. She was warm and wet, and she ached to have him inside her.

“Temptress,” he accused. “I can’t hold on any longer.”

A fierce gust of wind tugged at their hair and clothes as Rykal stepped back across the threshold, carrying her through billowing white curtains.

He lay her down on the bed and did something with his hands, and suddenly his Kordolian-style robes were off, revealing a body made for war—and sin.

Arin let out a breathless sigh of appreciation as Rykal moved over her, his amber eyes glinting in the warm glow of the lamplight. The other First Division warriors gave him good-natured shit for his looks, calling him pretty boy, but there was good reason for that nickname.

He was savage perfection, and he was the most beautiful thing Arin had ever seen.

A featherlight something skimmed over her, grazing her pussy, caressing her belly, sliding up her chest, stopping at her throat.

Her dress fell apart. Rykal had sliced it from hem to neckline with a razor-sharp claw.

“That’s better,” he whispered, pulling the split fabric aside to reveal her bare skin.

“The first time I’ve worn a dress in years,” she murmured, running her hands along the taut planes of his back, “and you have to go and ruin it.”

“Not ruined. Savored.” Rykal tucked a finger underneath the elastic of her panties and pulled them down. He teased her with the head of his cock, dipping it ever-so-slightly between the velvet folds of her sex. Arin gasped, overwhelmed by the sudden need to have him inside her.

But Rykal played a mean long game. Tensed and smiling wickedly, he held himself over her, stretching her anticipation until it threatened to explode.

Then, in a swift, perfectly controlled movement, he flipped, taking her with him.

“Oh.” Now she was on top, the lips of her pussy grazing the tip of his swollen cock. In typical Rykal style, he was totally unpredictable and yet she got the sense he was in complete control.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

Arin grinned.

“I never knew torture could be this fucking sweet.” Rykal’s voice was hoarse. Warm, callused hands ran up-and-down her muscular thighs. He grasped her hips, and she rocked back-and-forth. With each movement, she brought him deeper and deeper inside.

He let her take charge, his intense gaze never leaving her face. Arin surrendered to her need. Her body took over, seeking the absolute bliss that only Rykal could ever give her.

As she rode down his thick length, the raised ridge along his cock slid across her clit, and she spiraled deeper and deeper into a haze of mindless ecstasy.

The billowing curtains snapped back and forth as the wind picked up outside, streaming through the open door.

Rykal grunted in pleasure, wrapping his large hands around her ass. He encouraged her, guiding the thrusting movement of her hips, dictating her rhythm as she fucked him with savage abandon. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, seeing stars in the darkness.

A low moan rose from deep in her throat as a wonderful bud of tightness blossomed inside her, triggering a shudder that engulfed her from head to toe. She leaned forward, pressing her hands against Rykal’s warm, broad chest as the orgasm ripped through her like wildfire.

She cried out. Her rhythmic movements became unfocused as she turned into a helpless, boneless, glorious mess. Rykal took over, thrusting his hips, continuing to fuck her as she came, and once again he blew her mind, again and again and again…

She dug her nails into his chest and screamed to the high heavens as she climaxed. Outside, the wind and ocean thrashed. A gust of cool air swirled around them, bringing with it the promise of rain.

A low rumble rose from Rykal’s chest, a delicious sound somewhere in-between a growl and a purr. Through the fog of her own pleasure, Arin opened her eyes.

Rykal was watching her. Something rippled over her fingers—traces of his black, nanite-infused blood. The deep scratches she’d inflicted on his chest healed before her very eyes, and the blood slid off her fingers, returning to his body.

Another reminder of how truly alien he was.

“My turn,” he whispered, rising up and flipping her over. She was utterly helpless now. The aftershocks of her orgasm rippled through her body, making her limbs heavy.

She could hardly move, and she didn’t want to. Rykal stared at her as if he wanted to devour her very essence. He cupped her breasts, teasing her taut nipples with the pads of his thumbs.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and Arin sensed the pent-up energy inside him, so powerful and potent that he was actually trembling.

Waiting for release.

He ran his hands up her chest, around her neck, through her hair, his fingers snaking across her scalp, firm and insistent.

He captured her with his eyes. “My ashika.” He smiled.

Then he thrust into her with all the force of the roaring sea below.

With all the force of a Kordolian male in his prime.

He fucked her like a savage. He fucked her with reckless abandon, taking his fill of her until Arin forgot which way was up and down and sideways and inside and out. All she knew was Rykal. His overwhelming presence filled her senses and rekindled her need.

She’d already had her pleasure, but she wanted more.

She curled her legs around him and he pressed his body against hers. They moved as one, adrift and senseless.

Consumed by each other.

“Arin.” Rykal growled her name as he came, and Arin rode the wave of his orgasm, moving her hips back-and-forth until she’d savored every moment of his release.

Until he was completely spent.

Then he collapsed against her, pressing his lips against her neck, grazing her damp skin with the razor-sharp points of his fangs. “I am hopelessly in love with you, my brave and resourceful human.”

She held him close, running her fingers through his impossibly fine moonlight hair. “Likewise, my fierce Kordolian.” Her heart melted a little bit more just then. Since they’d returned to Earth, Rykal had made an effort to control the darkness within.

For her.

He was changing.

She was changing.

But Rykal was Kordolian to the core, and that would never change. He would never be human, and nor did he want to be. Arin very much preferred it that way.

Rykal gently withdrew and lay by her side, wrapping his long, muscular limbs around her. Together, they listened to the howling wind and the angry ocean, and although fragments of the oncoming storm danced across the threshold through flapping drapes and open doors, Arin wasn’t bothered, because she was nestled in Rykal’s warm, powerful arms.

Outside, a rumble of thunder cracked open the skies, and it finally began to rain.