It was so cliché. The panicked woman, the warrior chasing her down. Any second, he would throw her to the ground, his warriors would melt away into the man-made forest and they would make passionate love in the dirt. She and Ithann, not the warriors.

Invisible bands of energy wrapped around her waist and yanked her into the air. She shrieked, feet kicking, and then her legs were restrained as well.

“I’m tempted to turn you upside down,” Ithann said, his voice sharp, moving into her line of vision. “But I suppose this is my fault. Will you stand still?”

“I’m in the air!” she shrieked.

He crossed his arms, the device in his hand dangling from his fingers. She eyed it, vowing to crush it under her heels at the first possible opportunity.

“You’re in the air because you were running and I don’t feel like chasing you.”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be on his knees, begging forgiveness for ignoring her for several weeks. Not threatening to turn her upside down as if this situation was her fault.

“I’d be happy to stand still,” she said.

He eyed her for another moment and then her feet touched dirt again. Gayle swung at him.

He caught her hand, sighing. “You’re so predictable, Abigail. If your enemies can anticipate your moves, they can counter them.”

And then he did surprise her, dropping her hand and lowering himself, giving her the same forehead to ground salute he’d given his mother.

“Get up,” she said. “What are you doing?”

“Asking for your forgiveness.”

The words were as stony as his face, but he said them. And his jaw wasn’t grinding, so maybe he meant them.

But she wanted to rub it in. “For what?”

“For not seeing the issues from your point of view. For… impatience and then behaving like a spoiled child when you tried to assert your right to make a very important decision about your future and body.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Did your mother write that apology?” The words sounded just like how Ythana would speak.

He rolled his eyes. “No, my mother didn’t write the apology. I have lived with her for decades, however, and I know how she talks. So, I may, on occasion, be able to channel her speech patterns…”

“So, it’s really your mother apologizing, and not you.”

“Excuse me, Gayle, for not wanting to give you up. Excuse me for wanting to bind you to me the only way I know how.” His eyes hardened, even as they burned with a white-hot fire. “So sorry for wanting to see my child in your arms. For wanting you to accept my bond.”

She licked her lips. The rough passion in his voice, the thread of frustrated hurt… affected her. She couldn’t stay mad at him, not when reluctantly, she could begin to see his point of view. “I don’t know why I haven’t accepted the bond. I just…”

“It’s my fault.” He stepped forward, looking down at her as he slid arms—cautiously at first—around her waist. “I haven’t made you feel secure. Or loved. I… thought offering to bond you was enough.”

“You’re a little spoiled.”

His brow rose. “I’m spoiled, Daddy’s little princess?” He said the last three words in English, emphasizing his point.

Gayle grimaced. “All right, all right. I may accept your apology.” She paused, uncertain. “Where do we go from here?”

“I want to court you. Properly.”

“I think I’d like that.”

Ithann’s kiss was warm, sweet. An apology and a promise. “Let me make it up to you,” he said, his voice hoarse.

His hands roved over her back, squeezing her buttocks, pulling her hard against his chest. His cock flexed against her stomach.

She swallowed. “What did you have in mind?”

The answer was to walk her backwards even deeper into the thick, willowy wild flowers and reeds. And then he went all e-book hero on her, tumbling her onto the ground. He shifted, sliding a hand into his pocket and they both flickered out of view.

Gayle shrieked. Mila had told her about these devices.

“Be quiet, female. It’s a deflection shield. And it’s on a thirty-minute timer before the battery needs to be recharged.”

Air on her legs, suddenly, as her long skirt was pulled up. Her thighs spread and his mouth on her bud. Tongue flicking up and down, a rhythm that had her body writhing.

“This is torture,” she said, her hands buried in his hair. “Not an apology.”

“What do you want from me?”

His fingers slipped inside her, two and then three, stretching her channel and pumping in and out, knowing exactly where deep inside her spot was best found. She grabbed his wrist with one hand and flung it away from her even as she cupped his hard length with her other hand. She didn’t want fingers. She wanted cock.

“It’s been over two weeks,” she said. “What the fuck do you think I want?”

His mouth was on her neck, laughter rippling through his chest. And then the wide, hot length of him pushed inside her. Stretching, burning as her body adjusted to his girth, sheathing himself to the hilt before he pulled out and sank back in. Gayle wrapped her legs around his waist, hips rising to meet each of his thrusts. It was short, furious. Neither of them had the stamina to last long. He held out just long enough to bring her to her climax, then poured hot seed inside her, a growl of pleasure in her ear.

“Fuck,” he swore. “I didn’t mean to do this.”

She stiffened. “What the hell does that mean?”

He muttered under his breath. “I’m supposed to be wooing you, not fucking you. I was going to ask you to go to a concert.”

Gayle blinked. “A concert? Like a date.”

“Yes, Abigail. A date.”

She felt his glare. “Okay. Just tell me when.”

* * *

Gayle dabbed a deep pink stain on her lips and eyed her cheekbones, taking another moment to debate the merits of gold glitter dust versus pearlescent glitter dust. Just a subtle sweep, highlight the cheekbones. The pearl—she wasn’t going to a rave.

A corner of the mirror lit up and a tiny face snapped into place in a palm-sized square reserved for communication.

“Hi, Mom.”

“You’re going out tonight.”

Gayle was surprised, and not surprised. Miranda had said she’d be monitoring things on her end, but Gayle hadn’t quite expected that to mean her dating life.

“Yes, Ithann is taking me to an opera. They don’t call it that—but that’s what it is. Singing a giant cast, supposedly an entertainment for the cultured members of society.” She rolled her eyes. Having been born and raised rich, privileged, and ‘cultured,’ she supposed she had the luxury to sneer at it—familiarity and contempt and all that. “I hope there is plenty of wine.”

She had to give him credit for trying. Most men would think a woman would appreciate a night at the opera—Gayle would rather have gone to a bar for whatever passed for a burger and loud, raucous music. But baby steps. She’d have him trained soon, barring any major screw-ups on his part.

“Abigail, listen to me. Your father isn’t in control of the factor he hired to retrieve you.”

Gayle snorted. “Ithann nabbed him the last time he tried to kidnap me.”

“No, Gayle, there is a backup plan in place and you need to be careful.” Miranda’s lips thinned. Her mother’s normally smooth, deep brown skin looked dry, a sure sign of stress. Gayle put down her makeup brush and focused. “Your father is dealing with some people who have their own agendas and your… husband… comes from a highly politicized family. Bakari isn’t in control of the situation.”

“Should I not go?” She’d have to tell Ithann, in case it was information he didn’t have.

“I don’t know. I don’t know the details of the plans—I can’t get into the computer system for more than a few seconds at a time without alerting the security in place.”

That her mother could hack at all was an unpleasant, if interesting, surprise. But then the wife of a high-ranking politician should know some shady things.

“Fine, I’ll tell Ithann we need to be careful.”

Miranda nodded. “Stay in touch, Gayle. I need to know you’re well.”

* * *

She told Ithann about the conversation as soon as he arrived at Ravetha’s to pick her up. She’d originally arranged to meet him but called as soon as she disconnected from her mother and changed the plans. He’d been surprised, and curious, but nodded in agreement.

Ithann stilled, listening to her hurried, worried, explanation. “We’re on alert,” he said, “but it confirms intelligence my people have gathered.” His face soothed into its hard, ice chip expression. “You’ll be safe.”

She nodded, and let him escort her into a transport. When they lifted, several others rose in the air with him, flanking them in front and behind. A cavalcade. Each conveyance looked exactly alike, windows tinted to black.

They arrived at the music house, Gayle surprised to see it was an outdoor stadium with a transparent dome, rows of cushioned benches rising above the center stage. The highest level of seats were an enclosed clubhouse-style observation deck with its own bar and restaurant, where individuals could sip drinks or eat small finger foods and watch the entertainment on screens.

“Our family has a section reserved for us,” Ithann said when they arrived.

That information pinged her unease. “Do you use it often? Shouldn’t we…”

He nodded. “We’ll join the general audience tonight. If you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” He might think she thought of it as slumming, but sitting amidst the regular population pleased her. She’d spent her entire life shut away—she wanted to jump into the thick of things, so to speak.

Ithann led her to a row of seats. The cushions were a plush sapphire blue, matching the brilliant colors painting the sky as the sun set and the twin moons rose. She stared up for several moments, the flicker of dozens of stars mesmerizing. And even though they were enclosed in a dome, climate control had it set so a subtle, fragrant breeze wafted through the patrons, the scent of native flowers and dim music of the singing, winged butterflies that came out only at night.

Servers approached before the entertainment began and offered a selection of beverages and sweet and savory treats. Gayle chose a tray of each, and told the server to just keep the wine coming. She ignored the glint of amusement in Ithann’s eyes and prepared herself for two hours of sitting upright. Evidently, the Yadeshi didn’t believe in chair backs.

But she could tell he was distracted. After the music, he rose, eyes scanning the area, and took her arm.

“Would you like to dine?” he asked. “Something light, perhaps, since you enjoyed the small bites so well.”

“I can eat two full grown warriors under the table,” she said. “You’d be on the losing side of a bet if you think I’m full.”

He eyed the mass of bodies who slowly made their way out of the arena. “I think we’ll exit using our private entrance. There are too many people here.”

She didn’t mention that if he was concerned about too many people, this hadn’t been a good idea in the first place. When they exited the arena onto the street-level launch pad where the transports were parked, Gayle tugged at his arm.

“Let’s walk. There should be something in the neighborhood, and it’s a perfect evening.”

He nodded, making a subtle gesture. She knew his warriors would take their places and—

—an explosion of heat and sound ripped across the launch pad. Ithann threw her to the ground, his body covering hers and for a brief second, everything went black.