Navigating a narrow corridor, Wallaig glanced at the plaque on each door until he came to one that read CAPTAIN in big bold letters. The cabin he searched for wouldn’t be far now. Human VIPs expected the best, liked to be pampered, so…aye. The corporate suite aboard the ship must be close. Maybe around the bend, in the next corridor. Stood to reason. No way would a spoiled executive consent to being placed on a lower level next to the crew.

A harsh conclusion to draw maybe, but…

He shrugged. He didn’t care. Human males were a mystery he held no interest in solving. The female trailing him, however, was a whole other matter. He wanted to know Amantha in every way—as a friend and lover, as a male in thrall to his mate. The realization made him huff in amusement. Hell, cross enthralled off the list. He was already enchanted, so attuned to her he sensed her thoughts, felt her breath and knew without looking she still shivered from the cold.

Biting down on a curse, Wallaig picked up the pace. He needed to get her out of her clothes. Wet and cold didn’t go well together. She was already catching a chill and…goddamn it. He should’ve found a better way to evade the enemy. What that escape route would’ve been, he didn’t know. Diving into the harbor had been both the best and most expedient way of losing the bastards, but he hated that his female suffered. Lacing her chilled fingers through his, he turned down another hallway. She lost her footing and bumped into his back. His chest went tight as the level of her exhaustion registered. His fault…all his fault, her fatigue one hundred percent his doing. If only he had—

“How much further, Wallaig?” Amantha asked, teeth chattering.

Up ahead, he spied the label next to a door: EXECUTIVE SUITE. He exhaled in relief. Thank God. About time he had some good news to give her. “Just there, kazlita. We’ll be inside in a moment.”

With a pronounced shiver, she nodded.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her to his chest, sharing his heat as he stopped in front of the door. He disengaged the lock with a thought. Metal scraped against metal. The tumblers turned. With a flick of the handle, he shoved the door open, picked up Amantha, and cradling her in his arms, strode inside. A quick glance gave him the layout. Sitting area with a couch and chairs to his left fronted by large windows. He murmured, issuing a command. The curtains closed, moving around steel tracks, blocking out the glow of sunlight on the horizon, plunging the suite into darkness. Ignoring the queen size bed up against one wall, he moved toward what he assumed to be the ensuite bath.

He crossed the threshold. Large shower with fancy green and white tile. Separate tub on the opposite side of the room. Double sinks in a marble countertop. Wallaig grunted. Nice set-up, and the perfect place to drive the chill from Amantha’s bones.

Setting her down, he unzipped her coat and stripped it off her. He threw the wet mess into the corner and crouched at her feet. As he unlaced her boots, he turned on the shower with his mind. Water rushed from the shower head, splattering across ceramic tile.

Amantha flinched. “Did you do that?”

“Aye,” he said, tossing her Sorels alongside her jacket.

“How?”

“Magic, lass. Another of those perks you like so much.”

“P-pretty c-cool,” she said, sounding half frozen.

“It has its moments.”

“I’ll bet,” she said with a huff, trying to laugh.

She didn’t quite make it. Amantha was too cold to pull off levity but shite, he admired her spirit. His mouth curved. Goddess, she was beautiful, so smart and strong. Everything he hadn’t known he needed and couldn’t believe he’d found. Such a strange turn of events. A bundle of letters had brought him to her door, and as he waited for the water to warm, the near miss made him frown. If not for his insubordination—disobeying a direct order from his commander—he wouldn’t be here. Would never have met her. Wouldn’t be touching her now, never mind seeing to her needs.

The realization tightened his chest.

He might not know Amantha well yet, but already he longed for a future with her. Wanted to take her to bed each morning and wake in her arms every afternoon. Absolute acceptance. Real connection. A female to share his life, a mate whom he could love and be loved by in return.

Yesterday, it had been a pipedream. Nothing but smoke and mirrors, the stuff of myths. But as he knelt at her feet, his dream took shape and form, placing her at the center of it.

“Amantha,” he murmured, his tone so reverent his heart panged and longing took hold. Skimming his hands up her legs, he gripped her hips and hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of her pyjamas. “Fair warning, lass…I’m going to strip you down now.”

“What?”

“You need to get out of your wet pyjamas.”

“But I don’t have anything on underneath,” she said with a squeak.

“Perfect.” Amused by her modesty, he dragged the pants down her legs. Soft skin grazed his palms as the flannel bottoms fell, leaving her bare from the waist down.

“Wallaig!”

Entranced by the sight and feel of her, he growled. Unable to stop himself, he nipped the top of her knee, then dragged his mouth along the length of her thigh. She made a soft sound of surprise. He jumped to her belly, pressing his lips against her skin.

Her breath hitched. A quiver shook her, this one not driven by the cold. She whispered his name. Her hand touched his head, clever fingers delving into his hair as she welcomed his attention.

“Take your t-shirt off, lass. The water’s ready.” Ghosting left, he licked over her hipbone.

She gasped, the sound full of delight.

Wallaig stood and, grabbing the cotton hem of her tee, dragged it over her head.

As she sucked in a breath, he shucked his clothes, tossed them in his mental vault and…oh, aye. Skin on skin. Breast to chest. His erection pressed to the softness of her belly. Oh, so good. The absolute best way to start the day. Wallaig groaned, fighting for control as he cupped her bottom and moved toward the shower. The door opened upon command. He crossed the threshold, enclosing Amantha in the stall with him. The glass slider closed. Warm steam billowed up, surrounding him, warming his mate. Taking her with him, he stepped beneath the steady stream of hot water.

She sighed in relief.

The gorgeous sound wound him tighter.

Brushing wet hair away from her face, he kissed her again. His female met and matched him, lifting her chin, opening her mouth, asking him for more. He should say no. A smart male would keep it light, give her time to get to know him, instead of giving into desire. But as Amantha cupped the back of his head and deepened the kiss, Wallaig knew he was lost.

He needed her.

She wanted him.

Fuck too fast, too soon. He would take what she offered, give her explosive pleasure in return, and hope like hell she didn’t regret it when she woke in his arms.