Page 87 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol. 1
“Mmm,” I murmur, my hands still moving gently over her skin, savoring the softness of it—like satin warmed by the sun. “I have no intention of giving Asgarne’s coordinates to anyone. Especially not Noviosk.”
“But… isn’t that what you did?” she asks, her voice uncertain.
“No way,” I say firmly. “What I gave them were the coordinates for Wingo-land. That planet didn’t even have a name until it got smashed by a star.”
She frowns, confused. “I don’t get it. Noviosk said you weren’t lying!”
“I was careful not to lie in front of him. You remember—I said I’d never given anyone the data on my home planet. And that’s true.”
I pause, letting her process it.
“Then I asked for a digital medium and told everyone to hold on while I ‘refocused.’ If you want to fool a lie detector, you have to believe what you’re saying. Sometimes that means breaking the truth into smaller pieces that sound like one big, solid story.”
I glance at her, and she’s listening closely now.
“So I told him the disk held the coordinates of an unknown world. That’s also true. I added a personal touch to make it more convincing. I said, ‘I remember exactly the last time I stood in that same spot with my best friend, right next to his birthplace. Just before he almost died.’”
I smile faintly.
“Wingo’s my best friend. And the last time I was there—where he came from—I picked him up on the SIL, right before the place got wiped out by a meteor storm.”
She blinks, then nods slowly. “Then you said the disk had the coordinates of a world unknown to both the Confederation and the Coalition.”
“And that’s still correct,” I say, watching her eyes light up as it clicks.
She looks at me, dazzled. She gets it.
I smile and nod, waiting for her next question.
“You played Noviosk,” she says, almost in awe. “You gave him the coordinates to a patch of nothing.”
“I’m not even sure what’s left there now,” I admit. “When I picked up Wingo, the whole area was unstable—floating rocks, shifting debris fields. Not exactly prime real estate.”
“And the weapons for the transaction?” she asks.
“Well… copies, of course,” I say with a grin. “Replicated in just a few hours. Asgarnian weapons, sure—and made by an Asgarnian. So technically, still authentic.”
Ileana giggles, and I cover her mouth with my lips to hide the delicious noise she's making. I run my thumb along her cheekbone to the back of her neck, hindered by that ugly restraining collar, before continuing down her arms.
Oh man, it's not the right place, but I've been looking for her for weeks. I'm desperate for her. I try to get myself together and push her away.
“It's not the best idea!” I say, my tone sounds a bit heavy with desire.
“Is that so? What do you think they're thinking you are doing to me?”
I hope the Flots help me—I really do. She shouldn’t be encouraging me like this. Not now. Not when we’re deep in Coalition territory, with our enemies just a few steps away.
But at the same time… she’s not wrong.
They already assume I’m mistreating my slave. So what could possibly matter more than loving her—truly loving her—until the end of time?
Even here? Even now?
When I'm with her, I'm totally consumed by my desire for her. I'm so hungry for her that I lose my mind. I devour her mouth without any gentleness, impatient to unite with her after weeks of abstinence. She gets up on tiptoe, puts a hand behind my neck, and pulls my face to hers for a deeper kiss. I quickly give in to her demand, as she tightens her grip on my head.
Before long, the tension becomes too much. I push her against the stone wall and lift her up a bit so I canslip between her thighs. I know I'm putting my back on the line with these video pellets, but I don't care. I don't mind them watching me honor my wife, as long as they don't see her.
I look her in the eyes for a second to make sure she's cool with it, and her gaze tells me all I need to know. I'm thrilled to have her in my life. This is the second time I've let my Dedicated Soul escape, and the second time the Waves have allowed me to find it.
