Page 48 of Return to Sender
Wi’kar’s eyes darken at my words, and I catch the way his breathing changes. “Dominique,” he warns, but there’s heat in his voice, not reproach.
“What? I’m simply concerned about optimal crew performance,” I continue, rising from my seat and moving toward him with deliberate intent. “And after watching you work today, seeing how competent and protective and absolutely devastating you are in crisis mode... well, I think you deserve a proper thank-you.”
“Agent Wi’kar’s biometric readings do suggest elevated stress indicators,” AXIS observes helpfully. “Privacy protocols might indeed be... therapeutically beneficial.”
Wi’kar stands to meet me, his hands immediately finding my waist. “You are going to be the end of my legendary self-control,” he murmurs against my ear.
“Promise?” I breathe back, already working at the fastenings of his contractor disguise.
“Privacy protocols engaged,” AXIS announces with satisfaction. “Initiating jump to hyperspace. Estimated transit time to Umbra-7: 6.2 hours. I suggest you... make good use of the time.”
As we jump to hyperspace, leaving Nexus Station and Dante’s forces far behind, Wi’kar’s mouth finds mine with renewed hunger. This time, there are no interruptions, no mission parameters to distract us.
Just us, safe in our ship, with hours of hyperspace transit ahead of us.
I realize that for the first time since this whole adventure began, I’m not running from something. I’m running towardsomething. Toward a future I’m choosing, with a partner who sees me as more than a political asset or royal problem.
Whatever comes next, we’ll face it as mates. As equals. As a team.
And that makes all the difference.
“So,” I murmur against Wi’kar’s lips as his hands work at the fastenings of my disguise, “ready for some comprehensive stress relief?”
His answer is wordless but extremely thorough, and as the stars blur past us in hyperspace, I lose myself in the heat and safety of his claiming touch.
Perfect mission parameters, indeed.
15
Off the Grid
Wi'kar
Iwaketothesensation of Dominique’s fingers tracing the muscles along my chest, her touch sending waves of response through my nervous system that have nothing to do with biology and everything to do with the claiming that occurred during our six-hour journey through hyperspace.
My mate. The thought resonates through every fiber of my being with a satisfaction that borders on primal. She is pressed against my side, her bare skin warm against mine, her scent surrounding me in the intimate confines of my quarters. Our quarters, I correct myself. There is no longer any separation between what is mine and what is ours.
“Good morning, Agent Mine,” she murmurs against my throat, and the possessive endearment sends heat spiraling through me.
“Agent Mine?” I query, though my arms tighten around her reflexively.
“Well, you’ve made it abundantly clear that I belong to you,” she says, lifting her head to meet my gaze. Her hair is thoroughly disheveled, her lips still swollen from our earlier activities, and the sight of her marked by my claiming makes my heart pulse faster. “I figure that makes you mine too.”
The logic is sound, though the terminology is decidedly non-standard. “OOPS protocol manuals do not address the designation of ‘Agent Mine,’” I inform her seriously.
“Then we’ll have to write a new protocol,” she replies, pressing a kiss to my jaw that makes my breathing pattern shift. “The Dominique and Wi’kar Protocol for Optimal Stress Relief and Partner Satisfaction.”
“Extremely specific parameters,” I observe, though I am already calculating how such protocols might be implemented across various scenarios.
“I believe in attention to detail,” she says, deliberately echoing my words from our disguise preparation. “I learned from the best.”
Before I can formulate an appropriate response to her increasingly effective ability to disrupt my cognitive processes, AXIS interrupts with its characteristic timing.
“Approaching destination: Umbra-7 Mining Station,” the AI announces. “Estimated arrival in thirty-seven minutes. I trust the comprehensive stress relief protocols were . . . adequate?”
“More than adequate,” Dominique answers before I can respond, her voice carrying satisfaction that makes my patterns flare with pleased possession. “Wi’kar is extremely thorough.”
“Indeed,” AXIS responds with what I detect as amusement. “Biometric readings certainly suggested thorough application of . . . techniques.”
