Page 132 of Star Claimed Omega
He sensed it building with nowhere to go but blood.
Vengeance was the only language left to him now.
He’d thought he might hate her, but to the honest, he couldn’t muster the energy to loathe her.
In their time together, she’d become his pulse, his anchor in a world that kept slipping out from under him.
When he was with her, the ghosts quieted, the war inside him stilled.
Now, without her, each intake of oxygen scraped raw past his throat.
He remembered her, how she trembled beneath his hands, the essence of her skin, the shudder of her breath against his throat.
Memories of her moans haunted him, and recollections of her sighs burned him.
Soleil had been his sanctuary, his undoing, his impossible salvation.
Now she was gone.
The lake reflected his stillness, but within him, he was a churning storm.
If she were dead, the world would burn.
If she were alive, nofokkin’ soul would stand between him and her, and the freakin’ truth.
The executive terminal onTheSombrawas a hushed space.
Sound-dampened floors, cream-metal walls gleaming under a burnished gold light, and the deep thrum of high-clearance security elevators cast stark shadows.
Santi stood near the access doors, his back rigid, shoulders drawn, his jaw set to contain the guilt gnawing at him.
The silence fractured as the private transport lift sighed open.
Xander stepped out with Savvine at his side, both still in their off-duty wear from their cut-short honeymoon.
Savvine’s skin was radiant, her hair twisted into a sleek braid.
She gave him a soft smile when she saw Santi, stepping forward to wrap her arms around him.
‘I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through this madness,’ she breathed.
Santi swallowed.
Her kindness and warmth pricked at the raw block of ice inside him.
‘Sante, Savvine. I appreciate your words.’
He nodded, pressing a hand to her back in gratitude.
She released him, gave her husband a gentle kiss, and left, guiding her and Xander’s hover luggage toward their quarters.
Xander stayed behind.
He tipped his chin in the direction of the bridge and executive offices.
‘My ready room.’
The pair of sinewed, alpha, tall men paced the hallway, boots striking the floor in cadence.
