More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
He wanted to keep looking at her. He wondered how fast she was. He wondered if he was faster.
“To what do I owe the horror?”
She had always thought he was cold, a closed-in, distant man with a stern glower. Someone capable of rationalizing cruelty. Someone who didn’t bend because he couldn’t be bothered, who never lost his composure. Impenetrable, like a chunk of obsidian. Who knew there was fire under all that volcanic glass?
It must be so nice to have someone like him watching your back. Someone competent. Decisive. Someone who has his shit together. Too bad he is an enemy.
They were still enemies, but even enemies were allowed latitude when it came to complaining about family.
“We’ll catch them,” Matias said, his voice cold like the space between the stars. “I give you my word.”
“Good,” he said. She rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s good. Everything here is good. They’re serving our family recipes.” “In that case, I should have said passable.” “Clearly, you don’t value your life.”
He wished she had done it just for him. He wished he was the one to parry it.
“My apologies. I’ll restrain myself next time.” He remembered her striking on the atrium path. “Please don’t ever restrain yourself on my account.” Her eyes widened. He dismissed his seco and held his hand out. “The blood is slippery.” She glanced at the walls and the floor he’d painted red, put her hand in his, and let him lead her through the bloodstains.
Cutting someone in half was unexpected and visceral, an overkill nobody could ignore. It also guaranteed instant death. The target didn’t suffer. Most of the time they died before they realized what was happening.
But there was never the kind of synergy she experienced with Matias.
It was the closest she’d ever come to synchronization.
It wasn’t true synchronization. It was . . . killer instinct. Mutual understanding between two predators forced into battle together. Imagining anything more was dangerous and foolish.
“I’m not tired,” he assured her in a patient voice. “I’m fine.” Aha. “So, you’re going to do the man thing?” “What man thing?” “The one where you heroically decide to pilot the entire distance and then be tired and irritable and expect special treatment for it.”
“Matias, do you ever relax? Do you even know what that word means?” He smiled. “I do. I have even been known to allow myself a sensible chuckle on occasion.”
He had to get her warm.
She reached for his left knee, and he jerked away and almost fell over. “You’re being ridiculous,” she told him. “If your knee goes, I can’t carry you all the way to civilization. You are too large and too heavy. Give me your arm, and don’t make me repeat myself.” He held his arm out and let her fuss over it.
Matias had a resting kill face.
She wasn’t in the habit of deluding herself. She liked looking at him and listening to him, she liked the way he thought, and when he thawed enough to show rare splashes of humor, she had a hard time turning away.
He was everything she wanted. Competent. Smart. Dangerous. Decisive. Loyal.
He’d thrown his arm in front of her to shield her from the crash. What a dirty move. That bastard.
Why did it have to be you, Baena? Why couldn’t she have met someone like him but without the poisonous last name?
She looked beautiful and alive, as if the planet had exhaled its magic and conjured her from its breath to taunt him. He wanted to touch her to see if she was real.
Sitting like this, he could still watch her, confident that he would crush any temptation to touch her before it got the better of him and made him move closer.
It had to be a test. Life or fate or the universe was testing him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to pass.
“Fine. What do you want?” Everything.
That look in her eyes bothered him. He wanted to make it go away. To fix everything. He didn’t know how, and it was driving him up the wall.
“You look like you’re stalking me,” she told him. “When I decide to stalk you, you’ll know.”
He wanted this woman more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. He knew he was staring, realized that everything he felt was written on his face, but he couldn’t make himself stop.
But sooner or later their families would have to know, because he had no intention of letting Ramona go.
“Believe it or not, she said she wanted me. She was enthusiastic about being my wife, in the traditional aspect of the term. We got along well.” Ramona groaned. “Well, of course she was enthusiastic . . . never mind. Please continue.”
“I would go through a lot more trouble to catch you. You have no idea how rare you are, Matias. A man who is competent, smart, considerate, loyal . . . a man who blocks a sonic blast so you can escape and throws his arm to shield you during a crash. What woman wouldn’t want you, Matias?”
The connection between them flared, bursting through him like an explosion. His senses shot into overdrive. He felt her melt against him, the warmth of her, the taste of her tongue, the fragrance of her hair . . . it felt like he had waited for her all his life without realizing it, and now that he’d found her, he’d never let go.
She pushed away from him. It was a small, gentle movement, but it cut him like a knife. He looked at her face and saw tears in her eyes. “I can’t,” she whispered. “We can’t. We’re still married.”
“She’s the head of the family, but she’s also my baby sister. You will bring her home before sunrise, or tomorrow I will start a war.”
She poured all of herself into it—her want, her despair, her overwhelming need to love, even if only once, a man who was worthy of it.
His right hand caught her hair, and he kissed her like he would die if he didn’t.
He caressed her as if he loved her, as if each taste of her was a gift.
He made love the way he fought, all in, and she met him halfway in that feverish place where only the two of them existed.
I’m in love with you. Don’t leave me.”
There would be no happiness for her without Matias.
The connection between them sparked, as strong as he remembered it. It felt like coming home after a long, terrible trip, and he grinned at her like an idiot.

