Page 52 of Shielded in the Shadows

But the stylized open jacket, trousers, and tall cuffed boots, all black as space, were perfect for Jarrix To’vok, who wanted to join the Nivilus’s crew as its medic, weapons master, second engineer, cook, and—hopefully—first mate.

I folded my hands behind my back and tried unsuccessfully to still my swishing tail.

Out of sight, the lift doors slid open almost soundlessly, a testament to the luxuriousness of the passenger system that carried the outpost’s wealthiest residents directly to its most beautiful location on the very top of the station.

“Jarrix?” Keela’s voice floated through the leaves.

I cleared my throat. “I’m here. Follow the path.”

Her footsteps approached. The quick little taps on the glowstones were so utterly different from the familiar sound of her boots that it sent a little shiver of anticipation through my wings.

Like a vision, she appeared through a gap in the foliage. My breath caught in my chest.

My jaw might have dropped and certainly my tail was lashing like a whip, but nothing registered but her.

While her gaze raked me over from the tips of my horns to my new boots, I drank in her beauty.

My mate had chosen a sleeveless floor-length gown with a deep-V neckline, made of sheer, iridescent fabric that caught every little bit of light and color in the arboretum and shimmered like starlight. The only part of the dress that was completely opaque was the area from her breasts to just below her hips, so her shoulders and the sinuous lines of her toned thighs and calves showed through the fabric. Her delicate shoes matched the dress perfectly.

She’d abandoned her brunette disguise and left her long hair uncharacteristically loose in red waves down her back. The sides and top were braided back from her face in an intricate design.

As she approached, I noticed gold adornments woven throughout the braids that matched her earrings, necklaces, and bracelets. And they in turn matched my own body piercings and even the buttons on my greatcoat, making me wonder if someone had found out what clothes I’d bought at Oparion’s shop and styled Keela to match. I wouldn’t put it past Byx to have whispered intel into Felina’s ear.

When she reached me, Keela ran her hands over the sleek fabric of my coat and then along the many buttons that lined the entire length of its front, plucking each one with her fingertips before raising her gaze to meet mine. Those green eyes with their round black pupils, so human and so different from my own, undid me more than anything she could ever wear.

And when her hands slid up my bare chest under the open coat, brushed over my nipple piercings, and came to rest on my pectorals, I shuddered hard, my tail coiling around her legs.

I had no words for how lovely my mate was, or how deeply I appreciated her willingness to allow me to court her in the proper Fortusian way.

I’d been wrong, though, to think kissing her under the stars would make me the luckiest bastard in the galaxy. I already held that honor, and had from the moment I’d flown through the closing doors of the Final Chance bar on Ghira Station.

Maybe some of that showed in my expression or in my eyes, because Keela’s lips turned up at the corners in a smile that echoed the one she’d worn in the image that accompanied the bounty posting.

“You look good,” she said, curling the tips of her fingers just enough for her short nails to bite into the rapidly heating skin of my chest. “Like a male who’s auditioning for a long-term position aboard my ship.”

I finally found my voice. “You look…” Beautiful? Breathtaking? Captivating? None of those words seemed adequate. “Stunning,” I finished.

Her smile widened into a grin, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’ll tell Felina and the shopkeeper they were right about the gown.”

“It’s not the gown,” I said roughly. “Gods above, the gown is lovely, but it’s not the gown.”

I sank to my knees in the soft blue grass and rested my hands on Keela’s hips. The silky fabric of the dress was so perfectly frictionless that I felt as if I couldn’t hold on and my mate might slip away.

“Oh, dear…more kneeling.” Keela ran her fingers lightly along the length of my right horn. Her touch ignited a blaze of heat and need that made both my cocks bead with lubricant, ready and eager to please her.

She tilted my chin up with her fingertip and smiled. “Careful, Jarrix. If you make a habit of this, I might start to think you’re hopelessly devoted.”

“Devoted, but not hopeless.” I captured her hand so I could press a kiss into her callused palm. It was so much smaller than my own, but mine bore very similar textures and scars from a lifetime of fighting and weapons training. “I’ve never been more hopeful in my life.”

“Me too.” Keela’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. Something flitted across her expression—wistfulness? Regret? Longing?—before it was gone and her smile returned. “I’m hopeful that our dinner tastes as good as it smells.”

For all the care I’d taken with the meal—the first truly fine dinner I’d shared with my mate, and finally one not made by a synth unit—I would have said to hells with it and stayed on my knees. Or, better yet, swept Keela into my arms and carried her to the nest I’d prepared. But I could no more allow her to go hungry than I could send her uncaringly into danger.

So I rose and ushered her to the table.

“There’s only one chair,” she said, looking up at me and raising her brows. “Do you plan to stand?”

“No.” I sat and drew her to my side. “After our long separation today, I would like you close. A separate chair would be too far away.” I patted my lap. “Would you do me the honor of considering me your seat?”