Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Brandt forced his gaze forward again, tightening his grip on the steering yoke. He couldn’t look at her—if he did, he might break entirely.
For the first time since taking his vow, he resented his wife. Not her—not truly. She had been his heart, his light, his center. Losing her had hollowed him out—left him nothing but a shell. The grief had been unbearable, and in that bottomless well of pain, swearing an oath to the Goddess had seemed the right thing to do. His heart had been dead—he was sure of it. He had promised never again to call a Bride, never again to Bond.
And then Alexandra had come along.
Now she was all he could think about—her stubborn little chin lifted in defiance, her lush curves, the way her lips parted when she gasped under his touch. The taste of her nectar lingered on his tongue even now, sweet and addictive. He wanted her more than he had ever thought he could want a woman.
Gods, she’s so perfect—meant to be mine. I would swear the Goddess herself placed her in my path.
But the Goddess was merciful—benevolent. She would never be so cruel as to dangle the one woman who could heal him before his eyes, knowing he could never truly have her.
Would she?
He cursed himself silently. For touching Lexi when he should have kept his distance. For letting her fall in love with him as he fell in love with her. For whispering her name like it belonged to him and making her body respond to his when he had no right to do so.
He wanted to speak—wanted to comfort her. He wanted to tell her that none of this was her fault, that it was his own weakness that had led them to this pain. He wanted to beg her to forgive him.
But when he risked a glance at her profile, her tear-streaked cheeks shining faintly in the glow of the viewport, the words died in his throat.
It was too late. He had hurt her too deeply for any words to matter.
The shuttle engines thrummed louder, a subtle shift signaling their approach. Outside the viewscreen, the stars shivered. Streaks of light bent and curved, as though space itself were warping.
And then it appeared—the Fold.
A vast horizontal gash ripped open in the fabric of the universe, blackness edged in pulsing crimson light. It yawned wide before them like the wound of some cosmic beast, and the stars around it seemed to stretch and scream as they were drawn toward its mouth.
The Mother Ship had made it for them—an instant passage back across impossible distances. It shimmered with power, faint vibrations rattling through the shuttle’s hull, a low throb that made the very air taste sharp with ozone.
Brandt’s breath caught, not from the wonder of it—though it was always awe-inspiring—but because Alexandra’s expression was reflected in the viewport beside him. Her lips parted in silent astonishment, her tear-streaked face bathed in the silver glow. She hadn’t seen this before, he reminded himself. The last time he’d folded space with her she’d been unconscious.
Even broken, even hurting, her wonder touched him—she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Gods, I love her. And I can never have her.
The ache in his chest was worse than any physical wound he had ever taken in battle. The gnawing in his gut was worse than any sickness.
He clenched his jaw, forced his gaze back to the controls, and guided the shuttle forward. The Fold loomed, filling the viewscreen until it was all he could see. A roar like thunder filled his ears as the shuttle slipped inside, stars vanishing into blinding light as space-time stretched like taffy.
And still, the silence between himself and Alexandra was heavier than the crushing weight of folded space and the bitter realization that settled in Brandt’s brain.
He loved the curvy little human…but he could never have her.
43
LEXI
The long-range shuttle’s legs hit the floor of the Docking Bay with a metallic thud, echoing through the cabin. Lexi’s hands tightened on the armrests, but she wasn’t bracing against the jolt of landing—she was bracing against the hollow ache in her chest.
“I guess this is it?” she asked, her voice breaking the long silence that had stretched like a canyon between them.
Brandt didn’t look at her. His profile was rigid, golden eyes fixed on the controls as if the glowing readouts required every ounce of his concentration.
“For now. I’ll want you to return to the lab in about a week so I can get a sample of the nectar to work with. The money—all thirty-six thousand dollar-credits—will be deposited in your bank account on Earth.”
The words landed like stones in her gut. Lexi’s throat tightened.
“So that’s it? You’re just paying me off?”
Her voice came out bitter, harsher than she’d meant, but she didn’t care.