Chapter 5 #2
He was going to burn alive, and he was going to have to do it with a blank face while keeping his mouth shut as he watched another male claim the female his soul had decided was his.
The lift chimed.
He pushed off the wall. Straightening his tunic, he checked the position of the weapon on his hip and smoothed his face into an impassive mask. The default expression of the Imperial Guard.
Only then did he step out.
The corridor to the royal suite was wide, carpeted in deep crimson, and lined with statues of past Emperors. It was quiet here.
Thyaar was standing post outside the double doors. He looked up as Raaevik approached, relief flashing across his expression.
"You're alive," Thyaar said. "I had a bet with Joreth that you were currently in the brig."
"You lost," Raaevik said.
Thyaar studied him for a long moment. His gaze dropped to Raaevik's hands, still raw despite the hours since the training hall, then back up to his face.
"What did the emperor say?"
"I'm on permanent detail. Personal guard. Her shadow."
Thyaar went still. The easy humor drained from his eyes.
"Her shadow," he repeated. "You. Specifically."
"Yes."
"Raaevik..." Thyaar's voice dropped, barely above a murmur. "After what I saw in the Hall? After last night? This is a bad idea."
"It's a direct order."
"It's a death sentence." Stepping closer, Thyaar blocked him from the door. "You know what you looked like down there? You looked like a male losing his mind. And now the emperor wants you sleeping outside her door?"
"I didn't ask for this."
"No. But you're not going to turn it down either, are you?" Thyaar searched his face, looking for something. He didn't find it. Didn’t find anything. Raaevik had long ago perfected a neutral expression. "Draanth it all to hell, Raae. You're going to get yourself killed."
"Then I get myself killed." He shrugged and moved past Thyaar to the door. "You're relieved. Go get some rest."
"I'm watching you," Thyaar said quietly from behind him. "Remember that."
Raaevik didn't answer. Instead, he palmed the sensor, and the doors hissed open.
The main room of the suite was vast, decorated in creams and golds, with a view of the stars that spanned the entire far wall. It was beautiful and utterly cold.
But he wasn’t looking at that. Not while Emily was there. His gaze cut instantly to the tiny human female.
She wasn't resting as she should be. She was pacing, marching back and forth across the expensive rug like a caged animal, muttering to herself.
"...ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Priceless. Like I’m an artifact in a museum. I am not a bloody artifact. I am a person. I have a degree. I pay taxes!”
She turned, pivoting on her heel, and saw him.
She froze.
Her hands dropped and her eyes, dark, wide, intelligent, locked onto his.
All the air left the room. The scent of her hit him—that warmth, that sweetness, overlaid now with the sharp tang of frustration and underlying fear.
Every muscle in his body locked against the pull of her. His hands fisted at his sides, the split knuckles screaming. Draanth. The pull was stronger than yesterday and a lot stronger than it had been in the alley.
He wanted to cross the room… wanted to wrap his hands around her waist and lift her off her feet. He wanted to bury his face in the curve of her neck and breathe her in until there was no air left in his lungs.
But he stayed right where he was and forced his face to remain unmoved.
"You're back,” she breathed.
She didn't look scared. She looked... relieved. As if the sight of a seven-foot, scarred warrior was the first good thing she'd seen all day.
That made it worse.
"Your Grace," he said. His voice was a low rumble, far rougher than he intended.
"Thyaar said you were busy.” She took a step toward him, then stopped. “I thought maybe... I don't know. I thought maybe you were gone."
"No." He stepped fully into the room, the doors sliding shut behind him. "I am not gone."
Closing the distance between them, he stopped a respectful six feet away. Six feet. It was a safe distance.
"I have been assigned as your permanent protection detail," he stated. "I will be with you for the duration of your stay here on Devan Station. I will vet your visitors. I will secure your transport. I will stand guard outside your door while you sleep."
Emily stared at him. Her lips parted. "Permanent?"
"Yes."
"So... you're like my shadow?"
"Essentially."
She let out a breath, closing her eyes for a moment.
"Good," she murmured, shoulders dropping. The tension that had been radiating off her seemed to drain away, replaced by something softer.
He blinked. Whatever he’d expected, it hadn’t been that. "Good?"
"Yes. Good." She wrapped her arms around herself, the silk rustling. "Because everyone else here looks at me like I'm either a goddess or a bloody bomb or something. Thyaar is nice, but he treats me like... like… Whereas you..."
Looking up at him, she met his gaze squarely. "You look at me like I'm real. Like I’m a person. You know?”
Something deep in his chest cracked open. Draanth.
She had no idea. She thought he was seeing her as a person? She wasn’t a person, not to him. Instead, she was the center of the universe. She was the only thing that mattered. He saw her with a hunger that would terrify her if she knew the depth of it.
"You are real, Your Grace. You are a person,” he said, his voice controlled. “But you are in danger. The Emperor believes the shuttle malfunction was sabotage."
Her eyes widened. "You mean... someone tried to kill me?"
"Or take you. We don't know." He shifted his stance, settling into a more at-ease posture. It was fake. He didn’t feel at ease at all. He never did around her. "That is why I am here. To ensure they do not get a second chance."
"Oh." She looked down at the floor. "That's... comforting. I guess?”
"I will not let anything happen to you." The vow slipped out before he could stop it. It was true. It was the truest thing he had ever said. "I will burn this station to ash before I let anyone harm you."
She looked up again, startled by the intensity in his tone.
For a second, neither of them moved. He saw the pulse fluttering in her throat. He smelled the change in her scent… not fear, something warmer. A note that made his blood heat.
"I believe you," she whispered and took a step closer. Just one. But it brought her inside his guard. "Thank you, Raaevik."
She used his name. Not his rank. Just his name. The sound of it on her tongue almost shattered his composure. He had to clench his jaw so hard his teeth ached to keep from groaning.
He was in hell. He was in heaven. And he was absolutely, completely screwed.
"It is my duty," he rasped, stepping back. He had to retreat. Had to put distance between them before he did something stupid. "I will... take up my post. Outside."
"Oh. Right. Of course." She bit her lip, her expression crumpling.
That look nearly undid him.
"If you need anything," he said, backing toward the door, "call."
"I will."
He turned and walked out. It was the hardest thing he had ever done. Harder than his warrior trials. Harder than his first kill. Once in the corridor, he hit the lock panel and the door slid shut, sealing her inside.
Away from him. Safe.
Leaning back against the cool metal of the doorframe, he tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. Then let out a shuddering breath. He was going to be here every night. Knowing she was just a few inches of metal away.
Mine. The feeling settled, warm and certain. She'd stepped inside his guard and said his name like it meant something to her. She had to feel this pull, too. Surely?
He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and breathed.
This was only the beginning.