Can a brilliant physician and a brave outcast find happiness while battling potential genocide?
Olarra sacrifices everything to warn Benlon about a Pylorian plot that threatens his entire species. Their attraction smolders and flares while they battle the destructive nanobots wreaking havoc inside each lunar raider. They try to stay focused on the crisis, but bonding fever is impossible to ignore. The Pylorians sabotage their progress at every turn, and time is running out!
Copyright © 2023 Cyndi Friberg
He caught her upper arm and spun her around.
She collided with his chest and gasped. He had not seemed tall surrounded by other raiders, but she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.
“The timing for this could not be worse, but I must identify what we are feeling.”
He assumed that she felt it to, which was rather presumptuous. She started to object then his arms closed around her and his mouth preempted her words. A warm, woodsy scent filled her nose, rich and compelling. Each time she inhaled, the scent grew stronger and more distinct. And her reaction intensified.
His lips slid over hers, caressing and teasing. She resisted for a moment, but her body was ravenous for this. As if of their own volition, her hands slid from his chest to his back, bringing her even more snuggly against his big body.
The tip of his tongue eased between her lips, encouraging her to open for him. Slowly, she parted her lips, yielding to his tender persistence. His taste spread across her tongue with each stroke of his. Unique and evocative, she found his taste more than just pleasant. It was familiar. How was that possible?
She responded instinctively, encouraging the exchange with her mouth and her soft moans. He took the kiss deeper, mixing their breaths and tastes until she could no longer distinguish one from the other.
“Are you feeling this too?” He whispered the words against her parted lips as his hands slid up and down her back.
She smiled. At least he had finally bothered to ask. “I am not sure what it is, but there is no point denying that I feel it.”
He paused for another long, deep kiss, then told her, “I think you are my mate.”
She eased away so she could see his face without tilting her head back. “I know the others have turned this into something mystical and romantic. But we are scientists.” She took a deep breath, trying to stabilize her senses. “We are genetically compatible with each other, so the urge to mate is particularly strong. That does not guarantee that we will live long and happy lives together.”
His dark brows arched and his gaze gleamed with determination. “Apparently, I am not trying hard enough.”