Operation: Marauder

Chapter 20

There are explicit sexual scenes in this chapter. Reader's discretion is advised.

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Rowan woke up to a rhythmic tapping on his door. He was so close to sleeping through the last of his Fever. This close to escaping the burn for another year. Groaning, regretting telling Mave to wake him up if anything changed, he clamoured out of bed and waved his hand in front of the sensor.

"What's wrong?" The words came out of his mouth before he saw who was on the other side.

Zoey blinked up at him. "Nothing, I hope. Sorry, did I wake you?"

Grease smudged her forehead; Rowan could imagine her working up a sweat down below and wiping her forehead, forgetting she had grease on her hands. Despite the nighttime light setting in the ship, her eyes appeared lighter, like they always did when she looked at him. His hearts swelled at the sight of her; even covered in grease, hair falling out of her ponytail, she was beautiful.

Slowly, a pink hue coloured her cheeks, and Rowan realised he was staring at her, making this terribly awkward, but he couldn't bring himself to say something that wasn't stupid.

She scratched the back of her head. "Um, Maliki said it would be better if I told you the ship's up and running again. He's telling Mave right now, so we should be heading back soon."

Heading back to Earth. Where Zoey awaited her punishment for disobeying orders. Where he would go back to hunting the Wraythe. A place so full of the unknown for them it made his hearts clench.

"Do you want to come inside?" he offered, stepping aside to give her space. She slipped past him, her breasts grazing over his chest in the tight quarters. He nearly lost all control in that moment. She hopped back onto the table, and images of her being naked and ready for him flashed in his mind.

"Do you have any of that Arthonian booze left?" she asked, folding her arms in front of her.

Did he detect a twinge of nerves from her? Had she been lying earlier when she said she wasn't afraid of him? He was worried the Fever might be too much for her, that he would come on too strong.

"You're frightened," he observed, finding two glasses and pouring a splash into a cup for her.

"I'm not," she insisted sternly.

He pulled back the glass before she could take it. "You're lying to me."

There's nothing he hated more than people who lied to him and thought they could get away with it. His senses were too honed to let a lie slip past him.

"Am not," she snapped, swiping the drink out of his hand, catching him off guard. "It's just. . . I have so many questions and I don't know where to start. It's very overwhelming."

A rumble vibrated in his chest. This woman was the tease of the century, coming in here late at night, wanting a drink in the midst of his Fever, now knowing what she did to him. She still wore his shirt, carried his scent, hopefully made any male think twice about touching her. All he wanted to do was tear it off and bury himself deep inside her.

He stepped towards her, gently nudging his hips between her legs. His hearts pounded in his ears, he could barely hear himself speak. "I don't want to answer any questions."

Those lips, so full, so inviting, quirked into a little smile for him. She took a slow, steady sip from the glass and didn't choke on it this time. All Rowan could imagine was those lips being somewhere else and consuming every part of him.

"You wouldn't force yourself on me, would you?"

By the Architect, she was going to ask her questions anyway. Because, as she put it, she wasn't afraid of him and felt some sort of power over him. He'd be lying to say she didn't. That didn't stop the burn roaring inside him. Every fiber of his body yearned for her touch, demanding he take what was his.