Thriexa Aizih POV

  My fingers tightened around Jace’s hand, grounding myself, though he could probably still feel the tremor of adrenaline running through me. I closed my eyes briefly, then reached out mentally to Tocci and Trenal.

  Tocci, Trenal—stay at the event. Ensure everything is secured. Make sure they understand that we will not be driven away by fear.

  Understood, Tocci responded immediately, her presence steady. We’ll handle things here. Focus on your safety.

  Jace Strickland POV

  The vehicle sped toward the safehouse, the city lights flashing by in streaks of color, but I barely noticed them. I kept my eyes on her, watching every small shift in her posture, every flicker of thought that passed through her expression. She wasn’t just processing the attack—she was calculating, adapting, already thinking of what this meant for the future.

  When we arrived, the security team was already waiting, sweeping the perimeter as I rushed her inside. The doors locked behind us, sealing us in the momentary illusion of safety. I immediately updated the team, issuing orders, ensuring every precaution was in place. The shooter was dead, the bomber was in custody—but I wasn’t about to take any chances.

  Once the security measures were set, I turned, finding Thriexa standing in the center of the room, staring at nothing in particular. She looked strong, composed, like she always did. But I had seen the way she clutched my hand in the car. I had felt it.

  “It’s over for now,” I said quietly, stepping closer.

  She met my gaze, her violet eyes steady but guarded. “For now. But this was only the beginning.”

  I didn’t argue. I just nodded.

  Because she was right.

  I approach her slowly, my eyes scanning her face as I notice her ragged, uneven breathing. “Thriexa?” I call out softly, but she doesn’t respond.

  Thriexa Aizih POV

  I was frozen in the moment, my body locked in place as my mind unraveled. Other species had hated the Eova before, but across the four planets I had lived on, there had been only one other assassination attempt. That attempt had left one of my closest friends dead—he had been protecting my mother. She had been the true target.

  The memory struck like a wave, blending with the fear I had felt today, suffocating, all-consuming. The way his body had collapsed, the look in my mother’s eyes—loss, helplessness. It was happening again.

  The emotions surged stronger than ever before. This human body made them raw, unfiltered. I couldn’t push them down, couldn’t suppress them the way I had learned to over lifetimes. My mind spiraled further, the weight of everything pressing against me until I felt like I was drowning. A voice was calling me—it was familiar, grounding—but I couldn’t focus on it.

  A touch. Warm, steady. A hand on my shoulder.

  I gasped softly as my body moved before my mind caught up. My fingers clutched at Jace’s shirt, gripping onto him as if he was the only solid thing in a world that was crumbling around me. He didn’t hesitate. His arms wrapped around me, strong and sure, pulling me into the safety of his embrace.

  I buried my face against his chest, listening—his heartbeat, steady and real. His hand moved to my hair, slow, deliberate strokes that soothed the chaos in my mind. The storm inside me began to settle, his presence grounding me in the now.

  “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and sure. “You’re safe.”

  I exhaled shakily, my fingers still curled into the fabric of his shirt. “I thought I had buried it,” I admitted quietly. “But it was still there. The fear, the loss.”

  Jace didn’t pull away, didn’t try to tell me everything was fine. He simply held me tighter. “You don’t have to bury it with me.”

  Something shifted inside me. This connection, this warmth—I had never allowed myself to feel it before. But right now, in his arms, I let myself sink into it.

  Just for a moment, I wasn’t the Aizih. I wasn’t a leader or a survivor.

  I was just Thriexa, and Jace was holding me together.

  I closed my eyes and reached out—not with words, but with my mind. Speaking would have shattered what little control I had left. My thoughts flowed directly to Jace, raw and unfiltered, carrying with them the weight of what I could not say aloud.

  There was another attempt, long ago, I told him. He was my partner during my second planet. Not just a friend, but someone I trusted beyond words. We had survived so much together, adapted to the unknown, always moving forward. But when we landed on our third planet, the hatred followed us, just as it has today.

  Tears burned in my eyes as I pushed the memories into his mind, my control slipping as emotion overwhelmed me. The attack wasn’t meant for him—it was meant for my mother. He stepped in the way without hesitation, and I watched him fall. I watched him bleed out onto unfamiliar soil. And I could do nothing.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Jace’s arms tightened around me. He didn’t speak, but I could feel his mind pressing back against mine, steady and solid, an anchor I hadn’t realized I needed.

  I thought I had moved on, I admitted, my tears finally slipping free. But today brought it all back. The fear. The helplessness. The loss.

  Jace’s arms tightened around me, his warmth anchoring me to the present. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, and I appreciated that. He let me exist in this moment without forcing words that wouldn’t fix anything. Instead, he just held me, his grip steady, unwavering.

  I’m sorry, he finally said, his thoughts brushing against mine like steady waves against a shore. No one should have to carry that.

  I swallowed hard, pressing my face deeper against him, needing the solid presence of another being who wouldn’t vanish into the past. I thought I had let it go. But today, I realized I never did. It’s been buried inside me all this time, waiting to resurface.

  Jace exhaled softly, his hand still stroking my hair, grounding me. Then you don’t have to carry it alone anymore.

  I pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. The way he looked at me—no pity, no discomfort, just quiet understanding—made something in my chest tighten. I had lived lifetimes without allowing myself to lean on someone. But now, I wasn’t sure I wanted to let go.

  And now, in Jace’s arms, I realized something else—this body, this human form, made it worse. The emotions were stronger, impossible to suppress. I wasn’t just remembering the loss—I was feeling it again, more vividly than I ever had before.

  But even as the storm inside me settled, a new frustration rose. The emotions I felt—grief, fear, relief, longing—were all-consuming, raw in a way I had never experienced before. I clenched my jaw, pushing my forehead lightly against Jace’s chest as another deep breath shuddered through me.

  “How do you live with this?” I muttered, my voice muffled against him.

  Jace stilled slightly. “With what?”

  I pulled back just enough to look up at him, irritation flickering beneath the exhaustion in my eyes. “The emotions. They’re so loud. They don’t just come and go—they crash, they linger. They take over. Every time something happens, it’s as if my entire body is thrown into chaos. It wasn’t like this before. On other planets, it was manageable. But here? It’s too much.”

  Jace studied me for a moment, then gave a small, tired chuckle. “Yeah, welcome to being human. It’s like that for everyone. The emotions are loud, messy, and impossible to ignore. But they’re what make us who we are. They make life worth living.”

  I take in his words, letting them settle deep within me, and slowly pull my head back just far enough to look into his eyes. His expression is open, steady—patient. Something tightens in my chest. I had spent so much time pushing away the quiet pull I felt toward him, dismissing it as nothing more than a passing curiosity. But now, here in his arms, I know it is something far deeper.

  I swallow hard, the intensity of human emotions making my chest ache. “I have lived lifetimes, Jace,” I murmur, my voice raw. “I have seen the best and worst of species across the stars. I have known companionship, loyalty, admiration—but this? This feeling? It is different. It is maddening. I can’t escape it. I can’t control it.”

  Jace doesn’t move, doesn’t interrupt. He just listens, letting me speak, his hands still steady on my arms. That only makes it worse, makes me want to fall further into whatever this is, whatever he is.

  I exhale sharply. “You infuriate me. You anchor me. And I don’t know how to handle it.”

  Jace’s lips twitch into a half-smile, his grip on my arms tightening just slightly. “I could say the same about you.”

  The quiet admission sends something electric through me. The space between us vanishes. Slowly, cautiously, I tilt my head upward. Jace mirrors my movement, his hands sliding up to cup my face, his thumbs brushing gently against my skin. It is deliberate, unhurried—as if both of us are waiting, giving the other the chance to stop this before we cross a line neither of us can come back from.

  But neither of us stop.

  I am the one to close the distance, pressing my lips against his, soft and slow, testing. Jace lets out a quiet breath against my mouth, then deepens the kiss, his grip on me tightening.

  I have spent lifetimes training myself to avoid reading the intentions of those closest to me, to respect the boundaries of privacy among my own people. But now, in this moment, my control slips.

  And I feel everything.

  I feel the desire coiling within him, the restraint he is barely holding onto, the way his entire body is humming with the urge to pull me even closer, to ravish me, to claim me in a way that I know would shake me to the core.

  A shudder runs down my spine. I had not been prepared for this. Not for him.

  My fingers curl into his shirt, anchoring myself as I kiss him again, slower this time. Because I am not ready to let go—not yet.

  Jace Strickland POV

  The moment her lips touched mine, the rest of the world faded. The tension, the near-death experience, the fear—it all dissolved into something else, something heavier, something I had been trying to ignore for too long.

  Thriexa kissed with hesitation at first, testing, searching, as if she was uncertain whether she should allow herself to feel this. But when she deepened it, when her fingers curled into my shirt and she pulled me closer, something inside me snapped.

  I had been holding back for weeks—since the moment she had walked into that interrogation room, since she had stared me down with those impossible violet eyes, since I had realized she was more than just an ambassador, more than just an alien standing on foreign ground.

  She was Thriexa. And I wanted her. Badly.

  My grip on her waist tightened as I pressed against her, not enough to trap her, but enough to let her know that if she wanted more, I wasn’t about to stop her. I could feel her breath, hot and uneven, against my lips as she pulled away just slightly, searching my face as if she could read what I wanted from nothing more than the space between us.

  She didn’t need to search. She already knew.

  Her control over her abilities had slipped—I could feel it in the way her body trembled against mine, in the sharp inhale that told me she had sensed what I was holding back.

  My restraint was hanging by a thread.

  I wasn’t just drawn to her. I needed her.

  The realization hit me harder than I expected. This wasn’t a passing attraction. It wasn’t just admiration for who she was or fascination with what she represented. This was deeper. More dangerous.

  And when she kissed me again, I knew I was already past the point of return.

  My hand slid up her back, pressing against the curve of her spine as I tilted her head, deepening the kiss in a way that sent a shiver down her body. She made a quiet sound—somewhere between a sigh and a whimper—and it was enough to make my pulse skyrocket.

  I wanted more. But I needed to be sure she did too.

  Slowly, I pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, my forehead resting against hers. Her eyes were still half-lidded, her lips swollen from the intensity of the moment.

  “Thriexa,” I murmured, my voice low, rough with everything I wasn’t saying.

  She exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening against my chest. “I know,” she whispered. “I feel it too.”

  My heart pounded. She wasn’t just talking about the kiss. She wasn’t just talking about this moment.

  She felt everything.

  And I wasn’t sure either of us were ready for what that meant.