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  Were those claws? She eyed his hands and saw the sharp, deadly tips of claws shoot out from where his knuckles used to be. That sure as hell wasn’t in the file. His back was to her, and the smart thing to do would be to step away. So why did she want to touch him? Why did she want to step closer? Maybe it was just because he was the devil she knew.

  The playboy gave Toran a questioning look. “Are you ready for lunch?” he asked.

  The tension drained out of her alien. Her alien? She mentally shook her head. No, the alien that she knew a little better, that was better. “Yes, we’re done here.”

  That wasn’t exactly true, but Iris needed a break. “I’ll call you if I have more questions.”

  Toran turned fully to face her, and stepped close so the heat between them was hot enough to sizzle. He placed his fingers, claws gone, on her wrist and slid them back so he shook her hand with the motion of a caress. “I look forward to it.” He followed his fellow Detyen out the door, leaving Iris alone in the gym. She had a lot to think about, but she was pretty sure this alien wasn’t a threat. Not to Earth, at least. Maybe to her. One thing was certain, he wanted her, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to resist.

  THE NEXT TWO DAYS STRETCHED longer than the last seven, and with every hour that passed Toran was half convinced that Iris was a dream born of exertion and frustration. When he first began to doubt that she was real, he consulted the information console in their suite and ran a cursory search. There were fifteen women by the name of Iris Mason within a hundred kilometers of him. But when he looked at their pictures it became clear that none of them was his denya. Every time he closed his eyes he felt the overwhelming sensation of that first instant of recognition, and there was no way that he’d imagined it. When he slept, Iris was there beside him in his dreams, and more than once he woke up aching for a release that couldn’t be satisfied without her.

  Iris Mason was a mystery, one that he would solve.

  But he was thankful at the moment that Kayde and Dryce weren’t there to see him. He’d never been one to pace, no matter what Dryce must think. His time on Earth was making him develop all sorts of bad habits. The lock on the door disengaged and Toran froze in place. But when it opened, it wasn’t a Detyen warrior standing in the threshold. No, it was the woman who’d gotten them into this mess in the first place. Sierra Alvarez, Raze’s mate.

  She wasn’t as tall as Iris, but she was paler. Her hair was long and red and held back in a similar fashion to Iris’s. They both had that tough, competent look to them, but other than that they looked nothing alike. Toran peered at her and tried to determine if she looked any different to him now that he had his own denya. Did she repel him? No, but he didn’t need to get any closer.

  Sierra closed the door behind her and engaged the lock before turning back around and crossing her arms. “What?” she asked, her voice a whip of demand.

  Toran stepped back and sank down onto one of the comfortable chairs, keeping his posture friendly. “Nothing.” They hadn’t started on the best of terms. When they first met, Toran had tied Sierra up and thrown a bag over her head before dragging her in front of the rest of his team. At the time, he hadn’t known who she was to Raze. He hadn’t known that Raze could have a mate. She hadn’t held that part against him, but their time on the ship between Detyen HQ and Earth had been all awkward silences and avoidance techniques.

  “You’re staring,” she accused, coming further into the room and taking a seat opposite him. “I thought we were past that.”

  He might’ve stared at her a few times on the ship, trying to determine what Raze saw in her, what made her denya material. He’d had no fucking clue. So Toran just offered her a smile and continued to sit silently.

  Sierra’s eyes widened and she rocked back, tilting the chair with her. “Holy shit, have you been possessed?”

  “Why?” he asked. Human logic could be strange, and their humor stranger, but he was fairly certain she didn’t think he was actually possessed by some demonic spirit. Pretty sure.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile,” she said, cautiously leaning forward and studying him with narrowed eyes.

  “We haven’t known each other for long.” He’d never been one to hold his smiles in reserve, but he wouldn’t show emotions he didn’t feel. It felt like a betrayal of those who’d sacrificed their souls for the cause.

  “Dryce has been all smiles since the day we met,” Sierra informed him. And that reminded Toran of why she was here. Dryce and Raze had gone to lunch together, and Sierra was meant to meet her mate once they got back. It must’ve been that time already.

  “He’s Dryce,” said Toran, as if that explained everything. The young Detyen chased after every experience and lived his life to the edge of his emotions. It must’ve been difficult for the man to see his older brother lose his soul and that relationship.

  Sierra cracked a smile. “Good point,” she conceded.

  They fell into a companionable silence, a first for them, as the minutes ticked by and they waited for Raze and Dryce to get back. While she sat there, Toran realized that Sierra could help him in ways he hadn’t thought. She was a spy, and knew how to extract information that other people didn’t have access to or weren’t supposed to know about. And she was the human mate of a Detyen warrior. She knew what it meant to be bonded, what it meant to come from two disparate cultures and forge a life together.

  “Do you ever wish that your mating was easier?” he asked.

  “Wh-what?” she sputtered, her cheeks as red as her hair.

  He held up a hand to ward off anything she might say. “Not the act, please tell me nothing of that.” He had no desire to know what Raze was like in bed. “I speak of the bond.”

  Sierra studied him for a long moment, the red gradually draining from her face. “That’s kind of personal,” she pointed out.

  “You turned my life completely upside down.” If they’d never met, he would be back at Detyen HQ analyzing the data they’d grabbed from Fenryr 1, and that much closer to finding out who had destroyed Detya. “I think I’m entitled to a few personal questions.”

  “How many?” she asked with crossed arms.

  Why did humans have to be so difficult? He just wanted to have a conversation and she wanted to play a game. But he needed information, so he played along. “Three.” That seemed like a good number.

  She sighed and uncrossed her arms, mirroring his open position on her chair. “Fine, but I might not answer.”

  He would take any information he could get. “So?”

  “It’s been... messy.” It took her a moment to settle on the word, but she continued unprompted. “You heard that I got suspended from the SIA? Yeah, not cool.” Sierra worked for the Sol Intelligence Agency, a counterpart to the Defense Agency currently keeping them under supervision. “But if some genie or something appeared in front of me and offered to make things normal again, I’d tell him to get lost. I wouldn’t give Raze up for anything.” It came out vehement, like she’d been practicing the speech and waiting for the opportunity to give it.

  Toran was glad that Raze had such a dedicated mate. His fellow warrior deserved it. “And what if he has to leave Earth?” The four Detyens could be sent away at any moment if the human government decided that was the best option.

  “You think we don’t talk about the what ifs?” she challenged him.

  Toran shrugged; he didn’t know what mates talked about. His own parents had died when he was young, and he couldn’t remember their conversations.

  She was staring at him again. “You’re curious all of a—holy shit! You’ve met her.” It wasn’t a question; now Sierra was leaning forward, hands on her knees and eyes bright with excitement. “Who is she? Do I know her? Does she know?” The words came out rapid-fire, like she was using her blaster to keep the enemy at bay.

  He hadn’t told anyone about Iris, as if saying it out loud would make her disappear. But if he wanted information he’d have to open up
to someone. And who better than a spy to find out what he needed to know? “Her name is Iris Mason and she somehow works for the SDA. You know how to get information, can you find some for me?”

  Now Sierra was grinning and practically bouncing in her seat. “You want me to spy on your girlfriend?”

  Toran couldn’t see what was funny about this situation. “My mate,” he corrected, “but yes.” It might have been a little underhanded, but he needed to see her again, to find out more about her.

  Sierra tipped her head back and laughed before settling down with a deep breath. She let out a whoosh of air as she calmed. “It’s not like they can double suspend me.” They both looked over as the door opened and Raze entered, Dryce nowhere to be seen. Sierra continued talking, as she held out her hand to her mate and beckoned him closer. “Give me a few hours and I’ll send you what I find.”

  Raze looked between the two of them, clearly confused by their newfound camaraderie. “What’s this about?” he asked with a laugh. “She’s my denya, find your own.” Toran was still getting used to the easy emotion and open love that Raze displayed. It made him joyous to see it, but until two days ago, it also made him a little sad. And now he was envious, and he’d continue to be so until he could find his mate once more and claim her.

  That sent Sierra into another fit of laughter and she tugged on Raze’s arm until he bent down and swiped his lips against hers. When he pulled back, she was still grinning. “He did! Come on, I’ll tell you on the way home.”

  Raze shot him a questioning look, but followed his mate silently out the door, correctly assuming that she would give him more information than Toran would. Things were about to get a whole lot more complicated, but Toran had hope that by the end of the day he’d be on his way to finding Iris Mason.

  Chapter Four

  WHEN IRIS FINALLY CRAWLED out of her bed on the third morning of her investigation, she could barely crack her eyes open as she stumbled her way into the kitchen and engaged the coffee pot in the food processor. Sunlight streamed in through one of the windows as if to remind her that the morning was bright, and that she should be happy about it. But, at best, she was running on four hours of sleep and she could barely string two thoughts together. The sun could explode for all she cared. As long as she could down two liters of coffee in the next quarter hour, she might start to feel human again.

  She’d always had this problem, case-related insomnia. Her mind got hooked on the question that she had to ask, that she needed answered, and it refused to release her even when she was barely coherent with sleepiness.

  Who are you, Toran NaLosen?

  She should’ve been studying the data, collating and collecting information and making it all nice and orderly for her report to Selma. She’d been studying alright, studying the curve of Toran’s muscles on every picture she could find of him, four in total. She’d been imagining what he would feel like looming over her, pressing her into her soft mattress. She’d been hoping that Detyens were just a sexual as humans. And she’d been waking from those precious minutes of sleep desperate to feel something, to feel him, between her thighs. Her fingers just weren’t doing it. Sure, she got off, but it wasn’t enough.

  The processor beeped and Iris’s first cup of coffee was ready. She lifted the mug to her lips and winced as the bitter concoction scalded her tongue. It didn’t matter, she was practically dead on her feet and needed caffeine more than she needed taste buds.

  Her brain was stuck on Toran. Even when she was supposed to be studying him and his crew, all she could focus on was the golden alien who looked at her like she was good enough to eat. The golden alien with the color shifting eyes and the predatory spots. None of that belonged in her report, and if even a hint of it leaked, Selma would send her packing before she could concoct an excuse. Iris should have been more concerned about that, but she blamed her apathy on the coffee, not the horniness. Because she definitely wasn’t stupid enough to risk her career to get laid.

  She was a tight ball of frustration. In three days she hadn’t uncovered anything that the SDA didn’t already suspect. Maybe that was a good thing. After all, if there was nothing shady about Toran, then it meant that he and his men could be sent on their way safely. It meant that Earth wasn’t facing a significant threat.

  It meant she wasn’t wrong to lust after him.

  She’d almost given him a call yesterday, almost made up more questions to ask him. She could invite him over to her place, conduct the interview in private and answer the questions she was too afraid to ask. But she wasn’t about to invite him to a private location with easy access to a bed. Her self-control only went so far.

  Was this some weird mix of his alien sex pheromones—the ones that she was certain existed even if she couldn’t confirm it—and the fact that she hadn’t had sex in more than six months? If she went out to some seedy bar and picked up a random stranger to scratch her itch, would some of this crazy obsession dissolve?

  Her entire body shuddered at the thought. Someone other than Toran put his hands on her? No, it made her sick just to think about it. Could pheromones do that? Besides, even if she could stand the thought, it was way too early for a hookup.

  She glanced at her communicator and tried really hard not to think about the fact that she could be connected to Toran with the click of a few buttons. As if the device could read her mind, the alert engaged and notified her that she had an incoming call. She checked the ID and tried not to be disappointed when it wasn’t the alien who dominated her every last thought.

  She engaged the call, and a young police detective that she’d been working with on another matter appeared as a hologram above the device. “Miss Mason,” Detective Charles said. She might’ve been younger than Iris, but her dark eyes were hard and evidenced that she had seen some shit. “We have news on the theft case.”

  “Which one?” Six months ago, she’d filed report after report after coming home to a nearly bare apartment.

  Charles appeared to shuffle through a stack of files. “This is about your vehicle.”

  “What’s the news?” The car hadn’t been flashy or expensive, but it had been hers. The first one she’d ever been able to buy for herself. Sure, insurance had seen it replaced relatively quickly, but nothing could ever beat her first.

  Charles didn’t know that and she didn’t care. She spoke matter-of-factly, her emotions disengaged from the case. That made her a good cop, but that didn’t mean Iris was happy about it. “It was found in a small town in Oklahoma. Unfortunately, by the time authorities were able to get there, it had been destroyed.”

  That should have hurt. Her first big purchase destroyed by her first love, but she had time to get over it and now all she felt was a hollow sense of closure. “Of course it was. Is there any evidence that might implicate Dan?” His name curdled on her tongue and she wanted to spit it out. Instead she took another sip of coffee, a bitter brew to wash down bitter times.

  “No, not at this time. He’s still in the wind.” At least Charles didn’t seem happy about that. That was something. “What would you like us to do with the car?”

  Iris sighed, her brain still struggling to catch up to everything that was going on this morning. “I’ll contact my insurance. Thanks for the update.” They disengaged the call and Iris made a note about it in her planner. She slumped down on the single chair at her rickety kitchen table and glanced over at the wall opposite where her media station used to be. She’d managed to replace it with a used model, but the old one had been top of the line. The apartment used to be nice, used to be a home. Now she could see the faint outline where artwork and family pictures used to hang. An old dog toy sat on the edge of the counter, one end of the bone chewed clear through with excited teeth marks from a young puppy. He even took the damn dog. Cheater, thief, dog stealer. She really knew how to pick them.

  If Dan had ever been good for his half of the rent, she might’ve had to move. Maybe that had been a warning sign, but now she wa
s glad that she could afford this place by herself. He hadn’t stolen that one last thing from her. And she probably had to send Detective Charles a thank you note. Thoughts of taking Toran to bed were washed away by the jagged memories of just how wrong a relationship could go.

  Residual lust had nothing on the memory of what it felt like to have her heart ripped out and stomped on by a guy who couldn’t even be bothered to leave a farewell note. Then again, if he had left a note, she would have had enough evidence to see him rotting in jail.

  Iris drank down the last dregs of her coffee and winced at its harshness. But she needed harsh right now, needed to keep reminding herself that there were no happy endings, and that it wasn’t worth it to risk anything for a guy. Especially not a shady one, especially not one who was suspected of being a threat to Earth. No one had suspected Dan of shit like that, and look at what he’d done. Toran might want to destroy the planet. And given her track record, he probably did. If the last guy she’d wanted was bad news, why should she think this one was any different?

  She had to get control of her libido, learn how to ignore the alien sex pheromones. She’d put in a request to see the Detyen file that the Sol Intelligence Agency kept. They had much more information than the SDA, and could probably confirm that pheromone thing. But one thing was certain—she had to get this job done and judge Toran as a potential hostile, not a potential lover. She couldn’t sacrifice her future, or even risk it, for a man who might be a threat to the planet. Because even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be here for long, and she didn’t think she could deal with another heartbreak.

  SIERRA HAD BEEN AS good as her word. In a matter of hours. she got ahold of Iris’s communication code, her address, and a basic work history. Interestingly enough, that work history hadn’t been updated in five years, and according to it she had nothing to do with the Sol Defense Agency. But before Toran could begin to untangle that knot, he was forced back to his original mission. Find out more about Yormas of Wreet.