She dances with fire like she was born to survive it. Now I’m the reason she burns.
I wasn’t supposed to want her. She’s human. Hunted. Fragile in a way that makes me feel like a monster every time I look at her. But I don’t stop looking. I can’t.
They marked her for erasure. So I marked myself as her shield. I’ve killed for less. Bled for ghosts.
But the second I see her slip between shadows with a fireline whip in her hand and sorrow carved into her spine— I know I’ll tear galaxies in half to keep her breathing.
This isn’t about lust. This is about claiming what fate tried to swallow. She’s not safe with me. But she’s safest because of me. I will not lose her. Not to the Coalition. Not to war. Not to fear.
And if the stars have a problem with that?
I’ll burn them too.
Read on for war-forged protectors, outlaw fire dancers, forged identities, and a red-skinned alien who builds her a future one blade, one blanket, one morning at a time. HEA Guaranteed! Read less
