Born of Defiance

“Then Rit it is. However, it’s not quite walking distance.” He led her into a transport locker.

Which she was fine with until he stopped beside a sleek, expensive airbike. That must have been what he was riding when she last spoke to him. “You’re kidding, right?”

He glanced about with an adorable baffled expression. “I don’t think so.” Then his look turned playful. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

Felicia swallowed hard. “I have never ridden one of those before, and I’ve been quite happy and healthy that way. Maybe we should go someplace we can walk to?”

Now that was the most charming smile any male had ever given a female in the entire history of Andaria. No doubt that had gotten him out of many punishments with his mother. “C’mon. Try it. You know you want to. I won’t let you get hurt, I promise. If I go too fast or you get scared even a little bit, squeeze my stomach and I’ll slow down instantly.”

Biting her lip, she debated the sanity of this.

“I’m a fighter pilot, Felicia. Almost three years now. Thousands of hours logged. Countless dogfights with the Tavali and Gourans.”

“How many times have you crashed?”

“Never.”

That made her feel better. “Okay, but remember, you have to pay for all medical treatments that result from any injury I sustain as a direct result of your actions.”

Laughing, he shrugged his flight jacket off and wrapped it around her.

She staggered from the weight of the “light” armor. Not to mention, it swallowed her completely, and gave her a whole new appreciation for how strong he had to be to move so effortlessly in it. Grinning like a child who’d won a game, he pulled two helmets out of the seat and handed her one before he put his on.

Still not sure she should do this, she watched as he slung one incredibly long leg over the bike and pressed his hand to the bio sensor to start the engine.

With a deep breath for courage, she straddled the bike and took her seat. The way it was cut, it intimately pressed her body against his, and her legs were tucked beneath his buttocks. Wicked, warm fantasies tormented her at their close proximity and the wall of hard muscle that made up his luscious body.

Yeah, okay, this was nice. Smiling in pleasure, she slid her arms around his lean waist and sucked her breath in sharply at how solid he was. How good it felt to hold him.

He looked at her over his shoulder. “I’m about to lift us. Remember, if you get scared at all, just tighten your arms or tell me and I’ll slow down to a crawl.”

“Okay. I’m ready.”

He gently rubbed her hands with his before he leaned forward and hit the lifters.

Her stomach sank at the sensation, but his skill was superb as he navigated them from the locker, into traffic.

“You all right back there?”

“I am. It is kind of fun, isn’t it?”

He turned right. “Absolutely. I’ll make a pilot of you yet.”

She wasn’t so sure about that. Unlike him, she didn’t thrive on danger.

Boring… that was her sweet spot. And she rather liked it that way.

A few minutes later, he landed in a parking space outside a small café and helped her dismount. While his features held their usual stern expression, there was a childlike gleam in his eyes that made him even more adorable.

“You like to live on the edge, don’t you?”

He secured their helmets and the airbike. “Extreme sports appeal to me.”

And that made her nervous again. Did that include bedroom activities, too? He was so strong and massive, he could easily snap her bones without any effort. One hit from him, and she’d be dead…

Violent and merciless, the Iron Hammer dominates the Ring like no other fighter in history. He’s the one fighter the others unanimously fear facing. We have it on good authority that several have even gone into seizures after their managers told them they’d been contracted to fight him.

He paused as he looked at her. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Talyn hesitated. In spite of her response, she was obviously upset. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No. It’s all good.”

But it wasn’t. And that made him ache deep inside. Was it his birth standing?

That made sense. It was the most common thing held against him by the world. And it was why he refused to give interviews. First question was invariably about lineage, then next how his parents felt about his fighting record. Whenever he answered that he had no father, it made them gasp and step back like he was a disease carrier. The second evoked pity, and he hated that most of all.

So he’d learned to keep himself isolated and avoid or deflect awkward questions like a crotch plague. He’d hoped a companion wouldn’t make him have to tiptoe through land mines and guard every word he spoke.