Her palpitations ratcheted.
His grip tightened as if sensing her desire to flee.
She had no choice but to move alongside him.
A pair of armed sentinels led them to the back of the pergola.
Whispers followed them, eyes lit with curiosity.
She imagined them murmuring to themselves about how eager they were for time alone, to quench their passion for each other, for a few snatched moments together.
Not that she cared what they thought.
Other than Aveline, none of them were concerned for her.
The guards ushered them down a path that wound towards a grand cabin set within a stand of trees and bushes.
The air grew colder, and the sounds of laughter and music faded into a distant buzz.
Mak’s silver cloak billowed around him while her veil trailed them, catching the breeze as they swept forward like two sails in the night.
They arrived at a secluded lodge, which Mak unlocked and then stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter.
Mak’s strongmen took their place outside the door, which closed after them.
Saba entered and was at once enveloped by warmth and quiet grandeur.
The living room was spacious and expansive, crafted from dark timber beams and smooth slate floors, with textures that were rich yet understated.
Plush furniture invited relaxation, soft leather sofas in deep earth tones, scattered with woolen throws and silk cushions that caught the lunar light filtering through the towering glass portals.
Those doors, framed in black steel, slid to reveal the terrace beyond, where the lake stretched silver and still beneath the night sky.
Moonlight rippled over its surface in molten ribbons, the sporadic breeze sending whispers through the pines along the shore.
Saba was still in awe that this place existed within the heart of a dreadnought ship, and she sighed at the sight, a reality suspended between worlds and galaxies.
A fireplace crackled in one corner, its flames casting amber shadows across the stone hearth and polished wood surfaces.
Bookshelves lined one wall, their contents a mix of tactical manuals, ancient texts, and the occasional relic that spoke of Mak’s storied past.
It was a space of calculated refuge, both opulent and practical, much like its owner. Everything in it expressed style, control, strength, and the rarest kind of wealth on the flotilla, the ability to find uninterrupted peace.
Mak gestured for Saba to sit on a velvet couch.
His expression was unreadable as he shrugged off his ceremonial cape.
He laid it down, and her eyes widened as he eased his tunic open to his waist, revealing his torso.
Her eyebrows rose further when he rolled his sleeves, displaying his sinewed, corded forearms.
Was he planning on getting down and dirty?she thought as he settled opposite her, perching his lean hip on the edge of an armchair, folding his arms over his broad chest, his legs crossed at the ankles.
Or preparing to punish her?
His leonine eyes locked on her, and he jerked his chin at her as if in a challenge.
Damn.Even though he scared the shit out of her, the man was freakin’ handsome.
