Alejandro jumped from his bike and onto her, rolling her to the ground and beneath the ample protection of his big body. From beneath him, she raised her head to see what was happening.

An unknown man dressed in an ABI guard’s uniform—because surely he couldn’t actually be ABI—had shot in the direction of Christopher Sante, hitting both guards to either side of him.

Daria lay stunned and staring, watching the shooter shift his aim a little. Realization bloomed like a poisonous plant within her mind. Sante wasn’t his target.

It was Ari.

She pushed up from under Alejandro, understanding the guard meant to kill Ari, yet knowing she was too late to stop him.

Just as the man squeezed off another shot, Sante moved with the lightning fast reflexes of an older Chosen. He looped his bound hands around Ari’s neck and pivoted her. From Daria’s vantage, it looked like a dance move, an embrace. He hugged her, turned her, showed the assassin his back.

And took the shot meant for her.

Alejandro launched himself from Daria in the same moment Sante crumpled to the ground, the nerves of the older Chosen undoubtedly fried from the direct pulse blast. Daria would bet anything the setting had been on synap-cease.

With a loud growl, Alejandro tackled the fake guard. They struggled for possession of the weapon as Daria scrambled toward the fighting pair, looking for a way to help Alejandro. They were locked together on the ground, the weapon between them.

Another pulse shot rang out. Both men went still.

Alejandro wasn’t wearing protective gear.

“No!” Daria’s heart stopped beating. Oh, please, god.

In that one moment her entire life crashed and burned. Something hard twisted in her stomach. She couldn’t lose Alejandro.

“No,” she whispered, and then crawled to the two entangled men, oblivious to the commotion around her. In the background she could hear Ari wailing, Lucia shouting commands.

Her fingers closed around Alejandro’s arm and she pulled with all her strength to roll his massive weight to the side, off the assassin. Alejandro’s arms came around her as soon as she touched him, enveloping her. Together they both rolled away from the motionless killer.

Daria let out a sob of profound relief as Alejandro cradled her against him on the ground. “I’m okay,” he whispered over and over. “Daria, I’m okay.”

She closed her eyes and blacked everything out for a moment, reveling in the thump of his healthy heart, the heat of his body, and the comforting scent of him. She smiled. The world would be so much worse without Alejandro Martinez in it. Her world would be so much worse.

“Daria,” called Lucia. “Alejandro!”

They untangled themselves and stood. The killer lay sprawled on the ground, a pulse-fire wound singeing his chest. He’d been a human male with no shot at survival at point-blank range and with the weapon’s setting on synap-cease.

Daria forced herself to spring back into agent mode, rushing to where Sante lay on the ground and Ari knelt beside him, sobbing and rocking his body back and forth, her hands fisting in his shirt.

Sante was clearly fried. Immortality and a lack of aging could not protect even the Chosen from synap-cease. He lay sprawled where he’d fallen, his eyes dark with death.

A lump formed in Daria’s throat, borne from so many emotions she couldn’t separate them. They formed a big ball in her gut. Christopher Sante, the man she’d sworn as her enemy, was dead . . . and he’d died protecting someone. In the millions of ways she’d imagined that going down, this was not one of them.

She knelt and took Ari against her chest. This time, the woman did not push her away. She sobbed louder, turning into her and wetting Daria’s shirt with her tears.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Ari gasped.

“I’m sorry,” Daria whispered. “I wish this could have happened differently for you.” She paused. “Your father, Sante, all of it. You deserve better.”

The killer had to have been sent by her father. Richard Templeton had paid that agent to shoot Ari, or he’d planted an assassin to pose as an agent.

However, Daria guessed that when they tried to connect the dots, they wouldn’t lead back to Templeton. He’d probably lie and say it was someone with a vendetta against him, trying to kill his daughter to hurt him. Daria would make a guess he’d chosen the killer carefully. Perhaps he had family that was Chosen, or something in his past that would make it look like he’d had a reason to hate Richard Templeton and his daughter.

Or maybe Templeton had been so desperate to have Ari killed . . . silenced? . . . that he’d panicked and thrown caution to the wind.

“Why would he want you killed so badly that he would take this risk, Ari?” Daria asked. “What other reason would your father have to want you dead, other than your allowing yourself to be Chosen? Do you have information about him that he doesn’t want made public?”

She turned red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes toward Daria. “I know things,” she whispered. “Things he’s done.” Her expression hardened. “You’ll know them, too . . . now.”

“We’ll get your father, Ari. There’s nowhere in the Nabovsky Galaxy he can hide from the ABI. We already have enough to arrest him and put him away for a long time. He won’t be able to hurt you anymore.”

“Hurt me? I can’t be hurt any more than I already am.”

“I am so sorry,” Daria said again. It seemed so inadequate.

Ari wiped away a tear. “I enjoyed it while it lasted.”

The same words she’d uttered during the asteroid shower.

Ari pushed away from her. She stared down at Sante’s body for a moment before turning and narrowing her eyes at Daria. “I blame you. I blame you for all of this. If it wasn’t for you, Christopher would still be alive. You pretended to be my friend and then you killed my lover.”

How familiar that sounded. Sante had pretended to be her lover . . . and then killed her friend.

Ari pushed up, her face red and tear stained. Lucia took that moment to lead Ari away from Sante’s body and to the female agent who had been assigned to her.

Daria stared after her, feeling like shit, feeling her similarities with Sante even more acutely.

“No.” The word came from behind her, low and powerful. “Don’t do that, Daria.”

She allowed her gaze to drop to Sante’s body for a moment before fixing it on Alejandro’s face. He held out his hand and she took it, letting him help her to her feet.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said wearily.

They turned and did just that. Daria could feel Ari’s gaze on her as they mounted their bikes and headed out. She couldn’t draw a breath until they were far from the site . . . from Ari’s sight.

The dome was eerily silent, and ABI and GBC guards swarmed everywhere. Daria knew that by now all of Sante’s inner circle would have been apprehended and brought in for questioning. It was safe for her and Alejandro to stay until the next morning since the only people who had known their true identity had been Sante and Ari. Though Daria had every intention of finding Jia Ying in the morning and telling her the truth before she said good-bye. Daria felt she owed Jia Ying that much, since they’d developed a friendship during her stay.

The news, of course, would have spread across the dome like a highly effective virus. Carmin, blood slaves, Christopher Sante arrested. Daria was certain all were worried about the fate of the commune. She thought again of Jia Ying, who had nowhere else to go. Lucia may have told Daria to take a vacation, and she would, but she wouldn’t take her finger off the pulse of that issue until it was settled.

They parked their bikes outside their apartment. Alejandro stopped and stared up at the blue sky of the dome, where clouds scudded lazily by. She came to a halt beside him and also looked up.

“I’ll miss it,” he said.

She hadn’t had as much time away from sunlight as Alejandro had, but she closed her eyes and soaked it in for a moment, trying to store it up like a battery. “I’ll miss it too. There are sunlight-for-pay domes in New Chicago, though.”

“Yeah, but nothing as realistic as this. Nothing with blue sky and clouds.”

They stood for another few moments and then turned and walked into the building. Daria looked forward to the comfort of her bed for one last night, well . . . day, as it were.

But even though she was beyond exhausted, she needed something more than sleep.

After thinking Alejandro had been killed by pulse fire, she needed to touch him, hold him, and kiss him. She needed to be one with him and reassure herself of their continued vitality.

Alejandro clearly felt the same way.

Once they’d cleared the threshold and closed the door behind them, they came together, all lips, tongue, and caressing hands. She ran her fingers over every inch of his body she could, assuring herself he was warm and alive and really here.

They kissed each other like they’d never kiss again, each pulling off clothes in a frenzy to feel skin on skin.

Somehow they made it to the bed, leaving a trail of fabric behind them. “You scared me,” she told him between kisses. “When you tackled that agent and the pulse gun went off—”

“I’m okay. I’m here and I’m yours.”

For some stupid reason the words made tears well in her eyes. He pressed her down onto the bed, his lips finding all the sensitive places on her neck, nipping and licking, until her cunt warmed and she let out a low moan.

“I want to show you how I feel, Daria,” he whispered against her skin. “I love you.” When she didn’t answer, he cupped her chin and forced her gaze to his. His thumb traced a gentle crescent on her cheek. “I love you,” he repeated.

She stared into his eyes, her response caught in a tangle of emotion somewhere between her heart and her throat. Love. She loved him back, she just couldn’t get the words out. It had been so long, and he’d taken her by surprise.

God, she’d only just realized her feelings for him went that deep. “Alejandro—”

He made a frustrated noise. “I’ll take what I can get from you.” Then he sealed his mouth over hers again, swallowing any other sounds she might have made. Soon thereafter, she couldn’t make any sounds at all beyond sighs, moans, and his name whispered and murmured.

His knee worked between her thighs, forcing them open so he could press his cock into her slick cunt. He slid inch by slow inch within her, making her teeth sink into her bottom lip and her muscles stretch until she moaned from the pleasure.

Alejandro placed his hands on either side of her head and forced her face to his. He held her gaze as he took her slowly, and then even slower.

The pleasure built swiftly and remained. On and on it went until he’d sent her into a long orgasm that stole both her breath and her thought. He stared into her eyes as he made her come, the intimacy of it bringing tears to her eyes. A moment after she’d climaxed he did, too, spilling himself inside her just as her name spilled from his lips.

After they’d drunk their fill of each other, they lay in a satisfied tangle on the bed. Exhaustion coupled with the events of the last twenty-four hours nearly overwhelmed her mind and body, but still Daria couldn’t sleep.

Beside her, Alejandro lay with his eyes closed. She propped herself on an elbow and rested in the midafternoon sunlight pooling on the bed. It kissed the planes and hollows of his bare body, caressed his dark skin.

Even now, after they’d made love, she wanted more of him. She craved his touch, his warm breath along her skin. She needed the feel of his lips moving on hers and the sensation of their bodies melding together. She already missed his companionship and the sound of his voice, his easy way of being and his calmness . . . up until someone he cared for was threatened.

With a light touch, she traced the bulge of his bicep, his skin warm under the pad of her finger. His chest rose and fell as his relaxation deepened into sleep. Alejandro Martinez was a remarkable man. One of the best ones she’d ever had the privilege to know.

Like Ari had said, it was frightening to take your love and put it all into someone else, let them walk around with it like they held a fragile, expensive piece of china . . . and hope they didn’t trip and drop it.

She’d done that with Alejandro.

He carried her love now—a delicate bowl brimming full of it. There was nothing she could do about it, no armor she could don to protect herself. The deed was done. The bargain struck. It had all been accomplished without her knowledge, without her consent or even her will.

Love was like that. Love was careless that way. It just wanted what it wanted and didn’t think about what was best for it. She’d tried her best not to allow it to happen because she’d known from the start that Alejandro had been a threat.

Maybe she’d been doomed from the beginning; she didn’t know. All she knew was now that she’d found him and realized how much he meant to her, she wasn’t letting him go again.

“I love you back,” she murmured, staring down at him.

His eyelids moved, but he didn’t awaken. She brushed her finger over his cheek, then bent her head and kissed where she’d touched.

She almost woke him to make sure he heard her, but he was just as exhausted as she was and they had a long trip to make when dusk beyond the dome finally fell. When they woke up, she’d tell him again. Tell him that she didn’t want what this was between them to end.

She snuggled down next to him, one arm thrown over his broad chest, closed her eyes, and fell asleep with a smile on her lips.

This probably wouldn’t be the last time they saw each other. They both lived in the same city, both worked for law enforcement authorities. Hell, now that Daria was Chosen there was a chance the GBC might recruit her from the ABI. Their paths would cross again.

But it would be the last time like this.

The last time they awoke from sleeping together after they’d made love, limbs entangled, drowsy, warm, and sated by one another.

He savored it for a moment longer, then slipped from beneath her body and looked down at her. Alejandro pushed her hair away from her face, regret for the circumstances filling his chest with a curious tightness.

He’d keep a piece of her with him always, though. A piece of pain, really. Alejandro would have to live with it for a long time, until he learned to deal with her loss.

He rose, took a shower, and packed a bag. He did it all quietly. Daria still slept while he zipped up his duffle and set it near the door. He returned to her side and ran his fingers through her short hair, compelled to wake her to say good-bye.

But it would be easier this way.

“Have a good life,” he murmured. “I wish you happiness.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. She stirred under the press of his lips, but didn’t awaken.

Something hard twisting in his chest, he rose and left the room.