“You have a death wish?” he growled.
She sucked in a breath. “No.”
“I warned you the last time I caught you out here. If a raptor gets close enough, they’ll snatch you quicker than you can blink. Or if some canid jumps on you, it’ll tear that soft skin of yours to shreds.”
She stared into his dark eyes and her brain went blank. Reflected in the darkness of his gaze, she saw that he was a man who’d seen way too much in his life.
And not just the death, blood, and destruction of the Gizzida invasion, but in his life before that.
She’d heard the whispers. That Dom had once worked for the Mafia in Italy.
“Come on.” He grabbed her arm.
As soon as he touched her, electricity snapped between them. She gasped and he cursed. His fingers flexed around her bicep. He was wearing gloves and, for a second, she wished he wasn’t.
Then he tugged her toward the closest entrance back into the base. As she moved, her sketchbook fell from her hand. Darn, she’d forgotten about it. It landed on the grass, opening on the page she’d been working on, with her sunset picture.
Dom went down on one knee and picked up the book. He studied it. “This is good.”
“Thank you.” She rarely showed anyone her work. She’d drawn as a child before she’d given it up for “real” work. It was only recently that she’d started doodling and taking some art classes. She reached for the book, but he held it away from her.
Her heart started pounding. “Don’t—”
He flipped the page.
Oh, God. She felt heat wash over her skin. The next page showed a sketch of him.
His face was in profile, the hard lines of it etched on the page. He stared at it for a moment before he turned the page again.
Another one of him. In this one, he was in his armor, his hands on his lean hips. She’d done it from memory, from one of the numerous times that she’d seen them in the Hawk quadcopter hangar, getting prepped for a mission.
Arden licked her lips and wondered if the ground could just open up and swallow her whole. When she looked up, that dark gaze was resting on her face.
She waited for him to say something. To do something.
Sensations danced in her belly. She realized she wanted him to do something. She swallowed, and wondered how she could feel so desperate, excited, and afraid all at the same time.
Then Dom snapped the sketchbook closed and handed it back to her. “You have talent.”
He reached for her arm again and pulled her toward the hidden Enclave entrance.
Blinking, Arden stumbled. Thankfully, he steadied her.
That was it? He’d seen that she’d been sort-of stalking him, drawing pictures of him, and he had nothing to say about it?
He paused beside a group of trees, and touched a hidden keypad. The secret entrance to the base opened in the ground below.
He nodded his head. “Get inside.”
She walked down the steps and into the base. Of course, that was it. Dom was part of Squad Three—the wild, bad-boy soldiers known as the berserkers. Several of them had recently fallen in love and found partners, but there were plenty of stories about the berserkers. They could have their pick of any willing, gorgeous female in the Enclave. Arden had overheard plenty of sigh-filled stories of wild, sexy nights.
Why would anyone want an almost-forty-year-old, uninteresting woman like her?
“Arden?”
She looked up at him. He stood above her, the night casting him in shadows. If it was possible, he looked even more dark and dangerous than usual.
“I warned you once, and this makes twice. I catch you out here again, there will be consequences.” His deep, liquid voice rolled over her.
Then, a second later, the door closed between them.
Arden blew out a breath.
She stood there, staring at the heavy-metal door. What was wrong with her? She pressed her hand to her flushed face. This was crazy.
Because she suddenly realized that she wanted consequences.
She was finally shaking off the worst of her grief, only to find herself hopelessly attracted to a dark, deadly man. And she had no idea what to do about it.
Finished with patrol, Dom headed down the Enclave corridor, his carbine over his shoulder. He was due to meet his squad in the Command Center.
He turned into another corridor and heard the noise from the dining room ahead. It was dinner time, so the place was packed. Survivors were in there, eating their meals, talking, connecting.
As he moved past the doors, without realizing, he scanned the crowd, searching for one slender figure with porcelain skin, light-brown hair, and eyes of such a pretty blue they looked violet.
Sei un idiota. He swung his head to look straight ahead and kept walking.
Arden Erica Carlisle was not for him.
She was beauty, grace, kindness. He ground his teeth together. He wouldn’t sully her with his darkness.
He approached the Command Center, the glass doors whispering open. Staff members were busy at the tiers of computers. A large screen dominated the main wall. As he stepped inside, he spotted his squad. They were a rough bunch. Most of the squads were made up of soldiers and former law enforcement.
Squad Three, however, was made up of former mercenaries, bikers, and criminals. A smile tugged at his lips. They were the wildest squad in the base, but they knew how to fight.
As he approached, the guys lifted their hands and called out hellos. At the front of the room stood Niko Ivanov, the civilian leader of the Enclave, and General Adam Holmes, the man in charge of the military and security side of things. The general nodded at him.
Dom felt a weird throb under his ribs. It happened all the time. He was welcome here. He’d never truly belonged anywhere before, and had either been ignored or eyed warily. But at the Enclave, his squad mates were now his friends, and he was respected by the
