Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 80431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“I know you don’t remember me.” He caressed Zorion’s pulse until it began to slow. “And I don’t remember you, Sawyer. But I don’t need to remember to know that Zorion matters to me.”
Balancing effortlessly on the branches, Valor pulled Zorion toward him until his head rested on his chest.
He rested his cheek against soft white-blond hair. Beneath the scent of wildness lay a faint fragrance of earthy sweetness.
This felt familiar.
With the environment embracing them, resting in nature’s vigil…they slept.
Chief Styles Sawyer
Zorion
The next morning, Zorion sat at the dining room table beneath the rays of sun filtering through the bay window.
He placed a forkful of smoked salmon into his mouth and chewed slowly, but his mind was far from the taste of his breakfast.
Confusing emotions continued to stir inside him.
Valor.
Zorion continued to replay what had happened last night over and over again—calloused fingers brushing over his skin and warm breath behind his ear, whispering promises of care and protection.
He closed his eyes, recalling how the man’s heat—his body’s comfort was indescribable—cocooned him the entire night.
Valor was gorgeous, with olive-toned skin and light brown stubble the same shade as his shaggy hair.
But Zorion’s favorite was Valor’s scent, which was the perfect blend of summer rain, cedar, and dominance.
He thought maybe his mind was playing tricks on him because he didn’t know why he was also smelling the deliciousness of sweet berries.
And those damn eyes!
Sensations thrummed under his skin like a heartbeat, over and over. The longer Valor had held him, the more right it had felt. After he’d returned to his quarters, longing crept into Zorion’s spirit.
It wasn’t rational for him to miss Valor already.
A sharp knock on the door disrupted his thoughts.
“Zorion! Is everything okay? What happened to your door?” Ren’s voice carried through the door, which hung on its hinges after Valor’s dynamic entrance.
Zorion shoved his half-eaten breakfast aside with an annoyed grunt.
He tugged the evergreen hood over his head until the edge of the fabric brushed his eyelashes.
“The scanner was giving me problems and I got frustrated,” he answered before brushing past Ren, not bothering with his additional questions.
The automatic doors to the training facility hissed open and he was instantly aware that Valor was near, the ache and longing in him sharpening with anticipation.
The room was beyond huge. It had high beams, rafters and perches, structures of every kind built for climbing. The area was designed like a maze, like the perfect hunting ground.
Zorion glanced up at the observation booth and scowled at the director who stared back with cold gratification.
The scientists stood behind him, their expressions tight and brows drawn down.
Zorion wanted to race up there and destroy them all, but his senses were focused elsewhere.
A man approached, his expression indifferent and his strut overconfident. His camouflage fatigues, combat boots, and tight black T-shirt fit the challenging energy radiating from him.
He stopped just shy of Zorion’s personal space.
“I’m Cipher,” he said and extended his hand.
Zorion stared as if it had shit on it. The man smirked and dropped it back to his side.
“We’re running simulations today. No weapons, just your natural instincts. I only want you to react.”
I don’t give a fuck what you want.
Valor’s voice echoed in his mind.
Be complacent, agreeable, obedient.
Zorion exhaled and gave a curt nod.
Once Cipher and his men disappeared into another booth, the light dimmed.
A digital forest materialized around him. Predators stirred in the underbrush, and before he knew it, he was being hunted.
Zorion’s heartbeat slowed. He vaulted onto a high beam and sat still.
Every jump and dodge felt instinctive. His reflexes were sharper than swords. He glided from rafter to beam, back to rafter with shocking smoothness. His body reacted to threats before his mind did.
Traps were hurled and nets launched. Zorion evaded them all. The high beams were his domain.
The simulation seemed to adapt to his strategy as flames erupted, licking up the sides of the walls—it was a simulation, but the room heated to an unbreathable temperature—and the beams collapsed.
Still, his senses never faltered. His steps as he ran were soundless.
Zorion was moving on autopilot, and he was glad. Otherwise, he’d be freaked out by his new skills.
Without warning, the environment morphed from wilderness to an abandoned urban landscape—gutted buildings with broken windows, narrow dark alleys, and decaying vacant structures.
Drones buzzed overhead and laser tripwires crisscrossed the floor. Danger surrounded him as Zorion balanced steadily on top of a jutting ledge with steady breaths.
He leaped down to avoid a drone, using a crumbling wall as his cover. The mechanical device circled his hiding space, and Zorion heard it a second before it found him.
He twisted in midair, skimming the laser, and hoisted himself up onto a beam disguised as a rooftop. If he’d had a bat, it would’ve been easy to simply knock the damn thing out of the sky.