The ship’s power is failing, and the one man she can’t stand refuses to let her out of his sight.

Ysa

I am Ysa, chief engineer of the Varakartoom, and I absolutely do not have a crush on Thatcher. He’s rude, overbearing, and stalks me through the corridors like I’m about to trip over my own boots. So why does my heart race when he growls my name?

We’re hunting rogue gladiators on a killing spree, aided we’ve enlisted a group of former gladiators to help track them down. While tensions simmer, the ship continues to be plagued by mysterious blackouts I can’t fix. If the power fails during battle, someone will die.

Then I’m locked out of the ship mid-fight and the lights go dark. The failures aren’t random; something is stalking me in the shadows, and the last male I want near me may be the only one who able to save me.

Thatcher

I’m human; mostly. Cyborg enhanced, hardened, and haunted by nightmares of torture and betrayal. I don’t deserve soft things. I definitely don’t deserve Ysa with her long blue braid and stubborn heart.

So I do the only thing I’m good at, I protect her. From rogue gladiators. From flirtatious mercenaries. From whatever is creeping through our ship’s systems.

I can’t have her, but no one else can either. Whatever is hunting her in the dark? It’s about to discover I was made for war.