Her Rogue Alien Convict

I smelled her before I saw her.

Tiny human, compad clutched like a weapon, sprinting straight into my kill zone on that godforsaken prison moon.

She wasn’t supposed to survive the massacre.
She sure as hell wasn’t supposed to survive me.

But the second those fake Vakutan rifles started dropping bodies and her terrified eyes locked on mine, something primitive snapped. I killed for her. I stole a shuttle for her. I dragged her off-world and straight into my syndicate empire on Gur.

Now she’s under my roof, under my protection, and under my skin.

She thinks she’s here to expose the conspiracy.
I know she’s here because I’m never letting her leave.

She’s soft where I’m scaled.
Fragile where I’m built to break worlds.
And the way she looks at me when I tower over her—equal parts fire and fear—makes me want to chain her to my side and burn the galaxy down just to keep her.

She ran with the receipts that could end empires.
I’m the rogue convict who’s ending them for her.

Read on for prison-break alien claiming, size gapobsession, framed-convict possessiveness, syndicate heat, and a seven-foot Grolgath who kills first and claims forever. HEA guaranteed!