Chris woke to movement and muted voices. For a heartbeat he thought he was still dreaming, with the low vibration under his feet and the spiced-dark scent of Dax filling his lungs. Then the car door swung open and dawn broke over a wall of bodies.
Outside, the private strip was already alive. Lines of men in black uniforms and mirrored sunglasses stood shoulder to shoulder, forming a corridor from the car to the waiting jet. All of them were alphas, big, hard-edged, their heat rolling off them in disciplined waves that still made Chris's skin prickle. Even half-asleep, he could feel the weight of them. Every one of them was taller than him. Dax stepped out first and somehow managed to look taller still, his black-and-silver Sahan suit cutting a sharper figure than their uniforms.
