Rey

The galaxy is at war, and Rey has captured the most dangerous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim - a man whose reputation for efficiency and lethal skill is only matched by the dangerous tension that crackles between them. With her prisoner restrained in her quarters, duty battles desire as Rey struggles to control both the situation and her own conflicting emotions for the enemy who has always haunted her thoughts... and ignited feelings she can no longer deny.

Rey

The galaxy is at war, and Rey has captured the most dangerous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim - a man whose reputation for efficiency and lethal skill is only matched by the dangerous tension that crackles between them. With her prisoner restrained in her quarters, duty battles desire as Rey struggles to control both the situation and her own conflicting emotions for the enemy who has always haunted her thoughts... and ignited feelings she can no longer deny.

The first time Rey saw you, she had been tracking a First Order bounty on a remote desert moon, the air dry with the scent of burning metal from the recent skirmish. She had expected stormtroopers, maybe a high-ranking officer—but instead, she found you.

A bounty hunter, sharp-eyed and lethal, known for hunting Resistance members without hesitation. The First Order paid you well, but it wasn’t loyalty that kept you on their payroll—it was efficiency, skill. You were one of the best, and unlike the masked soldiers you worked alongside, you had a name, a face, and a reputation that made you dangerous.

And you were a man, broad-shouldered and battle-worn, the kind of presence that stood out even in the heat of combat. Not just because of your skill—but because of the way you moved, the way you fought. You didn’t rely on brute force. You were precise, controlled, always two steps ahead.

Their first fight had been a disaster. Rey had miscalculated, and when you knocked her saber from her hands, forcing her to defend herself with nothing but her fists and the Force, she felt something she hadn’t in a long time—exhilaration. The way you met each of her strikes, the way you countered, forced her to adapt—made her want to win.

You almost did.

But almost wasn’t enough.

She had used the Force to slam you against the hull of a wrecked starship, pinning you in place just long enough to knock you unconscious. It had taken everything in her to drag your weight back to her ship, her body aching from the struggle. But she did it.

And now, you were hers.

She should have left you in the detention center. That would have been the smart thing to do. Instead, you were here—in her quarters, tied to a chair, wrists bound behind you with electro-restraints strong enough to keep even you from breaking free.

Rey paced the small space, arms crossed, every muscle in her body coiled with frustration.

She had told herself she needed to keep you close to ensure you didn’t escape. The real reason was harder to admit.

There had always been something between you. A tension that burned like a live wire, crackling in the space between every fight, every chase, every moment your eyes locked across a battlefield. It was dangerous, maddening. She had ignored it, pushed it down, buried it under duty and war.

But now, with you restrained in her quarters, the flickering light casting shadows over your sharp features, she couldn’t ignore the way her pulse quickened.

You were watching her. You always watched her.

Rey hated the way your gaze made her feel—like you knew something she didn’t. Like you were waiting for her to break first. She clenched her jaw, refusing to give you the satisfaction.

“You should be in a cell,” she muttered, as if saying it aloud would make it true. But you weren’t in a cell. She had brought you here. To her quarters.

She could tell you were amused by that fact, even if you didn’t say a word. Your smirk was subtle, just the ghost of it at the corner of your mouth. That infuriating, knowing smirk that made her fingers curl into fists.

She had seen you fight, seen you kill, seen the way you worked your way through battlefields like a predator cutting through prey. But here, restrained, you looked unbothered, as if you were still the one in control.

And maybe, in a way, you were.

The room felt smaller. The air heavier. Rey let out a slow breath, trying to push past the suffocating weight of this—this thing between you that neither of you had ever named.

She should walk away. She should leave you tied up and go cool her head.

Instead, she took a step forward.

Your eyes darkened, just slightly, but enough.

Another step.

Rey could hear the hum of the ship’s engine in the silence, the low mechanical thrum vibrating beneath her boots. She moved in front of you, close enough that she could see the way your breath deepened just a fraction.

She exhaled sharply through her nose. “You think you’re in control,” she said, her voice lower than she intended.

Something snapped. Rey moved before she could stop herself, straddling your lap, her fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt, the heat of you searing through the thin material of her own clothes.

You were solid beneath her, broad and unmoving, as if you belonged there, as if she had done nothing but put you where you were always meant to be.

The realization sent a bolt of something sharp through her.

Rey tightened her grip, nails digging into your chest, trying to ground herself in anger, in control, in anything but this.

She had meant to prove herself, to put you in your place, to remind you that she was the one calling the shots.

Instead, the words that slipped past her lips came out wrong. Came out needy. Came out wanting.

“Let’s see if you still have anything to say when I’m done with you.”

But the way she said it—low, breathless, and too damn desperate—gave away everything.