Chapter Six
Kristin
What do you want, mate?
“Everything. All of it.” The words burst from me before I could stop them, my brain apparently completely disconnected from my body.
Heat flared in his eyes and the corner of his mouth tipped up.
“A perfect match.”
I frowned. “The testing picked up on this…interest we share?”
“Absolutely. Will you give yourself to me, mate, to bring you pleasure you’ve never even imagined, in ways you’ve only dreamed about?”
“We don’t even know her name,” Hunt added. “Shouldn’t we at least know that before we fuck her?”
I couldn’t help but laugh then, which made Tyran’s smile grow wider. It was true. I was basically giving them permission to fuck me, and I hadn’t even told them my name.
Tyran stepped back so they stood side by side again. “My name is Kristin. Kristin Webster.”
“Kristin, drop the blanket.” Tyran’s voice dropped to a deep timbre and my body responded immediately, goose bumps rising across my skin. I looked between the two, saw one who had unwavering resolve and need for me to submit. Hunt wasn’t turned off, just…surprised.
These men were my mates. Two, not one, who were mine to keep. And in return, I was theirs. There was no courting, no dating. Not even a first date. This wasn’t even a one-night stand. It was like finding a guy in a bar, dragging him into a bathroom, locking the door and fucking without even sharing names. But these two weren’t going to leave me after we were done. They were mine. The reality of that was intoxicating. Liberating.
No, I wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.
And so I did what I’d wanted to do for years and years and years. Show the real me to someone. Not just my large breasts, the heavy curves, every dimpled bit of flesh and imperfection, but also my darkest nature.
I obeyed, and dropped the blanket.
Tyran’s eyes flared with dark heat and Hunt hissed out a breath.
Lifting his hand, Tyran held up three pieces of wide ribbon or…something. It wasn’t metal. It wasn’t plastic. It wasn’t fabric. Hunt took a blue one from him, wrapped it about his neck. It had no clasps, but it somehow sealed and tightened about his neck. A collar. Tyran had mentioned it, but I’d forgotten. I watched as Tyran put a blue one about his neck as he spoke. He held one more in his hand, this one black.
“Prillon mates wear collars to show that they have been claimed and are under their warriors’ protection. While we will not officially claim you until you agree and we have a mating ceremony, the collars will signify to one and all that you belong to us, just as we belong to you.”
“Like a wedding ring.”
“I have heard Lady Rone say something similar about your Earth custom, so yes.”
“You want me to wear this?” I asked.
“You must wear it, or we cannot leave this room.”
“Why?” I wondered.
It was Hunt who answered. “There are few females on the planet. You are not only beautiful, but perfect. Others will want you for their own. If you are not wearing a collar, the other warriors will assume you have rejected our claim. They will fight for your attention and the right to win you for their own.”
Tyran actually growled, which made my thighs clench together. God, he was so fucking hot when he was acting like a cavemen. “That will not happen. You belong to us. No other will touch you.”
“So, if I walked out of here without the collar on, it would actually start a fight?” I asked, stunned.
They both shook their heads. “No mate, your beauty could start a war,” Hunt replied.
I laughed then, thinking he was exaggerating. When neither of them laughed with me, I realized they were dead serious. And they really, really thought I was beautiful.
“Is it permanent?” I wondered if, once I put it on, I’d never be able to get the dumb thing off. I looked at the dark blue collars that now circled my mates’ necks. What if this didn’t work out? What if I needed to get an alien divorce—or whatever they called it out here in space?