My mate was here. On The Colony. She had to be to be within the area of proximity for my mark to awaken, for us to dream share. She was nearby. Somewhere. Close enough to meet her in my dreams, to know she was perfect. I wanted her. So did my cock.
I gripped the base, stroked it, my thumb sliding over the underside of the head. I had to come again. The need for her was too great. I didn’t know anything about her, except I knew what she looked like, what she felt like when I was buried deep inside her, what she sounded like when she came.
Fuck, I was going to come, and only after a few strokes. If I didn’t remember the dream, I’d think something was wrong with me. Did other Everian males behave this way when they found their mate? Did they come all over themselves? Not once, but twice?
Fuck. I spurted hotly all over my hand, the sharp pleasure made me grit my teeth. I caught my breath. Again. I wiped my cum away. Again.
I stood, looked down at my cock.
Still hard. Still fucking needy for her pussy. The vein pulsed along the side, the head almost purple, angry that it could not be sated.
A beep came from the comm unit. I ran a hand over my face, felt the rasp of my whiskers. I walked to the table, picked up my wrist unit.
“Hunter Kiel,” I said, my voice harsh. Shit. Was this what the dream was doing to me?
“Kiel. We have a security breach.”
It was Governor Rone. Fortunately, if he noticed my gruff tone, he hadn’t mentioned it. He wasn’t one for many words when only a few would suffice. We were similar in that and perhaps that was why I respected the Prillon warrior so much. He also wouldn’t have called me for a petty task so this had to be serious.
The usual sharp awareness that filled me the moment I heard a message like this, one specifically tied to my hunting skills, pushed against the aftereffects of my dream, but could not take control. No, the mark was too powerful. I stood naked, cock hard, my need still thrumming through my veins and tried to think through the fog of lust clouding my mind, the fog of her.
The governor of our base called upon me to be the Hunter I was. That was my value to this planet. But my need? The intense pull the mark now had on me? It was for a different hunt entirely. I had to find her, to find my marked mate, wherever the hell she was, on this planet or another.
And what was that strange room in her dream? The small child in the strange, metal walled bed? The older woman sleeping slumped in a chair? Was that her home? Was that where I would find her? Lindsey.
“Hunter Kiel,” the Governor Rone repeated, breaking my thoughts. My mark burned, reminding me of my priorities. Finding her was my personal mission now, but I also worked for the governor and for every warrior who was trapped on this planet with me. The Hive had caused trouble here the last few weeks, infiltrating our sanctuary—or our prison—depending on one’s point of view. The Hive had turned The Colony into a dangerous, uncertain place. The guarded looks the warriors here gave one another, the fear they tried to hide—fear that the Hive would once more have control of their minds, their bodies—the thought made me shudder as well. I was born to fear nothing, but even I could not deny the tremor that raced through me at the thought of being captured once more.
Tortured.
Changed.
The only way to control the fear was to hunt. And hunting the Hive was my specialty.
“Kiel? Can you hear me?”
“Yes, Maxim. I will come to the command center directly,” I replied.
“Hurry,” he replied, ending the communication.
I went to the S-Gen unit in the corner and stood on the black scanning pad. The thin green lights activated as the Spontaneous Matter Generator created fresh armor and weapon for me. The armor was standard Coalition, the mottled black and grey a fitting camouflage for most expeditions in deep space. The ion blaster was small and I strapped it to my thigh. The armor was light and comfortable. Some warriors on the base had begun to wear civilian clothing once more, colors and soft, flowing fabrics in designs common on the various home worlds now brightened the main areas and dining hall.
The brides had done that, brought a touch of normalcy to a situation that was anything but. I, however, felt naked and exposed without my armor, as did many of the others. And with a traitor still loose and the Hive building secret, underground operating stations in caves, I needed to hunt, not sit, chat and sip wine with the women like a trained pet.
Groaning, I shifted things around in my pants. Apparently, I was going to have a meeting with the security team and the governor of Base 3 with a hard on. My desire had not waned and my cock wasn’t going to stand down, no matter the topic. I had to hope the armor shielded the obvious. My mark had been awakened and nothing was going to ease me except finding and claiming my mate.
***
“There.” The governor, Maxim, pointed at the vid screen. I followed his finger and saw the intruder. The image was crystal clear, crisp. The male wore the usual armor of a Coalition fighter; pants, shirt, even the helmet, and moved with the lithe ease of an athlete and the surety of one who knew exactly where to go as he removed a grate and disappeared inside the ventilation tunnels that ran beneath the entire base.
“How long ago was this taken?” I asked. Maxim and I stood side-by-side. I rivaled him for height, but I was less bulky than the Prillon, allowing me to move swiftly on a hunt. I was dexterous and nimble, yet it took hard work and constant training to remain in top form.
“Twenty minutes.” The governor was a powerful warrior; he now served The Colony with his leadership skills. He’d been chosen, elected by the warriors who would answer to him. There was no higher honor among warriors and I respected that. He served as the Colony’s liaison to the Brides Processing Center on Earth and had been mated, with his second, Ryston, to a brilliant human scientist with dark hair and a stubborn slant to her eyes that I admired. Together, their bond had lit the spark of hope through the Colony. They appeared together in public often, trying to inspire the others to hope, to dream, to submit to the mental invasion of the Interstellar Brides Processing protocols. Many had and waited for a match.
I was Maxim’s opposite, my strengths sending me out to hunt in the shadows. Unseen. Deadly.
Not exactly inspiring. Seeing me usually inspired fear, not hope. No matter that I’d picked up a team of sorts including the human hunter, a bride named Kristin, who’d arrived to mate the Prillon warriors Tyran and Hunt. Also in the group, a Prillon warrior named Marz who’d become one of the few males I trusted during our time with the Hive. Lastly, a big, pain-in-my-ass Atlan Warlord with a temper to match. Rezzer. He fought his beast every fucking day. And every day, I wondered if I’d be called upon to terminate a friend.
“Has he been picked up by the other surveillance nearby?” I asked. The surveillance in the storage area had caught the heat shift of a living being and set off the warning sensors.