Chapter Three
CJ
I studied Warden Egara. She seemed completely calm as she talked about the rest of my life.
With an alien husband. In space. Although, maybe if he was like the big beast of a man in my dream, that wouldn’t be all that bad an option. It beat spending several years in prison, getting out with my career and reputation in ruins. I’d never work on Wall Street again. I’d have to start over. With a criminal record and no friends.
I wasn’t a big fan of leaving everything and going into space, but my options sucked.
My breathing was ragged and sweat coated my skin. It felt as if I’d woken from a nightmare, startling and abrupt. But the feelings coursing through me weren’t of fear, but of pleasure. It was waning quickly.
I wasn’t scared of the dream. I was petrified of what it meant. Why I’d liked it. What he’d done.
No, what I’d allowed him to do. He hadn’t raped me. Far from it. He hadn’t even really forced me. It had seemed like it, being manhandled, but he’d done it because it was hot. It was what turned him on and he knew his mate would love it, too. And she did—I did—whatever. I’d never had an orgasm like that in my life. Ever.
And it wasn’t even real.
“Are you all right?” Warden Egara asked. She sat at the table nearest me, her tablet in front of her. She wore the uniform of the Brides Program, complete with the Interstellar Brides logo that meant she was part of the Coalition Fleet. Her calm, cool gaze helped me breathe. She didn’t seem surprised that I’d behaved so unusually during the testing. Had I yelled? Moaned? Screamed?
Had it been unusual?
“Was the testing normal?” I asked, licking my dry lips, wishing I could bury my face in my hands, but the chains running from the padded Velcro straps prevented me from hiding. And suddenly, my nose itched.
Figured.
She cocked a dark brow. “Normal?”
“You know. Normal.”I wasn’t going to ask her if she knew I’d had an orgasm. If I’d been talking. Begging for it while she sat here with that polite smile and heard every single word.
She offered me a smile, which I had to assume was potentially a breach of protocol. She dealt with volunteers to the program, but also with prisoners like me. I wasn’t a murderer or anything, just an idiot who’d gotten greedy and reached for the brass ring. I knew stuff. So did a thousand other people. But they hadn’t caught everyone on Wall Street. Just me. White collar crime, doing time for insider trading. Yeah, not my best decision ever, but I was watching the blowhards around me make millions on shady deals, and I’d wanted my piece of the pie.
Seemed I was going to get a big alien cock instead. And after that dream, I was starting to think maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
Maybe that was why I was freaking out about the dream. I didn’t let any man have control over me. For any reason whatsoever. I’d been burned by dates. By co-workers. Bosses. Hell, even teachers. But to be sent to prison while the slime I worked with used offshore traders and secret accounts to do the same damn thing…but get away with it?
The whole thing made my blood boil, and I didn’t trust men. Period.
“Yes, it’s perfectly normal. The testing delves into your subconscious, and we assess your deepest needs and desires to match you to a mate.”
I frowned. “I’m not interested in a mate.”
She narrowed her eyes as if confused. “You are aware you were tested for the Brides Program, correct?”
I nodded. I couldn’t do much more than that, restrained as I was in this weird dentist’s chair. I stuck my lip out, blew up my face to move a strand of hair away that was tickling my cheek. “Yes, I know that, but the only requirement is that I volunteer, not that I like the guy.”
“Technically, that’s true,” she replied slowly. Hesitantly.
I sighed. “Look. You know my story. It’s all in that tablet of yours, right?”
“Yes.”
“So you know what happened to me. Why I’m in jail. Yes, I’m guilty, but there were others far guiltier who got away with it all. Insider trading is bad, but it’s not like I killed anyone. I lost everything. My license, my apartment, my friends. I won’t be hired anywhere again. Those guys I worked with? They made millions. One of them even bought a house in the Hamptons, and since it’s July, I’m sure he’s there now. And where am I?” I looked down. “In a damned testing chair. My only options to take control of my life again are to go into the Interstellar Brides Program or rot in jail.”
“You could volunteer as a fighter in the Coalition Fleet,” she reminded me.
I knew women did that, too. Went out into space and fought the Hive with the rest of the soldiers. I laughed at that. Me, with a space gun? So not happening. I’d be a hazard. “I told you, I’m not a killer. The sight of blood makes me sick. I just want my life back. Or at least my ability to decide what clothes I wear, when I eat. Hell, I would really like a bathroom door.”
“You won’t be coming back to Earth.”