“What?” I asked. I’d known her for a short time, but could read her easily, and I did not like the downcast eyes and pale face she was keeping averted.
“You’re so not going to like this.”
“What? Just spit it out.” Dread coiled to settle in my gut like the dust around me.
“Captain Marz, the Prillon?”
“Yes.” I knew him well enough. I’d had to turn him away from my door multiple times the last few weeks. He was all right. He tried. Brought me flowers, for heaven’s sake—I suspected Rachel or Kristin had suggested that one. But there was no spark there. I looked at him and felt… nothing. “What about him?”
“He issued a tournament challenge. They’re in the fighting pit right now deciding who gets to claim you.”
Deciding who gets to claim you.
“Is this a joke? Because it’s not funny.”
She put her hand over her face as if afraid to look at me. Shook her head. “No. Eight warriors. Whoever wins gets to claim you. All of them have agreed to the terms. The rest of the warriors started a betting pool. The whole base had to either enter the challenge or agree to leave you alone. Tane, the Atlan, is getting two-to-one odds. He’s the favorite to win.”
“WHAT?” I roared. I picked up the sledgehammer and hit the last dangling bit of stone wall with more force than necessary. It not only broke free but flew into the other room and landed on Kristin’s dining table, denting the metal surface. “The governor agreed to this?” I was going to kill that Prillon. I’d have to beg Rachel’s forgiveness after I ended him, but this was too much.
“I don’t think so—”
Good. I wouldn’t have to kill him.
“—and Rachel and I just heard about it. She’s on her way. She had to send someone to get Maxim. He’s down in one of the mines and the comms are out. I went to your quarters first. When you weren’t there, I came here.”
“I can’t believe this. It’s barbaric.” And hurtful. And wrong. How dare they presume to decide whom I would belong to? Whom I had to have sex with? And without even asking me? What was this? The 1500s?
The flowers didn’t work, so Captain Marz decided to just challenge the whole rest of the base to a tournament with me as the prize? And who were the other idiots who’d agreed?
The whole base, apparently.
What if I decided I wanted someone else? A man from Earth? A Hunter, like Kiel. But a Prillon? No. The whole mind-meld, collar thing freaked me out. And two mates? Or three, as I’d heard the Vikens had started doing? Um, no. One man was enough for me. Especially if he was big and fierce and looked like Makarios.
Oh, shit. This was not happening. No. Fucking. Way. “They’re fighting in the pits? Right now? This very second?”
“Come on. It’s pretty hot, right, the strongest, sexiest men fighting over you?” Her hand moved up toward her neck and her fingertips stroked the green collar there—the outward indication she was matched to a Prillon—with a lustful look in her eyes. Her mates were incredible. I could not disagree. But they’d been matched. Chosen.
They hadn’t forced themselves on her after beating up the other boys at the playground.
“No, it’s not. I’m not a prize to be won. I am not property. No fucking way,” I snarled. My poor mother would’ve been appalled at my language. But I was beyond caring. Somewhere between the little girl who used to play with dolls and bake cupcakes to make my daddy happy and now, I’d had the urge to please others disappear from my being. Maybe it was the cyborg parts. Maybe it was years of fighting a hard war, watching people die, caring too much. Somewhere in there, I’d lost the ability to put up with bullshit. And this was way above my tolerance level.
Kristin lifted her chin. “Then go do something about it.” She looked around her living room, which I had definitely destroyed. “Go beat up some alien hotties before the ceiling falls on top of us. I’m begging you.”
Wiping my hands together, I smiled. I was strong. Stronger than the men who were making me their prize. “Good idea.”
I stomped past her, my stride long as I worked my way down the corridor and then outside. Distantly, I heard her on her comms unit as we went. “Rachel, get to the pits. Gwen needs another wingman.” She followed me, which was fine. Since neither one of her mates was interested in me, they wouldn’t be in the pits to suffer my wrath.
Wingman? It was a nice gesture, but it wasn’t as if either Kristin or Rachel could back me up. No one could back me up. I was indestructible now that I’d spent some time with the Hive. Stronger than any almost any male on the planet. Faster than even the Everian Hunter, Kiel. They might think they were going to win me, but they were wrong. So fucking wrong. And if I had to smash some heads to prove it, I would. Once and for all.
* * *
Ten minutes later, I wasn’t feeling any better. In fact, if I had the sledgehammer, I’d have smashed the stands surrounding the pit to rubble. “Why won’t any of you fight me?” I shouted.
I was breathing hard, not because I was tired from tossing the males around the pit, but because I was pissed. So filled with fury I could barely see straight. My blood pressure was up, my heated lifeforce pumping through my body like the bass beat at a rave. But the cyborg part of me didn’t feel a thing. My sight was perfect. My body buzzing with energy. It was my mind that was in turmoil, my heart that was breaking.
And I hadn’t thought there were any pieces left big enough to break. I’d been wrong.
“We don’t want to hurt you,” one brave male said.