Forgot about that for a few blissful moments as well. I was a criminal, after all.
“Excellent.”
I turned my head and lifted my free hand to wipe the offensive hair from my face. The woman speaking was called a warden—how fitting—and she was one of the people in charge of finding alien matches for human women and sending them off the planet. Which sounded like a damn fine idea to me. I had nothing here. Not anymore.
Before the dream thing, I had hoped to have freedom to live my own life. Nothing more.
Those two men had changed that. Now I was full of dreams. Hope.
I hated hope. Worst emotion ever invented. God’s curse on the world. The ultimate carrot in front of the proverbial donkey…me. “Did it work? Because I’ve heard those computer dating apps never work.” Truth be told, I hadn’t really thought this would do much better.
“Oh yes. Your results are excellent. You have been matched to a male from Prillon Prime.”
“Just one?” Was that disappointment in my voice? No. Couldn’t be.
“Yes. You are matched to your primary male. He will choose your second mate, and they will claim you together.”
“Oh.” My heart skipped a beat, floating in my chest like a balloon filled with helium. I told it to calm the fuck down, but it didn’t listen.
I’d been matched to one, but he would bring along a friend. Just like the dream.
I rubbed my thighs together, the aftershocks of my orgasm still making it nearly impossible for me to remain still. I wanted more. A lot more.
I hadn’t paid all that much attention to the reading material they’d handed out at the women’s prison. I vaguely remembered reading something about the Prillon men—aliens—mates—mating in pairs and sharing their woman. Or man. Their mate, whoever that turned out to be. A threesome.
My mind went straight to the vision of three totally hot men getting it on, and I nearly groaned aloud, my eager pussy pulsing in agreement with my overactive imagination. What would I do with three?
Damn. Maybe I should have been matched to Viken. I read about that place, too. Three hot mates. Their cum did something to their mate’s body to make them so horny they could barely think straight. At least, that’s the idea I’d taken from reading one of the previous bride’s personal accounts of being matched there.
No. Shut up, Danika. Sheesh. I did not need three mates. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t even need one. But I wanted.
Maybe I’d just been in prison too long. If it hadn’t been so damn true, I would have laughed at the thought. I was really, really tired of masturbating alone in my cell. I’d never been into women, much as I wished otherwise a couple times over the last few years. I’d tried. Couldn’t get past the first kiss. Just not for me. I wanted what I wanted.
And I wanted cocks. Big chests. Deep, growling voices. Men that smelled like men. Dominant, muscled mates who would be big enough to protect me from every monster there was. I was so tired of fighting. So freaking tired of this planet and all of its bullshit.
“Miss Gray, did you have a question?” The warden was blinking at me, and I realized I’d been staring into space. Her bright blue eyes reminded me of the blue chewing gum that was my current favorite. Blue Mint Blast. Good gum. Really good. So strong it cleared my sinuses in about a minute flat.
“So, I get matched to one, but he gets to choose the other one? What if I don’t like the second?”
“Do not worry. That is almost never an issue. Your mate will choose a male he deems worthy of you.”
I didn’t feel all that worthy of anyone at the moment, but I didn’t offer her that information. This was about not going back to that hell-on-earth prison cell, nothing more.
“Now what?” I asked. This warden was young; if I had to guess, I would be surprised if she was thirty. But her pale blue eyes were kind, and her ivory skin was literally flawless. She had her dark brown hair styled into a bun, so I couldn’t see much there, but she was beautiful. Add to that, she had an amazing French accent. So not fair. I wondered why she wasn’t mated. Why work at a place like this when she could leave, get a hot alien mate, and go on her own adventure?
“Warden Egara? Can you come in now?” This young woman’s name was embroidered on her maroon Interstellar Brides Program uniform. Warden Bisset. When she turned, I saw another woman step into the room. She appeared to be near the same age but with sad gray eyes.
“I observed Miss Gray’s processing. You did an excellent job, although for the bride’s comfort, I would suggest pulling the next candidate from the neural processors a few seconds earlier, nearer the beginning of her initial release.”
Wait. What? No. However, even as I thought the protest, my body shifted on the exam chair, searching, in vain, for something to rub against. I had never been this turned on in my life.
“Of course, Warden Egara. Thank you.”
The more experienced warden smiled kindly and then turned to look at me. “Warden Bisset has done an excellent job. Your match is ninety-nine percent. We see that with a very small percentage of our brides.”
“Ninety-nine percent? What does that mean?”
“It means your mate will be absolutely perfect for you.” Warden Bisset beamed, clasping her hands together in front of her face like a cheerleader rooting on her team.