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I shook my head. “But that’s in Miami!”

“Your parents keep their plane at the municipal airport,” Miranda reminded me. “I’ll call and have it readied to take us to Miami.”

The thought had never occurred to me to use my parents’ private plane. Since they were overseas and the plane didn’t have that reach, they went first class on commercial flights. Their jet was just waiting to be used.

“Thank you,” I said to Miranda. “Tell them we’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Chapter Thirteen

Roark

I couldn’t wait to get off this primitive fucking planet. The ReGen wand was the only thing keeping me well enough to protect my family and see us to the transport center. Money spoke here on Earth, just as it did on Trion. Natalie had not mentioned that she came from wealth. Of course, we’d had one night together and we hadn’t done much talking.

The size of her home, the fact that she had servants to assist her, the extravagance of the furnishings and art in her home all led me to believe she was wealthy. But the airplane was something else entirely.

Natalie’s jet was small and slow, nothing like the ships used in the Coalition Fleet, but it was the best they had on Earth. I assumed their military had better, faster ships, but had no way to know for sure. Nor did I care. My highest priority was to get my mate and my son home to Xalia where I could surround her with guards, keep her safe and sleep beside her every night. The jet was slow, but I was thankful for it now, knowing I could get Natalie and Noah—and the woman, Miranda, who seemed to be my mate’s second—to the brides program’s transport center faster than by any other means.

An efficient woman, Miranda had arranged for our transportation within moments. She had driven a large vehicle while Natalie and I sat in the back next to a large seat Noah was buckled into like a warrior’s battle harness. Natalie said it was a car seat, but since we, too, sat in seats inside the vehicle, I did not understand the significance. Miranda drove us the short distance to the airstrip while Natalie ran the ReGen wand over my wounds, one after another. As soon as the bleeding stopped in one wound, she would move on to the next. But each time I moved, the wounds would tear open and the blood would flow.

I needed a ReGen pod. I doubted Warden Egara had such technology available to her in the processing center. And I would not allow the primitive human doctors to touch me. They still used steel and primitive stitches to heal major wounds since they were new to the Coalition and did not have access to the more advanced tools of the trade . I did not need to be cut open further. Nor did I wish for a human blood transfusion, as Natalie suggested. I had no doubt my body would reject any such efforts by the human doctors.

No. I needed to get my family off this planet. And quickly. If I didn’t get to a ReGen pod, I’d most likely die within a few hours.

I must have blacked out for most of our flight to Miami. When I woke, Warden Egara stood over me. She had two military brutes with her, humans, ready to haul me off the airplane.

They lugged me to my feet, cursed at how big I was, but threw their arms around me and assisted me to the waiting vehicle. Warden Egara was already in the driver’s seat. The vehicle was larger than Natalie’s and all of us piled into the long black vehicle. Inside were four rows of additional seats. Natalie sat on one and the human men lay me down next to her, my head in her lap. She ran her fingers through my hair as the men applied pressure to my wounds.

“Are you guys EMTs?” Natalie asked the dark-skinned man leaning over my chest. His hair was darker even than mine, a pure black like the deep shadows of space. His skin was a deep brown, his eyes dark pools I could not read. He was pushing down on my shoulder and chest, hard, the pain like a knife blade shoved deep.

“Paramedic,” he answered, nodding his head at his friend who leaned over the back of the seat. The second man applied pressure to the wounds in my back. “He’s a field medic.”

Natalie nodded. “Marines?”

The man behind me had skin a pale, pasty white, with bright auburn hair. They were obviously a different type of human and I wondered at the difference between all of them in awe. Natalie, with her pale hair and fair skin, the warden with her dark hair and darker skin. And these two men, on opposite extremes of color from one another. Once, long ago, Trion had been more colorful, our people more varied. But over the ages we had blended into a single race. Our uniqueness now came from breeding with aliens, like Natalie. People from other planets.

The pale man shook his head and twisted his hand, making me groan in pain. “No. Army. Used to be.” He grunted at me. “Sorry, man. But you’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”

I had no idea what that meant, but it couldn’t be good.

“Used to be?” Natalie asked.

Pale man nodded. “Yeah. Used to be. Now we belong to the Interstellar Coalition.”

The dark-skinned man smiled. “Sort of. Usually, we handle supply and personnel transport between Earth and the Colony. Today is a bit more exciting.”

“What colony?” Miranda piped up from the back as Noah made bubbling, blowing noises. I imagined him with his chubby little hand in his mouth, drooling all over her.

“The contaminated,” I answered. Everyone in the Coalition Fleet knew about the planet colonized by Prillon Prime. They sent their warriors there to live out their days if, during the course of battle, they were captured and contaminated by Hive technology. The settlement was originally designed just for Prillon warriors, but as more and more warriors had trouble assimilating into civilian populations with their new cyborg implants, the colony’s population swelled to include other races.

“Careful, bro.” The dark-eyed man stared down at me and I opened my eyes to discover the telltale silver ring around his iris. He might have been human once, but he was more than human now.

“I meant no offense.”

“You fight those bastards?”

“Yes. Four years in Sector 843. I have no love for the Hive.” I’d volunteered to serve in the coalition Fleet the morning of my twentieth birthing day. Four years on a battleship fighting the scourge of the universe was more than enough. I’d done my time, and summoned my bride, as was my due.

He stared down at me, sizing me up, until his counterpart broke the tension. “Mostly, we just do whatever Warden Egara tells us to do.”


Tags: Grace Goodwin Interstellar Brides Program Fantasy