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I had no idea what information Warden Egara had sent to him… them about me, but I knew nothing about them other than they would be from Prillon Prime, and there would be two of them. That was the sum total of my knowledge.

“I am Commander Makaed Karter of Battlegroup Karter. I am your mate, your primary male.” He sighed, looked past me, behind my shoulder. “The Prillon warrior whose lap you are upon is your second, Commander Ronan Wothar.”

I turned my head, like in a tennis match, back and forth, relieved to have them confirm that they really were my mates. Two commanders? Holy shit. I really needed to send Warden Egara a thank you note. They were gorgeous, perhaps a little too intense, but… gorgeous.

“What do you know of me?” I asked.

Commander Karter shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Besides the fact you have a birthmark on the right side of your ass and your pussy is bare,” Ronan murmured in my ear. “You will call me Ronan.”

I squirmed both at the needy way he said the word pussy, and at the small command. I loved to push, it was true. But when a strong male pushed back? Damn. My pussy was coated with wet heat. I was in lust.

Kaed—I couldn’t think of him as Commander Karter, not when he looked at me like that—took a deep breath and I watched his eyes darken, glancing from where my naked bits were hidden under Ronan’s huge shirt, to my eyes, which were most likely broadcasting my desire to claw my way up his chest and ride him. He shuddered and tore his gaze from mine.

“Now is not the time to talk about her pussy, Second. She is in danger. We have to get her out of here. Now.” He stood and I had to tilt my head back… and then some more to look at him. He had to be seven feet tall.

“Perhaps we should at least ask her name,” Ronan countered.

They both looked to me. “Erica.”

Ronan repeated it, as if he’d never heard it before but Kaed’s face went from heated to cold. Barren. Ice. There he was…the commander of an alien army.

“Commander Karter,” I began.

“I am not your commander,” he replied, the scowl on his face genuine and his angular features were hard to read. Maybe, in time, I would figure out their facial expressions.

But for now? Trying to figure out what he was thinking was like staring at a brick wall.

No wonder their females needed the mating collars. A psychic connection would be really handy right about now.

And my mates were both commanders? I had read enough about the Interstellar Coalition Fleet to know that meant they were both really high up the food chain, in charge of an entire sector of space and thousands of people. Kind of like a general back on Earth.

Great. Just great. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Two mates were great, but two alien generals? No wonder everything they did se

emed so intense.

Ronan stood, lifting me as he did so. He took my hand and gently placed me on my feet. Thank god Ronan was so tall. His shirt came down to my knees, so I felt like I was wearing a heavy cloak. His hand went to my waist to ensure I wouldn’t fall. The metal floor of the odd room was cold beneath my bare feet.

“How long until all the injured have been transported to med units?” he asked, turning to a man who stood behind a long table. Similarly dressed to Karter, the warrior’s hand flew across the flat panel, as if it were a control board. I looked around, having to peek around Karter’s big body to see the rest of them. There were close to two dozen warriors in the room. Some injured. Some obviously medics of some kind.

They’d all seen me naked.

That was just freaking great, too. I didn’t flaunt what I had. I was okay with my size. I was big everywhere. Tall. Full ass. Large breasts. Big thighs. A round, soft stomach that was soft as silk to touch. I was not fashionable back home. Too big. Too tall. Too much. I’d worked hard learning to love my body, and my attitude the last couple years had been if you don’t like it, move on. I was past the point in my life where I was willing to try to change myself to fit someone else’s idea of perfection.

But these warriors made me feel like a tiny Barbie doll.

Maybe they wouldn’t mind having a bit more to hold onto.

Two soldiers—the black outfits were now clearly uniforms—carried another warrior up a few steps to a flat area, laid him out and left him. The floor vibrated beneath my feet, and the hairs on my body stood up as if I had the worst case of static electricity. All at once, the body was gone, the vibrations diminished.

“Wow. Can you say, ‘Beam me up, Scotty’?”

“Twenty-seven minutes, sir,” the man at the controls replied.

I looked around, realized there were injured all around the room. Some were thrashing, moaning, but most were unconscious—or at least I hoped they were that way and not dead. They were being tended to, but there were more wounded than there were medics to help them. A door silently slid open and another injured warrior hobbled in, his arms thrown over the shoulders of two additional Prillon warriors who were helping. He was bigger even than my mates, his face oddly misshapen, like he’d been in the middle of a transformation.

“Fuck. That’s Warlord Braun. How the hell did he get on the Varsten? He was sent to The Colony.” Karter cursed and Ronan’s grip tightened around my hip at the question.


Tags: Grace Goodwin Interstellar Brides Program Fantasy