Commander Karter was staring at me. So was this new Prillon. And Ronan. I seemed to be the center of attention.
“Bard, I don’t want my mate blown to bits within ten minutes of transport,” Karter snapped.
“Perhaps we will acquire more information from the probe.”
“Gods be damned if we don’t. We’ll lose this fucking war.”
“No, we won’t.” That was Ronan, and he walked around Bard like the new warrior was beneath his notice.
Men.
Ronan continued. “We survived their transport upgrades. Integration Units activating on the battlefield. We’ve survived worse. We will figure it out. We always do.”
“Fight. War. We win.” The huge Atlan’s voice startled everyone as Warlord Braun was escorted up to the transport pad. His gaze was intense, and he was staring at me. “Fight for mates. Fight. Destroy. Win.”
The buzzing sound of the transport pad took the Atlan from us, breaking the spell his relentless stare had cast on me. God, Atlans were intense. Huge. Scary. I would bet this Warlord Braun could rip someone in half with his bare hands. Literally.
The Prillon standing next to Karter—Bard—grinned. When our eyes met, he winked, but remained st
ern. “Braun is right. So is the I.C. We fight, Commander. We’ve survived worse.”
“My mate has not. She should not be here, on this ship. This is why all non-essential personnel from the Varsten are safely behind the nearest star. We have no idea if they’ll strike again without getting the data from that probe. Would you want your mate here?”
The other Prillon’s shoulders went back as if he’d been insulted. “Of course not.”
“The situation is impossible. My mate is in danger, but I am not a simple warrior, Bard. The injured must come first,” Karter said, looking to me. “My female suffers, coated in blood, while I am forced to give priority to the wounded.” He looked grim. It was obvious he didn’t want me here, but did he not want me at all?
“Once they are gone, you will transport with your mate,” the other told Karter. “It is only a few minutes. Go back to the Karter. Claim your mate. I will take command here.”
Karter narrowed his eyes. “Bard, the Hive will come to Sector 437 next. I do not have the luxury of claiming a mate. Not now.”
I was confused. His name was Karter, but wondered why he was talking about himself in the third person. As to the rest? That wasn’t confusing at all. He didn’t have time for me, didn’t want me.
So much for a ninety-nine percent perfect match. But then, that was compatibility, and I could not deny that everything about him made me hot.
“I’ve sent three of our best warriors out with an I.C. operative to retrieve the probe,” the man Karter called Bard replied. “It will take at least twelve hours for them to retrieve it and return. If they have any trouble establishing a visual, it could take longer.”
Probe? While I had an NPU, they were speaking in words I didn’t understand. What probe? And why a visual? That didn’t make sense. Didn’t aliens have radar? Or sonar? Something?
When the injured guy before me sucked in a breath, I turned back to him, smiled down. Reassured him the best way I knew how.
Another set of vibrations and static electricity. One more wounded warrior off to receive needed help.
The doors to the transport room slid open again and several additional injured were brought in. Something happened here—although I didn’t exactly know where here was—some kind of Hive attack. Something bad. Warden Egara told me the Prillon always took mates as a duo in case one of them was killed.
Looking around, that possibility hit home a bit harder than I wanted it to. What if one of these injured warriors was my mate? Was Karter or Ronan?
I didn’t even know them yet, but the idea made my gut churn. I’d transported into the middle of a war zone. Warden Egara had warned me about that, but I hadn’t really listened. Dead bodies and blood had a way of making everything sink in.
Despite it all, I couldn’t step away from the wounded. Somehow, my touch seemed to bring these warriors comfort. The first one had been transported, but there was another I could help, then another. They kept calling me Lady Karter, and smiling when I knelt beside them, one warrior’s grin wide—despite the fact that he was spitting out blood when he did so.
Were all these Prillon warriors crazy? I was no lady.
I ignored Commander Karter, Commander Wothar and the big one called Bard. I figured out quickly, based on the way everyone was speaking to him, that he was second in command. Even that didn’t make sense. If Ronan was a commander, too, why wasn’t he in charge of something?
The two males were mine. I knew that. My body definitely knew—and wanted them. Now. But there was so much going on that I didn’t understand. I felt like I’d been dropped into a boiling pot of chili, and I was trying to separate the ingredients by hand. Impossible.
So I listened and moved from warrior to warrior, waving the blue wand thing and trying to offer what comfort I could. Which, apparently, was a lot. Their smiles were grim, but every single smile reached the warrior’s eyes.