“He’s I.C. and he’s not talking.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, let that extra level of insanity sink in. I.C. Intelligence Core. The dark side of the fleet. “Fuck. Where is he? I’ll make him talk.”
Bard arched a brow. “Should we get a message to Commander Phan?” He grinned, his copper skin and bronze eyes narrowing with anticipation. “I’m sure she would love to take a pound of flesh from one of her own.”
A few years ago, that would have been true. Now, the Earthling was a mother. A mate. And permanently under my command. She had saved my entire battlegroup not long ago, she, a human named Kira, and the contaminated beast she’d shown up with had worked together to dismantle a network of invisible mines the Hive had placed in space. Those mines had been trapping my entire group of ships. “She’s too valuable. I won’t risk bringing her here.”
The hiss of burst vent pipes, the groan of metal as it shifted after the explosion, the deep command of voices in the distance delegating tasks to clean up this clusterfuck surrounded us. Destruction was nothing new to me, but this was… personal. Close to home, at least as close to a home one could have on a fucking battlegroup.
“You’re here,” he countered.
“I am nothing,” I said simply.
Bard opened his mouth to argue, closed it. He knew how I felt about this. I was a warrior first and always. I fought. I killed. I protected my people, the people who became mine through Hive destruction. And if I died? So be it. Another member of my military family, or another worthy Prillon warrior, would take command. I was a cog in the wheel of the Coalition Fleet. I was a warrior. Nothing more.
“Chloe is I.C., Karter,” he continued. “She can take care of herself.” I often questioned the supposed intelligence of this group as they caused us more trouble than they were worth most of the time. But then, every once in a while, someone like Commander Chloe Phan came along and saved us all. I hated their secrets, but like all warriors, I recognized that spies and black-ops were a necessary evil. No battle commander could win a war without good intelligence on the enemy. And the hard-core bastards who served in the I.C. were the best. Including Commander Phan of Earth. But she was also mine to protect, a mate to two of my best warriors and a mother to their children. There was no need for her to risk herself out here in this chaos, especially when we had zero answers. I could beat the hell out of a tight-lipped I.C. commander all by myself.
“She’s a mother,” I said.
Bard grinned. “I’m going to tell her you said that.”
“Why don’t you tell Dara and her baby brother that you risked their mother’s life for your entertainment?” It was my turn to smile, and I made sure to show every inch of my teeth—the better to rip Bard’s throat out with. “If you make my Dara cry, I will destroy you.”
We walked on.
Dara was beautiful, with black hair and green eyes, just like her mother. I loved her like she was my own. She was small, but fearless. And the moments she wrapped her small hand around mine were the only times I felt like more than a killing machine. I would do nothing to hurt her small heart, including risking her mother’s life when it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Her baby brother Christopher was full of fire and curiosity, a bright, daring child. But it was Dara’s sweet innocence that kept me sane, gave me a reason to keep fighting.
Bard insulted me with laughter but kept further opinions to himself as he took me to the lone survivor on the command deck of the small cargo ship. We stepped over the dead as we went, a killing rage boiling hotter with each drop of blood that clung to my boots.
“Why did they leave the dead?” Bard asked.
Normally, a Hive attack resulted in a complete loss of all personnel. No bodies. No survivors. The Coalition Fleet had always assumed the Hive did something unpalatable with the dead, but I didn’t ask the I.C. I had no desire to know the answer. What they did to the living was horror enough, and I struggled with my nightmares as it was. “I don’t know. Maybe the I.C. officer will have answers for us.”
Answers I didn’t want. But want was a luxury I gave up years ago.
Within a few minutes, we rode the remaining functional lift to the command deck of the battleship and entered through an emergency airlock set up by my crew. Once inside, Bard and I removed our helmets and lo
oked around. A Prillon warrior sat in the navigator’s seat, head in his hands. His hair was golden and fair, as was his skin. He was large, his body a mountain in the small chair. But when he turned to face me, my body froze in shock.
2
Erica Roberts, Interstellar Brides Processing Center, Earth
* * *
Everything was dark, but I could hear my warriors moving to surround me, touch me.
Claim me.
I’d been waiting for this for weeks, longing for them to give in and take me as one in front of the others…
That thought stopped me cold and my heart raced, the hard memory of the processing chair back in that cold, clinical room at the bride testing center intruded on my bliss, as did the pounding of my heart, not in fear, but in anticipation.
For as much as this woman’s mind, whoever she was, wanted this claiming, I wanted it, too. This wasn’t my body. In some far off, rational part of myself I knew that. But it felt real.
It was a dream. But it wasn’t. But it sure as fuck felt real. It was real, to her, and somehow I was to share it with her.
When a large hand settled around my neck and my mate’s warm chest pressed to my bare back, I slipped back into the dream, or hallucination—whatever this was. I didn’t care if it was real or not. I needed my mates to touch me.