“Perfectly understandable. Your match is exceptional. Ninety-nine percent.”
Thank god. I didn’t have to go back to my old life. Which was a good thing, since I’d already sold all my stuff and my roommate had rented out my bedroom for nearly twice what I’d been paying. Highly unlikely she’d want me back.
“So, I got a good match?” Small trembles shook my arms, then moved to my legs. The utilitarian hospital-style gown I wore didn’t offer much in the heat department. And it was Florida, but that just meant the air conditioning was on full throttle and warm-blooded creatures like me needed winter coats and blankets to survive indoors, even if I’d lived in Hawaii the past few years.
“Oh, yes. You’ve been matched to Prillon Prime.” Her smile was genuine, if a bit sad. “It happens to be my personal favorite.”
“You’ve been there? Out there?” Holy shit. Had this woman actually been to outer space?
“Yes. I was mated to two Prillon warriors myself. Years ago.”
Years ago? She didn’t look all that old. Maybe thirty. Close to my age. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, but it only showed off how pretty she was. The dark gray of the IBP uniform did nothing for her, but it wasn’t as if she’d go to the bar with girlfriends while wearing it. Before the testing I had wondered if she was married, dating anyone. Now I wanted to know more about her mates, but didn’t ask. If she was here, and they weren’t, I had a feeling the answer wouldn’t be good.
“So why were there two mates?” I knew there were two, from my dream, but I was eager for an explanation. And she had just confirmed that she’d had two mates as well.
“The males of Prillon Prime are warriors, usually on the front lines of the fight. Most of the time they keep their brides with them on whichever battleship they serve. The warriors live most of their lives in space. They always claim a mate in pairs in case one of them is killed in battle. That way the surviving male can either choose another second, if their female agrees, or retire and move his family to Prillon Prime. Either way, one mate remains to care for his female and children.”
“That explains the two men in my dream.”
She looked up at me and gave me a wink, which made me blush. “Rather fabulous, wasn’t it?”
Forget blush, I was bright red now, the heat like a blowtorch under my cheeks. “Well, it was nice, but two?” My grandmother would roll over in her grave and start praying Hail Mary’s all over the place. I was going to hell. Straight. To. Hell.
Or Prillon Prime.
“You don’t sound excited about that.” The Interstellar Brides Program logo was repeated across the fabric of her uniform, not that I could forget where I was. Even though I was restrained to the chair, I tugged at the secure hold.
I arched a brow. “Two mates? I… I never thought about it before. I guess I knew it was a possibility, I mean, I’ve heard that brides who go to Viken have three men.”
“Three mates. They are not human, Ms. Roberts. But that’s right.” Her grin widened, but she looked down at her tablet to hide her reaction to my comment. “Three. Can you just imagine.”
Lord help me, I could. Which was not good. I was desperate to get back into the middle of a Prillon man-sandwich as quickly as possible. I didn’t need her asking me questions about where my head was right now, because I didn’t know. My vagina seemed to be in charge. And I didn’t want to think about the wetness soaking the gown under my ass. Or the little jolts of electricity still zinging through my pussy at random intervals. My ass, too.
“I just need to ask you a few questions before I can begin your processing.”
“Shoot.”
“I must make sure you are aware of your rights, Ms. Roberts. This will be recorded.” She stared at me, an impatient tilt to her head, eyes wide open as if to hurry me along.
“I understand.”
“Excellent. Ms. Roberts, as an Interstellar Bride, you may name a world, if you wish, and we will choose your mate from that world based on your assessment results. Or you may waive the right of naming and accept the results of the psychological assessment process. If you choose this option, you will be sent to the world, and the mate, that best matches your psychological profile. If you wish to meet your true mate, I highly recommend you choose the second option and follow the recommendations of the matching processors. We have been matching brides and their mates for hundreds of years.”
“Okay.” When I didn’t say more, she pursed her lips but continued.
“Are you currently married?”
“No.”
“Do you have any biological or adopted children you would be leaving behind?”
“No.” To have kids, first you had to find someone willing to…
“State your name for the record, please.”
“Erica Elaine Roberts.”
“Good. Good.” Her fingers flew over the tablet as we talked, as if she were checking off boxes for an exam. Seemed even aliens had bureaucracies and lots of red tape. “I am pleased to tell you, Ms. Roberts, that the system has made a successful match, and you will be sent to Battleship Varsten to meet your mate and I assume, his second. As a bride, you might never return to Earth, as all travel will be determined and controlled by your new planet’s laws and customs. You now surrender your citizenship of Earth and become an official citizen of your new world.”