Our personal quarters weren’t far and seconds later my body was pressed to the door. “But I need you.” He leaned down and kissed me, hard and fast and so thoroughly my knees gave out. Of course, he caught me, leaned into me more so I had the solid door behind me and his equally strong body at my front. And kissed me again.
“Get your hands off my mate, Prillon.”
Trist froze, his back to whoever had spoken. I couldn’t see around his huge chest, but I didn’t need to. I knew that voice.
Brax.
Trist turned and shoved me behind him in the blink of an eye.
“Security, personal quarters. Code seven.” Trist’s voice had the snap of a whip.
“Wait!” I said, trying to push my way out from behind him. “I know him.”
“That’s right, she’s mine,” Brax said, although I had yet to see him.
Trist growled and had Brax pinned against the wall by his neck. Since he was a seven-foot tall Prillon warrior and Brax was… not, his feet didn’t touch the floor.
“No! Don’t hurt him.”
While I was mad at Brax, I didn’t want him hurt. I also didn’t want Trist to hurt someone because of me. He might be a warrior but he didn’t need that on his conscience.
“She’s mine,” Brax got out, even though his throat was being squeezed hard enough for his face to turn a mottled shade of purple.
“She’s mine,” Trist countered.
Three warriors ran down the hall, weapons drawn.
Trist looked to me. “I will not kill him, but he will answer to me.”
He released his grip and Brax’s feet slapped the ground.
“Take him away.”
I watched as the security group dragged Brax off, but his gaze was fixed on me. And I didn’t need a collar to know the look in his eye. Mine.
Oh boy, this was trouble.
9
Brax, Battleship Zakar, Private quarters
* * *
I might as well have been in the brig. These bare, plain quarters were like a prison, for I was locked within. Even if I got the door opened, a Prillon guard was stationed just outside under Captain Trist’s orders. Miranda was on this ship, in the captain’s personal quarters. And not only was he a gods be damned Prillon, but he was second in command of the entire battle group.
Just my luck. Miranda is matched first to Prillon, but worse, to a hard-ass, uptight, calculating bastard.
Which was, I realized, exactly the kind of male she would respond to. She was a true submissive, heart and soul. The stronger her male, the safer she would feel.
Only now, locked in this farking room, did I realize the truth of it. I had not given her what she needed when she was mine. But I loved her. I would not give her up. And my lack was one I would not make the mistake of repeating.
The small room was similar to a fighter’s quarters on Trion, except the view was different. I’d been on enough missions to be used to battleships, other planets, utilitarian quarters. Empty quarters. Being alone had never bothered me. Until now, until I’d pulled my head out of my ass. Now I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to share my space, my life. With Miranda. I’d used her transport coordinates and followed, eager to make her mine.
But when I’d come upon them… kissing, I’d lost it. She was mine, not some seven-foot Prillon’s. She might have been matched to him, might have been sucking the lips off his face, but she belonged to me. She responded to me, to my touch, my cock. She loved to be adorned and fucked, given a bite of pain to enhance her pleasure. I knew her body. I just hadn’t known her heart until it was too late.
It wasn’t too late. I slapped my hands against the window, tried to handle my frustration when I had no one to blame but myself.
I thought of the huge fucker, her match. He’d turned and faced me, shielded Miranda with his body, and I had instantly known she was his as well. He’d protect her with his life, had been willing to do so right then and there. But I didn’t want Miranda dead. I just wanted her.