From the way she kept looking up at Trist, her heart in her eyes and desire flushing her skin, I realized, for the first time, the true enormity of my mistake.
Trist kept nothing from her. Not his need, his desire, his heart, his vow to protect and cherish her. Where I’d been a coward, he was bold in his feelings, claiming her for the entire universe to see and recognize. And the connection they shared through the collars, he couldn’t hide a thing from her, even if he wanted to. I had no doubt that if anyone in the Fleet threatened her, Trist would tear that person limb from limb without a second thought. And she knew it, too.
Even I knew what she meant to him. Everything. Farking everything. The stars and moons and reason for drawing breath.
If she and I had worn collars during our months of… of friends with benefits, perhaps things would have turned out differently. She’d have known how I felt, even when I hadn’t. But I’d been a fool and kept my feelings from her when she was in my arms, my bed. I’d denied my truest intentions. I’d been selfish, excusing my lack of honesty with her by convincing myself I was doing it for her, when the truth was that I’d only been thinking about what was easier for myself. I didn’t want to hold her again and walk away. I didn’t want to see her cry. I didn’t want to know that she was worrying about me, or missing me, or needing me when I wasn’t there for her. I made the mission my priority and my weakness second.
But would she have been happy? Would she have been whole? The Brides Testing clearly showed she wanted more than I could give her. She wanted the dependability and structure of a Prillon. She wanted two mates. While Trist was definitely one, I wanted to be the other.
Miranda had been last on my stupid priority list and that’s why I was here now, on a Prillon support ship trying to prove myself to one of the toughest, meanest bastards I’d ever met.
Oh, he wasn’t that way with her. I’d seen exactly how much he bent for his female.
But ask anyone on the battleship, in the entire battlegroup—and I had been doing just that for the last two days—and to a warrior I was informed that Trist was the coldest, most calculating, toughest, most honorable, battle-hardened warrior in the Fleet.
Which was just my farking luck. I didn’t have to win over a jovial or even accommodating male. No, Miranda had been matched to someone who was just as much a bastard as I.
If our roles were reversed and he’d been the one to break Miranda’s heart, I probably would have killed him.
My only saving grace was the way Miranda looked at me, the way her emotions toward me, even ones I didn’t understand, were felt by Trist. No doubt, his magical collars were the only reason I was still alive. Miranda still cared for me, despite all my failings. I knew her. Knew her body. Her heart. She was softness and light, so sweet and submissive. So trusting and pure of heart. She needed a hard bastard to protect her, to keep her safe—both mentally and physically.
For a while, the tough bastard had been me. And I’d failed.
I wasn’t surprised at Trist’s strength of character. His dominant nature. He was farking perfect for her. And if I were being honest with myself—a new oath I’d made after my first night of sleeping alone—I admired him. He was good for her. He would never fail her, never betray her.
But after we’d taken her together, Trist hadn’t allowed me to touch her again. We’d taken her many times that night, sometimes both of us touching her together, other times fucking her individually, the other watching. He’d told me I’d proven my ability to pleasure her, but not to protect her. I was Trion. Small. Weak. Even being part of the I.C. and a doctor, I had to prove myself to him now, not as Miranda’s lover, but as a worthy second. Someone of honor. Someone who would keep her safe and happy, not just in the bedroom, but out of it.
And fark me if that wasn’t going to be a lot tougher than making Miranda whimper and beg for more in bed. He’d kicked me back to my own quarters since that one night. I slept alone while he held her at night. Wrapped her in his arms and made love to her.
While other Prillon males paraded around in front of her, bowed before her, kissed her hand and offered their protection in front of Trist. He hadn’t taken any of them up on their offer. Yet.
But he could. Any moment, any one of them could steal her away from me forever.
Fark. Fark. Fark.
Maybe I could just challenge Trist to a duel.
Even as my blood began to boil at the thought of being denied, I caught Miranda meeting his gaze once again and sighed. She loved the bastard. I knew that look. Once upon a time, that look had been directed at me.
Again, I was being selfish. Fighting Trist would only hurt her. And the other, even more disturbing thought that had been running through my mind since our bed play? She’d been matched to Prillon Prime. She’d shattered into a million pieces sheltered between us that night. She needed two mates to be truly happy. Two mates for protection, security and loving. Which meant I either came to grips with the idea of sharing her, or I had to walk away.
And that was not farking happening.
The kids made little round balls of their creations and placed them on tiny metal sheets. Lined up behind them on a table were four small devices Miranda called toaster-ovens. They carefully slid the sheets inside, careful not to burn themselves—the little machines were dangerous as could be—and Miranda instructed them to turn a circular knob on the front to set the time.
I didn’t know what any of that meant, but she tried
to explain to me that the box would heat the flour mixture, dry it out, and that would be when the white stuff she called cookies, would be ready to eat.
Why add the liquid in the first place when she needed the flour to be dry in order to eat it?
I didn’t understand, but she was happy and no one burned themselves from the fire traps, so I sat and watched and made sure nothing threatened her. That was my job as a potential second, was it not? And sleeping alone, I had come to realize that I very much wanted to be with her, as a first, second or tenth, I didn’t care. She was mine and I had every intention of correcting my mistakes and earning her trust again, even if that took the rest of my life.
The kids had just finished washing their hands when an alarm sounded.
Miranda froze and looked immediately to Trist, her mate, to keep her safe. “What is that?”
He looked at me across the room, and I moved closer to Miranda and the kids, placing myself between them and the door. I knew that sound. It was universal within the entire Coalition Fleet. That was a battle alarm. Why here and now was the question.