Prime Imperative (The Prime Chronicles Book 3)

by Monette Michaels

  Supreme lordliness had never worked on her back then. It wouldn’t now.

  But dealing with such attitude took skill. Bria didn’t know Iolyn well enough yet to determine what tools in her dealing-with-a-stubborn-male skill set she’d need to pull out. Eventually, he’d learn not to underestimate her. She wasn’t a weakling just because she was untrained. She was smart—and educable.

  His mere presence had already increased her empathic skills and made her feel stronger than she’d ever felt in her life. With some training, their mating could be a partnership as she sensed Nadia and Huw’s was.

  It would all begin today.

  “Brianna, leave.” Her mate’s growl echoed off the walls and into her very bones. “Go to your quarters. I will come for you soon and then we’ll leave this place.”

  She inclined her head, turned, then stomped out of the bar. Nadia and Huw and the other Alliance males stayed behind. Tomas was on her heels.

  As she left the room, Iolyn pounded on her mental walls. She strengthened them and was thrilled to see they held. They’d talk later about his lack of faith in her intelligence and courage.

  Right now, she headed for the medica. She had renal surgery to perform.

  Chapter 10

  “Ansu bhau!” Iolyn turned and looked at Wulf. “She blocked me.”

  Without turning his attention from the assassin who’d tried to kill them, Wulf snorted. “Melina did that also. Brianna probably had to develop shields to protect herself as she grew up.” He knelt by the man Brianna had knifed, then shot. “This man is Prime. I’ve seen him somewhere before.”

  “Cut the chatter,” Damon muttered. “We have to deal with the Erian and his pals before we figure out who the guy on the floor is.”

  Before either Iolyn or Wulf could respond, Huw and Nadia joined them along with the other three Galanti crewmen.

  “What are you doing, slimeball?” Huw glared at someone over Iolyn’s shoulder.

  Iolyn turned to see the Erian staring after Brianna. The Erian mercenary’s split tongue licked at the air slowly as if savoring it.

  “The Prime woman…” the Erian spoke in halting Standard as he shifted his slitted acid-yellow gaze to focus on first Huw, then Iolyn. “She is a battle-mate? She belongs to—”

  “Me.” Iolyn fisted his hands and stepped forward until he was less than an arm’s length away from the slimy bastard who’d targeted his Brianna. “My gemate. My battle-mate. Mine.”

  With each word, his voice got louder, until the last word echoed off the metal rafters. Brianna’s brother jerked as if hit by a laser stream, and Iolyn was aware of Damon’s fixed stare and the pain—and hopelessness—blasting through the man.

  The Erian tasted the air again. “Yes-s-s-s. She smells of you. Wondered.”

  “Wondered what?” Iolyn stroked a hand over the battle-blade sheathed on his thigh.

  “She was-s-s with him.” The Erian angled his head toward Damon. “Not smell right. S-s-so—”

  “So you thought you could take my sister since she didn’t smell like me?” Damon’s face flushed with his anger.

  The Erian smiled. “Yes-s-s-s. She no belong to you. Need to belong to s-s-somebody.”

  Brianna’s brother flinched, then his blue eyes went cold and empty as a starless night sky. Iolyn sensed the man’s reluctant acceptance of the Erian’s words.

  Damon turned toward Iolyn. “I say we kill him—and his friends. I don’t like their looks or attitudes.”

  The two men would always have this in common—the need to protect Brianna.

  “It’s my right to kill the slit-lipped apayebo. He was going after my woman.” Iolyn turned toward Wulf. “I want him.”

  “We aren’t the law here, brother. It’s the galaxy rim, and martial law applies.” Wulf bowed his head to first Damon and then Borac. “These gentlemen have every right to police their station as they see fit. The Erian and his men are their responsibility. I would like to make a request that they allow us to remove the would-be assassin and leave his punishment to Alliance and Prime law.”

  “Agreed.” Damon turned to the Erian. “You’ll be placed in detainment until Borac and I decide what your ultimate punishment should be.” Damon turned to address the six heavily weaponed station security officers guarding the outlaws. “Take them to the holding cells. Keep them separate. And if any of them escape…heads will roll.”

  As Damon’s security men moved to take charge of the Erian and his crew, the Erian attacked Damon. The station security guards, taken by surprise, were separated from the mercenaries by some less-than-lawful bar patrons.

  “I was hoping that would happen,” Iolyn heard Damon mutter as Iolyn was forced to engage one of the Erian’s men, while Huw and Wulf engaged the other two.

  Nadia, armed with her laser in one hand and her battle-blade in the other, stood guard along with Borac who was similarly armed to prevent any more of the barroom crowd from choosing sides and joining in the melee.

  It took no time at all for Iolyn to down his man. His brothers also quickly subdued their opponents. The men in their landing party cuffed the three ruffians, all Terrans who hadn’t had a chance in hell against the batel rabia strength of three pissed-off Prime warriors.

  “Should we help Damon?” Nadia moved to stand next to Huw. She placed her arm around her mate’s waist and kissed his ear.

  Iolyn looked on with an envy that bordered on pain. Soon that would be him. He’d have Brianna by his side, where he could touch and be touched in the affectionate way of bonded couples. But first, the Erian had to be declawed once and for all, and the Prime assassin secured and his injuries stabilized. He would be questioned later. Extensively. Iolyn wouldn’t take even an infinitesimal chance with Brianna’s safety, even if she didn’t seem to believe the assassin had been targeting her.

  “Damon seems to be holding his own for a Terran raised in a pacifist society,” Wulf commented dryly from behind Iolyn.

  “I trained him.” Borac stood with them, his narrowed gaze following the fight closely. “He has the soul of a warrior.” He smiled at one of Damon’s particularly vicious countermoves, which cost the Erian part of his arm. “When I first met Damon, he didn’t know how to fight dirty. He learned quickly. We get all sorts of less than law-abiding citizens here. We have to hold onto what’s ours.”

  But Brianna wasn’t Damon’s. She was Iolyn’s.

  Borac turned toward Iolyn and inclined his head. “Ah, I sense your concern, son of Caradoc. Yes, Damon does not want you to have Brianna. He loves her. Has loved her for many years.”

  Iolyn watched as a bloodied Damon beheaded the Erian, admiring the man’s fighting ability even as he wanted to kick the man’s ass for coveting his gemate. “He can’t have her.”

  “Then do not give him a chance to take her.” Borac turned away from Damon as the man was surrounded by a swarm of congratulatory bar patrons and said in a low voice, “You need to know that Damon’s family hid the truth of her heritage from her. They had an angry discussion about this matter. Brianna made it very clear she has always known there was someone in the galaxy for her—and that it wasn’t Damon. She wants you and what the bond promises.”

  A load of worry and dread was eased by Borac’s words. Iolyn had feared Brianna would be torn between the love for the man she’d known for over twenty-seven standard years and him and their bond.

  “Damon was hurt by the truth in the Erian’s words, Iolyn,” Borac’s tone held deep concern for his friend and partner. “It is beginning to sink in that the bond is not a fiction. Give him time and distance to come to terms with all this. Take your gemate and leave as soon as possible.”

  Iolyn glanced over and found Damon’s blank stare fixed on him and Borac. His emotions were too chaotic to single out. Borac was correct—Damon needed time, and Iolyn needed to put distance between the step-siblings for now. He would discuss with Brianna about how to repair the brother-sister relationship, since underlying all the chaos in Damon’s e
motions was a solid foundation of love for a little sister.

  Borac finished saying good-bye to Iolyn’s brothers and Nadia and had turned to join Damon and the crowd of the drunken well-wishers. “Borac…” Iolyn called out.

  “Yes?” Borac turned to face him.

  “You and your family are welcome to stay with Brianna and me anytime you visit Cejuru Prime.” Iolyn offered his hand.

  Borac gripped it in a warrior’s acknowledgment, hand to forearm. “I would be honored.” Borac released his grip on Iolyn’s arm. “Go. Be with your gemate. We will meet again soon. I have a raging need to see my home planet again.”

  Once Borac was away, Iolyn turned and addressed Wulf and Nadia. “I’ll go to Brianna’s quarters, and let her know we’re leaving. We’ll meet you at the shuttlecraft as soon as she gets her things together.”

  “Hurry,” Wulf said as in the background Huw directed the landing party to take the assassin to the shuttlecraft. “We don’t need any more would-be assassins taking a shot at us. Obviously, the rebel faction has long arms. How they knew we were coming here and got an assassin here in time to attack us is a question I want someone in Alliance and Prime Commands to answer.”

  As he left the bar, he heard Nadia ask Wulf, “Do we have enough time for me to see if the bartender knows how to mix a Black Siberian? I haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

  “A Black Siberian?” Wulf asked. “Let’s go see. I wouldn’t mind trying one myself.”

  Iolyn shook his head and smiled as he moved quickly through the bar, retracing the route they’d taken from Brianna’s rooms.

  Ten standard minutes later, Iolyn stood in the middle of the living area of Brianna’s quarters, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. “Where in Balcon’s Balls name is she?”

  His words echoed in the empty space. He’d searched all three of the suite’s rooms—including every corner and closet—and even under the bed. She wasn’t here.

  Now that he’d stopped stomping around like an enraged beast, he did what he should’ve done to begin with—he sought her through their sensory and empathic connections. Yes, she’d blocked their battle-mate telepathy. But he had the gemat-gemate bond. He had her voice, her scent, her image imprinted on his brain, all of which would allow him to sense if she were near and provide a general direction to follow.

  Once they were completely joined, she’d become part of his soul and have a much harder time blocking any of the aspects of their bond—he hoped. His brothers had confided that their battle-mates could still throw up some damn good walls when the women were mad. Anger made some strong walls, it seemed.

  Iolyn tugged on his connection to Brianna. He turned in a circle and stopped when the directional pull was the strongest. Ahh, there she is.

  One level up. Her shield was still up, but wasn't as strong as when she’d left the bar. He could ride on some surface thoughts now. She seemed to be concentrating on some task. He opened his empathic senses to the bond and nudged with his telepathic link to see if he could figure out exactly what she was doing.

  He inhaled sharply. A distinct coppery, earthy smell flooded his olfactory nerves. Blood! The odor was so strong he could even taste it. But she wasn’t in pain or distressed. Not her blood, thank the One.

  But she was worried. And then it hit him—she was treating the people’s injuries which had drawn her to the bar in the first place. She was in the jump station’s medica.

  Brianna was safe and saving a life. He admired the strength of her dedication to her profession. His woman was both intelligent and compassionate, but naive about the dangers lurking outside her insular world of medicine, especially on this jump station. While the Erian was dead, he wasn’t the only predator in this place.

  Concerned for her safety, he’d told her to go to her quarters. She’d deliberately ignored him. He’d read enough of Brianna’s thoughts prior to her blocking him to know she was used to taking care of herself.

  That was before. Now, she had him to see to her well-being. She couldn’t just flit about, even to do her job, without having a care for her safety. His enemies would love to use Brianna to get to him—and by extension, to the Caradoc family.

  At least her research could be performed in a highly secured environment on-planet. Unlike his brothers’ mates, who put their lives on the line as Alliance officers each and every time they left space dock, Brianna’s job was not inherently dangerous. Thank the One.

  He left Brianna’s quarters. The door creaked shut, the sound echoing loudly off the corridor walls. Another door opened down the hallway, and the man called Tomas poked his head out of the door. He nodded at Iolyn and smiled.

  “Oh, it’s you. Bria’s in the medica. The injured man needed some laser surgery on a kidney. Our paramedic needed her assistance. I’ll show you the way,” Tomas offered.

  “No, thank you. I can find her.”

  And he planned on never losing her again. The concept was unacceptable.

  Chapter 11

  Jump Station Charybdis medica

  “There, that should do it.” Bria set the surgical laser to the side after sealing the wound entrance. She turned to the paramedic who’d responded to the emergency in the holding area—an emergency that had resulted from the Erian’s escape. Darned lizards. “Clean him up. Then watch him for the next few hours. If his blood pressure stays up and he feels like it, release him with standard post-op instructions.”

  “Yes, Doctor.” The paramedic programmed her instructions into the regen bed and started the palliative cycle to speed up the patient’s post-op recovery.

  Now that her mind and body weren’t occupied by caring for her patients, the niggling sensation at the back of her brain came roaring to the front of her consciousness. It seemed to be separation anxiety from her gemat—Iolyn—she had to start thinking of him as Iolyn. She felt a strong urge pushing her to get back to his side. Her body ached for him. She wanted to see him, scent him, and most of all to touch him and be touched in return. She needed those sensory inputs as much as she needed her next breath.

  She’d heard about these feelings, these urges, from Lia. She never expected them to be so uncomfortable, as if she’d die or go crazy without Iolyn by her side.

  Preparing to seek her mate, Bria pulled off her disposable gloves. Then out of the blue, a whoop-whoop-whoop noise startled her. “What’s that?”

  “An emergency code.” The paramedic checked his com unit. “They need me in the bar area.”

  Someone was injured in the bar area? Fear struck Bria, and she opened her senses and let down her walls enough to touch Iolyn’s mind. He was uninjured and hunting for her. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I have to go. I’m the primary medical until Borac and Damon find a doctor willing to work here.” Obviously torn, the paramedic looked at Siri and then at the male patient who was still unconscious. “Doctor…”

  Bria needed to be with Iolyn, but the male patient also needed to be watched, as did Siri. Her training, her conscience, urged her to stay. The part of her that clamored for Iolyn’s nearness had subsided when she touched his mind and found he was seeking her. There was no doubt in her mind Iolyn would find her, even if he had to tear the jump station apart.

  She could let him know her exact location, but that would be too easy. After the way he ordered her to go to her room like a little girl, instead of asking nicely and saying “please,” she didn’t want to make it easy. The man had to learn she was used to making her own decisions.

  Plus, she would’ve come to the medica even if he’d asked nicely. A life had been at stake.

  Bria turned to the paramedic. “Go on. I’ll stay here until you get back, or you send someone else.”

  The paramedic smiled. “Thanks, Doctor.” He grabbed his medical kit and ran from the room as if a horde of Antareans were on his heels.

  Bria turned back to the male patient. She programmed a change in his oxygen levels and then began to clean up the supplies used dur
ing the operation. Once the surgery was spic and span, she dictated her orders into the patient’s chart and electronically signed it.

  With that chore done, she moved to check on Siri. As she reviewed the dancer’s vitals with one part of her brain, she recalled her first impressions of Iolyn with another.

  Tall. Broad shoulders. Leanly muscled. Smelled like a forest in summer. Bossy. Over-protective. He was everything she’d expected—and more.

  A sharp pang of intense desire threatened to take her to the floor.

  Bria hunched over and hugged herself as the mark on her lower abdomen burned with a sharp, stabbing pain that mirrored a clenching in her core and the aching of her clit. Now, this was sexual desire—on steroids. She’d never lusted after any man before and had never imagined it could be this strong. That she’d be so needy.

  And for the rest of her life this need, these urges, could only be assuaged by Iolyn’s touch.

  Instinctively, she searched for the psychic path she’d sought during their first encounter, just a short while ago. She examined the connection. It was saturated with his scent…his voice.

  The sensory memories soothed her, allowing her to unbend and take slow, calming breaths.

  Now that she’d regained some semblance of control, noises in the corridor grabbed her attention. The squeaking of soft-soled shoes over metal floors made her cringe. The irritating noises approached the medica. There was also a clanking of metal on metal—weapons, someone had a lot of weapons jangling in harnesses.

  Danger. Some really bad men were headed her way—and Iolyn was nowhere near. He’d go ballistic that she’d placed herself—albeit inadvertently—in danger once again.

  Bria shot into a state of hyper-awareness. Colors were suddenly brighter. Visual details more crisp. Every smell, sharper. Every small sound, louder. Her heart beat more rapidly, an erratic drub, drub, drub, as adrenaline and battle-mate hormones flooded her veins. Her well of primal energy surged through her, readying her for battle just as it had on the docks the day she’d arrived and in the barroom earlier.