At least she wasn’t planning to kill him. At the moment.
“You’re disappointed,” she said.
“What? No. I mean…” He shook his head, trying to ignore the heat where their bodies touched.
His system was still flooded with adrenaline from the fight. And the sex.
Damn, he had really stepped in it. Way worse than he’d thought earlier, especially now that he was actually considering that everything she’d told him up to this moment had been the truth.
Apparently, he was crazy now, too. Maybe they were a pair.
“As your bondmate, I can assist you with your interactions with the Coalition,” she said. “I will either resign or retain my commission, depending on what you deem most beneficial.”
“Hold on. First, I would never ask any partner to give up something they love for a relationship—and I sure as hell wouldn’t make the decision for them. Second, we aren’t bondmates.”
“We are,” she said. “I don’t understand why the idea upsets you. I’m considered very valuable—”
“Stop. Just stop. Do you even realize how that sounds? You are your own person, Sorca. No matter where you’re from or who…made you.”
Genetic engineering. Forced sterilization. And she had mentioned ‘remembering him through death’. What the hell did that mean? What kind of life was she leading on that ship? Suddenly, the idea of them being married wasn’t looking so bad to him, if it meant he could help get her away from that.
“Marriage is a big deal on my…homeworld,” he said.
It felt ridiculous to say those words and mean them. At the same time, thinking back on everything that had happened since they met, it was starting to sound more real—to feel more real.
“I won’t stand in the way of you…marrying…according to your traditions,” she said. “We’re only pair-bonded in the Coalition. And many citizens actually enter into a multi-bond with others. Those are usually more business-oriented mergers, but I imagine they sometimes lead to physical and emotional attachment. You’re free to marry whatever Earthling you wish. I do hope that we can occasionally meet to have sex, however.”
He would love to have sex with her way more than occasionally. But the rest of what she was saying set his teeth on edge.
“That isn’t how we do things on Earth.”
“You don’t bond with multiple mates or partners?”
“Well, some Earthlings do, but not me. I want a life-partner. One. Someone I can laugh with and care for. Someone who will support me and that I can support. Who understands my need to protect others or maybe even shares it. Someone who understands that there are greater needs out there than our own.”
Even as he was saying the words, he realized the truth. The truth she’d been telling him all along, but that sounded too impossible to believe.
With a beaming smile, she said, “I believe I can fulfill all of those criteria.”
“Oh, hell.”
He grabbed her wrists and pulled her against his chest, then rolled both of their bodies a bit further from the edge of the cliff. His intention had been… He wasn’t sure what. But once he was on top of her, seeing her smile up at him with what looked dangerously like hope mixed with excitement, his brain stopped cooperating.
Maybe that tree she dropped on his head had given him a concussion. Maybe this whole thing was some sort of nervous breakdown from working too much.
Work. Right.
He pulled out his handcuffs. With her not resisting him, it was probably the only chance he was going to get to stop this weird situation from spiraling any further into crazyland. He rose so he was straddling her, then pulled her hands into his lap.
“Oh, excellent.” She reached for the fastener of his jeans.
“That’s not what—”
He let out a sigh, then snapped the handcuffs on her wrists. She held them above her face, cocking her head to the side as she examined them.
“They’re beautiful.” She beamed up at him. “I accept your gift.”
“Those are handcuffs.”
She stared at him.
“I’m detaining you. Until I have a better understanding of what’s going on.”
“So, we’re not having sex again?” She sat up so that their chests pressed together, looping her arms behind his neck. “Because these could make that interesting.”
His dick jerked at the thought, wanting to be buried in her heat again. Damn, it was tempting. But he needed answers.
“I have questions,” he said.
“Ask me whatever you want.” She nuzzled his neck. “If it’s within my power to answer and won’t endanger you, I’ll respond.”
“And if it betrays the secrets of your people? Of your rank and role on the Arbiter?”
“Telling you military secrets of the Coalition without authorization would absolutely endanger you. It would necessitate a mindwipe.” She leaned back and smiled at him. “But if you return to the Arbiter with me and join the Department of Homeworld Security, I have no doubt that General Serath will share ample information with you.”
“The Department of what, now?”
“Homeworld Security. That’s the name Brendan has established for Earth’s first contact committee.”
Eric let out a laugh and shook his head. “You do realize how impossible this all sounds, right? It’s like something out of one of Brendan’s sci-fi books.”
“Sci-fi. I have heard him say this word repeatedly, as well as General Serath’s Earthling-wife, Evelyn.”
“Yeah… You might want to get used to it.”
The urge to kiss her was strong, but so were other urges. If he started them down that path, he didn’t know if he’d have the willpower to stop.
Reluctantly, he extracted himself from her embrace and stood. He offered her his hand to help her up—not that she needed it. She could uproot full-grown oaks and hurl them like javelins, for crying out loud. And this was his…wife?
He could practically hear Brendan’s voice teasing him in his head. “Your space-wife.”
Eric growled internally at the thought.
As soon as she was on her feet, she stretched, pulling her hands apart. The chains connecting the handcuffs broke, some of the links flying into the grass.
“What the hell?”
“I’m so sorry, Eric.” She looked at him with a deep frown on her face, holding her arms out for him to see the dangling chains. “I’ve broken your gift. I didn’t think they were so fragile and my body is still filled with residual adrenaline.”
“It’s okay,” he said, though he was actually reeling.
Part of him was still in denial. Part that broke along with those handcuffs. She hadn’t even been trying to break them. How strong was she?
“I wanted to use them the next time we had sex.” She sounded genuinely disappointed.
He let out a half-laughing, half-choking sound. “I can always get another pair.”
“Excellent.” She smiled, then took his hand in hers.
This entire situation was absurd. But he couldn’t deny what he’d seen with his own eyes. She was an alien. And that meant…they were married.
If he’d thought for a moment that she could possibly be telling him the truth, he would never have challenged her, knowing what was at stake. And yet—since he was too far down the rabbit hole to turn back now—being married to a member of the alien race that was supposedly allying itself with Earth had to be a good thing for his planet. Right?
He would do his best to ensure it was. With a sigh, he shook his head, and then said something he never dreamed he would say.
“Take me to your leader.”
Chapter Eight
Delight surged within Sorca. Eric was accepting her—accepting the truth about her mission. He believed her. Or was starting to.
“I’ll take you to my ship, but we must wait until nightfall to depart,” she said. “The protocols exist for a reason, and will help to keep us safe.”
&nbs
p; “Safe from what?”
“As I said, Earth is being invaded by hostile aliens.”
“Right. Where are they from?”
“Tau Ceti.”
“And you?”
“I am a product of Sadr-4, genetically engineered to serve as a soldier.”
“Is that why you’re so strong?”
She shook her head. “Not entirely. I’m a Cygnian hybrid—made from Sadirian DNA combined with that of the sentients of Cygnus-1. The Cygnians have incredible strength and durability due to gravity fluctuations on their homeworld.”
“Gravity fluctuations?”
“It’s near the black hole Earth scientists call Cygnus X-1.”
“I’m having trouble wrapping my head around all of this.”
She was having her own difficulties believing the reality of her new situation. When he could easily have ended her life during his challenge, Eric had endangered himself to save her. That was twice that he had done so in the brief time since they had met. She wondered if there was something in his genetic makeup that compelled him to help others.
And he was her bondmate. A thrill of excitement raced down her spine at the thought. She knew she met his criteria for a fully pair-bonded partner—a wife. All she needed was time in which to convince him.
He didn’t believe things easily. He was wary of his opponents and his circumstances. Now that she had more at stake, she might have to give that a try.
Death had never seemed like a big deal to her. But this could be the last physical form she inhabited. She doubted the Coalition would provide Eric with a new version of her if she should die before him.
And if they did create a new version of her, but didn’t let her update her imprint beforehand, she would forget Eric and his challenge. Everything they had shared would be lost.
Suddenly, the cliff edge seemed too close.
“Come,” she said. “We need to reach my ship as quickly as possible.”
“Why? I thought we couldn’t leave until tonight.”
“That’s true. However, I need to log your victory immediately.”
“Listen, Sorca—”
She grabbed his wrist and pulled him into step beside her. “It’s better for your world.” Eventually—she hoped—she could prove that it was the best for him as well.
“This is a cultural misunderstanding.”
“It’s Coalition law. I’m considered Cygnian, even though the Sadirians created me. Part of the pact between my people and theirs that enables them to use our advanced DNA is that they honor our customs—and the martial challenge is our most sacred tradition. The High Council won’t go against this outcome once it is officially logged.”
But only if it was officially logged.
“Transmissions are currently restricted,” she said. “But the ship can be set to automatically send the signal as we depart this evening.”
“I haven’t agreed to go with you.”
The skimmer wasn’t far from where they had fought. The space between the cliff’s edge and the trees widened, forming the clearing where she had landed.
“You asked me to take you to Brendan.” She stepped closer to her ship, setting off the proximity sensor. “This is the only way to reach him.”
The cloak fell away, revealing the sleek lines of her personal skimmer.
“Holy…” Eric’s voice trailed off.
Sorca let out a breath that purred in her chest as she looked at her ship. She couldn’t help it.
In the dark void of space, the black hull of the skimmer was nearly invisible, even without its cloak. On Earth, sunlight gleamed along its surface. Green trees and blue sky reflected on its polished hull.
The curved shadow it cast on the ground would make a pleasant resting space. She wondered if Eric would be willing to have sex with her again now that they were pair-bonded. It seemed an inviting place for it…
“I hope that this addresses any doubts you may still have.” She turned to Eric, her smile faltering when she saw him.
His eyebrows were drawn together on his forehead, several furrowed lines between them. A muscle twitched beneath his beard and up along his cheek. His lips were pulled down in a grimace.
She tried to name the emotions flitting across his features. Rage. Fear. Determination.
“Everything you’ve said is true,” he said.
“Yes. I told you that.”
“I have questions. Many, many questions.”
Sorca nodded curtly, a form of almost-salute she had only ever used with Serath. In that moment, Eric was so like her commanding officer, she couldn’t believe she’d not seen the similarities before—primarily the force of will both men seemed to project.
But instead of stalking toward her ship, as Serath would, Eric deferred to her. He gestured to the ship and waited for her to approach first. She walked to the skimmer and pressed her hand against the control that would lower the ramp, watching Eric’s expression darken further. This time, she was the one who gestured for him to go first.
Without hesitating, he walked up the short ramp that led to her small vessel. She followed quickly, leaving the ramp open to allow them fresh air. All of the viewports on the ship were open as well.
Eric’s gaze scanned every surface of the ship—the controls at each station along the walls, the ladder and hatch leading up to the compact sleeping quarters above, the edges of the rectangular lockers where supplies and weapons were stored.
He looked at the trees through the main viewport. She left him to it, quickly accessing the communications station and setting it to transmit the change in her status as soon as possible.
His silence became unnerving.
“I don’t understand why seeing my ship has upset you so,” she said. “It proves to you that everything I’ve said is true. That Brendan is safe.”
“He’s safe for now. But the fact that you’ve been telling me the truth also means that my entire planet is in horrible danger.”
“The Coalition will protect Earth from—”
“The Coalition is the threat,” he nearly yelled. He shook his head, and said, “I’m sorry. Tell me more about your government. Please.”
Not their weapons. Not their technology. She was so surprised, she wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Could you narrow your parameters?” she said.
“You said you were designed by your government to be a soldier. Do they design everyone or just the military?”
“Everyone is the product of genetic engineering, designed for a specific societal function.”
“Are the results always what they expect?”
“No. Occasionally, citizens don’t meet their intended specifications. We call them glitches.”
He winced at the word, and his expression hardened. “Are these individuals assigned new roles in your society?”
“Based on their scores on the ability tests we all take after emerging from our maturation chambers, yes.”
“How old are they when they emerge?”
“By Earth standards, you would consider them in their early teens.”
“Shit,” he muttered. He ran a hand over his face briefly. “What happens after they emerge?”
“Everyone continues their development and begins training on basic functioning and societal protocols. Their scoring determines where they’re assigned. Most often—especially in cases where their appearance or physicality is not considered within norms—glitches are placed in the military.”
Eric’s eyebrows hiked up his forehead and his mouth dropped open. He shook his head, and let out a harsh laugh.
“Let me get this straight. Your government takes all the marginalized citizens in your society, and puts them in the military?”
Sorca shrugged. “Specific ships can be designed to accommodate larger people. If a citizen can’t properly maneuver in the limited space allowed in the standard Sadirian space station, ship, or dome-world, it isn’t possible for them to live among civilians. They ser
ve our society by acting as our peacekeepers and enforcers.”
“So, they’re your police as well as your military?”
“It’s more efficient to have only one segment of the population with this training and equipment.”
He shook his head. “I’ve dealt with many kinds of governments. Democracies, dictatorships—the corrupt, inept, and just plain evil. I have never encountered outright stupid, though. And that is the dumbest thing I have ever heard in my life.”
She felt an emptiness within her. Her conditioning mandated that she defend her government, even if the words felt hollow.
“The Coalition has existed for thousands of years,” she said.
Existed. Not thrived.
“Your Coalition has devalued an entire segment of its population by labeling them as glitches—and then given them access to their most powerful weapons and training.”
“Do not underestimate the High Council, Eric. They will do anything to make sure the Coalition remains in control of the galaxy.”
“The galaxy?” he said. “How many people are we talking about?”
“Including all fully assimilated species—septillions.”
“Only septillions?”
“I don’t understand.”
“The galaxy is a huge place. Why aren’t there more people in the Coalition?”
“More aren’t needed.”
He looked as though she’d struck him. His breath rushed from him as he covered his face with his hands.
“I don’t understand your reactions,” she said. “Why create more people than you need? Why waste resources?”
He wheeled around and dropped his arms to his sides. His voice boomed off the walls of the small space they shared. “Because, Sorca, people aren’t just resources. They’re people.”
He included everyone in that word. She could feel it with sudden and shocking clarity.
He would consider the needs of Sadirians equal to those of Lyrians, Centaurans, Antareans, Cygnians. Even the loathsome Tau Ceti. She could feel the strength of his words, that he would include all sentients in that one powerful word.
People.
Chapter Nine
Tied up in Customs (The Department of Homeworld Security Book 4) Page 6