Chapter Three
Prince Nial, Battleship Deston, Transport Room
I walked the corridors of the battleship like a monster. Hardened warriors averted their eyes, unable to stand the sight of my silver flesh. I doubted it was because of me, but what could happen to them. I cared not. In a matter of hours I would be on Earth, my bride in my arms. This was a mission that would not fail.
Once my mate was secured, I would find a warrior willing to share her, I would name a second mate to protect her, and then find a way to reclaim my throne. As I walked, rage curled in a tight knot in my gut. My father was foolish, and I had spent too many years blindly following his orders. It was time to take the throne from him, by force if necessary. His tactics in the war against the Hive were ineffective and weak and I was proof of that. If not for Commander Deston’s masterful leadership of the battle fleet, we would be lost already.
The transport room was nearly full. Commander Deston, his mate Hannah, and their second, Dare stood waiting for me near the edge of the transport platform. Two warriors I did not recognize worked the control station, inputting the coordinates for my transfer to Earth’s processing center, where just a few days ago my mate had been turned away. Turned away! My rage only grew at how she had been rejected.
Two huge warriors stood guard at the door. At the sight of them, I realized the risk my cousin took for me. Not all on board the ship were happy to know a contaminated warrior walked among them, prince or not.
“Commander.” I clasped my cousin’s forearm in the old greeting, unable to express in words what this chance meant to me. By sending me to Earth to hunt my bride, he defied both my father and the entire planetary council. It showed that he had little regard for my father and a strong belief in the matching system.
I glanced at Hannah, who stood by his side. So small, so frail in comparison to her two mates, yet strong and powerful. She truly was the strong one in their bond. I glanced at their matching collars and I envied their connection.
I, too, would have that bond. Soon. I just had to get to Earth and find her and bring her home.
“Safe journey, Nial,” Deston said. “Once we transport you, your father will surely lock down the transport stations and, most likely, send bounty hunters to track you down.”
“I’m not afraid of my father.”
Commander Deston nodded with a deep respect I’d not seen from him prior. I’d been a spoiled child before. I knew that now and I did not cower from that admission. A pampered prince who wanted to play war, but did not fully understand the costs. I was not that man any longer. I released the commander and bowed to his bride. “Lady Deston.”
“Good luck.” She leaned up on tiptoe and kissed me on the cheek, my left cheek. The act made me more convinced than ever that an Earth bride was my only chance of finding a female who could accept me as I was now.
Her second mate, Dare, met my gaze and I envied the slight hint of silver in his own eye. He, too, had been captured. But as the Prime heir, I’d taken priority with the Hive, and they’d begun their work on me first. Dare had escaped their technology with only the slightest hint of silver in one eye, a hint no one but those closest to him knew about.
Dare held out his arm, and I took it. “How will you protect your mate without a second?” He held on when I would have released him. “You should choose a second, Nial. Take him with you.”
“I am an outcast, a contaminate.” I shook my head. “I could not ask that of any warrior. Not yet.”
Still, Dare held on. “Ask what? To protect and care for a beautiful bride? To share her body and fuck her until she screams her release?” He grinned then and I saw Hannah blush. “Trust me, Nial, acting as a second mate is no hardship.”
I knew the truth of his words from seeing his—their—mating ceremony in my mind.
Perhaps he spoke the truth, but I was a contaminate who was about to break Prillon law and travel to a restricted planet. I had been matched to a bride who did not know me, and would most likely run screaming at the first sight of my ruined features. I could not ask any warrior to join me under these circumstances.
Without replying, I released Dare’s grip and stepped up onto the transport platform to see Lady Deston smiling at me with a mischievous glint in her unusual dark eyes. Her black hair stood out among the golden race of Prillon Prime like a star in the darkness of space. “You’ll be naked when you get there, you know.”
“Yes.” I nodded. No clothes, no weapons. Yes, I knew Prillon’s protocol, knew how our transporters were programmed to work. No clothing or weapons would pass through long range transport. Awaiting the arrival of a naked and eager bride was one of the most anticipated events in the entire Interstellar Coalition. I had to wonder what those at the processing center on Earth were going to think when a naked man—no, a naked half cyborg—appeared.
“You’re also about a foot taller than most men on Earth. You’re going to stick out like a sore thumb.”
“I do not know what that expression means, but I have to assume that I will be a rarity just for my height alone, and not this.” I pointed to the side of my face.
Hannah pursed her lips and nodded.
“So be it.”
I frowned at the delay, and offered a dark glance at the warrior behind the controls to get on with it. The warrior at the controls nodded to me in acknowledgment of my unspoken command.
“Wait.”
The deep voice had us all turning. One of the guards at the door stepped toward me.
His name was Ander and he’d been one of the warriors who had rescued me and Dare from the Hive. He was even larger than I, with massive shoulders and a large scar that ran the entire right side of his face. This marking was a sign of his fierceness as a warrior, the price he’d paid in the battle for our return.
My coloring was pale gold, common among our people. Ander was darker, his eyes the color of rusted steel, and his hair and skin a duskier hue, closer to brown and more common in the ancient families. Even before our rescue, I knew of him. He was greatly feared and respected on the battleship, and one of Commander Deston’s elite warriors. I owed him my life. So did Dare. Having him in the transport room showed that the commander and his second both trusted him as one of their inner circle, a most faithful warrior and confidant.
I met his gaze, unflinching, one scarred outcast staring at another. I watched, curious, as he set aside his weapons and walked to face me. “I offer myself as your second.”
Ander was an ugly fucker several years older than I, but fierce in battle. I could ask for no better warrior to help me find and protect my bride. He’d proven his loyalty to me, to Dare, and to the commander over many years of battle. I did not know him well, but I knew enough. He was worthy of a bride. Hell, he was perhaps even more worthy than I.
I thought of the mating ceremony that had been the basis for the match, the one with the dominant second who had fucked his mate in the ass with expert and pleasurable precision. Knowing my mate’s needs from that dream alone, I knew Ander would do. He would do quite well.
I turned to the commander, for I would not take one of his best warriors without permission. The old me, the spoiled prince who thought everything was his due, would have taken the warrior and thought nothing of that man’s responsibilities to those on the ship, to those under his command, those he protected.
Ander turned to the commander as well. The commander stood with his arm around his mate’s curved waist, a rare grin on his face. “Go. May the gods protect you both.”
Lady Deston rested her head on his shoulder, her smile genuine. “Try not to kill too many idiots. And try not to scare her to death.” She held out her hand and Dare set three black collars across her palm. She turned to me. “I think you’ll need these.”
I shook my head. “I regret, my lady, that they will not survive the transport. Nor will they work properly outside the ship’s range.”
“Oh. Then they will be here upon your return.” Her han
d dropped to Dare’s and she gripped both of her mates, clearly upset as she studied the two of us standing shoulder to shoulder on the transport pad. “Good luck. You are going to freak her out. Try to be patient.”
I nodded as I braced myself for the wrenching twist of a long range transport, Ander directly behind me. I felt the surge of power flowing through my cells that meant the transport protocol had begun. I did not understand this phrase, freak her out. Nor I did need to be patient. This Earth woman, she was my mate. We were matched. She would know the connection as rightly as I. She might wonder after Ander, but if I’d chosen him as my second, she did not need to question me. Her mate. There was no need to waste time courting our new bride with comely faces or kind words.
I was her match!
I planned to simply take her. And if my bride was afraid? If she protested the match? It would not matter. She was mine and I would not give her up. I would win her over, if it took one week or one year, she would relent.
* * *
Jessica, Earth
I crouched low on the rooftop, staring at the Drug Enforcement Agency’s officers through the long lens of the camera I’d hidden in my go-bag. My target was sitting under an umbrella under one of seven tables at a private courtyard café in the heart of the city. I wore my usual recon outfit, black shirt and pants.
The officers were guests of the cartel, their presence evidence of their shady natures, proof they were on the take. Proof that I had been framed. The place was heavily guarded with goons packing heat on the ground and more men doing rooftop sweeps every hour, on the hour.
Which meant I had fifteen minutes to get the hell out of here or I’d be caught.
A woman knelt on the concrete between one man’s legs, giving him a blowjob beneath the table as he sipped whiskey and joked with his friend. He didn’t even pause his speech as the drugged woman took his cock down her throat and played with his balls. The entire area was filled to overflowing with drug dealers, pimps, and the prostitutes who served them, their slaves.
I wasn’t sure who was worse off, the women who died from the initial drug overdose of C-bomb or the survivors forced into slavery to get their next fix.
I hadn’t eaten a full meal in two days, my body was dehydrated and my stomach filled with nothing but gel protein packs and coffee. I didn’t need to survive. I had no home, no money, and no family left. Even my alien match, the one perfect man for me in all of the universe, had rejected me. All I had left was my honor, and a chance to make sure no more women were kidnapped and forced into drug and prostitution rings. This group’s recruiting method, injecting captive women with a drug cocktail—called C, or C-bomb on the street, short for cunt-bomb—designed to make any woman a mindless slut. The drug worked incredibly well. After one dose, the women were either easily controlled addicts or dead.
The woman who was debasing herself with the man’s cock down her throat was clearly hooked.
I watched as one of the local drug lord’s lieutenants slid a bag full of drugs, money, and God only knew what else across the table to the DEA agent who opened the bag, smiled, and took a single pill—I could see the pale pink color of it through my lens—from the bag. Putting it between his thumb and first finger, he offered it to the woman sucking his cock under the table. She took it under her tongue. Almost immediately she stiffened, then smiled in a mindless haze as she lowered her head and redoubled her efforts to make him come down her throat.
With a grimace, I pressed the button and took picture after picture, careful not to move. Not yet. I needed one more name, one more face. I had already turned in three of the group’s top players. A well-placed note and some photos sent to some honest cops was enough to see them behind bars. Now, I just needed to know who this group owned on the city council and I’d finish my job. I would take down the assholes who were destroying my city, or die trying.
Breathing slow and even, I didn’t even twitch, not a single inch. It was hot beneath the gray tarp I used as camouflage, but I didn’t dare move. The slightest reflection of the sunlight on my camera lens could alert them to my presence. I felt like a sniper, but my weapon was information, not bullets. At least not these days. When I was in the military, my M24 SWS rifle kit was much deadlier.
My patience was rewarded when a man I knew too well finally stepped from the shadows to sit down across from the two drug enforcement agents.
I blinked three times, hard, to rid my eyes of the tears gathering there. I should be surprised.
I wasn’t, and that told me everything I needed to know. Every bit of my sniper training paid off in this moment. I didn’t freak. I remained calm, breathed slow and even, even if my mind was moving so fast. Shit. Fuck! The fucking bastard!
Moving swiftly, I snapped several photographs before I withdrew, packed up my gear, and headed for his home. I knew exactly where it was because I’d been there before. Many times. I would set up an ambush and confront him, recording the whole thing. The city needed to know the asshole who was behind the recent string of murders, but the world would never believe me. I was a convicted criminal, one he’d framed. I needed a confession, and I needed it on camera.
Two hours later, he returned to his four-bedroom colonial home to find me waiting in his formal dining room on the main floor; the twelve-gauge shotgun he’d bought at a gun show years ago was loaded, the barrel resting across the high back of a cherry stained dining chair. I pointed the weapon dead center at his chest. He knew I was a damn good shot. I’d competed in shooting contests all four years in the Army, and he’d trained me himself.
“Jess.” His eyes widened, completely stunned to see me. That only lasted a second before he checked his emotions.
“Clyde.”
I stared at my old mentor over the top of the gun and shook my head slowly, never taking my eyes off him. He was ex-military, former chief of police, and now mayor of our great city. He sat dressed in a navy suit and tie, looking handsome and fit for his fifty years, a paragon in this city. A war hero, his eyes were framed by laugh lines. The dimple in his chin had earned him the title of the city’s most eligible bachelor.
“I thought you were gone, off fucking an alien.”
He had the nerve to pull a cigarette from his pocket and light it as I watched, the slow-moving smoke dancing in the stillness of the air between us.
“The alien didn’t do it for you? Did you come here for a fuck, sweetheart? Another dose of C?”
“No, thank you.”
He shrugged and took a deep draw on the cigarette, exhaling smoke rings as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Thought I’d offer. I hear you loved C the first time, thought you might like another go.”
I shuddered. I’d told no one about that hellish night, the night I’d spent drugged out of my mind. I had locked myself in my bathroom curled in a ball on the floor. I’d masturbated until my pussy bled, thrown up over and over for hours, each orgasm only offering me momentary relief. The torture had lasted most of the night and now I knew exactly who to blame. My finger twitched on the trigger and he must have seen it, for he held his hands up in a sign of surrender.
“Easy.”
“I trusted you.” The thought of killing him made me want to vomit all over my boots, but I’d do it. He didn’t deserve to live, but I needed a confession. Him being dead wasn’t enough. My camera rested on the ledge of the fireplace, recording everything in the room, every fucking word. “Why did you do it?”
“Do what?” He stared me in the eye, calm and unhurried as he moved to sit in his favorite recliner, the one that used to have a sidearm tucked between the right arm cushion and the seat. The firearm was now safely stowed in my pocket, but he didn’t know that.
“You know, set me up. Kill a few dozen innocent women. Go into business with the cartel. Sell out your city.”
His hand moved to the space between the cushions and I smiled, watching his eyes change from blank to furious as he realized his weapon was gone. He sighed and lifted his han
d to cross his arms across his chest.
“Do what you have to do, Jess, but you won’t get a confession from me. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
I ached to shoot him at point-blank range, blow a hole in his chest the size of Texas, but something stopped me.
God, sometimes it sucked to have a conscience, not that this man would understand what that meant. I’d killed during my tour in the Middle East, but I’d been forced to. Kill or be killed. That was different. This? This was cold-blooded murder.
But seriously, he deserved to die.
I stared for a full half-minute, weighing my options. Kill him and run? Tie him up and call the cops?
They’d never believe me. Never. I was the sellout, the corrupt ex-military officer who’d been found with an extra million in the bank, a stash of C-bomb in my home, and the drug in my bloodstream. In this city, he was a god. I was a criminal and a liar. I was scum.
He smirked at me and the sight made me angry enough to stand and take a step forward. I was going to have to lie to him and take a chance I could push his buttons and piss him off. Force a confession. I’d left my stakeout as soon as I took his picture talking to the agents, but he didn’t know what I’d seen, and what I hadn’t. “I don’t need a confession, Clyde. I’ve got you on camera at the blowjob café with a hooker between your legs and bag of drug money on the table.”
“You bitch,” he sneered at me, all attempts at maintaining the appearance of humanity gone. “I’m going to get you so high you won’t know your own name, and then I’m going to dump you in the middle of the men. They’ll tear at you like dogs.”
The neurostims in my temples buzzed and I shook my head to clear it. It happened again, louder this time, a strange noise I’d never heard before, like machines talking to each other.
I took a step back and Clyde rose from his chair, crouching to make his move while I was distracted.
Shit. Something was wrong. I lifted a hand to my temple and moaned. I had to get out of here. Now.
Taken by Her Mates Page 3