by Abella Ward
With one quick motion, Ronan grabbed the Aphrosian's arm. He twisted it around sharply until he heard a snap, then slammed his fist into the officer's face. The Aphrosian shouted in pain, lashing out. Ronan ended the fight with a rabbit punch to the forehead. He let the officer drop.
Pathetic.
Leaving the officer moaning behind him, Ronan headed back to his ship. No doubt the Aphrosian would call some more of his idiot friends. Best to leave. Ronan didn't feel like killing anybody. Not today, at least.
His comm was flashing when he got to his ship. Ronan checked it and saw that there was a message from the Planchet bridal-ordering service he had signed up for. He rose a brow, his newly-evened pulse picking up again. They had found him a mate who met his requirements already?
Ronan tried not to get his hopes up. It was probably a hideous old spinster desperate for children. Well, he wasn't going to take a mate who wanted children. He wanted a woman he could rely on to get him through the worse of musth, who would have a strong body that could take and enjoy the intensity of his passion. He doubted that the bridal service would actually be able to give him that.
Still, as soon as his ship was in orbit, Ronan pulled up the information about the bride that had been matched with him.
Erica Chase, Human.
Ronan stared at the holographic image projected before him. Brown-haired, skin a peculiar shade of rose-talc. The image was static, but he could see all he needed to from it. She was beautiful, with more curves than he would know what to do with. His loins tightened at the thought of the pleasures she could give him. In the red Suesue wedding dress she wore, she looked perfectly sweet, perfectly submissive.
The kind of woman he needed. One that would do what he wanted when he wanted it, and would never stab him in the back.
"Well, Erica Chase," he muttered as he sent an acceptance of her. "No more waiting for your perfect match. I'm coming."
***
The Planchet's space station was named Goddess of Fertility. A little on-the-nose for Ronan's tastes, but accurate. Not only was their bridal service based in the station, but the groom coming for his bride could also purchase an assortment of sexual toys and enhancers to choose from, to increase their pleasure and chances of getting pregnant.
Ronan ignored these various stalls, interested only in Erica. He could already imagine the gentle flush of her cheeks as he undressed her, her soft cries of delight as he took her. They'd build up to the more intense stuff after she got a chance to get used to him.
He found the pickup station quickly enough and signed for her. The Suesue who had processed his claim, a three-horned humanoid with purple-pink skin, gave him a packet of complimentary fertility enhancers and led him to the back to meet his bride. Ronan was surprised at how excited he was. Would she smile shyly at him? Would she be as eager as he was to consummate their mating?
Erica lay on a bed, her eyes closed, her ample bosom rising and falling gently. Ronan stopped to take in her delicious-looking body–and frowned. Dark bruises covered her arms. More were on her legs, and there were even some on her face. And she wasn't just sleeping.
"You drugged her."
"Her transport was attacked by pirates on her way here," the Suesue said. "Poor thing had quite a fright. It's why we've sedated her."
The T'shav glared back. The bruises were only a few hours old. His fist clenched, and before he could stop himself, he let it fly. There was a sick crunching sound as his knuckles collided with the Suesue's head. The alien flew backward, hitting the wall hard.
"Charge an extra fee to my account to cover your medical expenses." Ronan slung Erica's unconscious body over his shoulder. "I trust we're done here?"
The Suesue clutched his face and groaned. Ronan took that as affirmation and carried his bride away, glaring at all the Planchet workers that crossed his path. Erica was his mate now, and anybody who thought they could lay a finger on her would find another thing coming.
He made it back to his ship without incidents. He laid her down on his bed. Her red dress had ridden up to her thighs, revealing a delicious amount of skin. Ronan didn't notice. The bruises were mostly on her arms like she had been restrained, but there were a few offensive bruises on her legs. She must have been kicking and fighting to free herself.
She was human. That meant that the Planchet Corporation didn't need consent forms to sell her as a bride. Had she tried to escape? Ronan smoothed her brown hair back from her face. Well, she was his now. She would never have to be afraid of anything again.
Erica moaned, stirring for the first time.
"Don't worry, you're away from those monsters," he told her, trying to make his voice gentle. "I'm just going to take care of these injuries now."
Her eyes fluttered open, latching onto him as he retrieved a salve from his shelf. Not as effective as a regenerator, but it would help ease the ache from being beat up like this. His curvy wife's eyes widened at the sight of him. Her pupils dilated, and she let out a small gasp. He smiled–clearly she found him just as pleasing as he found her.
"Let's start down here," he said, scooping some of the salve onto his fingers. He reached to spread it over a particularly dark bruise on her thigh—
Her fist collided with his temple.
Ronan grunted in surprise, stumbling back from her. Erica's face reddened as she swung off the bed–only to fall to her knees right away. She swayed on the spot, her hands grasping the bedclothes as her eyes slid in and out of focus.
"Didn't they tell you?" Ronan scraped the salve back into the bottle and corked it. He narrowed his eyes at Erica. Where was the sweet, submissive little wife he had ordered? "I am your husband, Erica Chase."
Erica's head jerked up at that. Her eyes narrowed and she made a peculiar hissing sound. Her legs wobbled, but she managed to pull herself upright again. Ronan moved closer in case she fell again.
She threw a pillow at him. "Stay away from me!"
Ronan stopped. His nostrils flared as he ground his teeth. Did the bridal service offer refunds? Probably not. Especially considering how he had punched the Suesue that showed him Erica. But they had completely misled him before his purchase.
She lunged at him, fists swinging. Ronan grabbed her arms, only just stopping her from collapsing again. She pulled away and staggered back to the far wall. Well, now he knew why she had bruises. She was completely insane.
"I purchased you to be my wife," Ronan growled. "You are mine, and I will do whatever I deem necessary with you, understood? Now get back on that bed before you hurt yourself, so I can treat those bruises."
Erica's knees buckled. She grabbed the bed to steady herself but made no attempts to lie down. Her face twisted, she spat at him.
Spat. At. Him.
"I'm not your wife!"
She swayed again. Ronan darted forward, catching her in his arms before she crumpled. Her brown eyes glared up at him, but her hands lay flat on his chest. He liked the feel of her skin against his more than he thought he would. Maybe having a submissive mate was overrated. A woman with fire and fight in her would actually be able to help him make a living and carry her own weight.
If nothing else, a woman like this would definitely answer his passion with hers. And he had always enjoyed a challenge.
"Maybe you're not mine," he said, grinning. "But you will be."
Chapter Three: Erica
Was he kidding? Erica gaped at the T'shav as he put her back on the bed. She would have remained standing, but she felt like she was about to pass out. Now that she was lying down, she could get a better look at him.
He was good-looking, there was no denying that. Like all T'shav he was tall, and just a solid mass of muscle. Erica had always had a thing for bodybuilders, and if the situation had been different, she'd probably grab him at once, without bothering to make out before they got to the fun stuff. As was common among T'shav, he lacked the facial hair that Erica usually found attractive. He had a strong jawline, though, and his black eyes
sparkled with mischief.
Despite herself, Erica wanted to find out what kind of mischief it was. Would it be so bad to indulge herself for a little bit? She shook her head. She had been sold by the chief medical officer of a battleship. She needed to get back to the USC and report him. Who knew what other women he had done this to? Or would be doing this to? She couldn't waste time appeasing her hormones, especially not with an arrogant prick who literally just told her that she was his property.
"I demand you return me to United Species territory at once," she said.
"No."
"Don't make me force you."
The T'shav rose a black eyebrow, looking amused. His hair, equally dark, was tied back behind his head in a low ponytail. Erica's gaze traveled down his body. Strong muscles. Abs you could eat off of. He wore the pleated skirt-kilt thing that she'd seen other T'shav wear. Her mouth watered as she took him in.
Wait, could there be a reason she was feeling so… desirous… that had nothing to do with her own appetites?
"I want a blood sample," she blurted out. Her heart pounded.
"A blood sample?"
"Yes." Her head was feeling a little clearer now, and Erica got back to her feet. She smoothed the silky red dress she wore so it fell back to her ankles, rather than showing off her legs. Her various bruises ached and stung, but they were the least of her concerns right now. "I want a blood sample and a third level scanner. Right now."
"And if I don't give you what you demand?"
"Then I'll fight you."
Erica knew even as she spoke that it was a ridiculous statement. The T'shav knew it, too, because he threw his head back and laughed. He shook his head. "Wait here. I'll go get your equipment."
She followed him to the doorway as he left the bedroom. They were in a ship, that much was clear. There was a small hallway that led to the cockpit. A shelf full of medical supplies and dehydrated foods was on one side and a door, probably to the cargo bay, was on the other. Glancing back into the bedroom, she saw a small rehydrator next to a door that led to a bathroom. The ship was clearly designed for only one person on short trips. So where were they going?
The T'shav plucked some equipment off the wall and returned to her. He drew a sample of blood without any hesitation, then handed her the sample and scanner.
"You could at least tell me your name," she grumbled.
She inserted the blood sample into the scanner, her heart pounding. If he was in musth, so help her she'd kill him. She wasn't going to let him drug her with his pheromone production. Although she had heard that there were treatments being developed to help reduce the effects of musth. Would he consent to using them?
"Ronan."
"Really?" Erica glanced up as the scanner did its work. "That's less alien than I was expecting."
Ronan shrugged.
The scanner let out a beep, indicating it was done, and Erica quickly read the results. She sighed in relief. He didn't seem to be in musth. Well, that meant that it was the adrenaline that was making her eyes pop out of her head when she looked at him. She wasn't the kind of girl that just jumped on every man she found attractive, but that was exactly what she wanted to do at the moment. Just devour the handsome, sexy alien she was faced with.
She shook her head and put her hands on her hips. "Let's make this clear. If you even think about touching me—"
"Oh, I'm thinking about it." Ronan grinned at her, a dimple flashing in his right cheek. It made him even more attractive. "And I can see that you're thinking about it, too. But don't worry. I'm not going to touch you. Not until you're on your knees begging me to. And then I'll—"
"Never going to happen." Erica tried not to imagine all the things she could do with him on her knees. No, those thoughts would only lead to trouble. "I don't beg men for their touch. And even if I were the least bit attracted to you, I'd probably be having pity sex with you because you were begging me to!"
There. That would set him straight. He still looked amused, though, and she wasn't at all thrilled to see that smug smile on his face. Although she couldn't deny that his dimple was undeniably sexy. Still, she had made up her mind, and there was no changing it.
"We'll see."
"We'll see," she repeated. "We'll see me leaving you in the dust, that's what we'll see."
The smile faded. "No. I am not going to let you leave, Erica Chase. I paid good money for you, and I am going to get my money's worth. I read in your profile you're a paramedic. It will be good to have a person with some medical knowledge aboard my ship. I'll be going into deep space. Make a list of what you need. We can get it on our next stop. Obviously, a regenerator to help with those bruises."
Erica opened her mouth to reply, then choked. She suddenly remembered why she was so covered in bruises. Hours before Ronan arrived at their prison, their Suesue caretaker had come for Bethy. She had been sold and was dragged away crying. Erica felt sick. How could she have been so caught up in her situation that she forgot about Bethy?
"I've been hired by the Planchet Corporation to… source some information that the Ruizers Corporation is trying to keep from the galaxy," Ronan continued. "Paramedics are in short supply out in deep space, away from the United Species worlds. But no matter. I'm sure that you can work just fine with first and second level scanners as you can with the new Medipoint things they've come out with."
Erica stared at him, hardly even hearing what he was saying. Bethy was sold. She didn't know where to start looking for her. But if there was one thing Erica did know, it was that she would never find her cousin if she traveled into the far reaches of space with this smug, arrogant T'shav.
From what he just said about being hired to 'source information', he was everything that people said T'Shav were. A mercenary that cared about no one else. It didn't matter how sexy he was or how much her hormones were telling her to just ignore her brain and jump into bed with him. He was a killer, and she couldn't go with him. She had to escape, find Bethy and get back to Zon's sanctuary.
With a scream she threw herself forward, swinging at his face. As light as a dancer, he stepped back, then grabbed both her swinging wrists. He spun her around and trapped her in his arms, with hers crossed over her chest. Again, it was fluid and graceful, like a dance move. She struggled against him, but he pulled her closer, pinning her against his body.
Apparently, T'shav didn't wear underwear. Erica's cheeks heated as she felt him through their clothing.
"Let go," she blurted out. "You said you wouldn't!"
"I'm not going to stand by idly while you attack me. Stop fighting and I'll release you."
Erica growled in her throat but forced herself to stop struggling. For what seemed too long Ronan continued to hold her, but then he released her and nodded.
"See? Do as I say and I'll reward you."
"A reward would be a chocolate cheesecake, not being a decent person." Erica kept her arms wrapped around herself. "But I guess as a mercenary you don't know how to be a decent person."
Ronan shrugged. "People hire me to find and retrieve things. If that makes me a mercenary, then I am."
Erica's heart began to pound. Maybe there was a way to turn this to her advantage–or at least, a way to get Bethy back. If she did manage to find Bethy out there, how would she free her? If she had a T'shav mercenary on her side, then she might just have a chance. "What about people?"
"People?"
"My cousin was taken with me. But she was sold before you came."
Ronan glanced at the dark bruises on her arms. He stepped around her, his skin brushing hers, and retrieved the bottle he had had when she woke up. "This is a salve that will help with those bruises. I assume you got them trying to fight your way to your cousin."
She nodded.
"And now you want to hire my services to help you find her."
"Yes."
Ronan pressed the bottle into her hand. "How will you pay me? My services don't come cheap."
"You want me to be your w
ife." Erica met his gaze steadily. "If you help me find and rescue Bethy, then I will be."
Ronan stared at her for a long time. All the amusement was gone from his eyes. His head cocked. "You care a great deal about your cousin, don't you?"
"Yes. I do."
"Hmm… well, you would be mine eventually either way. Perhaps we can think of retrieving your cousin as a wedding gift." His fingers traced her cheekbone. "I swear, I will find her for you and free her. Now—"
Erica knew what he was going to say. She didn't hesitate as she gave into her desires. Her arms wrapped around his neck. Sparks exploded in her brain as she kissed him. The surge of pleasure and heat that swept through her body was far more powerful than she had anticipated. She moaned, stepping closer, her hands digging into his hair. Ronan teased her mouth open, his hands going to her shoulders—
And he pushed her back. Gently but firmly. The twinkle was back in his eyes and a dimple flashed.
"Don't think you're getting off that easy. Yes, you're my wife, but I meant what I said. I'm not touching you until you're on your knees begging for me to do so."
Erica gaped at him, startled and confused.
He tapped her nose. "Now take care of those bruises while I set course. We'll find your cousin after my current mission is completed."
Ronan left the bedroom without another word. Erica stared after him as he headed for the cockpit. Beg for his touch? If she couldn’t get her hormones under control, she just might.
Chapter Four: Ronan
He couldn’t deny that the human had a powerful effect on him.
Ronan shook his head as Erica sprawled on the bed, her feet up on the headrest, the red dress falling mid-thigh. The bruises were fading rapidly, and Erica seemed to be getting more relaxed in his presence. There were even times when he could have sworn that she was trying to seduce him.
His assumptions that she was a timid, submissive woman had been proven wrong. If at first he had been surprised at this, now he relished their verbal sparring and enjoyed the thrill of wondering who was going to give into physical desire first. She had spirit and character. That may have been the opposite of what he wanted, but he found himself enjoying it.