* * *
Willow
My feet were warm inside the lined boots. The dress I wore was pretty, but functional. My belly was full and I’d had as close to a full night’s sleep as I ever did these days. I was also free of obligation to myformermatched mate. I had a team of Prillon warriors and Atlan beasts on the way to save Amalia and the other prisoners. Everything was a win.
Except for the one, indisputable fact that I missed Zarren. I missed our connection. Could I live with a man who had decided to let all those women—Prillon or human—suffer torture, and perhaps death, at the hands of the Hive? No. Didheloveme?No. Had no intention of doing so. Ever.
So why did leaving him behind hurt so much? Surely, I didn’t love him. I couldn’t, not after just a few days. Right? That would be crazy. Bat-shit crazy. Illogical. Foolish.
I waited quietly, givinginner mea chance to come out and argue, convince me that I didn’t love Zarren, didn’t really miss him. That I had done the right thing.
Her silence was deafening.
“What do you think, my lady? Which of these marks is closer to the center?” One of the Atlans pointed to a couple of the display screens scattered around the small shooting range. Their two, competing targets, clearly displayed. Difficult to believe, but two of the Atlans had actually managed to hit their targets.While wrestling?
Even you can’t do that, hotshot.
The answer to their question seemed obvious, but I pointed to the winner’s target because they’d asked, and I didn’t want to be rude. “That one.”
“YES!”The Atlan, who was the apparent victor, let out a roar and began to shift into his beast.
I watched, fascinated. I’d seen one or two Atlans in full beast mode since we’d transported to Battleship Zeus, but neverduringthe change. My breath caught in my throat as he gained a full head of height over the others—all of whom were already giants. His shoulders grew, as did his chest. His thighs became large as tree trunks. Even his face changed, from a handsome—if large—man’s, to a caricature of himself. Bigger jaw, cheekbones, eyes. Even his hands—why was I so obsessed with men’s hands? —grew until they looked large enough to pick up one of Farmer Spearman’s prize-winning pumpkins with one hand.Jeeeezus.
The beast was watching me watch him with a bit too much interest. Did I want an Atlan beast as a mate? All up in my business? Hell no. I left what IthoughtI wanted behind. Obviously, I’d been wrong about that one. I wasn’t ready to jump in feet first, not again.
Was this ache in my chest all about the sex? Because good Lord, Zarren excelled in that area. I’d never had so many amazing orgasms in my life.
Sadly, no. Sex was just sex. I missedhim.Which really sucked. I’d only known him for a few days, but the Prillon mating collars, our mental connection, made those days feel like months. I knew him better than I’d known anyone else in my life. At least, I thought I had. Maybe it wasn’thimI missed, per se.
I missedfeelinglike he felt. Confident. Strong. Untouchable. Now that I was alone inside my own head again, I was none of those things.
You used to be. Stop fighting me. Let me out, you fucking coward.
No. Stop. You’re the one who got us into this mess.
I watched the latest wrestling match between two different Atlans as they began a new shooting competition. I couldn’t determine if any of them were good or not. The targets at the opposite ends of their firing lanes appeared to be untouched, but with the good-natured pushing and shoving going on, it would take exceptional skill, or a miracle, for one of them to hit the target this time.
They really needed dividers between their firing lanes, rather than lines marking the floor.
If they would give me one of those blasters, I could hit the center of that target every damn time.IfI was willing to break the promise I’d made to myself and pick up the weapon.
My hands curled into fists where they rested on my thighs as I argued with myself.
I’d made that vow—to never pick up another weapon, never make myself a target—under duress, when I wasn’t thinking clearly. When I was being sold by one group of evil aliens to another.
But—thinking clearly, and charging headfirst into danger, was what had landed me in this outer-space, alien infested mess in the first place. If I didn’t have a sidearm, I wouldn’t suffer from the illusion of safety. I wouldn’t be tempted to do something stupid and recklessly charge into danger.Again.
But—I hadn’t beenstupid. I’d been doing my job. A job I’d loved, up until the moment those alien criminals from Rogue 5 had swooped down on top of my squad car with that spaceship.
But—if I hadn’t loved my job so much, I might have let things be when I couldn’t find anything of note in that farmer’s barn. I wouldn’t have gone out searching for what I later found out was a handful of other human women who had, in fact, been trapped in that barn prior to my arrival. The fanged fuckers from Rogue 5 had tied the ladies up and left them while they waited for their shuttle to swoop down and pick up their human cargo.
They’d been too cheap to pay for transport beacons. I could order one from the S-Gen machine whenever I wanted, still had the one that took me off Zarren’s ship in my pocket. But Rogue 5 was not part of the Coalition Fleet. They had to steal the few transport beacons they could or buy them on the black market. Thugs. Evil. They were pure evil.
If I wanted to make a fortune, I could print out a couple dozen of the transport beacons and sell them myself. Too bad I was a cop, not a criminal.
You used to be. Now you’re a coward.
I’m not. You wouldn’t have survived in the hell hole without me.
