“I don’t need pretty. I need a second strong enough to eliminate even me, should I become a danger to my mate.” I ran a hand through my golden hair. “I wasn’t prepared for her arrival. I never thought…”
He eyed me for a moment, his frown severe. “None of us expect to be matched. Every bride is a fucking miracle.”
I gritted my teeth. “She’s coming here, to a life on this desolate rock, matched to a male who…. I don’t trust myself. I don’t deserve her.”
“But you aren’t stupid enough to give her up.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement of truth.
“No. I tried to divert her transport to a Battlegroup. Ask her to be reassigned to a better male. But she is coming, and I know, once I see her, I will not be able to give her up. She’s mine. She’s fucking mine.” The storm thundered in agreement outside, shaking the walls. I didn’t deserve her, but I was going to claim her anyway. Bury my cock deep in her pussy. Give her my seed. Make her scream with pleasure. I would bathe her with my own hands, rub her skin with scented oils and hold her as she slept. Make sure she never suffered or felt alone.
Vance took a step closer and clapped his augmented hand on my shoulder. “Let us go greet our mate.”
3
Rowan
Tears streakeddown my face as lingering aftershocks of this body’s very real orgasm pulsed through my core. My physical reaction only made the chaotic mess of emotions—mine andtheirs—more difficult to control. I needed those mates back. Needed to feel like I mattered to someone. Anyone. Even two aliens from another planet. They both said they’d kill for me—forher—and they’d meant it. I felt it to my core.
What would it be like to be protected like that? Safe? Cared for? Desired?
“Miss Cochrane.”
“I’m here.” Damn it. I was back in my own body, crying like I was five and my puppy had just been hit by a truck. Devastated. That was the word. Grief at the loss of two males I didn’t even know crashed through me and knocked my breath from my body. This barren, lonely reality couldn’t be mine. “Send me back.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
I blinked, my vision blurry, as my mind struggled to piece together this new reality. The air in the room carried a stale odor, tinged with antiseptic and something metallic that made the back of my throat ache. I was alone wearing a dark gray hospital style medical gown covered in little maroon logos of the Interstellar Coalition of Planets. I wiped at my tears. Stupid. Those men—aliens—weren’t real. They were a computer simulation. Right? So why did their warmth seem to linger on my skin? To add insult to injury, not only was I not being touched, kissed and adored, I sat in a cold, sterile room, the harsh overhead lights glaring down, casting stark shadows that seemed to deepen the hollowness inside me. The firm chair beneath me sent a chill through the thin gown that had bunched up around my hips. Worst of all? I sat in a wet spot, proof that my body’s reaction wasn’t all in my head. My body was wet and ready for them.
Instead, I was facing a young woman with serious gray eyes and no sense of humor.
Talk about a proverbial bucket of ice water. I thought I’d felt lonely when I walked into this place. I’d been wrong. I’d simply never had real connection to compare to my former existence. Now, I had, through the unknown woman’s mating collar, her connection to her two mates. Now I knew what love felt like. It made the dark, empty places in my heart hurt ten times worse than before. There was no guarantee whatever alien I was matched to would fall in love with me. What if I didn’t get that?
Now I knew what being in love was supposed to feel like, how the mating was supposed to be. Open. Honest. Exposed.
No protection. What if I couldn’t operate that way? What if I was broken? Like fundamentally, mentally, emotionally broken beyond repair?
I couldn’t do this. My heart had already been damaged too many times. One more and it would shatter. “This was a mistake. I changed my mind.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, either.” Warden Egara sat across from me, her expression as rigid as the dentist’s chair I was strapped to. A shiver skated up my spine. My heart stumbled in its rhythm.
“I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it, but I can’t.” My logical mind had already worked out a solution even as my out-of-control emotions struggled to readjust to this harsh reality. My reality. My life.
“Your testing is complete, and we’ve made your match,” the warden announced, her voice detached, devoid of any warmth. The tone seemed to suck the last trace of life from the room, leaving only the persistent hum of machinery vibrating through the walls and floor.
I licked dry lips, tasted the bitterness of my own disappointment as it settled like ashes on my tongue. The dream had slipped away too quickly, leaving an aching void in its wake. I had felt safe for the first time, cherished even, as if I could melt into someone's embrace and stay there forever. But now, that illusion shattered, leaving only this clinical emptiness. The phantom press of strong hands still lingered on my skin, the sensation of being cradled like something precious teased the edge of my memory, and I longed to hold onto that feeling just a little while longer, as if I could trap the last fading warmth.
“It’s over?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, the edges frayed with the effort of masking my disappointment. The word felt jagged in my throat, catching on something raw. My chest tightened, each breath coming shallow, as if I couldn’t quite draw enough air to fill my lungs. “Was that a dream?”
“Not exactly. During a formal claiming, the NPU of every bride captures the experience and enters it, anonymously,into the database for future psychological processing. During your testing, we create a psychological profile and the system automatically filters through all available data to find the closest matches. At that point, your consciousness directs the selection process until it settles on an experience most closely aligned with your needs and desires.”
“That was real?” Holy shit. Some woman had actually felt all those things? That kind of desire. Pleasure. Love? “What about the guys?”
“The warriors and fighters are processed in a similar manner, focused on what they require from the female’s responses to their nature. Prillon warriors do not have the same needs in a mate as Atlan Warlords, for example. Some warriors need sassy, independent mates. Some prefer submission as they have a deep need to provide and protect. There are thousands of matches in the database, hundreds of thousands. Trust me, Rowan. We are very good at what we do.”
I didn’t want to ask, but I couldn’t stop myself. “What if I’m too broken? What if I can’t ever love someone like that?” There. I’d said it. My worst fear.
“Trust yourself. Trust your mates.” She placed her hand on my ankle with unexpected gentleness. “You’ll be all right. I promise. Now,” The warden nodded briskly and looked back at her screen. “Please state your name for the record.” She lifted her hand and resumed tapping, with rapid precision, on the sleek tablet in front of her. Each tap seemed to echo in the room, a constant reminder of the unyielding system that surrounded me, controlled my life, had always controlled me, since the moment I was born.
God, I was tired of fighting it.
