Viken Command

by Grace Goodwin

  Where was she? And what was she wearing? We hadn’t taken the time to help her master the S-Gen machine, so her only option would have been… “By the gods, this is my fault.”

  Teig and Alarr both turned to look at me, but it was Alarr who spoke. “What are you referring to?”

  I ran my hand over the short spikes of my hair and wished it was long enough to pull. Hard. What a fucking idiot. “She was wearing my shirt.”

  Alarr’s eyes darkened. “Our mate is walking around wearing nothing but your shirt?”

  I groaned. As bad as that idea was, my next statement was going to make both Alarr and Teig extremely unhappy. “My I.C. recording disk was in the pocket.”

  Alarr’s head snapped around to look at the table where the disk he’d been watching with our mate earlier still innocently rested. “No.”

  “What? One of you tell me what the fuck is going on.” Teig had lost his composure after all. He began to pace.

  Much as I would enjoy toying with him for once, when it came to our female, I was all business. “The disk in my shirt pocket contained the recording of our meeting with the low-level thugs we encountered the other night.” We’d recorded that meeting, hoping the minions would lead us to their master. But they’d been much craftier than we’d expected, and we had yet to discover who the mastermind was behind the smuggling ring. Helion suspected Commander Clive, but Alarr refused to move on the male without proof. Clive was Viken. A respected fighter in the war. We couldn’t afford to go after him without solid proof. I’d recorded the meeting with the minions and uploaded the information to Helion, but the disk? Fuck. It had been in my pocket, in the shirt I’d wrapped around Whitney.

  Alarr swore under his breath.

  “Are you a complete fool? Why would you give that to her?” Teig demanded.

  That was the most important question. I wasn’t going to admit that I’d forgotten all about the disk because I’d been completely entranced by our mate earlier today. That watching her surrender to me in the hut had driven me mad with lust and need and more emotion than I’d felt in years. That being around her caused me to focus on her to the exclusion of all else.

  I hadn’t meant for her to discover the recording, that disk was one small part the evidence we’d given to Helion so he could track down the remaining scum once our primary mission of tagging the shipment was complete. I had been distracted by the smooth length of her legs, the wet heat of her body. The way she’d chosen an alien fruit to be her safe word and trusted me to honor it even before Alarr’s arrival. I’d been enchanted. Distracted. And I’d ruined everything.

  “What have I done? If she watched that, she thinks we’re the arms dealers.”

  Teig’s face shifted from frustration to horror.

  “How would she know what to think?” Alarr asked. “We protected her. Told her nothing. She doesn’t even know there is an issue on Viken.”

  I sighed, knowing that right now, our mate was in pain, and her suffering was due to my carelessness. I glanced down at the glossy wood floor. “She does.”

  “How?” Teig asked.

  “Because when we met with Queen Leah, the queen told our mate that the kings were working to hunt down some illegal arms dealers on Viken selling Coalition weapons.”

  “Fuck.” Teig lifted his hand to his chest as if he couldn’t breathe. “We should have told her the truth from the beginning. Damn Helion and his orders.”

  “It gets worse,” I continued, dying a little inside with every word I shared. “The queen specifically told Whitney that they’d tracked the dealers to this resort and that they suspected someone in the security detail.”

  “So, our female believes that we not only lied to her, but that we are vile criminals responsible for dealing death and destruction for profit.” Alarr dropped into a crouch, and I understood as I, too, felt too anxious to sit. Anxious? Perhaps that was not the correct word. Sick.

  “Where would she have gone?” Teig asked, looking around as if she might be hiding behind a curtain or beneath the bed.

  I had an idea, and I didn’t like it. “The queen and even King Drogan, told her she was welcome at Viken United without question. The king programmed an emergency access code for her to transport to Viken United from anywhere on the planet at any time. If she feared she was in danger, that her fucking mates were gun runners, she wouldn’t stay here at Trixon. She would have gone straight to transport.”

  Alarr stood abruptly. “Straight to Commander Clive.”

  Commander Clive was the head of transport security for the resort and technically, our boss here. The low-level thugs we’d tracked—and met in a ruse to purchase some of the weapons we’d just placed tracking beacons on—reported directly back to him.

  “If she went to transport and spoke with him about going to Viken United, and why, she’d show him the recording…” Teig began.

  “Which she would.” I was sure of it. Our mate had courage to spare, as she’d proven when submitting to me in that hut on nothing more than faith. She’d trusted me and fuck, I’d let her down horribly. “She’s honorable, Alarr. She would feel that it was her duty to turn us in to the highest authority here, regardless of her personal feelings.” And I wondered what those were, now that she thought we’d betrayed her. Lied to her. That we were males without honor.

  I thought of the eagerness I’d seen in her gaze as I had stripped her of the gown in the hut. Of the way her eyes had sparkled with laughter when we’d eaten near the water. Of how her gaze darkened with desire and need and trust.

  Alarr shook his head. “Even if she did not do so, she obviously left here upset, wearing nothing but Oran’s shirt. That, alone, would be enough for Clive to suspect something was wrong, to ask questions. What female left Trixon alone and in just her mate’s shirt? He wouldn’t just allow her transport, even to the queen.”

  “She’s in danger. We have to go after her.” I’d rip this resort to pieces if I had to. Whitney was ours. No one would hurt her, frighten her, or keep her from us. I’d kill them if they tried. Yet, we’d somehow managed to do all of those things ourselves.

  Teig held out a hand to stop me on my way to the door. “Not so fast. What are we going to do? If Clive has her, which is an assumption at best, what would he do with her? And what if he doesn’t? What if she actually did speak to an entry-level transport tech, and he transported her to Viken United?”

  Teig wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at Alarr. We both turned to Alarr, our commandeering officer. Although we were all technically equal in rank, he’d gotten us out of worse situations than this one. Teig was the charmer. I was the brute force. Alarr? He was the thinker. The cautious one. He was also the one matched to Whitney. We all had our roles to play, and this was his. It would be his decision on how to get us out of the shit we’d gotten into.

  Alarr paced, and my mind worked on the problem at hand. I began to think out loud. “If Clive has her, we have to move on the weapons now. We can’t wait. That recording is proof that we aren’t who we claimed to be. Clive is not a fool. He will assume we are tracking him for the I.C. or for the kings. Either way, he now knows we were sent here to take him down. He knows Whitney is our mate. He’ll use her as bait to lure us into a trap.”

  Alarr wasn’t looking at either of us, but I knew he’d heard every word.

  “True.” He turned and lifted his gaze. I recognized the resolve in his eyes. He’d come to a decision, and it was time to move. Thank the gods, because if I had to wait one more minute to go after our female, I was going to lose my damn mind. “But if she did make it to Viken United, she’s safe. Angry at us and scared, but safe. If she didn’t make it to Viken United, Clive has her. We can’t make assumptions that she escaped. Instead, we should assume the worst, that Clive has her. We must take care of that bastard and finish this fucking mission.”

  “And hope she’s unhappy but safely under the protection of the royal guard.” I agreed but doubted what I’d said. Alarr was right,
we had to assume the worst. If Clive did have our female, I would never forgive myself for leaving her here and running to Viken United to check on her. Our mate had accepted me. Trusted me. Given me her body and taken my seed. Mine, Teig’s and Alarr’s. She owned me now, body and soul. They belonged to her, and I had no desire to have them back in my possession. Without Whitney, I was nothing but a lost soul with no home.

  Alarr walked to the comm screen as Teig and I waited. The head of the royal guards appeared on the screen. He was dark, from the black of his uniform to the black hair on his head. Short, like mine, I recognized the arrow insignia on his arm. He was from Sector Two, like me, his dark eyes all business. He would be a dominant. A true protector. Without thinking, I could breathe again. This was a male who knew how to get things done. “Viken United. Transport Ops. This is Captain Gunnar.”

  “This is Captain Alarr at the Trixon resort. Did my mate, Whitney Mason of Earth, safely transport to Viken United?”

  The royal guard smiled, the bright white of his teeth a stark contrast to his skin, which was a darker shade of brown than our beautiful mate’s. “Ah, so you are the lucky ones. We heard a newly arrived Earth female was mated to Viken. Our mate is eager to meet yours. She, too, is from Earth, our Sophia. Congratulations on an excellent match. Earth females are a treasure. Bold and beautiful.” He chuckled a bit, clearly not paying attention to the scowl of impatience on Alarr’s face. “So sweetly submissive and a joy to pleasure. You are blessed, Captain.”

  “I am. But please answer my question. Did Whitney safely transport to Viken United within the last two hours?”

  Gunnar lifted a brow, apparently becoming aware of Alarr’s mood. “I will look at the transport logs. Is there a problem, Captain?”

  “I fucking hope not,” I muttered the words under my breath, but Gunnar heard me. Of course, he did. We were trained to notice everything. Every hesitation. Every movement. The slightest detail could be used to heighten a female’s pleasure, to discover her true desires, her darkest needs. I’d just begun to know Whitney, and I needed more. I needed her complete surrender, her trust. Her love. I needed her to love me. And wasn’t that a fucking tragedy now.

  “I see.” His gaze held mine for the barest moment, but I knew he understood. His hands moved over screens we could not see, and his expression darkened. “There was an emergency transport initiated, then canceled, approximately nineteen minutes ago.”

  My blood turned to ice. “Cancelled by whom?” I asked.

  “Commander Clive of Trixon security.” Gunnar looked up. “He has the highest-level clearance. I’m sure your mate is safe in his hands.”

  Teig bellowed, his passionate nature getting the best of him. He was already moving toward the door, grabbing a chair and flinging it out of his way. “Let’s go kill that bastard and get our mate.”

  I grunted in agreement but moved to a drawer where I kept my personal belongings. I pulled out my bow and arrows and blades before following him to the door. Ion cannons and blasters were fine, but eventually, the blaster strapped to my side would run out of charge. I would go through an army, if necessary, to get to Whitney. Ten armies. And a blade would keep killing as long as I needed.

  I heard Alarr’s voice rumbling as he continued to speak with Gunnar over the comm call. Teig and I paced outside in the darkness, impatient. Ready to hunt.

  “I’m going to gut that bastard,” Teig promised.

  Fury boiled through my blood, but not at Clive, at us. “We were fools. We should have trusted Whitney with the truth.”

  “I agree.” Alarr’s voice echoed through the darkness before he appeared.

  “What did Gunnar say? What is the situation on Viken United?” Teig asked Alarr.

  “Gunnar spoke to King Drogan about our situation. The IQC is tracking an unmarked ship heading our way from deep space. It will arrive within the hour,” Alarr said.

  “And?” I asked. The Interstellar Quantum Communications array was on Viken’s pole, and the poor bastards who had to protect it were all former Coalition Fleet, hard as nails, and most likely half-frozen most days. There was nothing up there but ice, snow, and few females to warm their beds at night, or males to warm theirs.

  “The Coalition is not going to interfere. The ship will be allowed to land. We have to make sure the tracking beacons are loaded onto the ship before it heads back out into space,” Alarr confirmed. Which meant staying back and biding our time while the crates were loaded, allowing our mate to suffer at the hands of Clive until the weapons were safely on board.

  “Who gave that order? Helion?” Teig asked.

  “No. King Drogan. He wants to make sure Viken is absolved of all responsibility for the trading post massacre.”

  “At the expense of our mate?” I was not pleased with what I was hearing.

  “At any expense,” Alarr confirmed. “Prime Nial is pressuring both Helion and the kings to take care of the problem. The fact that they are using Coalition Fleet weapons is causing diplomatic problems for him on other worlds, worlds that don’t like to cooperate on a good day.”

  “Like Xerima?” I asked. Those blue bastards were volatile and unpredictable under normal circumstances.

  “And Rogue 5. Our alliances there are stretched thin, as Helion likes to remind us.” Alarr spoke the truth. The Coalition had a fragile alliance with two of the five legions on the Hyperion moon known as Rogue 5, but the legions were outside of Coalition control and operated more like warring clans than a civilized government. Their leaders ruled with absolute power, like monarchs of old.

  “So, they’ve decided to risk Whitney? We know Clive has her,” I said. “What if he tries to take her off-world as well? Or get rid of her?”

  Teig rubbed his jaw. “He wouldn’t kill her, not here at least. He’s too damn greedy for that.”

  Fuck. Teig was right. He wouldn’t kill her. He’d do worse. Sell her. Earth females were in high demand, and there were factions on Rogue 5 and in other places that would have no qualms in taking her off his hands and selling her to the highest bidder.

  Teig turned to Alarr. “How’s your eye? Sharp and ready for another target?”

  Alarr grinned, the closest to diabolical I ever saw him. “Excellent, as always.”

  He was our sniper and a damn good one. If he had a shot to take, no matter the distance or the pressure he was under, he’d make the kill. Alarr was deadly from the bird’s eye view. And with his voice in our ear, Teig and I were customarily on the ground taking care of the rest.

  “We know where the weapons are. We know the only place they can move them and keep them out of sight,” Alarr said. He tipped his head to get us moving. “Go. Get in position. I’ll take cover on the northern hill overlooking the weapon stash. Wait for my signal.”

  Teig rolled his shoulders. “You going to take the kill shot on Clive?”

  Alarr shook his head. “Not until the crates and their tracking beacons are loaded, and the smugglers have left Viken space.”

  I disagreed with that fucking plan. “If Whitney is in imminent danger, or he tries to put her on that ship, take him out.”

  Teig turned to Alarr. “We can’t let him hurt her.”

  Alarr was all business now, and there was no mercy in his eyes. “Agreed. Let’s go.”

  Teig, One Hour Later

  * * *

  The weapons were nearly loaded, their transfer complete. I knew Oran was somewhere nearby. Like me, he’d melted into the shadows and was waiting for either Clive to appear with Whitney, or for Alarr’s voice in our comm to tell us to move.

  I shifted, tensing new muscles and relaxing others, giving my body a chance to even out since I’d been unmoving for so long. I knew how to wait. I’d turned hunting our prey into a fucking art. It was the reason I was assigned to the I.C. mission with Alarr and Oran on Battleship Zeus. It took patience to map every quadrant of space, to hunt every frequency and radio wave for hidden Hive signals. It didn’t matter if there were ten thousand pi
eces to a puzzle, I would inspect each and every one.

  And that had been for the Fleet, for the war, to protect my planet and my people. I’d enjoyed the hunt and let my success feed my ego and my arrogance.

  But this? This was personal. Watching the Cerberus Legion smugglers from Rogue 5—with their snarling faces and dark red armbands worn like a mark of pride—load up the weapons was the hardest thing I’d ever done.

  I closed my eyes and fought back the image of them lying on the ground in rivers of blood.

  “Steady Teig. It’s nearly time.” Alarr’s voice whispered through my comms at the perfect moment. How he knew I was riding the edge was something I had never questioned. He knew. He always did. And he always pulled me back before I did something stupid.

  I would charge into a group of ten Cerberus soldiers alone. These weren’t honorable warriors. They fought dirty. Unless Alarr took half of them out, and Oran joined the fight, I’d be dead less than a minute into that attack. I was good, but not that good.

  Alarr and Oran knew me better than any others, and they understood that my smile, my cavalier attitude, hid a darkness deeper than either of them carried. I needed Whitney to anchor me to something besides fighting and killing. Before, I’d had Alarr and Oran. Even though they were like brothers to me, now that I’d tasted the contentment and peace a mate could bring, I couldn’t go back and face my darkness alone. I needed her. I was in love with her already. I loved her soft skin, her full breasts. Gods, but those full lips made me hunger to feel them pressed to mine or wrapped around my cock. Everything about her was dark and exotic and full of passion. Inside, I was bleak and cold. Empty.

  We had to find her. Save her. Free her. And once we did, I wasn’t sure I’d ever find the strength to leave her side again.

  “They’re not closing the doors.” Oran’s clipped words brought me back to the present. All of the weapons were loaded. The area was clear, and eight of the ten Cerberus scum had disappeared back inside the ship. Two more stood at attention at the base of the boarding ramp. They were huge, probably Hyperion and Prillon by ancestral breed, and covered in intricate tattoos. They were at least a foot taller than we were, and if they got their hands on us, we wouldn’t only have to worry about their weapons and brute strength, but their fucking fangs.