Mylomon: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 3)

by Nancey Cummings

  “Female, we will return to my clan. Prepare yourself.”

  Her face screwed up with anger. “Female? Are we back to that again? My name is Daisy.”

  He gave her a long look, sweeping up from her feet to her scowling face. She still wore the purple gown and his jacket. Oversized on her, like a child playing dress up, she appeared tired. Circles hung under her eyes. Her hair, so lovely the night before, was in disarray. Tired and probably hungry, it was clear she hadn’t cared for herself since running away from him that morning. Was he that abhorrent in her eyes?

  “You are tired. You should rest and I will make preparations.” There. He was a male who knew to give the care a delicate Terran female required.

  “No.” She took a step toward him, chin lifted definitely.

  “Female,” he growled in frustration.

  “You don’t get to dictate where I go and what I do.” Another step forward. Now a finger poked him in the chest. If any other Terran had dared to defy him in such a manner, he’d have broken their finger. When Daisy did it, he grumbled in displeasure.

  “I am your mate. The match decided.”

  “Not last night, I wasn’t.”

  “You were in danger.” Did she not understand that? The Suhlik had her surrounded. There was no easy escape from that situation.

  “You stopped me from doing my job! And while I was stuck with you, my sister was attacked. She needed me and I was trapped in a room with you.” Another jab. Despite her obvious anger, the jab was not forceful enough to cause him concern.

  “Do not do that again. You will injure yourself.”

  “Do what?” She cocked her head to one side. “This?” Another jab, hard and determined.

  He nearly grinned. She had fire in her blood.

  He bent down, face close to hers. “That.”

  Her dark eyes went wide and she took a step back. “I’m not going anywhere until my sister is out of that regen tank.”

  “As you say.”

  Confusion flashed across her expressive face. In the poor lighting last night, he’d missed that detail. His mate had an expressive face that betrayed her thoughts. “Just like that?”

  “You worry for your kin. You will be unhappy if we leave before you are satisfied of her recovery. There is no benefit in an unhappy mate.”

  That determined set to her chin again. “As long as it benefits you,” she said.

  Mylomon was at a complete loss to understand how his proclamation displeased her. “You need to rest. And eat.”

  “Right, right,” Daisy muttered. “An exhausted mate is of no benefit to you.”

  He escorted her to her modest quarters.

  “This is me,” she said, unlocking the door with the palm of her hand.

  He moved to follow her inside.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You are my mate,” he said, to make it obvious to her. He would not leave her unprotected, not after the Suhlik had infiltrated the moon base.

  “You think that means you’re moving in?” She folded her arms over her chest, blocking the door.

  Apparently he needed to make it more plain to his mate. “It is my duty to protect you, female. The Suhlik were here, inside the base’s shields. They can return. I will not leave your side until I am satisfied that the base is secure.”

  “And you’re in charge of SCLB’s security now?”

  He growled in frustration. If only she knew of the mission that brought him to this damnable base. “I am in charge of your security.”

  She sighed dramatically but stepped to the side. “Fine. No funny business. I’m not in the mood.”

  He nodded. He would refrain from jovial behavior and remain serious in her presence.

  The interior was a riot of colors and textiles. This female obvious had not met a throw blanket or pillow that she did not like. Every conceivable surface was covered with the items. He followed her into the bedroom. She pushed him out and closed the door.

  He settled down on the overly-plush sofa, sinking into the cushions. The distant sounds of a shower filtered into the cramped common area. He would take this opportunity to update his warlord. Then procure sustenance for his mate. She would be hungry. Being angry at him probably worked up an appetite.

  Daisy

  Voices drifted in from the common room. Fresh out of the shower and wrapped in nothing but a towel, Daisy paused to listen. Muffled, the voices were indistinct but she recognized the low rumble of Mylomon’s voice. He spoke to another male. Curiosity got the better of her and she crept to the door to eavesdrop. Rude? Yes, but he was in her apartment. It’d be irresponsible for her not to listen.

  She pressed an ear to the door, listening carefully.

  “The traitor has left the base,” a low voice said. Mylomon, she recognized.

  A traitor. That explained how the Suhlik had been able to breach SCLB’s defenses so quickly. Someone had either lowered the shield or gave the Suhlik the access codes.

  “The Judgment has been busy chasing Suhlik out of the system. I don’t have time to track down all your odds and ends,” an unknown male said.

  “I understand, Sir.” He must be speaking with his warlord.

  “But I did. I captured a transmission, which points us toward a research facility on a dead planet.”

  “Is that what the Suhlik wanted here?”

  “What do they always want?”

  No reply.

  “One of the traitors is Terran,” the warlord said.

  A chill went down Daisy’s spine. The Suhlik had not attacked Earth in a decade and had not attacked in the system for several years, until last night. Now the aliens claimed a human had betrayed their own kind.

  She didn’t follow politics and had no interest in hot topic talk shows. People had been protesting the Protection Treaty for fourteen years, even though Earth had little choice, and people continued to protest. They didn’t approve of Earth women being married off to alien men. Not because it took away the autonomy of the woman. Nope. They just didn’t want the species to mix. Usually that’s when Daisy tuned it out. Maybe she should had paid more attention. Maybe people were getting tired of the genetic matches and wanted to end the treaty. But then why invite the Suhlik to attack the SCLB? That made no sense. The attack would only reinforce Earth’s need for the Mahdfel’s protection.

  “Shall I eliminate the Terran traitor?” Mylomon asked.

  “Not necessary. The council wishes us to continue to monitor the situation.”

  “Understood.”

  “How long until you return to us?”

  “There’s been a complication, sir.”

  “I heard.” The warlord chuckled. “And when did you have time to find a mate while you were failing to track our traitor?”

  “The match is beyond even my control.” Mylomon didn’t sound happy. “My mate’s sister was injured in the attack. She insists we stay until her sister is recovered.”

  “Hmm. My head medic has also found a reason to remain on the base.”

  “Injuries were high.”

  “Casualties?”

  “None.”

  Daisy breathed out a sigh of relief. No casualties.

  “And how is your mate, sir?” Mylomon asked. The conversation shifted from a debriefing to casual conversation.

  “She has the pregnancy brain. I am told it is normal but I do not approve.”

  “I want to talk to Mylomon,” a woman said.

  “Warlord’s female,” Mylomon said, voice formal. An unexpected surge of jealousy swept over her. Her husband was talking to another woman. The feeling was crazy. Inexplicable. She barely knew Mylo and certainly could not expect him to never speak to another woman, but the possessive jealousy remained.

  “Is it true your mate has a medical background?”

  “She is a nurse,” Mylomon said.

  “Where is she? I’d like to speak with her.”

  “She is resting.”

  “Oh really?” The pr
esumptive tone made Daisy blush.

  “Her sister was injured in the attack. She is exhausted.”

  “She doesn’t like you, does she?” The pure glee in the woman’s tone angered Daisy. Why did the warlord’s female—dammit, wife, she corrected her thought—take such joy in Daisy not liking Mylo? It made her want to come to Mylo’s defense, to stride out there and announced that she did not dislike her husband.

  Daisy gasped, realizing it was true. She didn’t dislike Mylomon. She might even like him a little bit.

  The alien male in question turned toward her door and frowned.

  The woman continued, “Be sure to blow up her house and then stab her. That always wins over the chicks.”

  The warlord murmured something not picked up on the audio feed.

  “I will not let it go,” the woman said. “I don’t care whose orders it was. He stabbed me. I’m allowed to have a grudge. And you’re supposed to entertain the whimsies of a pregnant women, Paax.”

  “Stabbing my second is not a whimsy.”

  “You may stab me if it will appease your sense of justice,” Mylomon said.

  What kind of crazy clan had she gotten herself hitched to?

  “You will not,” the warlord commanded.

  “Fine,” the woman said. “Bring me chocolate. The stuff out of the reconstructor is waxy. And good chocolate, too. Ask your wife. She’ll know.”

  Mylomon said nothing. Daisy could only assume he nodded.

  “The Judgment will continue its pursuit of the Suhlik out of this system. When your mate’s sister is recovered, you will return.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  The conversation terminated. Footsteps gave her little warning to scramble back from the door and jump into bed and pretend to be asleep. The door opened and Mylomon towered above her, dark and menacing.

  “You do not have to crouch at doors, female,” he said. “I cannot share details of my missions with you but I will not hide it from you.”

  “There’s a traitor on the base?”

  “A detail I cannot share.”

  “That’s why you were here during the attack.”

  He nodded.

  Daisy sat on the edge of her bed. New information from the day swirled inside her mind, it was a lot to process. Almost too much. “Thank you,” she said, “for waiting until Merri is recovered.”

  He nodded and left the room.

  Daisy collapsed backwards onto the bed and chuckled, more out of nerves than amusement. Her husband was such a big talker.

  Chapter Five

  Mylomon

  Days bled together. Mylomon was no closer to locating the traitor than he had been the night of the attack. All signs indicated that the traitor had left the base the next day, hidden in a deployment.

  His mate’s sister continued to improve each day. The medical jargon Daisy used to communicate with Kalen flew above his head but the tension slowly vanished from their bodies. The visible scars faded from Meridan. Her body responded to the treatment. This pleased his mate, which pleased him. Then the unexpected occurred. The regeneration tank treated not only the life threatening trauma but the older injuries as well. New scars vanished. So did the old.

  As her sister improved, Daisy’s mood soured.

  His mate argued with a technician when he arrived.

  “I don’t care. I won’t give consent to have her tested.”

  “The test is mandatory for every eligible woman,” the technician said.

  “You need Merri to be awake to give consent, or family. That’s me. And I’m telling you to get stuffed.” Daisy crossed her arms over her chest in a move that signaled the end of that discussion. The technician stormed away with threats of contacting a supervisor.

  “What is wrong, female?” Mylomon asked.

  His mate turned her head slightly to acknowledge his presence then returned her attention to the tablet. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “You do not smile.”

  She sighed. “Just because I’m not smiling doesn't mean something’s wrong. And why can’t you wear a damn shirt!”

  Ah, now she was upset and deflecting. He heard about this technique of Terran females. If she insisted he display his observational skills, he would. “So you say. Your sister continues to improve but your disposition has shifted from worry to dread. You eat and you sleep but you do not take sustenance or rest. You stare at the tablet, upset at what that data tells you. For every problem removed from the list, you frown, this is counter to the relief one would expect. So tell me truly, female, what is wrong, and do not say it is a shirt.”

  “It’s Merri’s birthday today,” Daisy said. Mylomon cocked his head to one side, waiting for her to explain. “She has a medical exemption from being matched, you know. Well, had. She had been infertile because of an old injury but the regen tank fixed it. I’m not sure if Merri’s going to be happy or peeved.”

  “She will be pleased.”

  Daisy shook her head. “You don’t know her like I do.” She paused, pressing her palm to the glass of the tank. “She’s always taken care of me. Of others. And one day soon, she’s going to wake up, you’ll take me away and I’ll never see her again.” Her voice made a strangled noise. Tears. Her breath gasped and hitched in her throat. His mate cried.

  He approached her, unsure of what to do but needing to be near. Daisy surprised him by throwing her arms around him and burying her face into his chest. Her tears flowed heavier now. He rested one hand on her back and stroked her hair. Her floral shampoo tickled his senses. Minutes passed. Her tears slowed, replaced by a sniffle.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away. He fought his instinct to hold her in place and continue to stroke her silky hair.

  “It is the nature of the match,” he said, standing straight. Did his mate not understand this? The female joined the male’s clan. The clan provided protection to her and any offspring.

  Another sigh. Her shoulders slumped. He did not enjoy seeing her this way. Defeated. “I know,” she said. “I just… It is what it is.”

  “Rest. I will sit with Meridan,” he said.

  She gave him a skeptical look but eventually nodded.

  Mylomon settled onto the floor, legs folded in a meditative position. The floor was uncomfortable and cold. Good. He needed the clarity.

  Never one to be shy with words, those same words died on his tongue around Daisy. Nothing he could utter was good enough for her ears. He needed more time before they were matched to plan. Without a plan, an assassin was little more than an impulsive murderer. The option of waiting and planning had been removed. He needed to move forward.

  He needed to win his mate’s affection. He needed to give her something unique. Something she prized. Treasured. Something as valuable to Daisy as she was to him.

  His eyes opened, focusing on the regen tank.

  Meridan Vargas floated in a vat of green gel. Her dark hair fanned out from her face, a face which mirrored Daisy's. The sisters were very much alike in appearance and build, only one was dark and the other blonde. Meridan had a pleasing fullness to her hips and thighs. While this did nothing for Mylomon’s appetite, he imagined that Daisy shared the same trait, and this roused his appetite.

  Speaking of appetite, the medic Kalen had worn himself thin caring for the Terran female. Plus, the two had been on the cusp of romantic relations before the attack. And Meridan had been exempt, but no more.

  And today was her birthday.

  Meridan needed to be tested. She would be matched with Kalen. Mylomon had no doubt. A family member needed to authorize the test.

  Mylomon unfolded his limbs and rose from the floor. As Meridan’s brother-in-law, he needed to have a conversation with a huffy technician.

  Yes, this was a good plan.

  Daisy

  No one would confess to authorizing Meridan’s test. By no one, Daisy meant Kalen. That arrogant, smug alien doctor would not admit to testing Meridan while she was unconscious and unable to gi
ve consent for the procedure. Everyone knew he did. It was obvious with the way he mooned over her and never left medical.

  “I guess you got what you wanted,” Daisy said, confronting him.

  “This is not what I wanted,” Kalen replied.

  Sure. Whatever. Daisy stuck a hand on her hip and planted her feet, ready for a fight. “I know you authorized the test.”

  “On my honor, I did not.”

  That test didn’t authorize itself.

  Regardless, they were family now. Daisy did not know her sister’s stance on being married to an alien. Meridan had always been quiet about her love life and even quieter about her hopes and dreams. Would she be upset? Would her match please her? Daisy honestly had no idea. She did know, however, that Meridan had been attracted to the alien physician. They had flirted and even kissed. It might not be such an unpleasant surprise for Meridan, unlike Daisy’s own match.

  Daisy got exactly what she wanted: a big, strong alien. Of course her alien was also terrifying. The frightening part of him was more than his physical appearance. He stood taller and broader than all of the other warriors on the base, but it was more than that. His dark complexion allowed him to blend in perfectly with the shadows. He moved silently. Everything about him screamed he was a killer, ready to strike. His features were too sharp to be handsome and his eyes gleamed with a pitiless intelligence. He always observed. Watched. Nothing escaped his attention. That rattled Daisy more than anything.

  The way the other Mahdfel skirted around him lead Daisy to believe that he terrified his own kind, too. A secret mission to search out a traitor had brought him to the SCLB. Perhaps the Mahdfel had a good reason to avoid him. So, yeah, she got her big and strong and terrifying alien. That was her man.

  Honestly, Daisy liked it. She had the biggest, baddest and scariest warrior. What did that say about her? She knew she had a thing for the muscle-bound aliens. She did not know she would be so attracted to a such a dominating, masculine specimen.