Mylomon: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 3)

by Nancey Cummings

  And Mylomon was dominating. When he chose to reveal himself, he filled the room with his presence. It unnerved most people but it made Daisy weak in the knees.

  Why did she feel so alone? She wasn’t supposed to be alone. Her mate was supposed to cherish and protect her but she went to sleep in an empty apartment and often went days without speaking to him.

  Why didn’t he ask for sex? Or express at least a little interest in it? Wasn’t that the Mahdfel’s primary purpose? To make a new generation of little warriors? For two weeks they shared her little apartment and he slept on the floor in her bedroom. Not once did he try to climb in or even touch her. Did Mylo find her unattractive? It’s not like he hung around to talk or give her a chance to flirt and get his temperature. Not that she wanted to have sex just yet. Yes, he was hot.

  Scary but hot.

  He strutted around half-naked, showing off a body that would put a god to shame. Her repeated requests for him to wear a damn shirt were meet with that infuriating smirk of his, which lead her to believe he was indeed showing off. Mixed signals, much?

  She just had no idea what went in that horned head of his. If this was what married life would be like, she got the short end of the stick.

  When Meridan woke, Daisy carefully cleaned the gel off her and tried to explain the situation to her fuzzy headed sister. “The regen tank fixed everything wrong with you,” speaking slowly to let the words sink in. “You had some broken ribs, a collapsed lung, and your liver was about to give up the ghost. It worked really well.”

  “That’s good, right?” Meridan’s voice rasped, sounding like it scraped along shards of broken glass. Probably felt that way, too.

  “Really, really well.”

  Meridan shook her head slightly.

  “The tank fixed everything that was wrong, including the little stuff and the old stuff.” Daisy removed the sheet, exposing Meridan’s unblemished skin. Her old scar, the one given to her by a Suhlik during the invasion, was gone.

  Daisy continued, “You’re not infertile anymore. You were matched. It even took away your freckles.”

  “My freckles,” Meridan said, unbelieving. “I liked my freckles.”

  When it finally sank in, Meridan was not happy. She insisted on being re-tested. The results remained the same. She was matched Kalen. That wasn’t the surprise.

  The surprise was how hard it was to say goodbye.

  Daisy had had two weeks to prepare herself for this moment. Meridan cried shamelessly. Daisy refused to give in to her tears but did a poor job. She needed her big sister to know that she could to take care of herself. She would to be all right. They were tough nuts, after all.

  Mylomon lead her away toward the teleporter. With Meridan recovered, there was little reason to stay. Walking away, she bit her lower lip to keep the tears contained. As they stood on the teleport platform, his thick finger brushed away the damp tracks on her face in a gesture that was almost tender.

  “Are you ready, female?”

  Daisy looked down at her feet. He couldn’t even say her name she was so repulsive to him. “Sure. Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

  Chapter Six

  Daisy

  “Female, remain here.”

  Mylomon dumped her unceremoniously in his quarters and left. Technically it was their shared quarters but the space had a Spartan, hyper masculine vibe. She’d have to work hard to add her own personality to the functional grey rooms.

  Daisy focused her attention on the decor rather than her feelings of rejection.

  The common room had a sunken conversation pit with a sofa that looked unused. She couldn’t imagine Mylomon doing something as ordinary as relaxing and watching a film on the view screen. There was a small table and one chair. One. Empty rooms circled the common room. Well, mostly, if you didn’t count the Room of Knives.

  She stood in the doorway, a shiver running down her spine. She didn’t dare cross the threshold. An extensive collection of knives was mounted on the walls. She hadn’t realized there was so much variety in blade size and length. Some must be daggers but Daisy didn’t know the technical difference that distinguished a dagger from a plain old knife.

  She found an empty sleeping room, and another. The bed was sunk into the floor, much like in the common room. It would be cozy if not for the stark colors and brutal functionality. The sheets scratched, like fabric softener technology hadn’t been discovered by aliens. Finally, she found what must be the master bedroom. At first glance, she thought it empty as well but noticed a half-full glass of water next to the bed, the only sign of life in the barren environment.

  Daisy slumped against the walls and slid down to the floor. That was her marriage bed, scratchy sheets and all. She mentally added color to the space with pillows, plants, and decorative items on the wall other than, you know, knives. What could she even do to make the room less oppressive? New linens and a landscape painting could only go so far.

  Decorating. Yeah, right. Like that would fix anything. Daisy’s laughter verged on hysterical and then dissolved into tears. She was alone on a battle cruiser full of alien warriors with a mate that couldn’t stand her. He’d left the first available moment, dumping her in this sterile grey suite of rooms. So what if her tears were full of self-pity? It was her pity party and she’d cry if she wanted. All she needed was a tub of ice cream and a cheesy movie.

  The comm unit beeped with an incoming message. Daisy ignored it but the volume increased until the point she had to answer or dismiss the call.

  It was Vox.

  “What do you want, fly boy?” Using voice only she could hide her red eyes and dripping nose but the unevenness in her voice betrayed her.

  “I possess a double caramel white chocolate raspberry peppermint mocha latte with your name on it. Open the door.”

  Daisy stuck out her tongue and mock gagged. “That sounds disgusting. Did you hit every button on the machine or something? Wait. Open the door? Where are you.”

  “Open the door and find out.”

  Daisy raced to the front door, throwing herself at Vox. He held up his arms to avoid spilling the coffee. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

  “Careful. Why don’t you drink your abomination of caffeine and sugar before it gets cold?”

  The double caramel white chocolate raspberry peppermint mocha latte was a cacophony of sickening sweet flavors. She loved it. Sugary coffee: an acceptable substitute when there was no ice cream to be had.

  “This is your new clan?”

  He nodded and peered over her shoulder. “Is your mate home?”

  “No. Do you want to come in.”

  “I cannot be alone with another’s mate, not until—” He motioned to the spot where his neck joined his shoulders.

  Daisy’s eyes went wide. Right. Not until she was claimed. Fat chance of that happening anytime soon. “Don’t want to challenge Mylomon for me?”

  “You are my heart sister and I love you, but no. Come to the lounge with me and I will show you the fancy coffee machine.”

  “And I can press all the buttons?”

  “Don’t you always?”

  Perhaps it was the sugar or the caffeine but Vox lifted her mood. She wasn’t alone. She had a friend and an ally.

  Functional grey walls lined the wide corridors of the Judgment. The walls had a gentle curve, giving the space an organic, flowing feel. Even the hallways felt more inviting than Mylomon’s quarters.

  Warriors studied Daisy as they moved past. “Why are they looking at me like that?”

  “They are curious.”

  “Never seen a human before?”

  “Curious as to who matched the foundling. After word got out that I knew you, the questions never ceased.”

  A dozen questions crowded her mind. “What’s a foundling?”

  Vox headed toward an open space with lounge furniture, plants and a bar. The far wall held a floor to ceiling window, offering a view of the stars as the Judgment made progress towar
d the next mission. The aroma of coffee and hot beverages floated through the air. Daisy made a beeline to the coffee machine. She dumped her terribly sweet atrocity and made herself a fresh latte with a reasonable amount of caramel.

  “Have you ever wondered why the Mahdfel insist on keeping our mates and children close to us? Even when we go into battle?” Vox asked.

  “I always found it a bit weird. The human military allow families to live together on or near a base but not in an active combat zone. They certainly don’t live on a battle cruiser.” Steaming cup in hand, she settled into a comfortable looking chair.

  Vox settled into the chair across from her. “The Suhlik continue their genetic engineering. They attack settlements, kill families and steal away children. We keep our mates close because otherwise they would be targets.”

  “Defenseless.”

  “Yes. Even so, occasionally the Suhlik are able to penetrate our defenses and they snatch a Mahdfel son.”

  Daisy had a hard time imagining why the Suhlik would do that. Weren’t there enough defenseless planets for the Suhlik to invade, like they had on Earth? Targeting the Mahdfel seemed like an unreasonable amount of work for little reward.

  “The Suhlik continue their research,” he spat out the word. Daisy had never heard such venom in his voice. “They alter the child. Occasionally, a clan may find these research facilities and rescue the stolen children.”

  “Foundlings.”

  He nodded.

  Daisy stared into the slowly dissolving foam of her drink. “You said they were curious about the foundling’s match. Is Mylo—”

  “Yes.”

  That was garbage in so many ways. Mylomon’s family was murdered. He was stolen. Experimented on. “You said they were altered. Altered how?”

  “I am not sure.”

  She nodded. Mylomon was so much bigger than the other warriors: taller, broader built, even more musclebound than the average Mahdfel male. If the Mahdfel were super soldiers, perhaps the Suhlik tried to forge Mylomon into a super-super soldier.

  “The clan does not trust your mate,” Vox said.

  “Why not? I thought he was the warlord’s second?”

  “The warlord trusts him but the other warriors… Foundlings, even adult foundlings, make us nervous.”

  “Even you?” Nervous. So unspecific.

  He gave a noncommittal shrug. Such a human gesture. “I am not sure.”

  “So what’s your point? You show up to let me know my husband has a tragic past and the clan doesn’t accept him? What did you hope to achieve here?”

  “You needed to know all the facts.”

  “You didn’t give me facts, Vox. You gave me gossip and rumors.” Daisy leaned back in the chair. “I’m happy to see you. God knows I need a friend but I’m not going to gossip about my husband.” She couldn’t account for the urge to defend Mylomon. The male barely spoke to her and gave her no reason to regard him with affection but she didn’t like the idea that his clan, the foundation of Mahdfel culture, failed to trust him. And all for something beyond his control that had happened to him as a child.

  “There was another point to my visit,” he said.

  “Oh? Going to share new ways to ostracize my mate?”

  Vox’s brows knitted. “The large, flightless bird with the buried head?”

  “Are you even being serious right now?” Her patience wore thin. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours, her emotions were swinging from one extreme to another. “Look, I’m just tired and cranky.”

  “Ah.” He moved as if to pat her on the knee but pulled his hand back. Right. No touching another male’s mate. “I have good news for you.”

  “I can use some. Sock it to me, fly boy.”

  “I learned today that the medic Kalen is also part of this clan.”

  Daisy dropped the coffee and threw herself at Vox, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. Kalen was here, which meant Meridan would be here. She had her sister again. And their brother. The gang was back together. “That’s the best news! Always start with that. I swear, sometimes I think you have rocks in your head.”

  Vox gave a stiff pat on her back before pushing her away. “I appreciate your enthusiasm but I can’t participate in such a display—”

  “With another male’s mate. I know. I don’t need you to participate. I’m going to hug you and you can’t stop me.”

  “Fine, if you must, make the me victim then of your affection.” He held both arms above his head as he suffered the indignity of her hugs, a smile on his lips.

  Mylomon

  His clan conspired to keep him separated from his mate. The males wanted details about his new mate. The warlord had only recently allowed the clan to register to be genetically matched to potential brides. The previous warlord forbade it. As a result, the clan aboard the Judgment was comprised of single males all eager for their match. And eager to gossip about another male’s mate. Paax allowed the men to register in waves to better allow the female to be absorbed into the clan. The Judgment, as fine of a battle cruiser as it was, lacked many refinements and comforts. Paax’s mate, the Terran Mercy, had insisted on several improvements to make the battlecruiser more habitable to females.

  Seeran, in particular, vexed Mylomon. The chief of security made demands of his time and Mylomon was in no mood to entertain him. He barely slowed his pace to let the other male’s shorter legs keep up.

  “I require a briefing of your mission,” Seeran said.

  “And have you discussed your requirements with our warlord?”

  “As chief of security, I demand to be kept abreast of all variables which threaten the safety of the clan.”

  Mylomon paused, aligning his great frame with Seeran. He did not disagree. If the roles were reversed, Mylomon would be making demands for information. As it happened, he already made a full report to the warlord. If Paax wanted Seeran to know, he would already know.

  “It is not your place to make demands of me,” Mylomon said. Seeran held his burning gaze. The male’s bright magenta complexion did not discolor or fade. Impressive. “Unless you wish to challenge me?”

  Seeran’s gaze remained steady. “No, sir. Not today.”

  A grin threatened to crack the fierce scowl on his face. Seeran had balls. Too bad the males were nothing like friends because Mylomon could respect him.

  Mylomon walked away, thumping Seeran’s shoulder as he passed.

  Daisy waited for him in their quarters.

  He anticipated she would find the space lacking. He found it lacking but had not the time nor the inclination when he was single to make his quarters more comfortable. He was a genetic abomination. No match would ever be found for him so why bother to prepare for a female who did not exist? Now he cursed that lazy, short-sighted fool.

  Immediately upon arrival, the warlord had summoned Mylomon. He deposited his mate and sent the warrior Vox to attend to her. Vox was the male who accompanied Daisy to the ball on the night of the attack. Mylomon sensed no attraction between them, only friendship, so he fought down his bitter jealousy and let another male comfort his wife.

  Finally, at the end of a seemingly endless barrage of urgent requests, he returned to his quarters and spend his off duty time with his wife. He would not arrive empty handed. He stopped in the mess hall and bought a meal. Feeding his mate on SCLB had been necessary. She would not leave medical bay, not for hunger and not for exhaustion. Through trial and error, he brought her various Terran foods, taking careful note of what she ate, picked at and skipped altogether. He anticipated that she would enjoy the meal he brought. He heard her speak of longing for tacos so he made sure that the Mess could produce the Terran edible.

  Daisy scented the air the moment he arrived, her funny little nose twitching. “What is that?”

  “Food.”

  “I need it now. Give me.” Her words ran together with enthusiasm. She took the tray from him and set it on the small table. She immediately began to a
ssemble protein and shredded vegetables in a corn wrapper. The table barely had enough surface area for the tray, let alone two people eating from plates. He assumed that was how his mate would prefer to consume her food. Terrans insisted on certain rituals pertaining to meals. He needed a larger table.

  “I will requisition a more suitable table for you, female.”

  “Hmm?” She added a spicy sauce to the item in her hand. “Sounds great. Have you ever had a taco before?” She held out the item.

  He shook his head.

  “Have this one. Chicken in a soft shell is good but for whatever reason, I prefer the crummy crispy shells and ground beef. Papi is always going on about it not being authentic. But he lives in the mountains without electricity so what does he know?” She jiggled her hand, waiting for him to take the taco.

  “Food is food,” he said, taking the item. “And it is not right for the female to feed the male.”

  “Just eat, grumpy pants.”

  He had no idea how or why she determined the mood of his pants. Terrans were strange in what they considered noteworthy.

  He bit into the taco, the warm outside layer giving way to the spicy interior. The protein and plant material had competing textures which proved surprisingly pleasant. The sauce possessed a zing. He nodded his approval.

  Smiling with satisfaction, Daisy assembled her own. He copied her motions but was not as quick or graceful. The contents slid out of his first attempt. He growled and she laughed good naturedly at his frustration.

  The sweet, light sound of her laughter pleased him. It meant that she could find joy with him. And the fact that she laughed at his misfortune meant that she was not frightened of him. A female should not be frightened of her male.

  After the meal and depositing the dishes in the recycler, Daisy yawned.

  “Sleep now, female,” he said, leading her to the sleeping room.

  “It has been a long day.” Bleary eyed she pawed through her bag to retrieve a sleeping shirt. It was the Mahdfel custom to sleep nude, a custom he wished for her to pick up sooner rather than later. She’d worn that infernal shirt for the last two weeks. While the lace trim fell mid-thigh and created a pleasing image, he’d rather know his mate was comfortable and not constrained by unnecessary fabric.