“No. It is a machine that constructs our clothing and household items.”
“So, is that how you decorated your apartment?”
“Yes. We can select a pattern from a catalogue or design it. The ship stores the raw material and fabricates it. When the item is unwanted or no longer useful, it is recycled back into the raw material.”
Carrie nodded and drained her orange juice. “Sounds good. Now finish that mountain of food and let’s go.”
The medic, Kalen, gave Carrie a quick scan and declared her fit. “Any nausea?”
“Just after the teleportation,” she said.
“Headaches from the translator?”
“No.”
“Any reason your mate did not bring you in for your mandatory examination?” His fingers lightly brushed the bite mark on her shoulder. “Or could he not control himself?”
“He, um—”
“I believe that is none of your business,” Vox said.
“It’s my business when you savage your mate like an animal and the bite gets infected. Look at this sloppy work. Did you chew?”
Vox growled.
The medic ignored him, shoving a tube into Carrie’s hand. “Despite your mate’s best efforts to give you an infection, it appears to be healing. Apply this cream to reduce scarring.”
“I’m fine. It’s fine,” she mumbled. She wanted out of medical before Vox and Kalen came to blows.
The next stop was security. The gruff male with bright magenta skin and shorn dark hair informed her that he should have been her first stop and her mate was negligent. Everyone had an opinion and everyone was grumpy about it.
Her ID chip was updated with clearance to access most features of the ship.
“Most?”
“Command Center and the armory are off limits,” the male said.
“But I’ll be able to open doors now? And access the computer?”
The male gave Vox a scathing look. “Yes. You should have had that access yesterday but someone was anxious.”
“There was confusion with the teleporter,” Vox said. “Which you know because you were there.”
The male huffed but did not deny it.
Vox gave her a tour of the ship, highlighting the lounges the females preferred and a garden the warlord’s mate had installed. In the garden, they ran into Daisy, Meridan and her daughter, Estella.
Carrie expected to hate the women. After the way Vox had gone on and on, she knew she couldn’t compete.
Daisy clapped her hands with joy, throwing her arms around Carrie. Meridan was more reserved and gave her a sincere smile and handshake. Estella demanded a piggyback ride from her uncle and failed to notice Carrie.
“Dinner. Tonight. Our place,” Meridan said.
“Is that an invitation?”
“It’s non-negotiable,” she said with a grin. “I know it’s not easy being in a new place and surrounded by new people. I want us to get to know each other.”
“All Vox did was talk about you and your sister last night.”
“Did it drive you crazy?”
“A little, yeah.”
“I’m sorry about that. I guess this is like meeting the in-laws.”
Absolutely, with zero pressure to get along.
Vox dashed across the grass, arms extended as if he were a superhero flying. Estella clung to his back, screaming with delight.
Yeah. She was going to like it here.
Chapter Seven
Carrie
The atmosphere on the flight deck changed, and not in the grab-your-breather way. All the warriors immediately stopped what they were doing and stood straight.
“Hey, Rohn, hand me that thingy. You know, the one with the weird handle.” Carrie did not scoot out from underneath the belly of the Sly Fox but held out a hand, expectantly. When nothing happened, “Rohn? Am I talking to myself?”
She scooted out and found a very pregnant human woman surrounded by six very determined warriors. The male closest to her held a blaster. It wasn’t pointed at her but it wasn’t hanging discretely at his either, either.
“Back up,” the woman said. “I came to talk to her.”
“Warlord’s female, she has a weapon,” the male holding the blaster said.
Carrie glanced down at her hands and dropped the wrench, the metal object clattering to the deck.
“Sorry about that,” the woman said. She had long, dark hair and bangs framed huge chocolate brown eyes. She wore a light blue dress. The hem hitched up in the front over her enormous belly. “I’d sit down next to you but I don’t think I’d get up again.” She rubbed her lower back and Carrie’s back ached in sympathy.
“Are all Mahdfel babies this huge or are you special?” Carrie asked without thinking. Panic seized her. She was just totally rude to the warlord’s mate. That had to be a breach of protocol. The Mahdfel has all these rules…
The woman laughed. “Oh, I’m nothing special. You have all this,” she rubbed her belly, “to look forward to.”
Carrie gulped. “When are you due?”
“Next month. But I did seek you out for a reason,” she said. “I’m Mercy by the way.”
Carrie scrambled to her feet, muttered her name and accepted Mercy’s handshake. She flinched at the grease smudge left on Mercy’s palm and offered a rag.
“Thanks. Vox says you’re a genius.”
“He does?”
“Oh, yes. Goes on and one about his clever female to anyone who will listen.”
A warrior in Mercy’s security detail snorted.
“Stars, that’s…” Potentially embarrassing.
“I was there when he gave his report to Paax,” Mercy said. “He’s not gossiping at the water cooler.”
“That’s better, I suppose.” Now she worried about reports to the warlord.
“I’m not helping. Look, it’s no big deal. Paax likes to get a rundown from the newly mated males, to make sure the wives arrived safely and are adjusting. I told him that an orientation for the new ladies would help with the transition but these guys get all weird about other males touching or even talking to their new mates.”
“An orientation would have been helpful.” Carrie scanned through the day Vox took her on a tour of the ship. He didn’t seem weird, maybe overly possessive.
“Right?” Mercy smiled, pleased someone agreed with her. “It does look like you’re fitting in.”
Carrie glanced down at her stained overalls. She had to look a grubby mess with her hair tied back in a headscarf and grease on her hands. “This is basically what I did on Earth.”
Rohn was the one to snort this time. “I couldn’t keep Vox’s female off my flight deck if I wanted.”
Mercy nodded and turned her attention back to Carrie. “Anyway, I came to give you this.”
She handed her a creamy white, embossed card. Fancy. “Is this an invitation?”
“Yes. Since I can’t get Paax onboard with the orientation idea, we’re having a party.”
Carrie wasn’t sure if parties and Mahdfel mixed. She glanced at the warriors surrounded Mercy. They seemed… stiff. Not the party type. Not that she was the party type, either.
Vox was, though. Vox totally was.
“It’s just for the mated males and their wives,” Mercy explained. “There’s more of us now and we need to socialize, get to know each other. Also, this baby is trying to punch his way out and Paax can’t deny me anything right now, so we’re having a Mercy-is-big-as-a-whale-and-she-wants-to-have-fun-dang-it party.”
The lead warrior grew distressed at Mercy’s words. “Warlord’s female, we should take you to medical now if the warlord’s son is punching—”
“Figure of speech, guys. Relax.” She turned her attention back to Carrie. “So you’ll come? Tomorrow night.”
“Sure. Sounds like a blast.”
***
“Have you decided on what you’re going to wear?” Daisy flopped down on the sofa next to Carrie, messy blonde curls bouncin
g.
“This?” Carrie’s wardrobe was limited at the moment and didn’t want to ask Vox for a dress. It seemed so… girly.
Daisy rolled her eyes. “This is fine for puttering around in the garage or whatever you do, but you need a proper party dress. Something to show off that booty.”
Estella turned to Meridan and asked, “Can I get a dress for my booty, too?”
“You’re too young for a booty dress,” Meridan said. “You can have a regular dress if you brush your teeth.”
Dinner with Meridan and Daisy and their mates turned into a regular habit. Apparently Vox invited himself over all the time and Meridan and Daisy’s mates stopped protesting. They knew they couldn’t win.
“And you,” Meridan said, turning her attention to her younger sister, “know better than to use words like that. Add another credit to the swear jar.”
Daisy rolled her eyes but complied.
“We’re saving up to go visit Papi Vargas on Earth,” Estella said. “He has a cabin in the mountains! And we can go swimming in the lake. And wrestle bears.”
“No bear wrestling. And why aren’t you brushing your teeth? Get.”
“Wrestling bears?” Carrie asked.
“We watched this old Earth program, Davy Crockett, and she’s smitten. Determined to grow up to be a mountain woman.”
Daisy groaned. “I can’t believe we’re talking about Papi when we could be shopping.”
“Fine,” Carrie said. “How do I order clothes?” She had never been particular about clothes and used a personal shopper service back on Earth when she needed something professional or for an occasion.
“How many tokens do you have left?” Daisy reached for a tablet and started pressing buttons.
“Tokens?”
“Yes. Every new bride is given clothing tokens because we don’t know where we’re going or what we’ll need. Makes packing a bitch. So how many do you have left?”
“Um…”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Vox didn’t explain this?”
“We covered a lot of ground the first day.”
Meridan snorted. Daisy and Carrie gave her a surprised look. “What? Their first day didn’t exactly involve a lot of clothes. It’s funny.”
“Stop being gross,” Daisy muttered. “Like you waited so long.”
“Um… So, a classic little black dress?” Carrie asked, changing the subject away from her or Meridan’s sex life.
“Give me your hand,” Daisy said, scanning Carrie’s palm with the tablet. “Oh. This going to be fun.”
“Do I have enough tokens?” She wasn’t sure how many she already spent filling her wardrobe with the basics.
“Well, you can be all sensible and boring and get a full wardrobe, including a sensible but boring dress that could be used in many situations. Or you can blow the whole thing on something amazing.”
Yeah, Daisy was totally impartial and had no opinion whatsoever.
“I suppose something I can wear again is what I should get.” Carrie wanted to be spontaneous. She wanted to be fun. “Screw it. I want amazing.”
Daisy pumped a fist in the air. “How about this?”
Carrie scrolled through the images on the tablet. “It’s all, so…”
Meridan snatched the tablet from her hands. “Stop shopping for yourself, Daisy. Not everyone likes having that much thigh exposed.”
Carrie suspected she might. She never would have dared back on Earth, not with her mother clucking about how proper ladies behave. “Can I show some a leg? A little?”
“What about that big ol’ booty?” Daisy asked.
“What’s the point of dragging this butt around if I can’t wear something that makes it go pow?”
A grin spread over Daisy’s face. “Then I have the dress for you.”
She turned the tablet around for Carrie to see the image.
Yes. That was perfect.
Vox
Vox waited. He listened.
His opponent moved silently, not disturbing the sand of the arena floor.
The rush of air was his only warning. Vox ducked and moved quickly, rolling away.
A foot hit him solidly in the back and pinned him to the ground. “You waste too much time on unnecessary maneuvers.”
Vox picked himself up from the floor. Blindfold still secure, he turned to face Mylomon. “Yes, but it would have looked cool if I succeeded.”
Mylomon snorted. “This preoccupation with looking cool will get you killed.”
A female gasped.
His female.
Vox tore off the blindfold. Carrie stood with her arms folded across her chest. “What are you doing? Is that a sword? Why are you blindfolded?”
“Training, my mate,” Vox said, using his most soothing tone of voice.
“But that’s sword. And you couldn’t see him swinging it at you.”
“It is only a dull edge,” Mylomon said, holding out the sword for her to inspect.
That did not help.
She backed away like it was a viper. “You’re crazy. What if you hurt yourself?”
With that dull edge weapon? Hardly. “Fear not. Mahdfel heal quickly.”
“Quickly? That’s why you got that big scar on your face? Because you heal too fast to be seriously hurt?”
Vox couldn’t help his grin. His mate was clever. His mate had a keen eye. “You told me you like my scar?”
Carrie back away, eyes wide at his seductive tone. “I, uh, this—”
She shoved grease stained paper at him.
“Mercy wore down the warlord,” he said, reading the invitation. “We shall attend.”
“Daisy helped me pick out a dress,” she said.
“Of course she did,” Mylomon grumbled. “My mate will insist I attend?”
“Pretty positive she said something about your formal uniform.”
Mylomon grunted. Not even Vox could interpret that.
“Are we finished?” Vox asked.
Another grunt. Vox took it to be affirmative.
“And you, mate?” he asked, pulling his mate to him. “Do you like a warrior in formal uniform?”
She wiggled in his grasp but did not seem to mind the sweat or the sand clinging to his bare chest. “I think this is pretty good, honestly.”
How fortunate was he?
Chapter Eight
Carrie
The Mahdfel didn’t quiet grasp the concept of a party or a purely social activity. That was painful obvious with the lack of decorations, refreshments, music or anything to remotely suggest that there was a social event being held in the arena other than the Mahdfel males parading around their new mates with pride.
The ladies were dressed to impress. Daisy wore a bright pink dress with a great puffy skirt. Meridan wore a much more sedate black dress, something at Carrie would have chosen for herself. Even Mercy was dressed to the nines in a Sangrin styled robe with a long sleeves and heavy floral embroidery.
Carrie wore a gold gown with a deep v-neck that gathered just the right amount of fabric at her waist. The shimmering fabric flowed off her curves and pooled at her feet like liquid. When she moved, the high thigh slit exposed enough leg to make her feel daring. Scandalous, even. And the way Vox looked at her when he saw the finished product, like they would never make it out the door because he’d be too busy removing the dress — worth blowing all her clothing tokens. Totally worth it.
Vox cleaned up nicely, too. The formal uniform was a slim cut, well tailored dark grey suit with clean lines. She didn’t think the dark color would look good against his heather complexion but it worked. He pulled his untamed hair back in high bun, a style she’d seen other warriors sport.
“Now that I know you look this good all dress up, I might insist on it,” she told him, giving him a long, lingering look.
“The jacket is restrictive. I dislike it.” he shrugged his shoulders, demonstrating the restrictiveness.
Carrie brushed at invisible dust on his shoulder and
leaned in, “But it makes your horns look bigger.”
He paused his uncomfortable squirming. “Truly?”
She giggled. “Vain much? Your horns are just the right size.” If his horn was any bigger, it wouldn’t fit. She had to be good a worked up to accept all his “horn” as it was.
“Is this not what you requested? A competition to foster goodwill?” the warlord asked, looming over his pregnant mate. Mercy sighed dramatically.
Carrie didn’t want to eavesdrop but their conversation wasn’t exactly discrete.
“Not everything is a competition,” Mercy said.
“I don’t understand.”
More sighing. Mercy spotted Vox and called him over. “Vox, you were stationed with humans, right? I know the moon base had social events, like dances for holidays.”
Vox nodded.
“Explain how that happened.”
“I believe the organizing was handled by humans.”
Mercy sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. That’s what I get for delegating. Next time, music. We need music to dance. Now please find me a chair and something cold to drink.” Paax steered his mate away.
At that moment a loud crack sounded and two males fell to the ground laughing, rubbing their heads. They got up and ran towards each other, heads lowered and crashing their horns together. More laughter.
Aliens.
“Are they… jousting?”
“It’s good, right?” Vox said with enthusiasm. He unbuttoned the jacket, as if he wanted to joust, too. Carrie noticed that several of the Mahdfel had removed the top half of their uniforms and flaunted their tattoos. So much man flesh.
“Hey,” she said, leaning in and placing a hand on his sleeve. “You know what we do on Earth when we want to leave a lame party?”
His cocked to head to one side, intrigued. “Explain.”
Carrie raised her hand to prevent his horn from jabbing her. “We ditch the squares and go make out in a ground vehicle.”
“I have seen this in films,” he said with a nod. “Usually they are teenagers sneaking to avoid their parents’ wrath and are attacked by a monster or murderer.”
Vox: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 4) Page 6
