Her Rogue Mates

by Grace Goodwin

  But no. We had no claim on her. Yet. If I took her now, not only would she resist, but I’d be breaking about a dozen laws of the Interstellar Coalition Fleet. They left me alone because I steered clear of their notice.

  Kidnapping a member of one of the MedRec units, and a female member at that, would earn me the attention of thousands of warriors intent on saving her.

  The Prillons, the Atlans, the Trions and even the humans, were protective of their women. If I tried to take her against her will, I’d have a small army of ships barreling down on Rogue 5 within days.

  No. She had to come willingly. Now was not the time. She was our mate because of who she was, of what she was. A healer. Fearless. Brave. We had to let her go. It would kill me to do so, but the beeping wrist unit wasn’t just a notice for her to deploy, but for us to accept her departure.

  She gasped, stiffened when she returned fully to herself. “Shit. I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, lifting her wrist. “I…I have to go.”

  Blade stood to his full height. He stepped back, allowed her passage.

  She glanced at me, then Blade. “This has been…fun. Thanks for—you know.”

  Blade nodded, remaining silent. His hands were clenched at his sides, as if he was holding himself back from grabbing her, from keeping her from going. He felt the loss as keenly as I, and she was still with us.

  I couldn’t speak now, couldn’t tell her we would be awaiting her return, that when she came back healthy and whole, we would continue where we left off, that it would be my turn to be on my knees for her, to taste her—and not just licking her flavor from my fingers. There was no time. She was needed immediately.

  She offered a quick nod, then dashed down the hall in a quick sprint.

  She may have gotten away this time, but we could use the time she was working to learn more about her role, how much longer she was required to serve the fleet. And how to get her out of that particular duty without starting a war I couldn’t win. I glanced at Blade, knew his thoughts.

  He shifted his cock in his pants. If he was as hard as me, nothing was going to ease the discomfort except our mate’s eager pussy.

  “If she’s officially mated, she can no longer go into combat zones.”

  “We are not part of the Coalition Fleet. We can’t claim a mate.”

  “Bullshit,” Blade argued. “That bastard at the Intelligence Core offered us a lot of perks we’ve never taken advantage of. Including being processed for an Interstellar Bride.”

  Blade was right, but I didn’t want to call the Prillon bastard, Doctor Mervan. He was a spy, his heart as black and merciless as the cold of deep space. “What if we submit to that process and we aren’t matched to her?”

  Running his hands through his long silver hair, Blade snarled. “You’re right. She won’t be in the Brides Program database anyway. She’s in MedRec. We’d be matched to someone else. Fuck.”

  “Exactly. And I don’t want Doctor Mervan to know about her. She’ll give him too much leverage over us.”

  Blade slammed his palm flat against the wall in frustration. “How much longer? How long does the Coalition own her?”

  “I don’t know.” But I intended to find out. And the moment we could take her without endangering the rest of the legion, she’d be safe on Rogue 5, and in my bed.

  Chapter Four

  Harper, Battlefield Medical Recovery Mission, Sector 437, Latiri Star Cluster

  Gravel and dust crumbled beneath my feet as I ran from body to body, the team moving around me like a swarm of ants. We’d done this so many times we didn’t need to talk to know where each of us would go. We had a pattern, a rhythm that worked for us, that got the job done, especially here. This planet, this sector of space was hell. Literally. Hell. Constant battles with the Hive. So much fighting. I could walk this rock without a map.

  We naturally split into three teams of five with two fight-ready Prillon warriors on protection duty, guarding the transport pad—and us—as we scurried around the field hunting for survivors.

  I was triage, looking for signs of life. Rovo carried the portable transporter devices—a transport patch. They were small but powerful, the size of a silver dollar. When we found someone who needed immediate transport, Rovo would attach the device with a quick slap of his palm against the patient, hit a button and voila. Gone. Directly back to Zenith for immediate medical attention.

  Somehow, the device moved the person to the nearest full-sized transport, like a game of leapfrog. Yeah, it was space aged and too advanced and techy for me to understand. The first time I saw it work, I was impressed. Now? I wasn’t impressed by much of anything at all.

  Okay, I was impressed by the way Styx and Blade had made me come. No, I was impressed by the way they got me so hot for them that I let Blade drop to his knees, toss my leg over his shoulder and eat me out as if he were starving. In a hallway! But the end of my orgasm drought wasn’t for me to think about now. I’d tuck that steamy memory away for when I got back to Zenith and was alone in my tiny quarters.

  For now, I had to think about the massive Atlan warrior on the ground before me. He was huge. Heavy. Just like the rest of these aliens. Pack on their gear, and some of them probably weighed three-fifty. I worked out. I was strong. But not that strong. Not when this small area of battlefield was littered with well over a hundred wounded and scores more dead. And the fact that we were over a hundred feet from the pad.

  I lifted my arm to signal Rovo for a transport patch. “Got one.”

  He finished placing a patch for one of my teammates and walked on to another who signaled him. I’d have to wait because there were too many in need. He’d get here in a minute. Until then, my job was to keep this warrior alive.

  The Atlan blinked up at me, his eyes glazed. Unfocused. I pressed a bandage to a gaping wound in his shoulder and he growled. God, he was huge.

  Just what I needed. A full-on berserker moment with a beast. “Don’t you dare go beast on me, Atlan, or I’ll leave you out here to rot.”

  The Atlan chuckled, some of his beast receding before my eyes, and the tension in my jaw and shoulders lessened enough that I could move again. Sometimes they were so out of it, they couldn’t focus. Sometimes, we couldn’t save them.

  “You are a bossy female.” His voice was as rough and gravely as the ground he laid on.

  I smiled down into his face. “Of course. I’m human.”

  He grinned, then groaned as I tightened the bandage on his arm and ran the ReGen wand over it to help stanch the bleeding. It would help, but not enough to heal. This guy needed a dip in the blue coffins, the ReGen pods back at Zenith.

  “I know. My friend Nyko is mated to one of you bossy Earth females.”

  “Then he’s a lucky man.” I laughed at the huge, wolfish grin the Atlan gave me. He was tough, I’d give him that. Lying here, bleeding everywhere, dying. Cracking jokes. “You need a ReGen Pod, Atlan. Then you’ll be all better and can get a bossy Earth female of your own.”

  “Wulf. My name is Wulf.”

  I ran the ReGen wand over the rest of him, but it wasn’t enough. He’d been shredded. The front of his armor was in tatters, as if he’d been in a fight with a grizzly bear back home, one with six-inch claws. “What the hell happened to you, Wulf? These cuts aren’t from a blaster.” He really needed to get out of here. Where was that damn transport beacon? I glanced up looking for Rovo, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Rovo was the second-in-command, and I’d been assigned to his team the moment I’d arrived from Earth. He was a hard-ass, smack-talking former Army medic from L.A. Having the same hometown put us on the same side during debates on most topics, from football to good Mexican food. Rovo was his family name, Italian. I didn’t know his first name and didn’t ask. Not out here. Names didn’t really matter out here. You were either Hive, or you fought them. There was no middle ground. No negotiating.

  “Your friend disappeared behind that rock.” Wulf struggled to lift his hand and point to wher
e a few black and gray boulders dotted the landscape. It wasn’t far away, maybe the length of a football field, but…

  Wulf coughed and there was blood on his lips.

  Damn. Damn. Damn. I couldn’t leave him.

  What the fuck was Rovo doing?

  Turning the ReGen wand to a locked “on” position, I wedged the base between one of the large openings in Wulf’s armor where he’d been slashed open. I shoved it in as Wulf grunted in pain.

  “Sorry.” Not sorry. “It’ll keep you alive.”

  “Sadist.”

  “You know it.” I grinned at Wulf even as I thought about killing Rovo when I saw him next. Kill. Him. Slowly. But even as I thought it, I worried. This wasn’t like him. Had he seen more wounded beyond that rock? Did he need help?

  Shit. Something was wrong. I could feel it. Glancing around, you’d think nothing was amiss. The others were doing their jobs. Everyone working quietly and efficiently to get this done, get the wounded tagged and shipped out so we could go back to Zenith and recover. Get off this rock. This wasteland.

  With the ReGen wand working in futility to heal Wulf’s massive chest, I made to stand. “I’ll come back for you.”

  “No.” The Atlan’s command was sharp. Biting. Good. Maybe the wand was helping more than I thought.

  I glanced from Wulf’s determined face to the rocks. Something. Was. Not. Right.

  But I couldn’t let Wulf lie here and die either. He wouldn’t last long.

  I scanned the others in MedRec, looking for their transport member.

  They were all too far away, scattered on the battle area. Damn. I looked from Wulf to the transport pad, judged the distance. We were close. It was his best chance.

  And I was going to kill Rovo when I saw him.

  “Come on, soldier. On your feet.” I wedged my arm beneath his uninjured shoulder and tugged, hard. Nothing. He didn’t even budge.

  God, he was heavy.

  The teasing light in Wulf’s eyes faded as his gaze darted from the rocks back to my face.

  I looked down and met his dark eyes. “Walk or die, Wulf. Because your free ride out of here is in trouble on the other side of those rocks, and I can’t carry you.”

  Tugging again, I braced my legs under me and got him into a sitting position.

  “Move it, Wulf! Move it now!” I yelled at him, I knew, but sometimes these guys didn’t listen to anything else. I knew he was hurting and tired and flirting with death. Maybe his beast would respond to a little aggressiveness.

  And I was banking on the fact that he was tough as nails and wasn’t willing to let go of life just yet.

  Wulf struggled to his feet, and I braced myself under his shoulder. “Come on. One step at a time.”

  “Bossy.” He hissed through gritted teeth, but we moved. One step. Two. Three. My back felt like it was going to crack under his weight, but we inched forward. “What’s your name?”

  “Harper.”

  “That is not a proper name.”

  “That’s what my dad always said, too.” I grinned, watching the ground as we moved, careful for anything that might make us stumble. I’d gotten him to stand once, but I doubted I’d be able to do it again. “But my mom won that argument.”

  “Bossy, too.” He wheezed.

  “Yes. Stop talking and walk faster.” It only took a couple of minutes, but it felt like an hour as we neared the transport pad and one of the Prillon warriors came down to help. He couldn’t leave the pad, I knew that, but I was relieved when we were close enough for him to bend the rules. “Get him to a ReGen pod, now!” I yelled.

  The Prillon nodded and took Wulf from me as the giant Atlan slumped onto the pad. He was watching me as I backed away. “You’ll be all right, Wulf. Get him to that pod,” I ordered again. I glanced over my shoulder picking up the pace, my internal alarm bells going crazy now. Where the hell was Rovo? “Get him out of here!”

  Running, I sprinted toward the boulders where Wulf said Rovo had gone when a rumble sounded, the growling thunder of some kind of shuttle engine, and it was coming from the wrong direction.

  Oh, God. “Get them all out of here! Now!” I yelled the order. I wasn’t second-in-command, but with Rovo missing, I gave the orders on this side of the field.

  I didn’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t the two small shuttles that landed on the edge of the battlefield. And it wasn’t the dozen or so mercenaries who stepped out of them. Their armor was black. Half men, half women, they all had a fierceness to their faces I recognized. Some had silver hair, like Blade. Some were dark, like Styx. But they all had the distinct features of the two men I’d almost fucked in that hallway. That time with them up close and personal made it easy for me to know where these mercenaries were from. Rogue 5.

  Their uniforms were nearly identical to what Styx and Blade wore, right down to the arm bands around their biceps.

  Except the bands weren’t silver. They were red. Dark red, like wine. Like dried blood. One of them looked up, saw me watching him. I met his pale gaze and saw nothing there. No heat in his eyes, not like Styx or Blade. No interest or emotion. Only indifference. Even though I was sweating, a chill raced down my spine. His glance alone showed me what I needed to know.

  These mercenaries were cold-blooded killers.

  Screaming at everyone to get the hell out of there, I ran for Rovo’s location, toward the place Wulf said he’d gone. I had to warn him. Find him.

  Chaos erupted on the ground as the Prillon on the transport pad opened fire at the new and surprising enemy. They weren’t Hive and that scared the crap out of me.

  My team fired as well, and the quiet ground covered with the dead and dying exploded in bedlam and screaming.

  “Rovo!” I yelled as I pulled my own blaster. I was too far away to fire into the fray, but I had no idea what I’d find when I rounded that huge boulder.

  I didn’t make it. Three warriors almost as big as Styx appeared around the supersized rock and walked toward me.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  They were too close. I was quick in a lot of ways, but running wasn’t one of them. Right now, I wished I had the speed of an Everian Hunter.

  Turning on my heel, I ran with every ounce of strength in me. A blast whizzed past my head, and I ducked, weaving and hoping I could dodge the enemy fire. I heard one of my pursuers go down in a tangle of cursing and screaming.

  Looking ahead, I saw Wulf on his knees, ion rifle in hand, taking aim behind me again. He was more beast than Atlan, but that was keeping us both alive. The Prillon were firing into the melee on the other side of the field, where the rest of my team was engaged in a battle they appeared to be losing.

  Heavy breathing. The loud strike of boots behind me.

  Wulf fired again and another of my attackers went down.

  “Down!” he bellowed, and I hit the ground rolling as huge hands tangled for purchase in the back of my green uniform before falling away. I took off running again. Wulf fired, I dropped to the ground, but his shot missed as the mercenary chasing me dove for cover.

  Scrambling onto my hands and knees, I made it the rest of the way to the transport pad. There, I found Wulf slumped over, unconscious. One of the Prillon warriors looked at me. “Get on. Now! We’ve got orders to clear the pad so Commander Karter can get his warriors down here.”

  Warriors? Karter? What?

  Impatient, the Prillon grabbed me and lifted me onto the pad. He stepped off, firing into the battle, doing what he could to protect the rest of my team.

  “Do it!” he ordered his companion who stood at the controls on the opposite side of the transport. They weren’t leaving, I realized. They were going to stay here and fight.

  I glanced at Wulf and saw his blood pooling, the ReGen wand on the pad a couple feet away where it had fallen. Damn it.

  Crawling toward him, I turned the wand back on and placed it lying on his chest before picking up his ion rifle.

  The pad buzzed with energy that made my hair
and skin crackle as the power built. I raised the rifle and took aim, taking down one of the mercenaries who’d been firing on my team from a safe distance.

  Bastard. Coward.

  I had a list of names for men like these.

  Behind him, his friends were dragging the wounded and my team away, alive, onto the shuttles.

  Why? What the hell?

  They were taking weapons, too. Anything and everything they could. But why the warriors? Why my team? Why…

  I fired again. The shot hit, but didn’t take him down. He turned in my direction, his fangs extended in a feral hiss as he narrowed his eyes at me in rage.

  “Shit. Me. I’m. Oh fuck,” I gasped after hitting the comm unit on my wrist.

  Fangs. I remembered seeing them on Styx when he grinned. Blade, too. But they hadn’t been dangerous. No, I hadn’t felt fear or panic as I did now looking at one of their own. I’d felt exhilarated. Scared. So hot I couldn’t stop thinking about the bite they’d promised me. I had closed my eyes and wanted their mouths on me. Wanted the pain. Wanted to belong to them, be between them. Forget the world and let them have their wicked way with me.

  Were these Styx’s people? Was this, somehow, his doing? Could he have been fake? Was his ‘business associate’ one of these assholes? Was he being all alpha and dominant to me, yet ruthless and murderous with others? He said he was the leader. Was his interest in me, in my team, just a set-up so he could do this? Did he mean for me to die along with the others? If warriors didn’t get here soon from the battleship, we would all die.

  Because of Styx? And Blade.

  Furious at the thoughts whirling in my mind, I aimed again. Fired. Watched with satisfaction as the fanged asshole fell over. I wasn’t a killer, but rage sparked in me, wrath like I’d never known as I watched the monsters swarm my team. We were no warriors. We were doctors. Nurses. We saved lives, and they were attacking us like we were the enemy.