They were wrong. I was invigorated by their laziness. My weakened muscles now pumped with adrenaline. My hands clenched into fists in readiness.
The Drover never met my eye, only held his ion blaster in one hand and used a key to undo the chain from my wrist restraints. His stench filled my nostrils, acrid and bitter. Sweat and bitter oils made my nose burn. These bastards were barely above animals, would work for anyone who had coin. I wouldn’t fight him here, not in the tent. I had to see how many others there were. I knew the basic layout of their compound from the other times they took me to a different tent to beat me. The Drovers who held me were not part of a large group, only a few tents made up the nomadic camp.
A push at my shoulder blades had me stumbling out into the fresh air. I looked about, although I could only see as far as the glow lanterns that hung from wooden stakes. All was quiet except for the snuffling sounds of their nox, the large animals they used as transport. The giant beasts were penned somewhere nearby. I didn’t like the quiet as it was deceiving. The Drovers weren’t ones to speak or socialize unnecessarily, and while there were no sounds coming from the various tents, I knew more enemies lurked than the one nudging me along.
The sand was still warm beneath my bare feet. I took a step, then another, ensuring no one was about, maintaining awareness of my surroundings. I could fight this one Drover easily enough, I just had to do it quietly.
Before we made it around the tent, I spun about, my elbow bumping into his wrist, shifting the ion pistol away from me. Stepping in close, his arm was along my hip, blocking the pistol. If he fired, it would be heard across the compound. I had to move quickly. Lightning fast, I lifted my arms over his head, the restraints hooked behind his robed neck. Because he was small, as all Drovers were, I loomed over him. Taking my right hand, I circled down and under my left to wrap the restraints about his neck. Punching upward toward the black sky, I broke his trachea, silencing any call he had for help. I winced at the pain in my wrenched shoulder, but pushed through. With both hands on the side of his head, I grabbed hold and twisted back, breaking his neck.
I had to unwind my arms to allow him to fall to the sand. Dead. Squatting down, I grabbed his ion pistol and scanned the area. My right knee screamed in protest. I breathed through my mouth, trying to keep as quiet as possible through the sharp stab of pain. Still no one.
A quick search of his body and I had the keys to my restraints. As quickly as I could, I unlocked my wrists and tossed the hated leather and buckles away from me, out into the desert to be swallowed by the ever-moving sand.
Keeping away from the lantern light, I followed the occasional sound of the nox and knew they were my means for escape. I found the temporary pen easily, went to the farthest animal and found the bucket on the ground filled with water. I didn’t care that a nox had drunk from it first. I’d barely been given any water during my captivity. Dropping to my good knee, I scooped the water into my palm, gulped it down. Only when I’d had my fill did I rise and grab the animal’s lead. Lifting the rope that formed the edge of the pen, I led the nox away. When I was far enough from the camp that a grumble or protest from the beast would not alert my enemies, I struggled up onto the beast’s back.
Slumping forward, I breathed through the pain and assessed my injuries. A bad knee, perhaps a torn tendon. A broken finger. Concussion. Multiple broken ribs. Lacerations on my thighs from their knives and on my back from the lash. And I was burning with fever, from Drover poison or infection, I could not say. Colors pulsed and danced before my eyes against the blackness of the desert night as the beast lurched between my legs. I dug my heels into the animal’s hairy flanks and fought to remain conscious as the gentle giant plodded into the desert.
I was definitely in need of food and dehydrated. I needed to get to Outpost Two and the transport station before I passed out, fell to the sand and the nox wandered off. It was the only way back home, to help. To find Natalie.
***
Natalie, Earth, November
I sat on the bathroom floor of my hotel room and hugged the toilet. Nausea had woken me from a fitful sleep an hour ago. Even though I’d thrown up the contents of my stomach, that didn’t mean the misery was over. I felt awful. God, I hated being nauseous. The cool porcelain felt good against my clammy skin. If I felt better, I’d cringe at the way I’d recently become BFFs with a toilet.
It had been two weeks since I’d been transported back to Earth. Two weeks since Warden Egara found me unconscious on the transport pad. She’d been stunned to see me. From my perspective, I’d only been on Trion for two days. But according to some really messed up space-time weirdness I didn’t understand, eleven weeks had passed on Earth. Eleven weeks since she’d transported me off planet to my new mate, to Roark. She’d assumed I was successfully settled. Perfectly matched.
Happy.
And I had been, for a few hours at least. But the two weeks since my return had felt like forever. For two weeks I waited for Roark to come for me. Yes, the doctor had said he was dead when the Drovers attacked the guards, but I hadn’t believed her. Roark had said he’d come for me, that he’d be safe. He had promised me.
And yet, time passed and I was alone. No word was sent through the Brides Processing center to me, no messages arrived from Trion. Warden Egara gave me her word she would contact me immediately once she heard news of Roark.
I had called her every day and…nothing. No news. The warden had even sent a request for information to their planetary government. All they would tell her was that there had been a slaughter at Outpost Two with no survivors.
No survivors, except me.
I alternated between being mad and sad. Mad that he’d left me, that he’d chosen to take care of his parents instead of me. He’d put me second, protecting his parents and the people of the camp, pushed me away to take care of more important things. He’d behaved exactly the way I’d come to expect from the people in my life. Just like my parents. I was their child and they just shoved me in boarding school so I didn’t interfere in their lives. Like my stupid fiancé, Curtis, who’d fucked others because he didn’t want to take the time to know me, or bother to learn about me or what would make me happy.
When the anger drained me of energy, I switched to despair. I hated Roark, was so very angry at the thought that he was dead. I’d kept the hope alive that he’d come, that I could yell at him, tell him how mad I was and then kiss him senseless.
But after fourteen days, I stopped lying to myself. He wasn’t coming. He was dead.
I’d even called my parents—who I’d tracked down to a villa in Sardinia—to tell them I was back on Earth. They’d been confused at first, wondering when I’d ever left. Apparently they never found the note, never even knew I’d been several light years away getting it on with a hot space alien. They hadn’t cared, only asked if anyone knew about my return.
They didn’t speak the word failure. They didn’t need to. Everyone on the planet knew that brides never came back. Except me.
Always, I disappointed them. They obviously didn’t know that Warden Egara used to be a bride and that she, too, had returned a widow. I hadn’t bothered to enlighten them. All of it was irrelevant. They had never really cared what was going on with me. They still didn’t.
They weren’t even coming home to Boston, instead continuing on with their three-month tour of the Mediterranean through winter. Be back in March, they said. Can’t wait to see me, they said. Welcome to stay in any of their homes, they said.
I was like a pet, not a daughter.
I was alone and angry and hurting. And the bitch of it was, I was also pretty sure I was pregnant. With an alien’s baby.
God, my mother would fucking love that. I’d have to make up an Earth fling. If they knew the child growing inside me wasn’t human, they’d freak. Talk about not belonging at the country club.
Yes, I had to be pregnant. This wasn’t the stomach flu, because after about an hour, and some saltine crackers, I felt fine.
By lunchtime, I was ready to eat anything put in front of me, and this was the third day the vomiting had happened. And my period was late. Only a few days, but I knew. I was never late. My breasts hurt, ached and were painful to touch. They were even more sensitive. The nipple rings kept me constantly aroused—except when I felt like hurling—and the chain only made it all more intense. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d made myself come with my fingers, thinking of Roark’s thick cock.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Roark. I had his rings, his chain that dangled between. I had the small knife he’d pressed into my palm, the golden blade that had saved my life. I had memories. I knew what it felt like to be wanted, to be claimed and caressed and loved until I couldn’t see straight.
It was more than some girls ever got, and I tried not to hate him for making me fall in love with him and then dying.
One night of wild sex. One night and that was all his powerful Trion sperm needed to make me pregnant. To breed me. That was the word he’d used. He’d needed a bride to breed. Well, it worked. I had his gold, my memories, and a baby. His baby, growing inside me.
The tears fell then, plopping onto the cold, white edge of the toilet’s rim. I had my hair tied back in a ponytail so it wouldn’t fall into the water. If he were here, he could hold my hair for me while I puked. He could bring me water and crackers. He could pull me into his arms and tell me everything was going to be okay.
But he wasn’t here. I’d never see him again.
Warden Egara had offered to put me through the bride processing protocol again. I could be matched to another warrior since Roark was presumed dead. I’d decided against it, my wounds too raw. The shock of my experience with Roark too painful. I needed time to process.
And now this.
I placed my palm low, over my abdomen, and wondered who was there. A little girl with my eyes and Roark’s darker skin? A son with dark hair and eyes the color of chocolate? I imagined Roark’s face in miniature from a baby boy and the tears streamed down my face in an uncontrollable flood.
I grabbed a tissue and wiped the wetness from my cheeks. God, hormones were a bitch. I had one night with my perfect man. One night where we’d committed ourselves to each other.
He’d promised. Promised! But no, he was gone. Left me alone. Just like my parents, like Curtis, the asshole. Oh, we might be on the same planet again, but I knew now he really did have a pencil dick.
Warden Egara had been sympathetic when I said I wanted to stay nearby the Miami Transport Center to wait. She’d come to check on me every day and I felt a connection with her. She’d lost two husbands and knew how I felt, for she’d felt it even worse. She’d had more than one day to get to know her mates. And she’d had two Prillon warriors for mates. The sad story had come out of her in her efforts to console me. She’d suffered a double loss. If I felt this horrible after spending just a day with Roark, then I couldn’t imagine how she got out of bed every day. How she breathed in and out. How she got on with her life.
She said I was the only Earth woman, besides herself, to go off-planet and return. Well, another woman who’d been matched to Trion had returned because she had to testify at a trial, but she’d gone back soon after. Warden Egara had said she was the High Councilor’s mate and that they probably knew—no, had known—Roark. It was a small universe, it seemed.
The nausea rolled up again and I leaned over the toilet bowl, dry heaving. When the fit was over, I slumped down on to the floor and curled up in a tight ball on the sparse bath mat. I couldn’t stay in the hotel any longer. I had to face the reality that Roark wasn’t coming, that he was dead and I had to get on with my life. I didn’t have the luxury of lying around feeling sorry for myself any longer. I had a son or daughter to care for, who would need me to keep my shit together.
A baby! Pressing a hand to my flat stomach, the tears welled up again. This was not how I was supposed to become a mother. Alone in a hotel room. No husband. Not on this planet or even this galaxy. I just couldn’t bare the thought of entering the Interstellar Brides Program again. Not a chance. Even if I could find a mate who would want another man’s child, I didn’t want to be matched to someone else. My one perfect match was dead. Roark was dead.
I was alone. My one attempt at finding happiness for myself, for taking charge of my life, failed. Failed miserably. I was even more alone, more heartbroken than before. Before, my loneliness had been abstract, a vague emptiness. Now that empty space was filled with pain. Now, I knew exactly what I’d been missing.
Sitting up, I cupped my breast and fiddled with the nipple ring. I wanted it off. I wanted to rid myself of the constant reminder of what I couldn’t have. But there was no seam, no way to remove it. Screeching in frustration, I slumped back to the floor, crying. My nipple now tingled and I needed to touch myself, to relieve the ache. Even with my tears, I reached between my legs and found myself wet and swollen, my clit hard. Turning onto my back, I parted my legs and slipped two fingers into my needy pussy as I fingered my clit. I thought of Roark, of his deep voice and huge cock filling me, stretching me open, making me scream. It didn’t take long to come, so eager was my body for completion.
I arched my back and cried out his name as the pleasure overwhelmed me. And when it had waned, when I was lying on a hotel room floor, sweaty, naked and alone, I knew it was time to move on with my life. It was time to go home.
Chapter Nine
Roark
I opened my eyes. Blinked. Again. I heard my name.
“Roark!”
“Councilor.”
I groaned as I was shifted and moved. Everything hurt and I couldn’t get the stench of that damn nox hair out of my nose. And blood. Burned flesh. Pain. I smelled like pain.
“Lift him carefully. He’ll need at least a full day in the ReGeneration Pod.”
I saw nothing but white at first, then some colors mixed in, then everything came into focus. So did the face that loomed over me.
“He’s waking up.” Seton, my second-in-command, exhaled and gave me a grim smile. Seton was two years older than I, a trusted friend. His family bloodline traced back nearly as far as mine. As the last son of my line, I had been elected councilor. But we both knew if I failed to produce an heir, or was killed, the people would embrace my sister’s son. But he was no more than a babe. An infant could not rule. Seton would be acting councilor until my nephew was old enough to put forth his name in the elections. And for that, I was grateful. I’d never truly believed that possibility needed to be considered. But I’d never been taken and tortured before. Without doubt, had I not escaped, they would have killed me. Eventually.
I tried to sit, but Seton’s large hand landed on my chest and he shoved me, none too gently, back down onto the medical bed. “What happened, Roark? We lost contact with Outpost Two days ago. But the transport pad was locked, at least until you used it.” Seton’s gaze roamed over me from head to toe, rage and uncertainty equally visible in his gaze.
“Drovers.” I bit out the one word, the pain behind it hot and bitter. I heard a rumbling of voices in response to my announcement. I turned my head and looked beyond Seton’s large frame. I could make out more than a dozen men, most in medical uniforms, and a few, scattered guards.
Seton leaned in and lowered his voice. “Drovers? Attacking an outpost? Are you certain?”
I nodded grimly. “They attacked. Set off explosions. I sent Natalie off with the doctor for protection. I gathered the men to chase the attackers into the desert. But it was a trap, Seton.” I sighed, realizing that both Natalie and my parents would be dead if they had remained with me, as they had wanted to do. “The Drovers didn’t run—they invaded the camp on foot.”
“Drovers never leave their beasts,” Seton insisted. “It’s suicide.”
“They were heavily armed and fought like trained warriors. I was trying to get to Natalie when I was ambushed and captured.” I cleared my throat as the memory flooded me. “They slit Byran’s throat and left him
to bleed out in the sand.”
“I’m sorry, Roark. We found him among the dead.”
“And Natalie? My parents? Did they get out in time?”
“Your parents transported to Xalia City nine days ago. We heard nothing from the outpost, knew nothing of anything wrong until your arrival. I’ve sent scouts to the outpost to search for survivors. They’re sending updates every fifteen minutes.”
“What day is today?”
He told me and I thought back.
Nine days. The Drovers held me for eight and I rode a nox back to the Outpost for another. Fark. Where was Natalie? What could she have done in all this time?
“Natalie!” I shouted.
“Roark, calm down. Who is Natalie?” he asked. He was big and dark like me, like almost all Trion males, but somehow he was born with pale eyes. They were very noticeable and he didn’t lack for attention with the females. He had yet to mate, probably enjoying the variety of willing bed partners who threw themselves at him.
“My mate.” I hissed out a breath as I was lifted onto a stretcher, their hands on my back and ribs like knife blades, and someone jolted my twisted knee.
“Careful!” Seton shouted.
“I need to find her. Where is she?” Lifting an arm, I grabbed Seton’s shirt. I could see ReGen wands passing over me as I was carried from the transport room. I didn’t even remember arriving at the transport pad in Sector Two. The foul-smelling nox, the sand, the heat. The pain. It was all a blur. A painful blur. I remembered stumbling into the tent. Seeing blood in the sand. The control panel…
Her Mate's Secret Baby (Interstellar Brides Book 9) Page 7
