His Rebellious Mate (Primarian Mates Book 3)

by Maddie Taylor

  He rolled to her. “I don’t want that, Eryn. None of us do. But you are mine. And I can’t sacrifice my own people. They must come first.”

  “Then I’ll never truly be yours, Ram. A part of me will always be the warrior needing to complete my mission. Like you, unwilling to put others before my own. And I won’t be able to keep from resenting you for it.” Her words reverberated to the depths of her soul. How could she be happy somewhere else when she knew her own kind suffered?

  “You are loyal to your people, which impresses me. If only the same extended to your mate.”

  “I am loyal to those who have earned it.”

  “Mm…if that is the case, I expect you will be devoted to me soon.” When he relaxed back onto his pillows, he hauled her into his side, and she rested her cheek on his chest. “Sleep. Tomorrow, we arrive on your new home, and your new life begins.”

  She grunted, the old argument not having any effect, so she didn’t say any more.

  “I promise to make you happy, Eryn.” His mouth pressed to the top of her head where it lingered for several moments then he settled his cheek against her hair. After a while, he relaxed and drifted off.

  His chest rose and fell beneath her ear, and she listened to the steady thud of his heart, feeling the warmth of his body alongside her, lulling her to sleep. As she drifted off, she remembered thinking how much she wished things could be different.

  15

  Through the observation window of Eryn’s hospital room, Maggie gazed at her friend who wouldn’t wake up. Her heart ached for her as well as the man holding vigil at her bedside. In his place, she’d be beside herself, not only because she loved Roth, but because their mate bond was incredibly strong. A special connection hard to understand unless mated.

  Like now, while she watched for her mate’s handsome face to appear above hers in the glass. She sensed his presence before the elevator doors opened at the end of the hall. Sometimes, their connection was stronger, and if she closed her eyes, she could determine his whereabouts on the base. He called it mate GPS and didn’t seem to mind it a bit. As fated mates, they were so in tuned with one another they had a special intuitiveness others did not.

  When his strong hands slid over her shoulders, their eyes met in the reflection of the window. “How is she today, little captain?”

  She shook her head. “No change. It’s been days, Roth. I’m so scared for her and the baby.”

  His attention shifted into the room. “Ram looks exhausted.”

  “I’m sure he is. He hasn’t left her bedside.”

  She felt his body brush against hers as he grunted. “He’s foolish not to, if only to sleep for a few time cycles.”

  “Hours,” she automatically corrected. Always telling him “When on Earth, do as the earthlings do.”

  “Whatever,” he drawled. “If he wears himself out, he’ll be no good to either of them.”

  She angled into him and looked up, which from her five-foot-four stature to his seven feet was a considerable distance. “What would you do in his shoes, Commander?”

  He frowned down at her. “Don’t think about something like this happening to you. I couldn’t bear it.” After wrapping both arms around her shoulders, he pulled her in tight to his body and dipped his face to hers. “If it did, I’d be the same kind of fool.”

  Maggie stood on her toes and brushed her lips over his. “Did you come by to check on Eryn, or on me?” She drew back less than an inch, his lavender eyes so close she could see the little flecks of dark purple. She could lose herself in their beauty.

  He squeezed her and then straightened. “Both. I spoke with Lana. She is going to come in and relieve you for a few hours so you can get some sleep.”

  “No, Roth, I don’t need—”

  “No arguments, Maggie. She will call if there is a change, and I’ll get you here in minutes. Like Ram, you are no help to Eryn if you tire yourself out. And, as your mate”—the power of his authority washed over her whenever those words prefaced an order—”I won’t allow that to happen.”

  Still, this was Eryn. “You promise to wake me when I’m needed, even if you think sleeping is for my own good?”

  “On my Primarian honor, at the first sign of change.”

  “Okay.” She leaned against him, her eyes shifting back to the motionless form on the bed, and the grim man watching over her. “Do you think, after this…? I mean, if she—”

  “When she,” he corrected. “I have faith after losing so much already and suffering so long apart, the Maker won’t end this chapter for them here.”

  “Afterward, they can mend whatever is wrong between them, can’t they?”

  “He won’t go into detail. But even at odds, their bond was strong enough to conceive a child. With this in their favor, I have to believe they are capable of overcoming whatever drove them apart.”

  “I hope so, Roth.”

  He walked her down the hall, a strong arm around her sagging shoulders. When they reached the end, the elevator opened and Lana stepped out.

  “Perfect timing.” A hopeful expression filled her stunning face. “How is she today?”

  “And there’s the $64,000 question,” Maggie replied, drawing questioning looks from them both. “It’s an ancient…” She stopped and waved it off, too tired to explain. “She’s no different.”

  Lana’s face fell, still beautiful, though disappointed. “And Ram?”

  “Refusing to leave,” Roth grumbled.

  Her troubled eyes shifted up to him. “If his commander can’t get him to take a break, I’m not sure what I can do. But I’ll try.”

  “Thank you, Lana,” he replied.

  “Are all warriors so stubborn? Ram reminds me so much of Trask—” She flinched. “All the ones I’ve met are mulish to the nth degree.” Her eyes widened, and she rounded on Roth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… Um, present company excluded, of course.”

  “Don’t kid yourself,” Maggie said with a tired smile. “I’ve found the bigger they are, the ornerier they are.”

  “I’m not familiar with that particular word, and it doesn’t translate.” He angled toward her and arched his brow. “But I have a feeling it isn’t complimentary, mate.”

  “It means lovable, honey.”

  Lana smothered a grin.

  “Mmhmm.” Her big warrior guided her into the elevator, his hand riding so low on her back his fingers rested along the upper swells of her bottom. They flexed the tiniest bit. “I’ll take your word for it, but I’m sure there is a dictionary at home, somewhere.”

  When he leaned in to punch the button for the lobby, Lana’s worried gaze met hers. Maggie subtly shook her head, a silent signal not to worry. If he decided to take offense at her teasing insult, so be it. Whatever punishment he chose for this crime would be more than made up for in the aftermath.

  With a heavy, exhausted sigh, she leaned into him, encircling his waist and holding on tight as the elevator descended.

  “Any news on the assholes responsible for her attack?”

  “One is in custody. The coward was evidently too slow, and the others left him. Surveillance picked up four men in a beat-up old truck right after the time of Eryn’s assault. It didn’t belong to him, or the one Ram already…dispatched.”

  She tipped her head back to meet his teal gaze. “Good work, honey. I would’ve been more graphic and smiled when I said it. May he rot.”

  “That’s my mate, so bloodthirsty.”

  “Mm… With a suspect to interrogate and leads on the vehicle, it means we’ve almost got ’em, right? I mean, how many rust-bucket, gas-powered old pickup trucks are still running today?”

  “Exactly twelve with the same make. The local sheriff is working with the base MP’s, since the crime occurred on USIF property. I think they’ll be making arrests soon and we’ll have justice.”

  “Ram-style justice, or U.S. legal system justice?”

  “The dead man is the one who touched her, little captai
n. Would you find them all guilty by association?”

  “Yes.” She leaned against the supportive forearm at her back to look at him. At the same time, she whipped out her ambassador’s mantle and got serious. “With the increase in violence and protests against Primarians and women interested in becoming mates, targeting either group can now be deemed a hate crime, this includes intimidation. Six men climbing a fence to go after one lone female, a pregnant one at that, because she might be a mate, in my book, is hate, whether they went out for a few jollies or were intent on gang rape like Ram suspected. As ambassador, I intend to use my influence to see they receive the harshest punishment when they convict these motherfuckers.”

  “Maggie!” he growled.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, settling back into him. Although she didn’t mean it. “She’s my best friend, Roth.” Her voice broke at the image of Eryn’s pale face, the bruise on her temple standing out vividly days after the attack. “She must have been terrified out there all alone. And now…” As a tear overflowed, she buried her face in his chest and whispered, “They need to pay for what they’ve done.”

  “Ssh, purrada. We’ll see justice is served. I promise.”

  16

  Slivers of sunshine filtering through the trees moved across her face and pulled her from the darkness. She opened her eyes to a brilliant profusion of color in shades of bubble-gum pink, lemon yellow, and periwinkle blue. The sudden brightness hurt her eyes, but not enough for her to look away. It made her smile because, unlike the other awakenings—what she called these brief interludes of awareness between the blackness—she knew instantly where she was. Only Primaria had such a topsy-turvy mix of color in nature.

  A cool breeze blew through the small copse of trees where she lay. The branches separated as they swayed, and she caught a glimpse of pink sky. Purple-hued wispy clouds drifted by. It was so relaxing, she could stay there all day.

  A stronger gust ruffled her hair, sending strands across her cheek. She brushed them away, only to have more blow back, this time into her mouth. Sputtering, she sat up and raked her hand through the mess, gathering it at the back of her head. With it out of the way, she gasped at the sight of her bare legs, exposed where her skirts had blown up to mid-thigh. Another few inches and where her panties should have been, if this crazy planet had such a thing, would have been on display for all and sundry. Obviously, bare was a good deal worse.

  While she shoved the skirt hem down her legs, she frowned at the deep-pink material. More like fuchsia, the color clashed with her hair. Like most pinks and reds, the shade wasn’t something she’d have ever chosen for herself.

  The gown had little cap sleeves, a fitted bodice, with a floor-length skirt in the typical Primarian style. Nothing odd about it, except she’d never seen it before. She didn’t remember putting it on or recall it in any of her dreams or memories. Come to think of it, she didn’t remember taking a nap outside the entire time she’d been with Ram on Primaria.

  So, if not a memory, what was this—a dream, or a new twist on an altered reality?

  She glanced around while trying to get her bearings, which usually meant finding dream-Eryn. But she didn’t see her anywhere.

  Instead, men milled around in the adjacent field. She blinked, but they didn’t disappear. This left her nothing to do except gape at the one hundred dark-haired, half-naked barbarians standing in the bright afternoon sun no more than a few yards away.

  Male shouts and what sounded like battle cries drew her attention to the center of the field. The spectacle unfolding made her jaw drop and her pulse beat faster, heating her blood and, in seconds, negating any coolness the breeze or the shade offered.

  She had a hard time thinking beyond the yards of rippling muscle and the miniscule loincloths to determine what they were doing, but it seemed like an odd cross between a medieval tournament and a boxing match. Not the organized kind with padded gloves and referees that had been around for centuries, the kind made popular in later days with bare fists and big bulging men in tight shorts, throwing each other to the ground and trying to beat the crap out of one another. Sometimes in a ring, other times in a metal cage, and more recently in a zero-gravity dome where they grappled for handholds set at intervals in the curved walls and ceiling. All while the bloodthirsty fans yelled for more pain and mayhem.

  However, these Primarians fought without an audience and referee, and, instead of a ring of any kind, their forum consisted of nothing more than a field of bright-blue grass. And, these men were twice as big as the most ripped UFC fighter ever thought to be. Their shoulders wider, chests broader and more sculpted, and almost every man there sported defined chiseled abs.

  If that wasn’t enough to make her mouth water, what they wore—skimpy loincloths or skintight knee-length pants—revealed more than they concealed, which by her measure at least twenty yards away, had to be some of the biggest bulges she’d ever seen. And one of the biggest among them, both in bulge and the man himself, was the one who called her mate.

  The perfect male specimen in a sea of rather impressive men, Ram sparred using a broadsword like a warrior of old, all those bunching, rippling muscles on glorious display, and yards of smooth, sweat-slickened golden skin glistening in the sunlight. Not to mention his tight ass, held snuggly by the painted-on black shorts he wore which only reached to mid-thigh. Damn!

  Liquid desire pooled between her thighs, and she could barely keep from slipping her hand beneath the frou-frou dress he made her wear and bring herself to climax while watching his every move. She pulled her gaze away, striving hard to ignore her building need, but failing miserably. She tried taking in the odd colors of the flora which made up this vivid world, except her eyes kept coming back to him, like a magnet to Ram’s pure metal. How could she not stare at this gorgeous, perfect man?

  Needing to get away from him or succumb to a spontaneous orgasm in front of everyone, she stood to leave. She needed to think, a near impossible feat with nearly naked men wherever she looked.

  “Going somewhere, mate?” Ram’s booming voice from yards away sounded as if he stood right beside her.

  Frowning, she glanced behind her, expecting to see dream-Eryn, her alter ego.

  “I’m talking to you, little rebel.”

  She spun back, her heart pounding, her knees weak with desire. Ram said something to his opponent, the movement making the beads of sweat on his chest gleam in the sun. A droplet trickled down his sternum, bobbed up and down when it traversed the washboard contours of his stomach, and disappeared inside the waistband of his formfitting shorts. Lust turned her mouth dry as dust, and she found her palms with her nails, the biting pain resetting her brain.

  “You’re not to leave, Eryn. I believe I mentioned this earlier.” Ram strode across the field toward her.

  She blinked, not recalling arriving or any conversation with Ram until waking under the tree. In fact, nothing seemed familiar in this dream, and the oddest thing of all, dream-Eryn, who had always been around, seemed to have vanished.

  How should she play this? She hadn’t a clue, no scripted memory to follow, and no other Eryn to take the lead.

  Before she had it figured out, he stood in front of her, so close she could feel his body heat. Forced to talk to him now, she swallowed and tried to decide whether to stare at his glistening, sun-bronzed chest or drag her eyes upward and try to communicate while melting under the power of his extraordinary golden gaze. Either way wouldn’t be easy because wanting him had left her tongue-tied—whether in fantasy or reality.

  “Are you all right?

  “Um, yes, of course.” Of course, she wasn’t.

  He frowned. “You’re flushed, and your nose is pink. Have you had too much sun?”

  She lifted her hand to her face, touching it gingerly.

  “I told you to stay put. Where were you going?”

  She bristled. The insinuation that he needed to keep an eye on her, although justified, was still insulting. “I’m thirsty a
nd need a drink.”

  The lie came easily, so did the rush of warmth to her cheeks. Not from the fib, rather from the husky tone in her voice, like she’d been roused from sleep, or worse, breathless with desire.

  She cleared her throat to mask the signs. “Would you deny me water?”

  Ram moved closer, stopping a mere inch away. An overwhelming presence as he towered over her, she stepped back, the rough bark of the tree behind her snagging the material of her ridiculous dress. She despised the weakness prompting her retreat, but he inspired a wealth of emotions that left her trembling.

  Propping one large hand against the wide trunk, right above her shoulder, he leaned in. “There is little I would deny you, Eryn, if you would yield to me.”

  Oh, wow! The man literally made her ovaries ache.

  Although she wanted nothing more than to give herself freely, to end the years of loneliness she’d endured on a ship chockful of women, to ease her body’s constant yearning since seeing him wild and gorgeous in the forest that first day, she did nothing except stare up at him.

  “Stubborn beyond belief, yet so very beautiful.” The warmth of his breath brushed her cheek, and she thought he might kiss her, but his lips twitched. A moment later, he rose to his full height, holding a metal canteen in his hand.

  She glanced at it in surprise.

  “I left this here for you. I take care of what is mine.”

  Her body vibrated with awareness. She wanted to drop to her knees and agree to everything he asked of her, thinking only of her need in that moment, not the future or the past.

  He raised his hand, index finger extended, and slid the tip along her cheekbone, down the line of her jaw, and over her bottom lip. “I must get back to my men. Save me a sip, will you, pretty mate? I know spectating in the shade is thirsty work, but hand-to-hand drills tend to make a man parched, too.”

  His teasing surprised her out of her lust-filled state. Knowing he expected her to sit and watch him, which was an exercise in pure torture—her body racked with wanting after going unsatisfied for months—she snapped. “I didn’t choose to sit here like a precious pet. I’d rather be facing off against you with one of those swords.”