“Got it, sir.” One of the medical staff hurried over, transferring the information on his tablet to a screen above Megan’s head. My beast couldn’t talk, but he could read just fine.
Doctor Helion of Prillon Prime. Two surgeries for Megan Simmons were listed. All they said were a section of the brain, and two words, Nexus Project.
Nexus? That blue fucker? The spinal attachment Megan had pulled out of his head after I killed him? She had one of those in her head?
No. I’d touched her head. Held her. Kissed her. I hadn’t felt anything like that. I knew her body now. I would know if she had something like that. The doctor was talking to himself.
“I knew it. Just like last time. Crazy bastards.” He stood, but this time he touched a comm station and hailed Commander Karter himself.
“Commander, I need a level five scan on all potential incoming Hive transmissions.”
I expected the commander to ask questions. Level five? We never did a level five scan. That was like looking for one sliver of moonlight while staring at a burning sun. The commander’s voice was serious. Too serious. “Understood. Give me a few minutes, Doctor.”
“We might not have a few minutes.”
The silence lasted only a few seconds, but it was pregnant with unspoken understanding. “Two minutes.”
“Hurry.” The doctor ended his transmission and I hovered at the foot of Megan’s table. “She’s going to need a ReGen pod the second we get that helmet off. I want the pod prepped and ready. As soon as the commander gives us the all clear, we get the helmet off her and go.” She looked ridiculous and small lying there with her filthy armor and helmet still on her head. She didn’t look like a person, she looked like one part of a massive machine. A pawn, and she appeared to be playing a game I knew nothing about.
My beast growled and I stepped closer, the growl becoming a snarl when one of the medical staff bumped into me. What. The. Fuck. Was. Going. On?
“Warlord, your beast. You must calm it.”
I turned to look in the direction of the voice, Doctor Moor, a female Atlan, tall and attractive with short brown hair and a shiny gold pair of mating cuffs around her wrists. I knew her, trusted her. She was of normal size for those of our shared planet, but much shorter than my beast. A deep breath didn’t calm me, nor another, and she waved a wand of her own in front of me.
“Doctor.”
“As I expected. Mating Fever,” she said, her voice no-nonsense. “How long has this been going on, Nyko?”
“Weeks.”
One dark brow went up. “Weeks? And this episode? How long have you been in trapped in beast mode?”
I heard Megan whimper as they injected her with something and I growled.
“Warlord.” The doctor raised her voice, crossed her arms over her chest. “How long?”
“Day.”
She looked over her shoulder at a pair of medical assistants in the adjoining room. “Prepare the brides program testing protocol for Warlord Nyko. Now.”
Two assistants went to work then and I found myself pushed by Doctor Moor toward a strange chair.
“No.”
“No, Warlord? Your fever is raging and will not break without a mate to soothe it. Since you just came from another battle—” she looked down at my dirty armor and my wrists where there were no mating cuffs, “—I assume you do not have one?”
“Megan.” My beast insisted, but the doctor’s face went from stern to sympathetic.
“Captain Simmons was tested for the Interstellar Brides Program two days ago.”
That did not make me happy. She wasn’t mine. Could never be mine. She was someone else’s bride, belonged to another male, someone who needed her soft touch and warm, dark eyes. Her perfect match. A warrior who wasn’t me.
So she had fucked me in the cave because she felt sorry for me, recognized the signs of Atlan Mating Fever and did what she could to soothe my beast, to ensure our survival. I owed her a debt for her sacrifice. I would not repay that debt by denying her a matched mate. She was beautiful and perfect. She deserved so much better than me, a rough, hard-headed bastard who had no home and no family to offer her. Upon my return to Atlan, I would be wealthy, and it seemed, I would have a new mate of my own.
Mine. The beast was howling inside me, in pain. Denial. But Megan wasn’t ours. She’d been matched. Promised to another. I would not be the selfish asshole who ruined her life, who took her when I knew that wasn’t what she needed. I couldn’t make her happy. Hell, I doubted I could make any woman happy. Killing, I was good at. But the rest?
The doctor pushed her buttons and adjusted the settings. I grunted as I was pushed into the chair. My beast allowed her assistant to maneuver me, perhaps because she was Atlan, but most likely because the chair faced Megan and we could keep her in our sights. If the doctor thought to remove me from the med unit, I wasn’t sure what my beast would do. I knew Megan wasn’t mine, but the beast wasn’t listening.
He was a shit listener.
Perhaps the doctor was right and my fever was out of control. I couldn’t talk to my beast any longer. It was mindless. No, not mindless, focused. On one woman. Megan.
“I’m sorry about this, Nyko, but you don’t have time to go back to Atlan and find a mate the old-fashioned way. We need to get you matched as quickly as possible.”
I was only half listening, my eyes on Megan as the commander’s voice came through the comm system to the other doctor.
“All clear, Doctor. Get it handled and get her off my ship.”
The doctor nodded, and I noticed he took her bag, opened it, and grinned. No, not grinned, smiled like he’d just won the biggest prize on the planet. “She’ll need transport to I.C. immediately. Notify Doctor Helion.”
“How long, Doctor?” the commander asked.
The doctor shook his head, closed her bag and set it aside in a locked compartment. “I don’t know. Depends on the extent of the damage.”
Damage? What damage?
“Inform me as soon as you know something, Doctor.”
“Yes, sir.” The doctor ended the comm and they gently pulled Megan’s helmet from her head. Her skin was smooth and a deep, warm brown, her lips full. She looked so peaceful, like she was sleeping, But I knew better. I tensed to rush to her aid should she cry out in pain, but this time she did nothing, her lack of movement as unnerving as her moans and whimpers of pain had been.
“ReGen pod ready?” the doctor asked.
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Good. Let’s get her in there.”
“But her armor?”
The doctor shook his head. “Leave it. We don’t have time.”
I watched them carry her across the small room to a white pod that lined the wall. Five pods occupied the wall on that side of the station, only one other still working to heal someone, probably from yesterday’s battle. Once Megan was inside, and the pod activated, I settled back into my chair.
But when the restraints slid out and circled my wrists, my beast fought.
“Warlord!” the doctor shouted, but my beast was too far gone.
“Start the testing. Put him under. Now.”
I fought the restraints as my chair was tilted back so I could only look up at the ceiling. The cushion supporting my head circled around to the sides and tightened, locking my head in place. I could not turn to the left or right. I felt a sharp prick in my neck, then my body stopped responding to orders as my muscles became slack.
They’d given me something to drug the beast. I blinked, slowly, as a barrage of images played across the screen in place above me. I strained to hear Megan, to check on her pod, but quickly became unable to focus on anything but what appeared on the display.
The medical staff moved around me, attaching neural monitors to my head, but their soft touches were no more than a gentle breeze on my skin and I ignored them completely. The images moved slowly at first, females from all races and worlds, blue and gold, tall and short, thin. None of them loo
ked like Megan. The beast growled, thinking only of her until the world went black.
Chapter Eight
Megan, Battleship Karter, Medical Station Three
“Welcome back.”
I blinked my eyes and stared up at Doctor Moor. My mind was completely blank and I was confused. I looked around, but could only see the curved white walls that enclosed me in the small space. A ReGen pod. But the top was open and the pretty doctor looked down at me with a welcoming grin on her face.
I sat up slowly then, took deep breaths as the upper half of my body emerged from the healing pod. I still had my armor on, the stench of dirt and sweat and blood a bit thick in the small confines of the pod. My head was spinning, just a bit. Why was I in a ReGen pod, and why was I in full battle armor?
“What happened?” I asked, taking in the med unit. I was on the Battleship Karter. Home for the last two years. I was back. But what was I doing in medical? “The last thing I remember was the transport station.” And pain. A thousand voices fighting for space inside my head. And Nyko holding me. God, I missed his arms, his big brute strength protecting me. Which was hard to admit and even harder to accept. I’d been fighting for years, two years in the Fleet and six years on Earth before that. I was used to taking care of myself. I hadn’t counted on a man since my daddy died. That being one hard, painful lesson I’d taken to heart. Never, ever depend on a man when you can do something yourself.
But leaning on Nyko had felt good. And I was so damn tired.
Rubbing my head, I realized the pain was gone. Thank god.
“You had quite a headache.” Doctor Moor arched her brows in question, but I wasn’t at liberty to tell her anything, so I shrugged, looking around for the one man I should be trying to forget. “Warlord Nyko brought you here.”
Nyko moved to stand beside the doctor and everything in me settled as if the world had just been set to rights. He was still a beast, his ice-blue eyes focused on me like lasers. He loomed over the doctor and me as his gaze raked over my body, his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths. He still wore his armor as well, and from the looks of his features, he was in full-blown Mating Fever, no going back. He’d have to take a mate now, or die. I wondered what woman he would choose, and then hated myself for even thinking the question. It wouldn’t be me. That was the only thing I needed to know.
“Pain?” he asked, his voice overly loud, as if he couldn’t control it.
Doctor Moor sighed, turning on him to push him back. He let her, which was a relief. He was still in there somewhere, my Nyko. “Warlord, I allowed you to remain here to await the results of the testing. However, if you can’t control yourself, I will not hesitate to call in the guards and have you sent to the brig until your match is complete and your bride has arrived.”
Nyko growled, but didn’t look contrite. Testing? Match? Why did my heart twist in my chest with those words? I’d done the exact same thing not that long ago. I knew he was in Mating Fever. I knew all about the Atlans and their beasts, about how they lost control and had to be killed if they didn’t find their mate. I also knew an Atlan this close to the edge was put through the Interstellar Brides Processing Program whether they wished it or not. It was standard operating procedure on all battleships that housed Atlan Warlords. Standard operating procedure. He didn’t have a choice. And Commander Karter was one hard-ass Prillon warrior, running a battlegroup in one of the deadliest sectors of space. He didn’t take shit from anyone, especially not a beast barely holding on to his sanity.
Nyko raised his hand and motioned someone forward. One of the medical staff hurried to me carrying a tray loaded with food and my mouth watered. It was all my favorites. A hot Philly-Cheesesteak with fries drowning in ketchup, BBQ potato chips and chocolate milk.
Shocked, and a little unnerved, I looked up at Nyko. “How?” I lifted the sandwich and took a huge bite, talking around the mouthful. “How did you know?”
My eyes nearly rolled back into my head as I bit down on a fry. “Oh my God. I could kiss you right now.”
“Two years. Same food. I watch.” Nyko grunted, his arms crossed, but I could see by the pleased gleam in his eyes that he was satisfied with my reaction. It felt a bit odd, stuffing my face with the Doctor and Nyko watching like I was the side-show at the circus, but I didn’t care. I was starving. And he was right. I ate this exact same thing at least three days a week.
When there was nothing left, I leaned back, feeling better than I had in days. “Thank you.”
“You need food.” That was my beast, talking in complete sentences. I grinned at him, unable to resent him watching out for me. The usual piss and vinegar I felt when someone got in my personal space was just…gone. My personal space was all about Nyko—and letting him get up in there. A hot fucking beast who could never be mine.
“So, you’re being matched?” I asked.
I looked at Nyko’s broad shoulders, his lips, remembering what we’d done the night before and my pussy clenched, wanting more. I realized it wasn’t sore any longer, probably healed as part of the pod’s work and I missed the ache. It made me feel like I belonged to someone. And even though I knew it was stupid, I wanted some remnant of our night together. But it wasn’t to be. I guess for a one-night stand it had been amazing. Incredible. But it was over. Obviously, if he’d been put through the brides program testing. And then I saw them, the cuffs hanging from a loop on his armored thigh. Four cuffs, two large and two small, the intricate swirls and geometric designs almost hypnotic in their beauty. Wondered where he’d been keeping them. I knew they would be special, the mark of his family line, and I wondered if he had family. I hoped he did, and I really, really hoped they were better than mine.
A wave of jealousy washed over me for a woman who was out there somewhere. A woman who’d been tested and matched to him. His mate.
The word was like acid in my chest and a sharp pain stabbed my heart, made bile rise in my throat.
By nightfall, this new mystery woman would be transported to the Karter and in Nyko’s bed, soothing his beast. She would wear his mating cuffs and he would be totally, utterly, completely devoted to her. He’d fill her with his cock and his seed, kiss her. She would soothe his beast and he would claim her. Forever.
I knew what being loved and touched by Nyko would be like for her, what I’d be missing. But my time with him had just been a one-night stand. A wild romp caused by battle adrenaline, the remnants of a smoking-hot mating dream making me horny, and his beast riding the edge of Mating Fever. Nothing more. And I was eager for my own mate, perhaps an Atlan Warlord just like the one in my dream. I didn’t need Nyko. Right? I’d survived twenty-eight years without him. I would survive.
Yes, Nyko would be gone, but I’d be matched too, as soon as the doctor pushed the button on her ever-present tablet.
With her free hand, she waved one of her medical wands in front of me. “Is your headache completely gone?”
“Yes.” Head? Fine. Heart? Shit. I never should have touched him. Never. I was deathly afraid that every time my future mate touched me, kissed me, fucked me, I’d see Nyko’s face, Nyko’s lips, Nyko’s intense blue gaze. God, I was in trouble here. I could still smell him on my skin. I wanted him there. Wanted to climb out of this ReGen pod and go rub myself all over him like a cat.
But that was jealousy talking. He belonged to someone else now. And it was only a matter of time before she arrived to claim him.
Doctor Moor leaned back and caught my eye, her brow raised and a very disapproving look on her face. “Doctor Mersan wishes to speak to you now. Alone.”
Mersan. Yes. I knew that name. He was listed as a trusted contact in the Intelligence Core. He knew everything. Him, and the commander, who’d had to agree to have such a dangerous piece of technology walking around on board his ship before I’d been assigned to this mission. Just having me here had been dangerous, a risk to the entire crew. Me. Hive bait.
I nodded and thankfully, there was no pain. The neural
implant was no longer making me want to rip my own head off. “Yes. I’ll talk to him now.”
She helped me out of the ReGen pod and walked with me over to an examination chair in a smaller room. Settled there, I was sitting, mostly. Which was fine, because my legs were still a little shaky and I hadn’t figured out how to deal with the giant beast lurking in the room.
Doctor Moor settled me and wrapped her hand around mine where it rested on my thigh. “After you talk to Doctor Mersan, we’ll talk about your future. All right?”
I nodded, but when she tried to release my hand, I held tight to her fingers. If I couldn’t have Nyko, it didn’t really matter who I ended up with. I just needed to get this thing out of my head and get out of the Fleet. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t fight and scream and kill. I didn’t want to be brave. I never wanted to see another one of those blue-skinned freaks or hear the monotone voice of another Hive Soldier saying the word “we”.
My mother would tell me I was broken, but I didn’t want to do it anymore. I’d hurt and killed and bled enough. I wanted a life. A real life, with family and wine and music concerts and children. Chocolate every night for dessert and hot sex before sleep. I wanted someone to hold me when I closed my eyes and to make me feel like I wasn’t so alone in this shit-hole universe. “Do it, Doctor. Run the brides protocol. Match me. I’m done.”
That earned me a huge smile. “Excellent. I’ll get you settled while you talk to the Doctor Mersan.”
“Good. But I can’t transport directly after the match. I have to make a delivery first.”
She tilted her head, but grinned. “Fine. How long will that take? I think I ought to let your mate know an expected arrival date.”
How long before I could transport to my new mate once I was matched? That was an excellent question. I had to transport to the I.C., meet with Doctor Helion and the Core team, update them on what I saw when we encountered the Nexus Unit, spend several hours in debriefing, go to surgery, get this damn thing out of my head, and heal.
Mating Fever (Interstellar Brides Book 10) Page 8
