Matched and Mated

by Grace Goodwin

  His low rumble hit me moments before his emotions made me want to clutch at my chest. I’d pleased him. Not simply pleased him, the pain that came to me through the collars was old, an ache within him that I’d somehow broken open.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  His arms tightened. “Sometimes things must break before they can heal.”

  I thought of Brax and knew exactly what he meant.

  Commander Zakar stood and turned to Trist. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Captain, but I need you to take a look at this.”

  Trist nodded and wrapped my hand in his, pulling me along behind him. With the male attention I was getting, I was glad not to be separated from him.

  “What is it?”

  “We have lost contact with cargo ship 564.” A very large male I assumed was one of the Atlan beasts stood next to an officer running some kind of scanner. It didn’t look like radar that I’d seen in the movies. More like a three-dimensional, full color projection of the ship and the space all around us—behind a screen. So cool. I’d never seen anything like it.

  Trist tensed, his hand tightened on mine and I felt something shoot through the collar before he shut it down, cold, and I felt nothing. “How long?”

  The Atlan checked the screen. “Two hours.”

  Commander Zakar no longer looked like a friendly male, but a warrior ready to rip someone into a dozen pieces and watch them bleed. “And the last scout patrol?”

  “Gone, sir. Nothing for the last twenty minutes.”

  “Gods be damned.” Commander Zakar looked at the Atlan. “Get a ReCon team over there, now. Full Atlan contingent for protection.” He turned to Trist. “I want every ship in the group reporting in every fifteen minutes. If they are one minute late, I want to know about it.”

  “Yes, sir.” Trist turned to the male who’d been showing me his... equipment. “Send out the order. Fifteen minute checks, no exceptions. I’m taking my mate to our quarters. I’ll return shortly.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Trist turned to me. “I have to take you back. I’m sorry, Miranda. I must work.”

  The entire command deck was so full of tension I was getting nauseated just standing there. “What’s going on?”

  “Our people are disappearing,” he said simply. “This is the third ship to go silent in the last two days.”

  I frowned. How did a ship disappear from space? It’s not like there was any place for it to hide. “Disappearing? How? That doesn’t make sense.”

  He kissed me quickly on the lips and pulled me into the hallway, explaining as we walked, his pace quick. “The Hive. They have developed some kind of cloaking technology and we can’t detect their craft. They must be boarding our ships and taking our people right out from under us.”

  I hurried alongside him. “That’s terrible. I’ll get something to eat, take a nap. Read. I’ll be fine for as long as they need you.”

  Our personal quarters weren’t far and seconds later my body was pressed to the door. “But I need you.” He leaned down and kissed me, hard and fast and so thoroughly my knees gave out. Of course, he caught me, leaned into me more so I had the solid door behind me and his equally strong body at my front. And kissed me again.

  “Get your hands off my mate, Prillon.”

  Trist froze, his back to whoever had spoken. I couldn’t see around his huge chest, but I didn’t need to. I knew that voice.

  Brax.

  Trist turned and shoved me behind him in the blink of an eye.

  “Security, personal quarters. Code seven.” Trist’s voice had the snap of a whip.

  “Wait!” I said, trying to push my way out from behind him. “I know him.”

  “That’s right, she’s mine,” Brax said, although I had yet to see him.

  Trist growled and had Brax pinned against the wall by his neck. Since he was a seven-foot tall Prillon warrior and Brax was… not, his feet didn’t touch the floor.

  “No! Don’t hurt him.”

  While I was mad at Brax, I didn’t want him hurt. I also didn’t want Trist to hurt someone because of me. He might be a warrior but he didn’t need that on his conscience.

  “She’s mine,” Brax got out, even though his throat was being squeezed hard enough for his face to turn a mottled shade of purple.

  “She’s mine,” Trist countered.

  Three warriors ran down the hall, weapons drawn.

  Trist looked to me. “I will not kill him, but he will answer to me.”

  He released his grip and Brax’s feet slapped the ground.

  “Take him away.”

  I watched as the security group dragged Brax off, but his gaze was fixed on me. And I didn’t need a collar to know the look in his eye. Mine.

  Oh boy, this was trouble.

  9

  Brax, Battleship Zakar, Private quarters

  * * *

  I might as well have been in the brig. These bare, plain quarters were like a prison, for I was locked within. Even if I got the door opened, a Prillon guard was stationed just outside under Captain Trist’s orders. Miranda was on this ship, in the captain’s personal quarters. And not only was he a gods be damned Prillon, but he was second in command of the entire battle group.

  Just my luck. Miranda is matched first to Prillon, but worse, to a hard-ass, uptight, calculating bastard.

  Which was, I realized, exactly the kind of male she would respond to. She was a true submissive, heart and soul. The stronger her male, the safer she would feel.

  Only now, locked in this farking room, did I realize the truth of it. I had not given her what she needed when she was mine. But I loved her. I would not give her up. And my lack was one I would not make the mistake of repeating.

  The small room was similar to a fighter’s quarters on Trion, except the view was different. I’d been on enough missions to be used to battleships, other planets, utilitarian quarters. Empty quarters. Being alone had never bothered me. Until now, until I’d pulled my head out of my ass. Now I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to share my space, my life. With Miranda. I’d used her transport coordinates and followed, eager to make her mine.

  But when I’d come upon them… kissing, I’d lost it. She was mine, not some seven-foot Prillon’s. She might have been matched to him, might have been sucking the lips off his face, but she belonged to me. She responded to me, to my touch, my cock. She loved to be adorned and fucked, given a bite of pain to enhance her pleasure. I knew her body. I just hadn’t known her heart until it was too late.

  It wasn’t too late. I slapped my hands against the window, tried to handle my frustration when I had no one to blame but myself.

  I thought of the huge fucker, her match. He’d turned and faced me, shielded Miranda with his body, and I had instantly known she was his as well. He’d protect her with his life, had been willing to do so right then and there. But I didn’t want Miranda dead. I just wanted her.

  I admired his need to keep her safe, respected him for it, but it hadn’t been necessary with me. I wouldn’t see her harmed. But perhaps I had. Perhaps I’d hurt her in the worst way. Not physically, but emotionally, and he knew that. He had a farking collar about his neck so that meant he’d at least sensed her reaction to seeing me again, hearing my voice.

  I didn’t need a collar to know that the gasp I’d heard was full of pain. Surprise. Regret. And I knew by the way she clung to him for reassurance, for safety, that she was his now, too.

  He’d instantly called in guards, then tucked Miranda inside his quarters. Yes, he was a protective bastard. By the look on her face, she’d been upset—I wasn’t sure if it had been directed at me or for the big guy’s bossiness—and hadn’t been happy to be left in the quarters. Alone. I’d seen the collar about her neck, noticed it wasn’t the same color as his.

  He’d leaned down, whispered something in her ear, then kissed her once more. Before my eyes, I saw her soften, bend to his wishes. She glanced at me once and tipped her chin up
in that fiery defiance I knew so well, then the door slid shut between us. Yes, she was pissed at me.

  The guards had arrived then. Two Prillon warriors, one who Trist had ordered to remain outside of his quarters, the other to follow us down the hallway. Trist hadn’t said a word, just pointed and began to walk. If he was leaving Miranda alone, then he was confident she was safe. I might not like him, but I was confident in his protection of his mate.

  Fark, not his mate. My mate.

  The ion pistol at his hip, and the one the additional guard had held, had been enough to get me moving. I was the outsider here even though it was my mate I’d walked away from. I was repeating it over and over in my head because it was true, regardless of the situation.

  Four hours I’d been stuck. Trapped. Waiting with nothing to do but get angrier and angrier. At myself. Not her. Never her.

  I paced, looked out the window at the never-ending expanse of space, the distance that had been between me and Miranda since I’d completely messed things up.

  Was he now fucking Miranda? Had he put me here to go back to her, to make her forget me? When I got my hands on him I’d—

  The door opened and he stepped in.

  “You are Valck Brax of Trion. A doctor, but it seems your duties have gone beyond medicine.” The Prillon had to be over seven feet tall. He had the angular features of his race, the light coloring. He also had the stiff bearing of a fighter, of one who was always in control, always in command. It was required of those who served on battleships, for they wouldn’t handle the emotional toll otherwise.

  “Is that what you’ve been doing all this time, scanning my file?” I countered, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “We have lost a cargo ship to the Hive. Your past exploits have not been a high priority.”

  My shoulders went back at the seriousness of the problem at hand. “Has it been recovered?” I asked. While Miranda was the most important thing in my life, I knew she was safe. He wouldn’t be here otherwise. But there were many fighters on a cargo ship. Lives were at stake. I would not diminish their service by being petty.

  “No. I would not discuss this with you, but I see you have a top level I.C. clearance.”

  “I do.” This Prillon didn’t fark around. And if he knew my clearance level, his had to be… higher.

  “There have been multiple attacks since the loss of Battleship Varsten in Sector 436. For now, we have I.C. operatives and our best science teams working on the problem. I have a few hours to take care of Miranda. It is time for me to focus on my mate and what is best for her.”

  My jaw clenched when he said the words my mate. He emphasized the words and I had no doubt he had done so purposely. Yes, he had her. He was her match. He wore the collar and so did she. While she hadn’t made the claim official—I knew she had thirty days to decide—she belonged to him. She was his to protect. His to bed. His to seduce and learn and convince her to accept his claim.

  I was the outsider here. I just had to change that. But I had a huge Prillon standing in the way of me somehow making Miranda understand I’d been wrong.

  “Shouldn’t Miranda be the judge of what’s best for her?” I countered, stepping toward him.

  “I know what she wants, what she needs. She has entrusted me with her life and her happiness.”

  I quirked a brow. The laid back, easy going female I knew? The one who’d said she wouldn’t keep me from my work, that we were casual and fuck buddies? “Has she? The same way she begged me to take her? Touch her? Kiss her?”

  “You did nothing but cause her pain. You will not get near her.”

  “The only way I touched her was for her pleasure.” I shouldn’t have said the words, knew they were wrong, knew I was being an ass, but I wanted to take a stab at this arrogant warrior who had what was mine. My female. My mate. She was mine. “She loved every minute of it, Prillon. She’s mine.”

  His eyes narrowed and every line in his body tensed. I didn’t even have time to blink before his fist connected with my face.

  Fark! I stumbled back, put my hand to my nose. Broken. Blood poured down my chin and onto my shirt. It hurt like hell, but it wasn’t going to stop me, nothing a ReGen wand wouldn’t fix. But a wand wouldn’t fix what I’d broken with Miranda. Only words, actions on my part would heal her.

  His breathing was ragged, his fists clenched. “She does not want what you offer. She craves structure. Dominance. She craves reassurance that she will be valued above all others. She was nothing to you, Trion. She chose to leave you. She chose to come to me.”

  Every word he said was like a gut punch, the pain worse than a physical blow would have been. True. It was all true. She had chosen to leave me, to find him. To belong to him. That was as direct a punch as the one to my nose. “I had a job to do, a duty to help my people.”

  He nodded once. “I understand that. Respect it, even. But you placed the needs of others above those of your mate.”

  “You are correct. That is why I’m here. I’ve resigned. Walked away from it all. For her. She comes first now.”

  “Yes, she does,” the captain vowed. “But not with you. I will not see her hurt.”

  “I want to talk with her. Apologize. Remind of her of what we share. What she needs from me.”

  “She doesn’t need anything from you,” he snapped. “She has a mate.”

  “She needs my touch. She craves it. The feel of a clamp on her clit. The shimmer of jewels on her pebbled nipples. The tightness of my bindings about her wrists as I fuck her.”

  He charged then, but I was expecting him. I pivoted to the side and missed the punch of his right fist, but I was caught by the grab with his left. We slammed into the windows, and I gave him an uppercut to the stomach.

  A whoosh of air escaped his lungs, but it did nothing to incapacitate him. He was large, sturdy. Fucking solid. A formidable opponent. Because he was taller, I bent down, charged and wrapped my arms around his legs, tipped him over like a leafy tree on Viken.

  He hit the floor with a thud, the small table by the couch shoved out of the way. A light fixture dropped to the floor with a crash.

  On his back, his hand shot up, struck my ribs. “You had her, Brax. She was yours and yet she was so unhappy she left you behind. If you were an honorable male, you would walk away.” The words were fierce, but so was my punch. I hit the socket of his eye, my knuckles aching from the strike.

  “I’m not farking honorable. Not when it comes to protecting her.”

  He hissed, and gritted out, “She is mine. You can’t contest the accuracy of the matching protocols. Go back to Trion!”

  He pushed me up and off of him. I flew across the room and landed on my ass, but I was instantly back up. I caught my breath, wiped my nose with the back of my hand. The bleeding had lessened to a trickle.

  He climbed to his feet and glared at me. “She is mine. She is a Prillon bride. Go home, doctor. She doesn’t belong to you. Not anymore.”

  I shook my head, spit blood out of my mouth onto the floor. “No. l love her and she loves me. Two days with you doesn’t change that fact. She is mine. Her heart is mine. Her body is mine. This isn’t Viken, warrior. I won’t share her with two others. She’s mine and will go back to Trion with me.”

  He shook his head. “She will not go to Trion. She is mated to Prillon Prime. To me. She wants two mates. Not three.”

  “Then where the fuck is your second? Is he with her now? Fucking her as we fight?” I pointed to the door. As if conjuring her up, the door slid open and she appeared. Behind her were the two guards from earlier, although when she came into the quarters, they remained outside.

  She took in the room, the mess we made, my bloody nose, the warrior’s eye, which was quickly turning black from the strength of my punch.

  “What the hell are you two doing?”

  We both turned to face her. Fark, she was more beautiful than I remembered. Her dark hair was long down her back, a dark green gown fit her like a glove. Her face, wh
ile angry, had a glow to it. She looked soft and flushed, as if she were… content.

  “We are fighting,” the warrior said.

  “Are you going to whip your cocks out next and measure?”

  My eyebrows went up at her question. “Do you wish to compare our cocks?”

  She gasped, eyes focused on me with utter disgust. Disdain. Rage. And… hurt.

  “Mate, look at me,” Trist said.

  Miranda instantly responded to the command and turned to face him, her gaze softening, her eyes growing glazed with emotions she didn’t try to hide from him. Not me. Him.

  Fark.

  “I know the question was one of those Earth terms that do not process, but the literal reference is what we understand. Do you wish to compare our cocks?”

  He asked the same question as me and I gave him a quick glance. I couldn’t read him, but it seemed the two of them were having a conversation through the collars.

  Miranda bit her plump lower lip. “No. That’s ridiculous. That was the point.”

  He took a step toward her and partially blocked her from my view. Damn him. “Mate. I feel you, remember that. I feel your need for him. I also feel the hurt. It’s the pain I’ve sensed all along.”

  She craned her neck to look at me, nodded.

  “I will kill him.”

  He might be bigger, but that was not happening.

  “Trist, no. I don’t want him dead.”

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “She wants me to adorn her, to give her nipple rings and my medallion to mark her as mine.”

  Miranda gasped. Trist—that was the fucker’s name—growled.

  “She is mine, doctor. Take one step closer to her, assert your claim one more time, and I will kill you.”

  “That would hurt her, Captain. She loves me. She’s mine.”

  Trist turned on his heel, facing me. I expected rage. Passion. A lust to kill. Instead I was met with cold, calculating precision. Ice. He was fucking ice. Unbreakable. Unbendable. Solid.

  Miranda glided to his side and slipped her hand in his, whether for her own comfort or to prevent the Prillon from carrying out his threat to end my life, I wasn’t sure. But there was no doubt now, she was his. It was in the way she leaned into him, obeyed his commands, the way she looked at him, touched him.