Her Cyborg Warriors. Grace Goodwin
We grinned at each other for a moment before one of the giants cleared his throat. I had to tip my head back to look at him. Tall, dark and handsome. Serious expression, equally imposing stance. I’d heard that the aliens who lived on The Colony were soldiers who had been captured in the war, survived their imprisonment with the Hive, but had mechanical features added to their bodies like cyborgs out of a science fiction movie. I hadn’t been able to imagine what those integrations would look like. Until now. This guy had a metallic sheen to his skin on his left arm where it peeked out from his sleeve.
“Rachel, perhaps we should allow your new friend to meet her mates.” I looked over Lindsey’s shoulder as Rachel turned toward the giant with a look on her face I envied. Love. Lust. Adoration. All three. She’d come from Earth and was mated to this Incredible Hulk, and clearly she was happy with the match. Maybe this place would be all right after all.
He had on a collar, too. Copper, just like Rachel’s, and I didn’t think that was coincidence. I remembered the dream, the mention of collars, of a connection that was special for the wearers.
“Sorry, Maxim,” she murmured. “You’re right. We were just excited.”
The look he gave her? Damn. If a hot guy looked at me like that, I’d melt into a puddle on the floor and beg him to rock my world.
Rachel went to Maxim’s side, and he wrapped an arm about her waist. The other ladies moved away from me, each going to a different alien male, matching up. I noticed that both males who surrounded Kristin wore dark green collars that matched hers.
So… they liked to match with their mates here? But why didn’t Lindsey have one?
Whatever. Here I was worried about what they were all wearing when I was the one naked. With the crowd that had gathered, I had to assume I was quite the freak show and everyone had come to see what the new girl looked like.
I was plain. Average at best. Always had been. Brown eyes, black hair. I wasn’t fashion model material by any stretch of the imagination. My parents were from Japan, and I was short, just like my mother. My skin was clear, my lips were mocha—nipples as well—not the bright, perky pink that I’d envied on girls in high school. But that was a long time ago. I’d made peace with myself since then, teenage angst be damned. I was strong and fast and fucking fearless. If I could ride a twenty-foot wave, I could handle meeting an alien who was supposed to be my perfect match. Right?
Even if he was seven feet tall.
“Where’s Surnen?” Rachel looked around, confused.
“Who’s Surnen?” I asked.
“He’s your mate, silly.” Lindsay grinned at me like a super-happy Malibu Barbie, which was nice but not helpful. I looked to Kristin for answers, but she shrugged. No help there.
Great. I do a beam-me-up-Scotty, travel halfway across the galaxy, and my perfect man doesn’t even show up to claim me? Wonderful. Perfect end to a perfect day.
“My apologies, my lady. I am Captain Trax, your second. Dr. Surnen has been delayed by his work. He will meet us later.”
“What?” I turned to the alien in question. Trax. Unusual name. He was tall, like all the others, but his skin tone was smooth and rich, like the mahogany desk in my father’s office. His hair shone a dark, rusty-colored brownish-red, and his eyes were glowing amber lined with bronze, like tiger eye gemstones. But they weren’t cold stone. The way they bored into me made me think of a burning sun, a fire so hot my skin tingled. He wore a uniform with camo shapes on it, but instead of the drab army green, his was black and gray and looked to have the same type of armor Kristin was wearing.
He was some kind of soldier and my other mate was a doctor?
A freaking doctor?
Was God playing more cruel jokes on me? It wasn’t fucking funny. I barely tolerated doctors on Earth, hated half of them. In my experience they were either uptight assholes like my father or were players with a God complex who replaced their women every few months like they were disposable toothbrushes with tits—and the bigger the boobs, the better. Size zero waist with a triple-D bra cup? Sure. Totally normal.
I was small. Short. Small ass. Small boobs. If these aliens wanted more than a B-cup, they were out of luck.
Peeking above the collar of Trax’s shirt, a shiny, silver metal overlaid his skin. No, not just lying on top, it was part of his neck, embedded, as if it wasn’t superficial at all. It reminded me of one of the Terminator movies, and I wondered how far down it went on his body. His face was unblemished, if a rich, dark chocolate treat could be considered normal in an alien, but there was a band of silver around his neck and his left ear was made up of the stuff.
He stepped forward and lifted my hand into his. I expected him to raise it to his lips and kiss it or something, like an old-fashioned movie, but he held my palm flat to his and used his thumb to pet me. Just his thumb, running back and forth in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. His touch was gentle, his skin warm. The color contrast between our bodies was impressive. However, the size of his much larger hand holding mine made me feel like I was in way over my head here. Mine looked almost childlike in his grasp.
It was time to remember who the alien actually was. I was alien to all the males in the room, and they were the aliens to me. It reminded me that no one was truly different once the physical was stripped away. The fact that I was standing on an alien world was proof that all living peoples were the same in wants, needs and desires even though outwardly we varied in size and shape and color.
He gave my fingers a squeeze, bringing me from my thoughts. Shivers raced over my skin, and I pulled the blanket tighter around me as he tilted his head in concern.
“Are you cold, mate?”
He was my mate. My second, he’d said. So, this Surnen guy was the one the testing had said was a ninety-eight percent match? The goddamned doctor? Who wasn’t here?
“You are my second. My other mate is a doctor?”
He nodded. “That is correct, my lady.”
“And he’s not here because…?” I wanted to know how this was going to go down right now. No sense getting attached if he couldn’t show up to the wedding—or whatever this was. The warden had said I had thirty days to take them or leave them, and if my mate didn’t even bother to show up, that sounded like a leave them to me.
Behind me, Kristin chuckled. “Oh, this is going to be good.”
“Okay. Maxim’s right. Let’s give them some privacy.” Rachel put on what I thought of as the mom voice and started herding everyone out a large door that had slid silently open like in Star Trek.
Kristin lingered until I looked up. When our eyes met, she lifted her chin in a silent signal of sisterhood—at least that’s how I took it. Her small action assured me that I was all right. She was with me, although I wasn’t exactly sure why she needed to ensure I knew she had my back. “Surnen can be… difficult,” she said. “If you need me to kick his ass, just say the word.”
Difficult? Oh, this wasn’t good.
“Kristin!” Rachel tugged on her arm, and Kristin allowed the other woman to pull her along with a chuckle.
“I’m not lying,” she said as she went through the doorway.
“Tyran and Hunt might have something to say about whose ass you can touch, and ass kicking qualifies,” Rachel reminded her.
“Not really,” Kristin disagreed. “I don’t take orders well. Not when it’s ass-kicking time.”
“You will touch no one’s ass, mate.” One of the big guys was talking to her, but he didn’t sound mad. He sounded… aroused.
Or maybe I just had sex on the brain. I had mentally prepared myself to be swept off my feet by two aliens and taken immediately to bed to be claimed—as the warden called it.