The Commanders' Mate. Grace Goodwin
as it shifted after the explosion, the deep command of voices in the distance delegating tasks to clean up this clusterfuck surrounded us. Destruction was nothing new to me, but this was… personal. Close to home, at least as close to a home one could have on a fucking battlegroup.
“You’re here,” he countered.
“I am nothing,” I said simply.
Bard opened his mouth to argue, closed it. He knew how I felt about this. I was a warrior first and always. I fought. I killed. I protected my people, the people who became mine through Hive destruction. And if I died? So be it. Another member of my military family, or another worthy Prillon warrior, would take command. I was a cog in the wheel of the Coalition Fleet. I was a warrior. Nothing more.
“Chloe is I.C., Karter,” he continued. “She can take care of herself.” I often questioned the supposed intelligence of this group as they caused us more trouble than they were worth most of the time. But then, every once in a while, someone like Commander Chloe Phan came along and saved us all. I hated their secrets, but like all warriors, I recognized that spies and black-ops were a necessary evil. No battle commander could win a war without good intelligence on the enemy. And the hard-core bastards who served in the I.C. were the best. Including Commander Phan of Earth. But she was also mine to protect, a mate to two of my best warriors and a mother to their children. There was no need for her to risk herself out here in this chaos, especially when we had zero answers. I could beat the hell out of a tight-lipped I.C. commander all by myself.
“She’s a mother,” I said.
Bard grinned. “I’m going to tell her you said that.”
“Why don’t you tell Dara and her baby brother that you risked their mother’s life for your entertainment?” It was my turn to smile, and I made sure to show every inch of my teeth—the better to rip Bard’s throat out with. “If you make my Dara cry, I will destroy you.”
We walked on.
Dara was beautiful, with black hair and green eyes, just like her mother. I loved her like she was my own. She was small, but fearless. And the moments she wrapped her small hand around mine were the only times I felt like more than a killing machine. I would do nothing to hurt her small heart, including risking her mother’s life when it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Her baby brother Christopher was full of fire and curiosity, a bright, daring child. But it was Dara’s sweet innocence that kept me sane, gave me a reason to keep fighting.
Bard insulted me with laughter but kept further opinions to himself as he took me to the lone survivor on the command deck of the small cargo ship. We stepped over the dead as we went, a killing rage boiling hotter with each drop of blood that clung to my boots.
“Why did they leave the dead?” Bard asked.
Normally, a Hive attack resulted in a complete loss of all personnel. No bodies. No survivors. The Coalition Fleet had always assumed the Hive did something unpalatable with the dead, but I didn’t ask the I.C. and I had no desire to know the answer. What they did to the living was horror enough, and I struggled with my nightmares as it was. “I don’t know. Maybe the I.C. officer will have answers for us.”
Answers I didn’t want. But want was a luxury I gave up years ago.
Within a few minutes, we rode the remaining functional lift to the command deck of the battleship and entered through an emergency airlock set up by my crew. Once inside, Bard and I removed our helmets and looked around. A Prillon warrior sat in the navigator’s seat, head in his hands. His hair was golden and fair, as was his skin. He was large, his body a mountain in the small chair. But when he turned to face me, my body froze in shock.
2
Erica Roberts, Interstellar Brides Processing Center, Earth
Everything was dark, but I could hear my warriors moving to surround me, touch me.
Claim me.
I’d been waiting for this for weeks, longing for them to give in and take me as one in front of the others…
That thought stopped me cold and my heart raced, the hard memory of the processing chair back in that cold, clinical room at the bride testing center intruded on my bliss, as did the pounding of my heart, not in fear, but in anticipation.
For as much as this woman’s mind, whoever she was, wanted this claiming, I wanted it, too. This wasn’t my body. In some far off, rational part of myself I knew that. But it felt real.
It was a dream. But it wasn’t. But it sure as fuck felt real. It was real, to her, and somehow I was to share it with her.
When a large hand settled around my neck and my mate’s warm chest pressed to my bare back, I slipped back into the dream, or hallucination—whatever this was. I didn’t care if it was real or not. I needed my mates to touch me.
The warrior behind me tilted my chin up, warm hand around my throat a blatant mark of ownership. Around us I heard male voices chanting, at least six, perhaps seven, watching.
No, witnessing this claiming. My mates’ honored chosen, sworn to protect me. They would watch…
Before my mind could follow that path, the male at my back slipped a finger into my aching pussy and I gasped, arching against him.
“So wet, mate. Are you ready for us?” His pleasure at my eagerness thrummed through our link, the mating collar I felt wrapped around my neck. Somehow it connected us. All three of us. How? I had no idea. I just felt.
My mind again surged forward, creating a haze of confusion as I processed the other woman’s thoughts. Three of us? I had two mates? Did I want two mates? Two mouths. Four hands.
Two cocks.
And one of them had a finger in my pussy.
God, yes. It was all I could think about, melting into a puddle of need between two hard Prillon warriors. My warriors.
Which is how I knew that my primary male was watching us, his cock hard and heavy with need, holding himself back to prolong the pleasure of this moment. His emotions, his lust, were drowning me, overwhelming both of us through the collars as my second mate pumped his thick fingers in and out of my pussy. I wanted them to fuck me, claim me, make me theirs. Now. I was ready to surrender, give them everything, scream in pleasure in front of the whole damn ship if I had to.
I needed them. Inside me. I needed to come.
Need. Need. Need.
Anxious, I tried to reach for him but found my arms tied loosely above my head, not stretched, just…out of their way. It made no sense, but it seemed I wasn’t supposed to have any control.
I needed to feel. Nothing else.
I was naked, the warm air moving lightly over my skin, cool against the wet heat of my open pussy. I was positioned like I was sitting in a chair, but there was no seat. My legs were spread wide to either side of my body, my thighs and most of my weight on a support I could not see, ass hanging out and over… a swing, open and bare. A swing? I didn’t understand, but I didn’t need to.
“Do you accept my claim, mate? Do you give yourself to me and my second freely, or do you wish to choose another primary male?” God, the growl in that voice almost made me come. My second mate stopped moving his fingers, his grip tightening, just enough, on my throat. My pussy clamped down on those fingers and I moaned. I needed more.
I licked my lips. “I accept your claim, warriors.” And please fucking hurry! I knew they could feel my eagerness through our mating collars, the psychic connection linked us in a way I didn’t understand. I could feel their need as if it were my own. Their desire. Possession.
Love.
God, yes,