Page 17 of Chosen By Swift

His gaze ran along the right sleeves of the gathered women. He was looking for the numbers Flint had given him. His gaze lingered on 9 before skipping around to find the next one on the list. He scanned the crowd and noticed a woman braiding the hair of another. It was the sort of nurturing behavior that he wanted in a mate.

She was taller than all of the other women. By his people’s standards, of course, she was still rather short. Women on Prime from the pure bloodlines were six feet on average, some nearly tall enough to look their men in the eyes. Here, on Calyx, the women were very petite from a mix of genetics and malnutrition.

Not this one. She had glossy dark hair arranged in a simple braid that reached down to her lower back. She looked strong, sturdy. The short sleeves of the shirt gave him a good view of her arms. She obviously worked hard, probably on a farm. His approving gaze followed the curve of her wide hips and full bottom. He couldn’t help but imagine what was under her skirt. He sure as hell wanted to find out.

When she turned toward him, Swift inhaled sharply. She was beautiful with dark eyes to match her hair. She struck him as earthen and natural. She immediately helped another woman who wanted her hair braided. She seemed at ease helping others. He suspected she was an older sister used to caring for younger siblings.

Would she be a good mother? He cared about that more than anything. He wanted his children to be raised by someone with the same heart as his own mother. He wanted his sons and daughters to know the unconditional but fierce love of a mother.

It was hard to tell with only a minute or two of observation, but he had a good feeling about this one. She finally turned enough for him to see the number on her shirt. 21. The volunteer who rode in on a horse. The one who was running from someone.

Maybe he could persuade her to run toward something, toward the chance to build a new life with him.

He kept a close eye on her as the minutes counted down to the beginning of the race. She managed to braid the hair of two more women before consoling another who seemed absolutely distraught. There was an unspoken rule among the men that any potential bride who cried like that would be left alone and allowed to reach the safe zone at the other end of the course. From there, she could choose whatever path she wanted. She could return home to her family or take one of the transport ships to the colonies that were arranged by the Red Feather.

When the race began, 21 was at the back of the pack. She was slower than the others, but he didn’t think it was from lack of ability. She seemed tired, exhausted even. Considering she had been riding a horse most of the night, he wasn’t surprised. As he watched her jog across the open field, he began to imagine all the ways he could make her feel comfortable with him. A hot shower, a meal, a massage.

His brain got fuzzy when he imagined sliding his oil-slicked hands over her curves. It had been more than a year since he had last been with a woman. As part of Orion’s mentorship, Swift had agreed to a lengthy term of celibacy to learn to control his emotions and baser needs. It had been difficult in the beginning and easier once he was away on the rescue mission.

Last night, he had been heavily tempted to break his promise. After getting Drift his haircut, he had been invited to the OC. The nights before a Grab tended to be more debauched than others. He considered it for longer than he should have, but the idea of waiting, of holding back for a little while longer had been too sweet. It was silly and disgustingly romantic, but he rather liked the idea of breaking his celibacy with the bride he collared.

And that bride was currently sliding to a stop to help a woman who had tripped and fallen. As she pulled the other woman to her feet, the bell for the men rang. Swift sprinted toward her, his gaze focused on her and only her. She glanced back at the men now racing toward her, and her eyes went wide with panic. She grabbed hold of the other woman’s hand and tugged her forward.

Sprint’s heart raced but not from exertion. Excitement and anticipation left him nearly breathless. That low ache of arousal started in his groin. Every thought in his mind centered around 21. Chase her. Grab her. Collar her. Kiss her. Claim her.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

That one word punctuated his every step. He cut clear of the other men and focused on catching 21. She still held the hand of the woman who had fallen and pushed her forward onto the trail. 21 and the other woman ended up in a pack of seven runners. Thankfully, her height made it easy for him to track her.

A thunder of boots echoed off the trees. He glanced to his left and right. Both airmen closing in on him were lower ranked and had much fewer valor points than he did. If one of them tried to take 21, he would pull rank to get her. It wouldn’t engender much goodwill, but he had earned the right to take what he wanted.

And he wanted her.

He wanted her bad.

There was a blur of movement to his right, and a Land Corps soldier from theConquestbarreled into the group of women. Shouts of anger erupted as the women went tumbling into the dirt. The Land Corps officer never missed a beat. He snatched a blonde by the wrist and started dragging her away like bagged prey. Another soldier who was even bigger caught the asshole and knocked him out cold. He then knelt down to tend the blonde, and Swift suspected they would be going back to the transport ship together.

Swift found 21 on the ground. The fabric of the uniform skirt was up around her thighs, revealing a nasty scrape on her knee. He ignored the other women who were being taken care of and made a straight line toward her. She seemed startled when he crouched down to examine her injury and hurriedly tugged her skirt down over her exposed legs. As much as he wanted to see her bare skin, he wasn’t interested in anything sexualat thatmoment. He was more concerned about her safety.

“I’m sorry.” He held up both hands. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I want to see if your injury is serious.”

“It’s not,” she insisted stubbornly. When she lifted her gaze, his breath caught in his throat. From afar, she looked pretty, but up close, she was stunning. Gorgeous.

And she’s all mine.

"I have bandages in my first aid kit.” He touched the pocket on his tactical pants. “Antiseptic, too.”

She frowned. “It’s a scrape. I’ve had worse chasing my little brothers around the yard.”

He didn’t have any trouble imagining that. “Do you come from a big family?”

She nodded. “There were fourteen of us kids.”

Staggered by the number, he repeated, “Fourteen?”

“Yes, but not anymore.” Her gaze fell to her lap for a moment. “There’s only eight of us now. Nine if the one Mama has in her belly right now is born breathing.”

The easy way she mentioned the likelihood of a baby dying reminded him of how hard life was here on Calyx. Losing six siblings? He couldn’t even imagine what sort of pain this woman had known in her life.

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