Page 19 of The Alien Warlord's Fated Mate

The other warrior was silent for a moment, his head bowed in thought. “Yes,” he agreed at last. “We are not so different in that regard. I never thought I would find a mate as kind and beautiful in spirit as Kira. After the disaster, it seemed an impossibility. I thought I would have to stand by and watch our people die out as the Var’Kol did, that we would be wiped clean from the great infinite reaches of the universe, forgotten for all time.”

“Such is no longer our fate,” Zoran reminded him.

“Aye, this is so.” Ryrda clapped his hands to his thighs and rose, his expression fixed with the good humor and determination for which he was so well-known. “Let it remain so forever.”

Zoran nodded formally. “Peace be unto you.”

“And unto you, my friend.”

Ryrda inclined his head in a respectful bow and left, and Zoran buried himself in his duty, forestalling any doubt that might intrude upon his peace.

Mia huddled on the bed, watching the countdown above the bed, her stomach a knot of nerves and some other emotion she refused to name. Naming it could get her into trouble, and she had plenty of that already.

Zoran had been gone when she woke, his side of the bed cool to the touch. She vaguely remembered half waking as he left, or maybe it was only her imagination that he’d rubbed the tip of one horn against her temple and licked her throat as a goodbye. Surely that would’ve awakened her.

She peeked at the countdown again and nibbled on her lower lip. Not that she’d wanted him to wake her. Only a few hours remained until they reached Zephyria, or Zephyrian space, or whatever he’d set the countdown to. Didn’t matter. One way or another, her time was up, and she had no idea what she was going to do about it.

Restless now, she thought about opening the console and digging more deeply into her favorite new subject, Zephyria’s biosphere. But her focus was so scattered, the worry lodged in her gut so distracting, she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate.

With a sigh, she slipped out of the bed, washed off, and risked looking in the trunk at the end of the bed for fresh clothing. To her surprise, she found her own clothes clean and neatly folded inside. Oh, for this small piece of home! Quickly, she pulled them out, everything but her lab coat, and dressed. On second thought, she left her shoes inside. A spaceship was no place for heels, even the sensible ones she wore to work.

That done, she smoothed her skirt happily down her thighs and set off in search of her friends, pleased when the door opened to her touch. She retraced the path to the cargo bay, palmed the door open, and found a huge hunk of brooding warrior standing just inside.

She leaned her head way back—boy, did they grow ‘em big on Zephyria—and smiled. “Hello. I’m Mia. Um, Zoran’s friend?”

The warrior looked down at her, his expression implacable. “Nyklan of Clan Zikri.”

“Ah. Nice to meet you.” She glanced curiously between him and the women huddled against the far wall, every single one of them watching Nyklan with huge, wary eyes. “So, I just wanted to check on everyone?”

“They are well. We take care of our females.”

How to explain that the humans were not “our females”?

“Even the ones foisted on us by the Fates,” he muttered.

“Oh. I thought, since you were standing here.” She trailed off, uncertain how to broach such a sensitive subject. “I thought you hadn’t found what you were looking for?”

“How could an honorable warrior reject his duty? How could he ignore the Fates and forsake his chosen mate?”

He had her there, especially since she had no idea what he was talking about. “That is the question,” she agreed. “So youdidfind someone?”

His bright green gaze swung to hers and his expression shifted subtly. “Female, your questions would drive a sane male into a frenzy.”

With one final scowl at the women, he stormed out of the bay, his footsteps surprisingly quiet against the metal floor.

“Well, ok,” she said, baffled. “I guess that answers that.”

Quickly, she walked across the room and sat down in the middle of the pack, grateful when one of the women shared her blanket.

Later, after she’d answered what felt like dozens of questions, she searched out the women who’d been selected by warriors and carried off after the demonstration. She found another warrior first, leaning against a door with one hand pressed to his jaw.

“Hello,” she chirped. “I’m Mia, Zoran’s friend.” Why not? That introduction had worked the first time, sort of, and she absolutely, positively, one hundred percentrefusedto use the wordmate.

“Lorik of Clan Voss,” he grunted. “My mate is your friend.”

“Which one exactly?”

“The yellow-haired one. Stubbornklikarefused to give me her name.”

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