Page 38 of Matched and Mated

“Trist?” I asked. “What do you want me to do?”

“Do not fear, Miranda.” He looked over his shoulder at me where he stood in front of the door and I felt something I’d never felt from him before. Fear. Not that he would die, but that something would happen to me. He probably wasn’t too keen on me knowing his inner thoughts and feelings at this moment, but it definitely helped me remain calm, to judge just how much danger we were in. If he were to protect us, then I needed to keep my wits about me. I needed to stay calm for the children.

“I will allow nothing to harm you, mate,” he vowed.

I sensed his resolve, his complete devotion to me. His willingness to die to keep me safe. To keep the children of others safe. That last bit truly scared the shit out of me. I didn’t want him to die. I needed him to live. I hadn’t even told him I loved him yet. I hadn’t even accepted his claim, my collar still black. And black was not my color. I loved him. I did. I knew it that first night when I’d been with both him and Brax. I had become even more sure when he’d banished Brax to the visitor’s quarters and spent the next two nights making love to me, pushing my boundaries, exploring the dark needs I’d not shared with him before Brax came into the picture. My nipples hardened at the memory.

Not the time! Not the time, nipples.

It turned out Trist loved dominating me, body and soul. He’d learned quickly that the bossier and more demanding he became, the more powerful my response. Now that had been a time when the collars came in handy. I still loved Brax, part of me always would, but I knew now that I would be happy with whatever Trist decided. Submitting to him, in bed and out, was what I wanted. Craved.

Needed.

And if he didn’t feel Brax was worthy, I would accept that, accept a new warrior into my bed. Trist was mine and I was his. I loved Brax, but I would not sacrifice my new life, this new happiness, to have him. If Brax couldn’t accept that, then he didn’t really love me. It saddened me to think it, but one thing this Brides testing thing had taught me was that I didn’t have to compromise. I could have it all. I deserved it.

I would not accept less than total devotion from a mate. Even a second. I deserved better. Trist had reinforced those thoughts.

Trist blocked the door with his body so I couldn’t see beyond him.

Then Brax blocked my view of Trist.

The young man who’d been happy to smile, laugh, make cookies and tease his little sister was now standing at our backs with an ion blaster drawn in a battle stance. I’d thought it humorous he’d worn the pistol in a holster, just like a gunslinger in the Wild Wild West, or a kid with a pop gun playing grown up. He wasn’t playing at anything, I realized. His sister had flour in her hair, but she obviously loved and trusted her older brother, and he was prepared to protect her, just as Trist was for me. When he’d touched her on the head as he walked past, she’d smiled and relaxed her hold on my hand.

The young man whispered to her, softly, but I heard him.

“Don’t worry. I will protect you.” Yes, just as I thought. Prillons raised their boys well.

Her smile was one-hundred percent love and complete trust. “I know.”

She stood next to me, stoic and unafraid, as the other two younger children clung to my side as if their world was about to end.

And Brax? He’d worked the S-Gen machine like a pro and had created a black space gun that looked even nastier than the one Trist had pointed at the closed door. Seemed there were things we didn’t know about Brax after all.

“Try comms again,” Brax said.

“I did. No one is coming,” Trist replied, jaw clenched.

Brax tensed, his back going rigid. “The S-Gen is too small to transport us out of here.”

I looked to the machine like the one I’d used to make ice cream on Trion. It transported people? God, I could have sent myself to Rogue 5 by mistake!

“We have no comms,” Trist replied. “We can’t reach the Zakar and we can’t initiate transport from here.”

Brax took a moment to digest that and I did, too. My men thought the ship was under attack and we had no way to contact the battleship… or anyone else. Or transport from this spot. Leaving this room… “What are your orders?”

Trist leaned around Brax to glance at first me, then the children. “We make a run for the shuttle. Can you fly?”

Brax nodded. “Yes.”

“Rating?”

While Brax rattled off a list of stuff that made no sense to me, but satisfied Trist—and surprised him, a reaction I felt via the collars—I had to keep myself busy. If I just stood about feeling useless,

I’d go crazy. So, I cleaned, which was ridiculous since we were leaving the room any minute. But the kids saw I was calm, that things weren’t so bad that I felt it okay to organize the supplies. I even wiped off the counter as best I could with my hands. What a mess.

Baking was messy.

A sound filled the air and moments later the door slid open.

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