My pulse sped, and my cock stirred at the thought of having a female of my own. The processing dream from all those years ago swirled in my mind, and my fangs descended. Ached. Eager to bite. Bury my cock deep. Claim a mate.

First, I would see to her safety. Then I would worry about my appearance. It wasn’t like she would want to fuck me the moment we met. It would most likely take months of wooing her, of slow seduction, to convince her I would never harm her. Females and children—fuck, even the males in our legion—kept a safe distance from me. This female, my perfect match, must be fierce. She would probably be muscular and strong. Tall. Perhaps a soldier from Earth. That would make sense, a female who would not fear me nor be taken aback by my appearance, my duties or my past.

She would be stern. Hardened. Wise. Fearless. A warrior like me.

My mate would be perfect.

3

Abby, Transport Station Zenith

My head spun, the dizziness so total I didn’t dare move. I was lying on something cold and hard that felt like metal. I pressed my forehead down and took a few deep breaths, trying to make the floor beneath me stop moving.

This was like motion sickness on top of food poisoning when I already had the flu. Thank god my stomach was empty.

I didn’t know if I stayed there for one minute or ten, but eventually I noticed the same cold metal pressed to my thighs, my hip, my nipples. I was naked.

Why the hell was I naked?

Shocked into movement, I opened my eyes and tried to push up off the floor. Everything dipped and spun, and I collapsed onto my side, panting, swallowing the gag reflex swelling in my throat. I didn’t have any idea when I’d eaten last. I didn’t know what day it was. The last thing I remembered was that blue water, Warden Egara’s voice, then falling asleep.

Now…this.

“My lady?” A deep, resonant voice vibrated inside my skull like my head was a gong.

“Are you talking to me?” I whispered my question, concentrating on the cold pressed to my cheek.

“Indeed.” Moments later, something large and soft was draped over me like a blanket. Maybe it was a blanket. I didn’t open my eyes to look. If I looked, I’d have to acknowledge whoever this was had just seen me naked. Groggy. Gagging. My hair probably looked like greasy straw, and I doubted I had my usual carefully applied makeup in order. My armor. I felt like a weakling. Scared. Sick. Whining like a baby.

Pathetic.

Oh, shit. What if the guy who’d covered me up was my mate? My Cormac? And I was making a fool of myself? Great way to start.