I shuddered with anticipation, with a raw hunger I’d never before allowed myself to feel, as I studied the barely visible tips of his fangs peaking at me from between his lips.

So this was my mate. My hard as nails, take no prisoners, no bullshit mate. Cormac. Cormac with fangs.

I wanted him to bite me. Fill me with his cock and claim me. Like, now. Right freaking now.

Maybe I didn’t need an Atlan warlord after all. I’d met several, and not one had made me want to rip his clothes off and demand sex.

Warden Egara waved her hand at me as the chair lowered me, gown and all, into the warm, blue water. I had to admit, the bath felt heavenly. Soothing. So relaxing.

“Good luck, Abby!”

I tried to smile, but I was suddenly so very tired. My eyelids were so heavy.

The last thing I remembered was Warden Egara’s voice.

“Your processing will begin in 3…2…1…”

2

Cormac of Styx Legion, Moon Base Rogue 5

Enforcer. The word made my blood sing with purpose, with my place in the universe. I hunted. I punished. I killed our enemies. I served our people the only way I knew how, and I was very good at my job.

Killing had become too easy.

“You cannot hide from me, Siren scum.” I yelled the truth to the male I sensed cowering just ahead. Twenty paces and I’d be on top of him, my Styx legion armor specialized to deflect an ion blast. He would have no choice but to fight me in hand-to-hand combat. One on one.

Or surrender and face my leader, Styx himself, for judgment.

Neither option would end well for this fucker. He’d attacked one of our delivery vehicles, tried to steal our cargo and had injured our pilot badly enough that he was currently unconscious in a ReGen pod.

Maintenance lights lined the corridor. The sickly green glow added to the resignation flooding my body with every step. I did not enjoy killing, but I accepted that protecting the legion was necessary to our survival. I did what needed to be done.

The sound of grinding machinery filled the cold air with a distinct metallic hum. Condensation dripped from the walls, created by water vapor leaking into the area from the filtration and waste recyclers. The bowels of the shipping port on this side of the moon were colder than the rest. This area was not heated to accommodate Rogue 5’s inhabitants. Instead, it was kept just warm enough to prevent the water and machines from freezing. No energy was wasted in space. It was too fucking difficult to survive out here. The Coalition Fleet was too busy fighting their war to spare resources for us. For centuries we’d been left to fend for ourselves.