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1

Abigail “Abby” Gregg, Interstellar Brides Processing Center, Miami, Florida

The slow, heavy movement of a large—make that huge—cock pumping in and out of my body made me gasp and reach for my mate.

I groaned with pleasure as the male fucking me took my hands and shoved them over my head, his heat enveloping me as he fucked me harder. Deeper. Faster.

“Bite me,” I begged. The voice was desperate, female, but definitely not mine. My body was too big, too tall, my legs too long. I’d had sex against the wall before, and I knew my legs were not long enough to wrap around a man whose hips were this big. He was big all over. Massive chest lined with sculpted muscle. Thighs as thick as a football player’s. Even his hands were bigger than anything I’d ever seen before, easily trapping my wrists between his fingers as he held me in place for his attention.

He thrust deeper, my—her—pussy stretching as our lover tilted his hips, lifting her—me—higher off the ground.

“Patience, mate.” His voice was a deep rumble, one this body recognized. Every cell in this body reacted to the sound with anticipation. Heat. My—her—pussy tight. So fucking tight. Ready to explode.

“Now. Please, do it now.” The words seemed to drive the male a bit mad as his cock actually swelled inside me, getting bigger. Harder.

Hands over my head, my back was pressed to a hard surface as he shifted his hips, moving in a circular motion until the body I was inhabiting moaned in surrender. I was right there, on the edge with her. I wanted to come. Needed to come. We were soooo close, but I—she—knew we were missing something. Something fucking spectacular. And she wanted it. Badly.

Now.

“Please.”

With a grunt, the male before me smiled. I couldn’t quite make out his face, his features a bit of a blur. Dark hair? Thick lips? Maybe. What I could see were fangs. Long. Sharp. Dripping with some kind of…venom?

In a panic, I tried to pull back, but the body I was in did the opposite, dropping her—our—head to one side to give this freak better access.

He was going to bite me! And this body wanted him to.

Holy shit. What the actual hell was happening right now?

I tried to shout out in protest as the male lowered his head toward my—her—neck. He scraped the sharp points over her sensitive skin, the slight sting making my—her—pussy clench in anticipation. The first shocking stirring of an orgasm rocketed through me in a single spasm. Stopped.

Her moan of protest matched what I was feeling. The orgasm rode me, teased me, wouldn’t quite come for a visit. Damn it.

“I want them deep. Fuck me. Bite me. I need you.” The female voice sobbed with need. She was desperate. Shameless. I would never beg like that.

Never.

The male fucking me shuddered at her words, his fangs returning to press along the curve of her neck. “You are mine. My mate. I will kill anyone who touches you.”

“Yes,” she begged, his words, his threat of violence, making her body spin out of control. She was dizzy. Which meant I was dizzy. I felt like I was falling. Spinning. Lost.

“Mine.”

Fangs sank deep, the shock wave of heat, the momentary flash of pain followed by intense bliss as hot liquid—the best fucking drug I had ever even dreamed existed—flooded my body. My mind. Love exploded inside my—her—body as her mate claimed her, filled her with his essence.

I had no idea how I knew what was happening, but she knew. He was giving her everything. His body. His life. His loyalty. His soul was in that bite. And she took it like the greedy bitch she was—took it all. Leaving nothing for me.

Her body exploded, the orgasm making her wail in a long, drawn-out scream of pleasure that I felt with every cell in my body.

Fuck. Me. My body rocked up off the table as the strange sound of my own voice filled my ears and the male, his bite, the complete and utter bliss I’d been feeling, faded away like a dream.

“No!” I tried to get him back. I wasn’t finished. She wasn’t finished. We wanted more. I knew she was going to get more. A lot more.

“Miss Gregg? Can you hear me?”

“No.”

A soft huff of laughter answered my denial. “Glad you are back in the land of the living. Your testing is complete.”

“Send me back.” I rolled my head from side to side, testing the hardness of the strange indentation my skull rested between. And then I remembered all of it. The Interstellar Brides testing center. The chair that looked like my worst nightmare from too many visits to the dentist’s office—I had a rather terrible sweet tooth when I was young and too many cavities to count. I remembered, too, that my two best friends in the world were gone, really gone. No longer on Earth, gone. Which was just one more layer to the reasoning behind my decision to volunteer as a bride.

That, and I wanted an Atlan warlord like Tane for my very own. Or Bahre. Hell, I wasn’t picky. Any warlord would do as long as he looked at me the way Tane looked at my friend Elena. Lucky, lucky Elena. But…Atlans didn’t bite. Did they?

I opened my eyes to see a kind but not smiling Warden Egara looking at me with her lips tight and her head tilted at an angle as she studied me. “Are you all right?”

Was I? Well, my body was still pulsing with the aftershocks from an orgasm that hadn’t really been mine. I’d been bitten by some kind of freak alien with fangs and loved it. Wanted more. My wrists were in restraints so I wouldn’t fall off the chair as I writhed and begged some unknown alien to pump his cock into me, bite me, and make me scream. And I had no idea what the hell I’d just seen. I’d signed up to get matched to an Atlan. Not…that. Whatever that alien creature had been.

“I don’t like vampires. You know that, right?” The thought of sucking blood had always made me nauseous. Gross. Just gross.

Warden Egara raised her perfectly arched brow. “There are no vampires in the Coalition Fleet.”

“Then what’s with the fangs?”

She glanced down at the tablet screen she held in her hands. “You have been matched to the moon base Rogue 5. The people there are hybrid descendants of a native race of fanged creatures who lived on the planet Hyperion.”

“All of them? They all have fangs?”

“Yes.” She studied me for long, silent seconds. “Did you find the bite uncomfortable?”

I couldn’t lie. I wanted to, but I couldn’t make myself do it. “No.”

“Excellent.” She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as she ran through a series of rapid-fire questions. Was I married? Did I have children? Was I legally responsible for any children here on Earth? I would have thirty days to reject the match. Blah. Blah. Blah. I’d already read everything, checked every box, and answered all these questions more than once. I barely listened. I couldn’t stop thinking about those fangs. That orgasm. That feeling of being blissed out.

That kind of pleasure would be addictive. I’d be eager. Desperate. Needy. I hated that. What if he said no? What if he got her—me—all hot and bothered and needy and then refused to bite me? I would not be like that woman in my dream. I would not beg. Would. Not.

“Why do they bite? What’s in that venom?”

“It’s not venom, my dear. It’s a special enzyme complex that promotes healing and helps the males bond with their mates.” She grinned at me. “To be honest, I’m not exactly sure how it works. I haven’t studied it in detail as you are the first bride I am sending to them.”

“What?”

“Well, technically, they are not part of the Coalition Fleet. However, some members of their legions have helped us, so those males qualify for a bride on a case-by-case basis. And this is a very good match. Very good.”

“What does that mean?”

“Ninety-eight percent compatible. Nearly perfect.”

Perfect? Except I did not like vampires. I’d watched a Dracula movie when I was seven and never moved past it. Even the sparkling vampires that were so popular for a while couldn’t erase that dark terror from my memories. “Helped how?”

She shrugged. “Spying, probably. Smuggling. The legions are, technically, criminal organizations. They are run somewhat like our motorcycle gangs, or maybe like the Mafia here on Earth. I’m not exactly sure. But whatever they do for us, I know the I.C. doesn’t want their activities in the official records.”

“The I.C.?”

“The Intelligence Core. Kind of like your CIA”

God. What had I gotten myself into? “And you’re telling me I’m matched to one of these smuggler spy criminals?” Instead of an Atlan? I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t quite get over the bliss of that bite. I was losing my mind and all good sense. Officially. Gone.

“Yes. You will be sent to Transport Station Zenith, where your mate will meet you and create a cover story for you.”

“Cover story?”

“Outsiders are not allowed on Rogue 5. But don’t worry. I know there are at least two other human women mated to members of the legions.”

“But not brides.”

“Correct. One met her mate at a bar, of all places.” Warden Egara laughed. “A space bar called a canteen. She was a medical officer in the Fleet, and from what I hear, they didn’t even make it to their room.”

Sex in a bar? In space? God. “And the other woman?”

“Oh, she was a fighter. She left the Coalition and infiltrated the legion to avenge her ReCon unit. Her friends were all killed by an overdose of a drug one of the legions sold to her friends.”

What? “Did she get them?”

“Her new mate did. Or rather, his legion. I’m not sure exactly what happened. I only get bits and pieces sometimes. Earth is so very far away, after all.”

“Gossip will always find a way.” I knew that to be one hundred percent fact. Truth or lies, nothing traveled faster than a juicy bit of gossip. What would my social media followers think—all five million of them—if they knew I was going off to be married to a space criminal? What did I think? This mate of mine didn’t sound like a big teddy bear Atlan. Or even one of the uptight, rule-following Prillon guards I’d met at the Bachelor Ball or at Chet’s house after. I was matched to a criminal? A bad guy?

No. A spy. Maybe like a double agent? Was he a good guy?

Had to be, right? On a case-by-case basis? He’d helped, earned a bride, so he had to be good.

Shit. What if he wasn’t? Would I care? That bite had made me lose my mind. Would I care what he did when he wasn’t making me sob with out-of-control orgasms?

Damn. Yes. The answer was yes. I would care. “What happens if I don’t like him?”

“You have thirty days to decide. If you find Cormac does not make you happy…”

Cormac. His name was Cormac.

“…report to Styx, the leader of his legion. He knows how to contact someone who can get you out of there.”

“Okay.” At least I had an out. That made me feel better.

“Oh, one more thing. This is a special case. Normally, your mate would be waiting for you with bells and whistles. If you were going anywhere else, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you his name. In this case, the Styx legion’s involvement with the Coalition Fleet is top secret. Revealing their connection to us could endanger multiple lives. No one can know you are an Interstellar Bride.”

“But…how am I supposed to explain being there?”

“Cormac will take care of that, I’m sure. When you arrive, play along. Pretend you know him, that you met him somewhere else. Be vague until you two get your story straight. He will do the same.”

Great. Was she serious? I studied her facial features. Not one hint of a teasing grin. No smile. She was deadly serious.

The warden’s fingers flew over her tablet, and she seemed to be making multiple selections. “I do believe you are ready to go.”

“I—”

A line appeared in the wall next to me, and the chair I was sitting on jolted to the side as it moved into the new space the retreating section of wall created. Beyond the wall was a room bathed in blue light with a small pool in its center.

“Hold still, Abby. You need your NPU.”

I knew from dealing with the Atlan Warlords and from my own research that the Neural Processing Unit was some kind of universal translator. I wouldn’t be able to understand my new mate or anyone else in space without it. Holding perfectly still, I waited as a slender robotic arm moved toward my head. The sharp tip settled just below and behind my ear. I winced as it pierced my skin. This bite hurt a hell of a lot more than the vampire man’s had in my dream. Vision? Memory?

“Wait! What does he look like?” I squirmed in the stupid hospital-style gown I was wearing, my bare backside sticking to the seat, my thighs and bottom coated with my arousal. I was very ready for some hot sex. Really hot sex. With a vampire criminal.

What the hell was going on here? Was there something wrong with me? Why didn’t I get matched to an Atlan? I really, really wanted an Atlan warlord. Damn it.

I tried to use my arms to shift my weight on the seat but didn’t get far. My wrists were restrained, supposedly so I wouldn’t fall off and injure myself while I was out of my mind having sex on another planet—in someone else’s body. The thought made me squirm even more. I had to stop moving before I got a rug burn. Seat burn. Whatever.

Warden Egara was watching me, and she hadn’t answered my question.

“Well?“ I insisted. “How am I supposed to know who he is?”

“Normally, I’m not allowed to show you. But this is a bit of an unusual match, so I will. As I said, his name is Cormac. He is a member of Styx legion.” She moved her hands even faster over the tablet. Seconds later, the wall before me turned into a large screen.

And there he was. Holy crap. I didn’t know when they’d taken the picture, but he didn’t look happy. His eyes were dark and narrowed as if he were annoyed. His hair was so short it looked like a buzz cut the army gave new military recruits. I thought maybe it was black as well, but it was nearly impossible to tell the color with it being so short. His face was older. Somber. He looked like he had been to hell and back and could teach a class on cruelty.

But his lips were full. His jaw was cut. He was handsome in a brutal way that made my pussy clench and my nipples grow hard. He wouldn’t treat me like a porcelain doll that might break at any moment. No. He looked like the kind of man—alien—who would shove me up against a wall, bite me, and fuck my brains out.

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.

Weary to the bone, I forced my boots to move forward through the dim corridor beneath the docks. I had a job to do, and I would complete the mission my brother Styx had given me, or I would not return to him. That was my way and the reason every member of our legion stepped aside and dropped their gaze when I entered a room. None but my legion’s top-ranking members would dare speak to me. The thought made me grunt with disgust at the others for their cowardice and at myself for the hurt that wormed through my heart like a parasite.

Ignoring the pain, as I had since I was old enough to remember, I checked my scanners. There. Three corners down. A heat signature on the left. It was faint, but I knew the Siren legion smugglers had the most advanced body armor and weapons they could steal. If not for his need to breathe, I’d have nothing to go on but instinct.

Even that would have been enough. The ancient Everian Hunter in my ancestry had given me certain gifts. Combined with my Prillon and Hyperion blood, I had the loyalty of a warrior, the instincts of an Elite Hunter and the savagery of the Hyperion race that gave me the fangs I felt breaking free, fully extending in anticipation of battle.

“Siren!”

“Fuck off, Cormac. Don’t make me kill you.” An ion blast hit the floor and exploded a few steps in front of me.

I knew that voice, knew the male I hunted was as dangerous and deadly as I. “You want to start a war, Shade?” I stopped walking and lifted my blaster to take aim at the corner, waiting for him to show himself. Fuck it all, I didn’t want to kill this particular male.

“I didn’t kill your pilot.”

“He’s in a pod.”

“He isn’t dead.”

Shade had a point. He could have killed our pilot during that attack. He’d chosen not to. The male had honor, and he had proven it many times over the years I had known him. “Why the fuck are you still with Siren legion?”

“Someone’s got to do it.” Shade stepped out from behind the corner, and I held myself steady, blaster raised, but I didn’t pull the trigger. “There are children, Cormac. Females. Elders. You know what it is to protect your people.”

I did. Fuck it all. Shade was like me, an enforcer for his legion. He just happened to work for the most vile, evil bitch on all of Rogue 5. Siren had no moral compass, no honor. She was ruthless, cruel and ambitious.

Shade lifted his helmet off his head and stared at me. “You going to kill me, or can we both pretend you never saw me and get the fuck out of here before we freeze to death?”

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