Matched and Mated by Grace Goodwin

Author:Grace Goodwin [Goodwin, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: KSA Publishers

9

Brax, Battleship Zakar, Private quarters

* * *

I might as well have been in the brig. These bare, plain quarters were like a prison, for I was locked within. Even if I got the door opened, a Prillon guard was stationed just outside under Captain Trist’s orders. Miranda was on this ship, in the captain’s personal quarters. And not only was he a gods be damned Prillon, but he was second in command of the entire battle group.

Just my luck. Miranda is matched first to Prillon, but worse, to a hard-ass, uptight, calculating bastard.

Which was, I realized, exactly the kind of male she would respond to. She was a true submissive, heart and soul. The stronger her male, the safer she would feel.

Only now, locked in this farking room, did I realize the truth of it. I had not given her what she needed when she was mine. But I loved her. I would not give her up. And my lack was one I would not make the mistake of repeating.

The small room was similar to a fighter’s quarters on Trion, except the view was different. I’d been on enough missions to be used to battleships, other planets, utilitarian quarters. Empty quarters. Being alone had never bothered me. Until now, until I’d pulled my head out of my ass. Now I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to share my space, my life. With Miranda. I’d used her transport coordinates and followed, eager to make her mine.

But when I’d come upon them… kissing, I’d lost it. She was mine, not some seven-foot Prillon’s. She might have been matched to him, might have been sucking the lips off his face, but she belonged to me. She responded to me, to my touch, my cock. She loved to be adorned and fucked, given a bite of pain to enhance her pleasure. I knew her body. I just hadn’t known her heart until it was too late.

It wasn’t too late. I slapped my hands against the window, tried to handle my frustration when I had no one to blame but myself.

I thought of the huge fucker, her match. He’d turned and faced me, shielded Miranda with his body, and I had instantly known she was his as well. He’d protect her with his life, had been willing to do so right then and there. But I didn’t want Miranda dead. I just wanted her.

I admired his need to keep her safe, respected him for it, but it hadn’t been necessary with me. I wouldn’t see her harmed. But perhaps I had. Perhaps I’d hurt her in the worst way. Not physically, but emotionally, and he knew that. He had a farking collar about his neck so that meant he’d at least sensed her reaction to seeing me again, hearing my voice.

I didn’t need a collar to know that the gasp I’d heard was full of pain. Surprise. Regret. And I knew by the way she clung to him for reassurance, for safety, that she was his now, too.

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