Grace Goodwin

“The collars. We were saying, mate, in slang, that many women back on Earth would be willing to kill to get their hands on Prillon mating collars.”

One of the officers I hadn’t noticed before leaned back in his seat and caught my eye as he spoke for the first time. “Give me the coordinates, Commander, and I shall set course for Earth at once. We wouldn’t want any females to suffer when we have an abundance of males willing to collar and claim them rather than waiting for their brides.”

The commander now understood I was joking, but obviously the officer hadn’t. Commander Zakar shook his head

“I need to move.”
I couldn’t remain still. I needed the friction, the slide of his hard flesh over every single nerve ending inside me.

I was fine to be considered less.

Oh. My. God. They were mine? My mates from the match.

Yet standing before us, wide eyed and clearly attracted to her mates, just as we were affected by her, she was afraid of us

Our little mate seemed to be a force all her own, strong and stubborn and a little wild. But now, seeing her vulnerable, her eyes haunted, her small body weak, every protective instinct I had roared to life.

Maxim growled and she stepped back. She didn’t look afraid, but probably remembered the protocols with Prillon warriors. No one came between a warrior and his mate

Rage boiled on a low simmer in my body, but Maxim’s reaction was telling. He was always calm, always in control. He knew, as well as I did, that the warden was no threat to our mate. As I suspected, Rachel’s curves, her nearness, her scent, were pushing Maxim to the edge

Maxim slowly shook his head. “I am sorry, mate. But I just found you. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t stand by and allow you to risk your life.”

Combined with what I knew Maxim must be feeling, I had no doubt our volatile little mate would be overwhelmed