Grace Goodwin - Mating Fever

We were hunting their Core communication units, the Nexus Units. A few days ago, we’d almost had one. But our intel was bad. They were guarded by a full dozen Hive Soldier class warriors, big, strong bastards that were hard to kill. The last op had almost killed me, and the Soldier unit had taken out the rest of the warriors assigned to the Op before I could do anything to stop them. We’d managed to get to one of the smaller Nexus creatures. Killed him. But his communications unit had been fried. Worthless. Three dead Coalition warriors…and all for nothing.

I couldn’t live with that, which was why I was going back down there. Tomorrow. The I.C., or Intelligence Core, the elite Coalition minds that ran the intelligence arm of this war, were assigning me a team of five highly trained killers to take into that canyon tomorrow. This time, I wouldn’t fail. My last mission would not be a failure. I’d hear my mother’s disapproving voice in my head forever if I walked away now. “ Why can’t you be tough, like your brothers?” and “ Stop your crying, little bitch. You sound like a girl. ” And my personal favorite, “ Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you never shoulda been born into this family.”

The doctor circled me as the memories flooded my mind. Not of rough hands and desire, but of slaps across the face when my mother was drunk, and words that cut so deep I didn’t think my heart would ever stop bleeding.

My dad was a big, powerful black man, fierce and protective. He’d loved us all, when he was home, and I’d loved him with a fierceness that still filled my spine with steel. My mother had been better then, happy. But he died when I was nine and she never recovered, started drinking whiskey like it was water, and the more she drank, the meaner she got. My dad was dead. Had been for a long time. My brothers were tough assholes, still on Earth, still serving their country. I had no idea where they were now. Afghanistan? Syria? Africa? Hell, they could be shitting ice in Antarctica for all I knew. I got a message from my youngest brother about twice a year, letting me know they were all still alive. Even Shirley. Shirley Simmons. “Mother” was not a word I liked to use these days and he knew that.

I surrounded myself with strength. Tough men. Thick armor. Powerful weapons. I trained to keep both my mind and my body strong. I was almost six-foot tall. I wasn’t used to feeling small or vulnerable, but sitting in this damn chair made me feel like a child-sized doll. I was several inches taller than the average woman on Earth, but here? Here I was like a toddler sitting at the grownup table swinging two feet that didn’t reach the floor.

Fortunately, the commanders in the Coalition Fleet knew how to take advantage of my size and stealth. And my team’s mission tomorrow was proof of that. Sometimes, it was better to be the scorpion than the lion. Small but deadly. That was my motto. Hell, that was pretty much the motto of all humans out here in deep space. We weren’t as big as some of the alien races, but we were mean as fuck when we had to be. It was a matter of pride. To me, it was my personal mission.

“Are you with me, Megan?” The doctor leaned over, shining one of those stupid bright lights right into my eyes and I winced. Too bright.

“Unfortunately.” I wanted that big man, his huge cock. I wanted to feel beautiful and feminine and desired. Instead, I had one more mission, one more op wearing that heavy armor and helmet, coated in grime, killing things. One. More.

Embrace the suck.

That was practically my family motto, and I’d learned it well. Those three words got me through grueling hours of training, pain, and being stranded in hostile territory more than once in the last two years. I’d been cold, hot, starving, coated in sweat, blood, and every other body fluid I could imagine, and some I never dreamed of until I came out here into space. Outer fucking space. When I stopped to think about the fact that I was floating in a tin can in a galaxy far, far away, I still freaked. So, I tried not to think about it.

The doctor clicked off the penlight and I could see again. I looked up into her face in time to see her nod with a smile. “Good. I didn’t want to have to inject you with neural stimulants.”

She held up a small green cylinder I knew from previous experience could sting worse than any needle back home. Sure, there was no needle. But that just meant they forced the substance through your skin with something else. I didn’t know how they worked. Didn’t want to know. “No thanks. Keep that thing away from me.”

The doctor chuckled and handed off the cylinder to an assistant who took the dosing unit and hurried away like he was intruding on a highly personal conversation. Which he was. And that thought brought me back to reality faster than anything else. I was very much awake now. No dream guy. No dream cock. No taunting or teasing or edging. No incredible orgasm.

I was in the brides testing room in the medical wing of the Battleship Karter. Damn. I very much preferred to be back in fantasyland with a very dominant male who knew what to do with his hands, and his cock. It had been far, far too long since I had anything besides my fingers between my legs.

“Did I scream?” I could feel my cheeks heat. “Please, tell me I didn’t scream.” I’d kill myself with my own ion blaster if the males in the medical floor heard me screaming with an orgasm based on a dream.

“You didn’t scream.” She grinned then and gave me a conspiratorial wink. “I’ve never been tested, but every bride who has always has a very arousing experience.”

She was a few years older than me. She might not have been tested through the Brides Program like I just had, but with the gold cuffs about her wrists, she was obviously mated to an Atlan, so she knew quite a bit about bossy Atlan males. And big cocks. And, based on my dream, on the cuffs I’d worn, and the giant-sized man fucking my brains out, I was going to be matched to both.

The thought of an Atlan mate made me shiver and my pussy clenched as heat flooded me. I should be surprised that my deepest self would want one of those huge, brutal warriors, but somehow I wasn’t. Over the past two years of fighting alongside the Coalition forces, I’d encountered many Atlans and they were all over the top. Dominant. Controlling. Annoying. They had nothing against females, weren’t disrespectful or chauvinistic. The opposite, in fact. They just took alpha male to the extreme. Protective. Demanding. Merciless.

I shivered, tingles running over my skin at that one word. Merciless. They showed no mercy to their enemies. And I was shocked to discover, I wanted none in bed.

Megan

So, maybe my deepest, darkest desire was to have a dominant, demanding lover. Fine. But the rest of the time? The Atlans could take their overbearing, arrogant stomping around on this ship and save it for someone who jumped when they growled. In other words, not me.

One in particular made me wish I had Atlan strength so I could just rip his head off. Warlord Nyko. If Doctor Moor’s mate was anything like the pain-in-the-ass warrior who liked to push every one of my damn buttons, it was a wonder she hadn’t killed him in his sleep. Maybe she had and that was why she was smiling and had such a pleasing disposition.

I was in the testing chair wearing full armor. I was thankful the heavy armor hid my hardened nipples. I’d heard women who were tested on Earth had to wear a hospital gown. As if I was going to do that.