Her Mate's Secret Baby:Interstellar Brides, Book 9(15)

"Mmm," I murmured, thinking of what the Drovers had done to me. That was  nothing compared to what I felt now. Out of control. Frustrated. The  pain was lessening with whatever the doctors were doing, but it wouldn't  soothe the need to search every corner of the planet for Natalie. "They  did not attack as usual."

"They kept you alive, you mean?" Commander Loris asked.

"Exactly. It is not their usual behavior. Why did they not just kill me with the others?"

Seton cleared his throat. "There have been a number of cases in the  North, Councilor, where they have taken high-ranking officials and  tribal leaders and demanded a ransom."

"And did they demand a ransom for me?"

"No. It's safe to assume they didn't realize who you were when they took you."

I dropped my head back onto the stretcher and closed my eyes. "They would never release a councilor."

"Exactly." Seton's hand landed on my shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "You'd be too dangerous an enemy."

If they'd touched Natalie, if they'd hurt her, they had no idea how terrible an enemy I'd become.

"Where is my mate, Seton?"

"As soon as you were cleared from the transport pad, I sent a group of  guards to Outpost Two." He looked away for a moment, then back. "It's  only been an hour, but they are reporting back complete carnage, as you  know. Typical Drover actions. They have yet to find any survivors."         

     



 

"My mate was there."

His cool demeanor slipped, his eyes widened. I watched as his jaw clenched. "What does she look like?"

"She is beautiful." With my eyes still closed it was easy to picture  her, as I'd been doing during my captivity. "Golden hair and pale eyes,  like yours, but blue." The bluest eyes, the softest smile, lush curves,  pert nipples adorned with little rings, a pink pussy.

"I'll find her." Seton patted my shoulder as the doctor stepped forward  and I opened my eyes to look at him, to judge the veracity of his vow.  He meant what he said, and I nodded. He was a good man. A good friend.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but we need to get you into the ReGeneration Pod. You're bleeding internally, sir."

Fark.

"You're no good to your mate, or your people, if you're dead," the doctor insisted.

Gods damn all doctors for stating the obvious and being asses about it.

"I'm sorry, Councilor." The commander cleared his throat, his hand to  his ear as if he were actively listening to an incoming message. He  started to speak, stuttered, as if the next words were getting stuck.  "I … They said they've found a woman dead in the transport center." He  cleared his throat again but did not tell me anything more.

"How do I know it's her?"

Commander Loris walked to the side of the room, mumbling too low for me  to hear. I waved the doctor off when he moved forward, the intensity of  my glare enough to inform him that I wasn't going into the healing pod,  not yet.

The commander stepped toward us again, his expression more grim than  just a moment ago. "Councilor." He swallowed slowly, the slow movement  of his throat and refusal to meet my gaze caused my pulse to pound in  alarm. "They also found a cream-colored dress coated with blood."

My heart skipped a beat, then roared in my chest. Natalie. Natalie had  been wearing that dress when we walked out of Mirana, looking beautiful  and flushed, her skin glowing with health, her eyes dancing with  happiness. No. Gods no.

"How did she die?" My voice cracked and fire burned in my eyes. I would  kill them all. Every fucking Drover on the entire southern continent.  The commander's gaze was filled with pity, which only served to make me  angrier. "How. Did. She. Die?"

He glanced at Seton, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Stabbed in the back, sir."

My vision became fuzzy and the doctor yelled with alarm. "Get him into the Pod! Now! Or we're going to lose him."

Seton assisted the medical staff as they lifted me from the stretcher  into the ReGen Pod. The commander followed alongside us, pausing,  listening to a voice coming through his communication device. "They've  completed their search of Outpost Two."

"And?" Seton turned to him. Everyone stopped moving as the commander  took a deep breath. My gaze drifted over the medical staff, Seton and  the doctor as the commander tried to find the words we all already knew.

"Nothing but bodies, sir. I'm sorry. The sand and the flesh beetles have  made it nearly impossible to identify the victims without DNA analysis.  But the search crews say it won't matter, Councilor. I'm sorry. If your  mate was at Outpost Two, she's dead."

Dead. My Natalie. My beautiful mate. Her body eaten away by the  scavengers of the desert, the large, orange beetles that could pick a  nox's bones clean in a matter of days.

"No!" I bellowed, trying to sit up, then hissing in pain. Alarms sounded and the doctor cursed.

"Calm down, sir. You're bleeding heavily. Your heart can't take much more."

One of the others, a medical assistant in green, stepped forward. "He's bottoming out, Doctor. His heart is going to stop."

"Fark, Roark! Hold still!" Seton shouted at me and I relented because my  body betrayed me, too weak to support my rage. Seton took full  advantage, turning to the doctor. "Activate the pod now." He turned back  to me, his pale eyes blazing with emotions I did not have the presence  of mind, nor the concern, to name. "We'll make them pay, Roark. I  promise you. But you can't hunt your mate's killers if you're dead."

"Do it." I stopped fighting, let the rage turn cold and hard inside me as I held the doctor's gaze. "Twelve hours."

"But, sir. My apologies. I highly recommend you remain in the pod for a  full cycle. Your wounds are extensive." The doctor wrung his hands and I  shook my head.

"No. Twelve hours. No more." Twelve hours and I would return to Outpost  Two with a thousand men, and rain fire down on the Drovers until the  ache in my heart eased, or until I was dead.         

     



 

Multiple sets of hands had transferred me to the soft, cocoon-like  structure to be healed. I watched as the walls came up all around me,  sealing me inside a ReGen Pod. The doctor's concerned face was clearly  visible through the odd blue glass above my face. He adjusted the  controls on the side of the pod as the doctor began the healing cycle.

"Natalie." I spoke her name softly, reverently, like my own personal  prayer. I was sure they all could see the anguish in my eyes.

Seton leaned forward so I could see his face through the glass. "I will  transport to Outpost Two myself and search for her while you recover.  You have my word that all efforts will be made to find out exactly what  happened."

"Leave him be. He needs to heal, and he's already fighting the pod." The  doctor nudged Seton out of my view and I stared, unseeing, straight  ahead. Pale yellow lights surrounded me and I knew I would be rendered  unconscious for the healing in a matter of seconds.

I looked to Commander Loris, thoughts and orders spinning in my mind.  Where to search. Who to take. Weapons procurements. Hunting grids. I  opened my mouth to issue the orders, but the only word that came from my  lips before the pod took over my body's energies was her name.





***





Natalie



The constant, electrical hum of the baby monitor on the kitchen counter  was both comfort and distraction as I polished off the grilled cheese  and tomato soup the cook had prepared for lunch. I sat in the kitchen at  a small, round table where the servants came and went, stopping for a  quick bite and a bit of gossip. It was the same table where I'd eaten  most meals as a child, more orphan than Montgomery, sent to the country  when I came home from school so as not to interfere with their parties  and schedules in the city.

Although, they did usually send for me at Christmas, dress me up like a  princess and parade me through a string of children's parties with fat,  rosy-cheeked Santas with the other rich, pampered children.

I'd looked at each of those children in turn and wondered if their lives  were like mine. If their parents actually cared, or if they, like me,  were simply ornaments to be displayed at certain times of year.

"Stop it." I spoke the order to myself and glanced at the monitor. My  little one still slept, his normal two-hour nap the only time I had to  do anything for myself. I refused to allow the staff to care for him, to  hold him, feed him or bathe him. He was mine and he was loved.

And he was going to feel that love every moment of every day of his  life. I was going to be the one constant in his life. He would never  wonder about his parent's love as I had. He might only have one, but I  had enough love for him.

With a sigh, I stood and carried my plate and empty bowl to the giant  white porcelain sink. Susan, the cook, nodded her thanks from where she  stirred tonight's supper, a delicious-smelling, homemade, chicken noodle  soup.