Her Viken Mates(40)

“Such bullshit.” Enough. Two out of three of my mates were assholes.

Wait. I stopped in my tracks, a huge lightbulb going off. Evon was protecting Thalia. Rager was fucking Thalia. Did that mean they were in on the scheme to frame Liam? Were they helping Thalia? Were they both working with her? Were they transporting stolen goods? I hadn’t seen the footage where the poor guard they’d mentioned was murdered, but had Rager or Evon been the ones to do it? Oh god. Was I mated to murderers?

What about Liam? He was being framed for all this, and if the truth didn’t come out, he was going to be executed. But Evon had made me turn off the monitors, walked away from the truth. When it was before him in full color, he turned his back.

But what about my other mate? Liam was innocent, being set up by his two closest friends. Close enough that they decided to share a mate. So far, Liam was perfect. Perfect for me.

Shaking my head, I ran my fingers along the smooth wall as I walked. I’d thought the other two perfect as well, but look where that got me. Wandering the damn halls.

No. I wasn’t going to wander any longer. I didn’t need to. I didn’t need these mates. I had thirty days. Or twenty-nine, now. Whatever. By Interstellar Brides rules, I could refuse the mates they’d matched me to and I’d be matched to someone new.

It took me less than a day to be matched and transported halfway across the galaxy. I could be somewhere else on Viken before dinner.

Good. I stood still, looked around, trying to remember the layout of this station on the maps I’d seen earlier. My mind settled and the image of the grids of rooms and hallways, sections and stations appeared like magic.

At least my brain was still working. My heart hurt, had trusted this alien mating system, had thrown years of caution to the wind and believed.

No more. I figured out where the testing center was in relation to where I wandered and tried to keep my pace steady and measured as I made my way there.

The door slid open and a Viken man wearing the same burgundy and dark gray I’d seen on Warden Egara looked up from where he sat at his desk. He was older, perhaps sixty. The Interstellar Brides Program logo was on his chest and his eyes were kind. He reminded me of an old country doctor, the kind that held his patient’s hands and gave lollipops to toddlers. He had a mild demeanor and a kind smile. I had to imagine he was good at making nervous warriors comfortable.

“I’m Warden Vora. You are the mate from Earth, arrived yesterday. Isabella Martinez.” He stood up and bowed at the waist as he greeted me. “How may I assist you?”

The Viken was of similar size to my mates—no, they weren’t my mates anymore. Looking around, I spotted the testing chair, identical to the one I’d sat in on Earth.

“I am here to exert my rights as a new bride. It hasn’t been thirty days yet and I’d like new mates.”

His graying eyebrows went up at my request.

“New mates? But, you already have three.”

I nodded once. “Yes, I’m well aware of the number of men I was matched to. Trust me. But they aren’t a good fit for me. Your system made a mistake. I need new ones,” I repeated, not backing down one bit. I’d read the damn brochure, signed the stacks of paper. I knew my rights. I was supposed to give my mates thirty days to woo me, but they’d managed to blow this in one. Twenty-nine more was unacceptable.

The man began to wring his hands. “You are the first mate at the IQC that has encountered this problem.”

I took a step farther into the room so the door slid closed behind me. “It’s not a problem. It’s a rule. If I do not wish to keep my mates within the first thirty days, I can request a new match.”

God, was I going to get three new mates? Did I want less? Would I be satisfied with the attentions of a single man now that I’d had three?

The answer, I knew, was no. In less than a day, my new mates had ruined me. But there had to be other Viken trios looking for a bride. Vikens who weren’t saboteurs, liars and murderers. Men who didn’t cheat on their mates in the shower with tall blonde women with big tits and long legs—long, long legs. Much longer than mine.

“Have you been officially claimed? I can’t arrange new mates if you belong to others.”

I felt my cheeks heat, remembering all the things I’d done with my men. It had been dark and dirty, carnal and hot. Wild. But it also had been more. I’d felt a connection and I wasn’t thinking of the stupid seed power or even love. No, it was a bond that went deep. I’d thought the match perfect. But no. All I’d been was used. I’d begged them to take me together, to claim me, and they’d told me no. It was too soon. They’d played it like they were protecting me from a rushed decision, from a lifelong commitment made in the heat of the moment. And here I stood, grateful that they hadn’t given me what I wanted.