“I never wanted anyone before.” Sad, but true. I’d never felt like his. Hot and wet and achy.
“Good,” he whispered. “You’re mine, and I don’t share.”
That was just fine with me. Closing my eyes, I reached for him, trying to bury my hands in his hair and pull him closer. But as hard as I tried, I couldn’t seem to find a grip. It was like he faded, my hands closing around empty air.
He pulled back and I felt cold. Alone.
“Come back,” I pleaded.
“You are a virgin?” he asked. While he no longer touched me, I heard the need in his voice. I’d made him sound that way. Me!
“Yes.” I nodded my head and my hair fell over my cheek. I heard tears in my voice, not sad or angry tears, but love and happiness filled this body so full it hurt. Somehow, I knew him, knew he was mine. Somehow, I knew he loved me, really, really loved me. The tears were like my heart leaking onto my face.
“Do you want me to be your first?” I could no longer see him, but his voice whispered over me from right behind my ear.
“Yes.”
“Will you accept my claim? And claim me as your mate in return? Forever?”
“Yes,” I repeated. I didn’t know him, but somehow, this body did. I felt like I was someone else, someone magical and powerful, someone not so afraid of being a failure in bed. If he made me feel this good from just a kiss, what would it be like when he touched me in earnest? What would it feel like to have his hard, hot body, his skin, pressed to mine? His cock inside me? His mouth claiming mine as he thrust into me slowly, taking his time, our hands entwined.
Every romantic notion I’d ever had was flooding my mind and I knew he’d give them to me. He was the one. He was going to make me happy. So happy.
“Dream of me.” His voice faded to little more than a whisper and I tried to hold on, but the dream slipped away like water through my fingers.
Dream of me.
My eyes opened then and I took in my surroundings, blinking. It took a few moments for my brain to kick back in gear, to realize none of it hadn’t been real. The man. The kiss. Nothing.
My cheeks were wet, and I realized I’d actually been crying. Now they fell for a different reason. Loss. I was bereft. Empty. Back to my cold, calm center that so far, nothing had breached. Nothing but him.
I was in the Interstellar Brides Processing center. The testing room was small, utilitarian, with a table and chairs, looking more like a drab doctor’s exam room than a space-age matching facility. It was the testing unit I sat in that stirred my memory. My wrists were restrained to the metal arms of a chair not much different than the one I sat in at the dentist.
Still, the restraints bothered me. I knew women convicts could volunteer to be brides. Perhaps the restraints were required since they were prisoners when they arrived. Maybe they tried to break free from here. Maybe, they were just violent or mean and the testing program didn’t want to take any chances.
But I wasn’t a convict. Me? I hadn’t even stolen a pack of gum from the corner store in junior high like my stupid friends. I didn’t cheat on tests or lie to my mother. I was boring and sad and pathetic and so lonely I could barely function. The warden had said the cuffs were for my safety. When she strapped me in, I worried about how dangerous the testing would be. But then she walked away from me with a smile and ran her finger over that tablet and I remembered nothing else.
That dream wasn’t dangerous. Dangerous to my virginity, maybe. My ovaries were certainly awake now.
I shimmied in the curved seat, but I wasn’t going anywhere. It was curved and angled back as if I were going to get a cavity filled, not be matched to an alien mate.
“Are you okay, Alexis?”
Thankfully, the warden had her name on her uniform to help me remember. Egara. She was quite nice, especially considering the Interstellar Brides Program was so streamlined and efficient. Even a tad militaristic. But she’d eased my mind, made me feel good about my decision to be tested. The ads I’d seen on TV promoting the program showed women happily mated to aliens from other planets. The love on their faces—and the obvious well-fucked glow about them—had piqued my interest, but I hadn’t done anything about it. Until now. Until I had absolutely nothing left to lose.
Now, I was ready. My dad was dead, my mom had been gone for two years and my Golden Retriever, Rosie, got freaking bone cancer a week after my dad passed and I lost her, too. My best friend since I was eleven, that dog listened to more crying and horrible pop music than any animal ever. But she’d stayed by my side, slept in my bed when I was home, and kept me company at my dad’s bedside when no one else was around.