Mated To The Vikens (Interstellar Brides Book 8)(8)

He frowned and I had to tilt my chin back slightly to watch as he paced. For a killer, he seemed really nervous about it. That played in my favor. I wouldn’t remain on the floor just waiting for him to kill me.

I looked down, shocked to see that I now wore a dress. Was this part of the bride processing? The gown was long sleeved and the hem, when I stood, would fall to my ankles. The cut was simple but flattering, fitting snugly to my small breasts and flared at the hips to emphasize a woman’s body. The color was a plain blue, but the fabric was soft as silk and clung to every curve.

Not exactly commando gear.

I wiggled my toes inside soft, leather slippers and wished I had steel-toed boots to kick this guy in the balls.

Lying like the dead, I watched him from beneath my lashes as he paced, looked at me, looked away. He laughed maniacally as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. If he was a typical Viken man, then they looked pretty much like men on Earth. He was a little bigger than the men I knew, but I didn’t know if that was a Viken thing or if he was just big.

“Stupid fucking transport codes. Not the fucking queen,” he mumbled to himself.

With the vibrations, the bright yellow light and other man gone, I was positive I was in some sort of transport center, although the room looked old and long forgotten, paint peeling and malfunctioning lights at odd intervals along the gray walls. The room was tiny. The transport pad looked big enough to hold three or four people and the only door in or out was to my left.

I waited for the ensign to turn away from me. I leapt to my feet, making a run for it, hoping I had surprise on my side.

I gripped the door’s handle and pushed. Relief flooded me as the door opened and I raced outside. My dress tangled around my ankles and I stumbled, taking two short steps before the guy grabbed me from behind.

“Get back here!” he snarled, spinning me around.

I faced him, feeling like a toddler as he towered over me. His grip on my arm tightened and he cursed.

“Gods be damned, you’re so fucking small. I don’t want to do this.”

Small? Sure, I was five-two without heels, but I wasn’t going to debate with him if he didn’t want to kill me.

“Then don’t. Just let me go. I won’t say anything. I promise.” My heart was in my throat.

His dark eyes were frantic and I could tell he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. I’d met enough of Corelli’s enforcers to recognize fear when I saw it. He was more like one of the Corelli family’s new recruits, young and wet behind the ears. But often, those were the most dangerous because they’d been backed into a corner with no way out.

He shook his head, debating what to do. “I’d be a dead man if they found out.”

“No one will ever know. I swear.”

He studied me, his grip painful. “Who are you? Who’s coming for you?”

“No one.” At least, no one I knew. Warden Egara had promised me that I was being sent to three Viken mates, but I had no idea if they would even know anything had happened to me.

“You were transporting to Viken United. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re a bride. A fucking Interstellar Bride.”

My eyes widened when he spat the truth and I shook my head, trying to think of a lie, anything to get him to let me go.

“Don’t bother with your lies.” He reached behind him with his free hand and pulled out a gun. Yes, it was a gun. A space gun, but I’d seen enough to know. It was shiny metal, bright like silver. It was small, too small, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t powerful. I didn’t see a place for bullets, but dead was dead, bullet or not. “You’re a bride. Gods be damned. Who’s coming for you?”

“I don’t know,” I repeated, my voice rising in my panic.

He snarled at me. “Fuck. Your mate will probably bring an entire fucking squadron to hunt me down.”

I shook my head. “No. I’ve never even met him.” I wasn’t going to tell him I had three mates.

“Shut up.” Sweat dripped from his brow to his cheek and the veins at his temples bulged just under his skin. He was afraid, and that wasn’t good for my odds of survival. “It doesn’t fucking matter. Don’t you get it? He’ll come for you. A fucking warrior’s bride.”

I tugged on my arm, trying to break free. “Let me go!” I shouted.

“He’ll come for you, all right. And fucking rip me in half.” His grip tightened until I cried out in pain, worried he’d break one of the bones in my arm, or dislocate a shoulder. “Fucking bride. How did this happen? I’m doomed. Fucking doomed!”