Mated to the Beast(11)

My commander’s hand held me back from breaking things. “Doctor Rone, this Atlan obviously has the mating fever upon him and there is no time for him to travel to the home planet to find an alternate.”

My body was vibrating with the need to destroy something, to punch something, and the doctor studied me with an intensity and intelligence in her eyes I found disconcerting, as if she could see into my soul. Commander Deek continued when she remained silent.

“He needs his mate to soothe the fever, to ease the obvious… intensity of it. Transport him to her location immediately. He must claim her, or he will die.”

The doctor looked at me, then the commander. “It is against protocol to transport an Atlan warrior with mating fever to another battle group. You could wipe out an entire squad before they killed you.”

I growled deep in my chest and took a step toward her. “Send me to her now. She is mine.”

The doctor actually chuckled. “No, she’s not. She belongs to the Battlegroup Karter for the next…” she looked down at her tablet quickly then back up to meet my gaze, “…twenty-one months.”

Commander Deek stepped in front of me and pushed me back, once, then twice. He was as big as I was, hulking over the doctor. He was also one of the only ones I’d allow to shove me without killing them, especially now when I fought the murderous rage that knowing my mate was in danger roused.

“There is an alternative, a loophole you could use to claim her.”

He snarled at the woman over his shoulder. “Stop torturing the man and tell him what to do.”

She nodded. “Big, growly males don’t scare me, Commander Deek.” She raised a brow as if for emphasis before putting me out of my misery. “Per coalition regulations, if she agrees to become your mate, she can request a transfer back to the bride program immediately. She would be released from all military obligations at once.”

Finally, the female talked sense. My mating fever could be used to terminate my military service, if I chose to follow Atlan tradition. For my mate, volunteering for the bride program would do the same.

“Good. Send me to her. Now.”

I wasn’t happy with this turn of events, but I could still claim my mate. The way I felt, it would not be a hardship to travel to her sector and kill some Hive while I retrieved my mate. Then I’d punish her for putting herself in danger.

“Do you have her exact coordinates?” I asked, staring at the doctor over my commander’s shoulder. I wondered if she would lie to me, relieved when she did not.

“I do.”

All coalition citizens were tracked at all times.

“Transport me there. Now.”

“You’ll need your cuffs.” The medical assistant came over and held out the cuffs for me, then changed his mind and gave them to the doctor before scurrying away. These were the mating cuffs, the last thing I wanted to wear. Besides being an outward—and obvious—sign that an Atlan was mated, it helped the Atlan males build their mating bond by ensuring close contact with their chosen female. Once I got the cuffs on her wrists, she wouldn’t be able to go more than a hundred paces from my side until the fever was ended.

Up until an hour ago, I’d dreaded the stupid things, never interested in being mated myself or controlled in any way by the cuffs’ technology. Now, everything had changed. Had they done something to me when I’d been asleep? Why did I now desperately need to go and find the one female who was matched to me, pull her from harm’s way, and then turn her ass a fiery shade of red so she knew who was in charge of her safety… and so many other things?

I reached out and grabbed the cuffs, putting them on myself. They were a thick band of gold from the deepest mines on Atlan and had a thin strip of sensors on the insides that remained in contact with my body. They constantly monitored my physical health as well as provided a means of communication with the Atlan systems necessary for transport, purchasing goods, transfer of titles, and every other aspect of mated life, if I chose to continue to wear them after the fever was alleviated. More important, they offered some level of relief from the mating fever, for putting the cuffs about my wrist was proof that I had a chosen female. I was probably the only Atlan in the history of our world who had to hunt down his mate where she fought the Hive on the front lines.

She would be a legend before we even reached the home world. Our females did not fight. Ever.

That made me wonder. What kind of female was I about to be tangled with? The idea of a warrior bride should have made me cringe; instead I imagined her in the heat of battle with fire in her eyes and a female cry of rage that would closely mimic the sound she would make as I made her scream her pleasure while riding my cock. I wanted that fearless fire, that fury, directed at me so I could hold her down and let her buck and writhe and beg for release.