Mistake or not, family was family. This was the only way I could help my brother. My body and my life were all I had left of value. I wasn’t rich, but I was young and fertile and unattached. Hell, uninspired was more like it. I’d had three lovers in five years, and none of them had made me come as hard as I just had… from a neural simulation. From another woman’s memories.
Oh, God. I wanted one of those big, deep voices behind me. I wanted a huge hand wrapped and resting on my throat with a hot tongue stroking my clit. I wanted to be held in place as someone fucked me from behind. I wanted…
My monitor beeped and I blushed, knowing it was reading the increase in my heart rate as I relived everything that had just happened to me. No, it hadn’t happened to me, but to her. The other woman. The one Warden Egara had sent to Prillon. The one who had been claimed by a warrior. A big, strong warrior with a huge cock. Her primary mate. Whatever that meant.
“So, is that where I’ve been matched? To that woman’s planet?”
Warden Egara nodded curtly. “Yes. To a warrior of Prillon Prime.”
Prillon Prime? I’d been matched to Prillon Prime? The planet inhabited by the hulking warrior race? The program’s brochures had said that Prillon warriors actually requested brides while still in active military service. They were one of only three races that kept their brides with them on battleships. In space. On the front lines of the war between the biological races and the Hive, the artificial lifeforms and cyborg races trying to take over the universe. That war had finally come to Earth, and the coalition had accepted Earth under their protection, on one very strict condition.
Brides. A thousand a year. Most of Earth’s brides came from the criminal justice system. Earth’s politicians were not opposed to sacrificing criminals to fill the alien bride quota, but here I was, a volunteer hoping I hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of my life.
I remembered reading that the Prillon males were supremely confident in their warriors’ abilities to care for their mates. Anywhere. Prillon warriors never shied away from battle and were the most feared race in the Interstellar Coalition. They were on the front lines of the war, and their commanders were in charge of the entire interstellar fleet.
Holy shit. I wasn’t going to a planet! I was going to go live on a spaceship in the middle of nowhere where they actually fought other spaceships? Or cyborgs. Or whatever! The heart rate monitor began beeping once again and this time it wasn’t arousal I was feeling. It was panic.
I shook my head. Once, twice. “No. There must be some mistake.”
“No mistake.” She scowled at me. “Your match is estimated at ninety-nine percent compatibility.”
“But…” I wanted to go to Forsia, or to the twin worlds of Ania and Axion, where they lived in cities surrounded by restaurants, parties, and opulence. I didn’t want to go to a warship in space.
“Quiet.” The word was bitten off as she hissed at me like an irritated cat. “It is done, the match complete. You already signed. Your family has been compensated, as you requested. Unless you wish to return the funds, you will honor your legal obligation to the program. You chose the matching protocol. You must abide by the results.”
Warden Egara was nice enough, in her twenties and even pretty, if a bit brusque. I understood. The woman at the front desk told me that they didn’t get many volunteers. Most of the women Warden Egara processed were convicted criminals whose only two choices were either enter the Interstellar Bride Program or serve hard time in prison.
“Hmm. I believe I will add this outburst to your bride data. Your new mate should be warned of your impertinence.”
My eyes widened and my mouth fell open.
“Just a minute! I never agreed to that.” Impatient, I yanked at a couple of sticky pads attached to my temples and grimaced as they snagged on my long black hair. I handed them to the assistant, who finished unhooking me from the rest of it and left the room. Warden Egara must have realized that I was about to shove that tablet up her ass, for she held out her hand in a placating gesture.
“All right, Miss Johnson. I will delete that from your profile.” She tapped the screen again and frowned. Her long hair was pulled into a tight bun and the strain on her skin made her look even more severe. “Now, for the record, state your name.”
I took a deep breath, let it out. “Hannah Johnson.”
“Miss Johnson, are you now, or have you ever been married?”
“No.”
“Do you have any biological offspring?”
“No.” I rolled my eyes. They’d already asked me this. I’d signed this shit in triplicate and I was sure it was listed on her tablet.