But leaning on Nyko had felt good. And I was so damn tired.
Rubbing my head, I realized the pain was gone. Thank god.
“You had quite a headache.” Doctor Moor arched her brows in question, but I wasn’t at liberty to tell her anything, so I shrugged, looking around for the one man I should be trying to forget. “Warlord Nyko brought you here.”
Nyko moved to stand beside the doctor and everything in me settled as if the world had just been set to rights. He was still a beast, his ice-blue eyes focused on me like lasers. He loomed over the doctor and me as his gaze raked over my body, his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths. He still wore his armor as well, and from the looks of his features, he was in full-blown Mating Fever, no going back. He’d have to take a mate now, or die. I wondered what woman he would choose, and then hated myself for even thinking the question. It wouldn’t be me. That was the only thing I needed to know.
“Pain?” he asked, his voice overly loud, as if he couldn’t control it.
Doctor Moor sighed, turning on him to push him back. He let her, which was a relief. He was still in there somewhere, my Nyko. “Warlord, I allowed you to remain here to await the results of the testing. However, if you can’t control yourself, I will not hesitate to call in the guards and have you sent to the brig until your match is complete and your bride has arrived.”
Nyko growled, but didn’t look contrite. Testing? Match? Why did my heart twist in my chest with those words? I’d done the exact same thing not that long ago. I knew he was in Mating Fever. I knew all about the Atlans and their beasts, about how they lost control and had to be killed if they didn’t find their mate. I also knew an Atlan this close to the edge was put through the Interstellar Brides Processing Program whether they wished it or not. It was standard operating procedure on all battleships that housed Atlan Warlords. Standard operating procedure. He didn’t have a choice. And Commander Karter was one hard-ass Prillon warrior, running a battlegroup in one of the deadliest sectors of space. He didn’t take shit from anyone, especially not a beast barely holding on to his sanity.
Nyko raised his hand and motioned someone forward. One of the medical staff hurried to me carrying a tray loaded with food and my mouth watered. It was all my favorites. A hot Philly-Cheesesteak with fries drowning in ketchup, BBQ potato chips and chocolate milk.
Shocked, and a little unnerved, I looked up at Nyko. “How?” I lifted the sandwich and took a huge bite, talking around the mouthful. “How did you know?”
My eyes nearly rolled back into my head as I bit down on a fry. “Oh my God. I could kiss you right now.”
“Two years. Same food. I watch.” Nyko grunted, his arms crossed, but I could see by the pleased gleam in his eyes that he was satisfied with my reaction. It felt a bit odd, stuffing my face with the Doctor and Nyko watching like I was the side-show at the circus, but I didn’t care. I was starving. And he was right. I ate this exact same thing at least three days a week.
When there was nothing left, I leaned back, feeling better than I had in days. “Thank you.”
“You need food.” That was my beast, talking in complete sentences. I grinned at him, unable to resent him watching out for me. The usual piss and vinegar I felt when someone got in my personal space was just…gone. My personal space was all about Nyko—and letting him get up in there. A hot fucking beast who could never be mine.
“So, you’re being matched?” I asked.
I looked at Nyko’s broad shoulders, his lips, remembering what we’d done the night before and my pussy clenched, wanting more. I realized it wasn’t sore any longer, probably healed as part of the pod’s work and I missed the ache. It made me feel like I belonged to someone. And even though I knew it was stupid, I wanted some remnant of our night together. But it wasn’t to be. I guess for a one-night stand it had been amazing. Incredible. But it was over. Obviously, if he’d been put through the brides program testing. And then I saw them, the cuffs hanging from a loop on his armored thigh. Four cuffs, two large and two small, the intricate swirls and geometric designs almost hypnotic in their beauty. Wondered where he’d been keeping them. I knew they would be special, the mark of his family line, and I wondered if he had family. I hoped he did, and I really, really hoped they were better than mine.
A wave of jealousy washed over me for a woman who was out there somewhere. A woman who’d been tested and matched to him. His mate.
The word was like acid in my chest and a sharp pain stabbed my heart, made bile rise in my throat.