That meant he would be fucking someone else, dammit. I walked toward the door, not wanting to linger any longer. It would only hurt. I was almost out of the medical station when the doctor called me back.
“Speaking of matches, Megan, don’t you want to know who you were matched to?”
I turned at the doctor’s words, glanced at Nyko, nerves making me wish the floor would swallow me whole. “No. Not yet.” I shook my head at the doctor, willing her to understand the absolute awkwardness of this situation. “You can tell me later.”
She gave a slight laugh. “No. No, I really can’t. Congratulations, Miss Simmons.”
I hadn’t been called a Miss in two years. It sounded odd. It sounded like Earth.
I looked up at Nyko, who stood just as wild and barely constrained as he had since he stormed into the cave. He was going to have his own match, his own mate. Swiftly, I imagined. Surely his results would be pushed through quickly so he wouldn’t have to be executed. No one wanted to kill a skilled Warlord because of Mating Fever.
“Fine.” I clutched the pack close and waited to hear the name of my matched mate, trying to imagine what it would be like to have a man of my own, one who was perfectly matched, who wanted me just the way I was. Who I would lust after and desire, who would desire me with equal need.
I didn’t really care who this mystery man was at the moment, not when my body still ached for Nyko. Why did my heart feel like it was breaking as I nodded to the doctor and waited?
Nyko’s roar of rage made me jump. I turned to see three medical officers had rushed to him, trying to block his way…to me.
“Warlord, calm your beast. Now.” The doctor’s voice boomed.
“Mine,” he growled, his eyes intense and focused on me.
“Yes, your beast is correct. She is yours.”
I stopped in my tracks, stared up at the doctor. “What?”
She grinned. “Every once in awhile, my job is so much fun. Your match has been made and it is Warlord Nyko.”
My mouth fell open and my helmet slipped from my numb fingertips to land on the floor with a loud thud.
“Nyko is my match?” I squeaked.
“Yes. A ninety-nine percent match.” She looked at her tablet. “In fact, I’ve never seen a match as strong as yours before and I’ve done hundreds of them.”
“But…but we don’t even get along. We argue constantly.” Had I really just said something that stupid? Yes. Yes, I had. But who could blame me? My heart was racing in my chest and a bubbly, giddy feeling made me want to leap into the air and whoop like an old-school cowboy from the Wild West.
“That means, Warlord, that your match has gone through as well. I have confirmation from both results. Your matched mate is Megan Simmons from Earth.”
I glanced up at Nyko for confirmation but he seemed to be processing the news, too. He wasn’t restrained by the technician any longer, but his beast seemed to grow bigger before my eyes. A smile spread across his face. A very feral, possessive smile.
“Mate.” It growled and I shivered.
The doctor shrugged, her chuckle full of mischief. “I think you’ll get along in some areas just fine.” She winked. “Some areas don’t require much talking.”
I gasped as Nyko moved toward me slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. My entire body lit up like a fuse attached to dynamite and I knew if he touched me again—no, when he touched me again—I’d go off like a rocket.
Man, I couldn’t wait to launch.
I leaned down and grabbed my helmet off the floor, settling it with my pack as Nyko scooped me into his arms and carried me out of the medical station. He didn’t speak, and I didn’t argue. We both knew where this was going, naked. And fast. The doctor had wanted me in bed for a while and I knew that Nyko would ensure that.
The walls changed from medical green to shades of brown and orange found in the common areas to a soothing cream color reserved for living quarters. I’d never been on this level before—my room was on a floor for female fighters—but then, I’d never been in an Atlan Warlord’s bed before either.
The door slid open with a soft swoosh of sound and he carried me into his private space. As I’d expected, it was simple and masculine. A huge bed with sheets the color of milk chocolate, very little furniture, one small table and three chairs that looked like it doubled as a work station and dining table, and I wondered how often he ate here, alone, instead of going to the common cafeteria with the rest of the bachelors.
I didn’t get a chance to see much more as he carried me into the large bathing room I’d heard Atlans preferred. They were big, and got large accommodations as a result. There was no bathtub, only multiple shower heads on the walls and ceilings. It was a fancy shower room I’d only seen in magazines. It was spacious enough to hold both of us, which was apparently what my beast had in mind. My beast. Nyko was really mine.