Prime Obsession(4)

Not the best solution, but the most viable. There were some on the home planet that would rather keep the bloodlines pure. But their leading geneticists warned of serious mutations if the current Prime bloodlines continued to intermingle, with the end result still being extinction. Even now, unmated females exposed to males were unable to generate the gemate sign, which was an indicator of an optimal match and the guarantee the children of such a match would be strong, intelligent, and healthy.

New blood—outside blood—was called for.

Maren smiled fondly at the two younger men. To them, Melina’s appearance at this moment in time was a miracle. He hoped she would be one of the Caradoc’s gemate.

Huw, Iolyn and Wulf were like sons to him, his only family after he lost his wife, his sisters, and his mother in the Antarean sieges.

But the percentages were against them.



“Yes, Iolyn, there could be others, but that does not change the need for new blood,” he reminded them. “One small woman will not save the Prime.” The brothers nodded.

The doctor treating Melina approached and smiled at them. “Captain Dmitros will be fine. A day or two on the regen bed and she’ll be back to where she was before she tangled with the big brute in the emergency room. By the way, she did a lot of damage to him. Broken ribs, jaw and wrist to name a few of the worst.” Satisfaction and pride surged through Maren at Melina’s accomplishments. A strong Prime female for a Prime male warrior. The Prime Leading Council would be ecstatic when he informed them of her existence.

“Thank you, Doctor. May we step in to see her?”

The doctor frowned. “She’s asleep.”

“We won’t disturb her,” Maren rushed to reassure the man. He could tell the doctor did not want to let three large unknown males, even though they wore their diplomatic emblems, enter her room. “Just to assure ourselves that she is recovering. She was very pale.”

“Internal bleeding. But three units of blood took care of that.” Maren winced. So much blood loss? How had she stayed upright and finished the apayebo off? Huw and Iolyn all but growled at the doctor’s words, muttering gutter Prime epithets.

The doctor scanned their faces and obviously saw what he needed to see. He nodded.

“I heard she got hurt on your behalf. But please don’t stay long.” The doctor’s communicator trilled at him, and he strode away, taking an emergency call.

Interpreting his companions’ anger correctly, Maren held out his hand. “No, you can not kill the man Parker. Not after Melina risked her health to keep us from becoming involved in a serious diplomatic incident. It is far more important to read her gemate sign so that we can determine which Prime male has his mate back. Both of you must approach her, take in her scent, touch her hand—she might belong to one of you.”

“Not mine,” Huw said, the sadness in his eyes easy to read for those who knew him well. “I have no gemat marking. But Iolyn does—as does Wulf.” Iolyn smiled. “Even if she is not mine, she will be the perfect mate for some lucky Prime male.”

Huw frowned. “We can’t take her with us, Maren—the Alliance would come after her. She is an officer—an important one from what her men told us.”

“No, but we can let nature and the power of the imprinting take its course. We just need to get her mate near her. Proximity, pheromones, and hormones will do the rest,” Maren stated.

“Maybe she has another mate already,” Huw said. “She has both Terrans and Volusians in her crew, both of those races have traces of our DNA in them and are compatible sexually.”

Maren threw both young men a smile as he approached Melina’s bed. “She isn’t married as the Alliance calls mating. I asked. Her second-in-command was quick to tell me that she keeps all men at a distance. I think he was warning me off, because he wishes her for himself. Yet, she is his superior, so he settles, for now, in protecting her from others.”



Iolyn grunted. “He is a stronger man than I. I could not be near my mate and not touch her. I would make her mine and warn all others off.” Huw nodded at his brother’s statement. “As would I.”

“Commander Nowicki is conflicted,” Maren said. “Also, I did not get the impression Melina thinks of him in that way.”

Iolyn smiled. “Nor did I. She treats him as a brother.” Huw gazed at the woman in the bed and uttered a low growl. “She is very beautiful.

And her muscled body is very female. She fights just as Prime female warriors of old did, before our women had to stop fighting alongside their mates.” Maren nodded. “She is a beauty. Her dark hair and green eyes are very common among our women. My sisters had the same coloring.” His brow creased as he studied her face. “She does remind me of someone, but I can’t place it. I do know that the people who raised her are not Prime—I had them checked out while they brought her to the room. They are Terrans from a place called Greece.”

Iolyn approached the bed. Leaning over, he inhaled deeply, then lightly stroked the back of her hand as it lay on top of the bedcovers. He shook his head. “She is not mine.

My mark is not responding.”

Huw touched his brother’s shoulder in sympathy.

“Watch the door,” Maren ordered. “I will check the gemate sign.” Lifting the sheet just enough to expose her hip and still protect her nudity, he found the intricate marking. He reverently traced the symbol that appeared on every Prime female when first exposed to the touch and scent of their perfect mate. Each imprinting created a unique set of markings—one on the female on her hip and one on the male on his chest near his heart. Exact matches in design.

Melina mumbled and twitched at his light touch, then settled back into a deep sleep.

Pulling his data pad from his pocket, he scanned the image into it and ordered a search of the Prime genetics database. All gemate symbols were stored at the time of imprinting and linked to their corresponding male match.

The data pad quickly beeped with a result.

Maren gasped, then rechecked the small screen. His eyes had not failed him. Melina Dmitros was truly the miracle he proclaimed her. Doubly so.

Happiness as he hadn’t experienced in the longest time surged through every pore in his body, making him feel years younger.

Reverently, he pulled the blanket over her. Stroking the back of one finger across her pale cheek, he whispered, “Welcome back, little one.” He turned. “Huw. Iolyn. Meet your brother’s mate. My precious niece, Olivia Maren-Wor neé Melina Dmitros.”





Chapter Two


Two months later





Prime Starship Galanti

Anger sweeping through him like a molten wave, Kenric Wulf Caradoc glared at the body of the traitor Solar, who’d aided the space pirates in slipping past his ship’s normally impenetrable security.

Turning to his brother Huw, he snarled, “Who helped him? This apayebo couldn’t have done it alone.”

“I don’t know—and we won’t be able to tell now,” his brother replied, eyeing the dead traitor. “Once we went under Code Argenta, all personnel shut down their stations and reported here under standard emergency procedures. If Solar had help, that person, or persons, is either dead, with the pirates—or here, hiding in plain sight.”

“Find Iolyn and Maren. Bring them to me,” Wulf ordered. “Trust no one else. We need to plan, to watch. We are too far from Prime space. I have issued a call for Alliance assistance.”

“What about any remaining traitors?” Huw asked, his narrowed gaze sweeping the room.

Wulf smiled grimly. “Any traitors among us will show their true colors as time passes.”

Code Argenta protocols would assure that. The Prime had a long-standing policy of not allowing any of its military equipment to fall into the hands of the enemy—or opportunistic pirates. The Galanti’s destruction count-down clock had already started.

Unless help arrived in time, it would continue to explosion. They had ninety-six standard hours.

Huw nodded and ran to find his brother and their friend Maren.

Settling his shoulders back against a bulkhead, Wulf’s narrowed gaze swept the engine room several times. The cavernous room hummed with activity; the sound reflecting off the titanium walls raised goose bumps on his flesh.

Operating under reduced power, his highly trained crew went about their expected duties in the dimly lit room; their bodies cast ghost-like shadows on the pale titanium walls. All stations were manned continuously, the flashing lights and monitors adding to the surreal glow in the room. Each member of his crew could operate any piece of equipment on the ship. Those on duty monitored the security systems and watched live camera feed from inside the ship and without it. Others slept until it was their time to man the various stations.

Wulf noted with approval that the healthy aided the injured. They’d been fortunate to have lost so few lives. The surprise attack was responsible for the majority of his crew’s injuries in the docking bay. Emergency protocols had kept their casualties down in the rest of the ship.

As expected, his men maintained the preternatural calm of Prime warriors preparing for battle, and possibly their deaths. Nothing seemed out of place, but an undercurrent of something “off” niggled at his subconscious. Somewhere in this room there was at least one traitor, maybe more, but even his highly attuned empathic senses couldn’t single him or them out. There were just too many sets of strong emotions in the enclosed space. That fact, coupled with the interference of the computer and machine sounds, distorted his ability to test the emotional status of each man.