None. I was a threat to safety if I failed to take a mate, for even now, my fever did not wane. Simply lying in the cool cell, without battle or a female nearby to provoke the beast, the monster within me raged. Sweat soaked my skin, my clothes. Basic restraints had done nothing to contain me. I’d ripped them from the wall within the first five minutes of my confinement. Only the graviton force field was strong enough to hold a beast, and my cell had that powerful energy field hidden within every wall, the ceiling and the floor. The front of the cell appeared to be nothing but empty air, but I knew differently, had thrown myself against the grav-wall time and again while in beast mode last night. My strength could not defeat it. My beast had tried, but lost.
And so, immediately after transport back to my home world, back to Atlan, I’d been summarily sentenced to execution. Dax had visited and had afforded me four days’ delay, hoping that the fever would diminish or a mate would appear.
The way I felt, constantly on edge, my beast prowling inside me, ready to attack anything that came within reach, I knew the fever would not end. I would be forced to fuck. But the female before me now did not incite lust, but anger.
I growled, letting it rumble through my body at the futility of it all. How had this come about? I was of an age for the fever, yes, but not like this! There were no signs, no history with the males in my family line of losing control like I had.
My father died in the Hive wars when I was still a boy, but he fought for many years and died with honor. My grandfather fought for nearly a decade and come home, took a mate and still served on the other side of the planet as an advisor to top council members. None of my cousins had ever succumbed to the fever. The fact that I had, made me a blight on the family name.
And I still didn’t understand what had happened.
The nearly uncontrollable rage had come on so unexpectedly and intensely that I lost focus, my mind solely on soothing the beast. I could not think clearly, could not speak coherently or with any logic to defend myself or my death sentence after I attacked the Prillon warrior. My beast, restless and edgy my entire life, had become wild and inconsolable.
For the first time in my life, I was out of control. And I did not like the feeling.
The only avenue left to me was a mate. Somehow, the Atlan females who walked past my cell did nothing for my beast. Unmated themselves, they volunteered to soothe the beasts within the warriors who were locked up, their last chance to mate and end the fever. It worked frequently, but the beast within the warrior had to be receptive, had to want the female. Fucking for release with a female that was appealing enough was well and good for an Atlan male, but not enough during mating fever.
Only taking a mate would do. The warrior in the cell to the left of mine had found a worthy mate, for I could hear the rough sounds of fucking. Wild cries of pleasure, wet slaps of skin against skin, and the growls of the beast were loud in the cavernous corridors. This cellblock was nearly empty, just three of us locked up, and all from wealthy, highly respected families.
While my cock pulsed and throbbed, I tore open the front of my pants and stroked the thick length, trying to ease the discomfort. The sounds of fucking helped me stroke my cock to release, thinking of a mate beneath me, spread open for my cock, eager to have me take her hard and make her mine. I could see her cuffs about her wrists, the connection that was formed when my seed spilled inside her. But I could not see her face. And when my seed spurted over my hand and onto the floor, the fever did not taper. Nor did my need for the faceless mate that I knew would not—could not—save me.
Ripping my shirt over my head, I used it to wipe the seed from my fingers, dropped it onto the floor and put my foot on it to wipe up the spilled pool. Tucking my still erect cock back into my pants, I took a deep breath, then another.
The fire in my blood, the wild rage did not lessen its hold. Fuck. If I couldn’t get past this, I was going to be executed. And maybe that was a good thing. My beast was a fury in my head, a wild animal clawing at its cage, willing to die to be free.
“You look… well, Commander.”
My head whipped about at the apprehensive greeting. He was right to be afraid. Beyond the grav-wall stood Warlord Engel Steen and his daughter, the Atlan beauty I’d been they’d expected I mate from the age of five, the stunning Tia. My beast had yet to find interest in her and I had long ago assumed it was not a match. They both looked at me as if I were an exotic animal in a zoo. Perhaps I was one, trapped behind the grav-wall and ogled by strangers, constantly under surveillance. The sound of a mating bond being formed continued from the next cell and Tia’s cheeks turned an embarrassed shade of pink, her arousal scenting the air as I watched her, inspected her yellow gown and the swell of her ample breasts, hoping my beast would calm, would show the smallest interest in a female.