Her Cyborg Warriors. Grace Goodwin
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into me. Filling me, body and soul.
“Holy shit,” I said as I writhed on the hard chair, tugged at my wrists. The orgasm still swept through me, but I knew I was no longer in the dream. It was over. I was in the testing chair alone.
No, not alone, for I blinked my eyes open at the warden who was monitoring my testing. She sat at the utilitarian table, her tablet before her.
I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. I could feel the thick cum as it had jetted onto my tongue, tasted it still. But it hadn’t been real.
None of it was real, which suddenly had me on the verge of tears for no logical reason. I’d known the whole time that it was part of the Interstellar Brides testing protocol. I’d known. Yet still, this stupid alien technology had gotten into my head, made me want things. Made me feel loved. Special. Adored. Like I belonged.
After the last few months of trials and lawyers and a judge glaring at me from behind the bench, not to mention the bitches I’d had to put up with in jail—well, feeling good now was almost cruel. I’d grown jaded, and that testing had taken it all away from me—literally stripped me of all my mental defenses—in a matter of minutes.
Damn it.
“That was insane. What kind of testing was that?” I asked, my voice harsh. Had they done that to humiliate me? Was it some special torture they devised for felons to force them to feel even worse than they had while sitting in a cold prison cell?
“Bride testing,” Warden Bisset replied. Her name tag read Yvonne Bisset. She was a petite woman who didn’t look much older than me, definitely not yet thirty. She was beautiful in a very European way. She had pale blue eyes and dark blonde hair that seemed to curl perfectly all on its own. Her accent was barely there, her English perfect, but I could hear the French influence.
The other woman, the one in charge, was Warden Egara. I looked to her now because of the two, she seemed to know her stuff. They were about the same age, if I had to guess, but Warden Egara had a real no-nonsense vibe about her, which I appreciated. I’d heard enough lies in the courtroom—from both the prosecutor’s attorneys and mine—to last a lifetime. I was getting a strong truth vibe from her. Warden Egara.
She was everything Yvonne Bisset was not. Dark brown hair. Gray eyes. Severe expression. Her hair, pulled back into a tight, very restrictive bun, gave her cheekbones a harsh look. She was beautiful as well, but there was something almost tragic about her, where Yvonne Bisset seemed to be free-floating perfection.
Warden Bisset was in training, or so I’d been told before they put me under. She’d be going off to Paris to a new bride testing center where they would send even more criminals into space to be sandwiched between two hot aliens until they forget their own names.
And that’s exactly what had happened to me. I forgot I was me and became her. Whoever she was. Lucky woman.
I never panicked, and I never lost control. I hadn’t survived against the ruthless ocean this long as a world-class surfer by losing control of myself when things got dicey.
But that dream? These two ladies had laid waste to me. Wrecked me. And I was embarrassed and not too happy with myself.
“Do any of the brides sue for harassment after you force them to have sex?”
Warden Bisset whispered disagreeably under her breath, but Warden Egara’s dark brow arched. “Were you forced?”
I thought of the dream, the lingering memory of my pussy being crammed full, the burn in my bottom where the plug had been lodged.
Well, shit. It seemed I couldn’t make myself lie to her either. “No, but they ordered me to do things.”
“They were dominants. Most of the males on other planets will be strong and demanding. The typical alpha male.” Warden Bisset’s voice implied I would be pleased by this information, as if dominant, bossy aliens were my thing.
Just great. “You didn’t answer my question. Was that normal?”
Warden Bisset looked down at her tablet. “Actually I’ve never had a volunteer who fought the testing so much. Usually test subjects give in and the dream takes over, allowing access to the subconscious to collect the data needed for the perfect match. You, however, had to be subverted to secondary protocol.”
“What does that mean?” I didn’t even mention the fact that she’d just called me a test subject, like I was a lab rat.
She sighed as if I were a total pain in her backside. I didn’t care. I wanted to know what she meant by secondary protocol. Did that mean I didn’t have a match? That I was abnormal? What?
2
Doctor Surnen Syrzon, Science Bay, Medical Unit, The Colony
The organism moving beneath the microscope twisted and stretched, completely engulfing the healthy Prillon cell floating in the growth medium next to it. Something so tiny, so fascinating, was making warriors sick. It wasn’t killing my patients, but the infection was incapacitating strong fighters in their prime. It was my job to identify it, understand it and eradicate it. Not just for here on The Colony, but throughout the Coalition. I was almost there.
“Dr. Surnen? You’re needed in transport two.” Captain Trax stood at the entrance to my laboratory. He was my chosen second—should I ever be lucky enough to be matched to a female of my own—and a trusted friend. He was also prone to overreaction, his warrior instincts making every matter urgent. He’d grown up on a battleship, been fighting since he was old enough to hold a blaster, and he made decisions in seconds that I preferred to contemplate for a bit longer.
I was a doctor, a researcher. We both followed protocol to the letter—I, as a scientist, he as a ruthless fighter—believing that regulations were what kept us all safe. But the frequent trips I’d been taking to Transport Two to check incoming medical supplies were growing tiresome. I was busy and too close to finalizing the treatment serum that would end this latest sickness to divert my time.
My gaze locked to the infectious cell as it continued devouring the now weakened Prillon cell, I didn’t bother lifting my head to respond to Trax. Adding a drop of fluid to the slide, I watched as my serum sample killed the bacteria. I grinned. “Send one of the techs. I’m busy.”
His deep exhale was the only indication of his frustration with me. “Surnen, don’t be an ass.” And his tone. And word choice. “Now. Now would be good.”
“Still busy.” I had two Prillon warriors in ReGen pods and half a dozen more quarantined in their quarters. Someone else could check off inventory lists.
I expected Trax to leave, to do as I’d requested and drag one of the medical officers down to inspect the new shipment. Instead he stepped farther into the room. “Are you refusing to accompany me to Transport Two?”
“Yes, I fucking am,” I snapped. “Go away. I’ve got eight warriors down with this gods’ damned infection already, and I’m finalizing the treatment. As I said, I’m busy. I have more important things to do than inspect the latest shipment to come in.”
“Excellent.” His happiness stirred my curiosity, and I lifted my chin to look at him over the medical equipment.
“I’m glad you are pleased.” I cocked my head toward the door. “Now get out.”
“Dr. Surnen of Prillon Prime, as you have refused to arrive at transport to greet your new mate, I officially request the rights and privileges of Primary Male be transferred to me. Computer, please make note of the date and time of this request.”
A smooth, feminine voice emanated from a speaker near the door. “Confirmed, Captain Trax. Your request has been processed and sent to Prillon Prime for formal consideration.”
“What?”