The Commanders' Mate. Grace Goodwin
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deeper into the dream. Felt. I didn’t want to leave this place, these warriors. This feeling. Not ever.
“Then I claim you in the rite of naming. You are mine, and I shall kill any other warrior besides my second who dares to touch you.” My primary male spoke the vow with a voice I had never heard before, so solemn. He meant what he said. He would kill to protect me.
He stepped between my open thighs and my second mate removed his fingers from deep in my pussy, using the wet digits to spread my pussy lips, to open me up for his primary male’s cock. As the first filled me, the mate at my back spoke his own vow. “You belong to us now. You are mine, and I am yours. I will die to protect you and our offspring. Kill to protect you. Mine. Forever, mate.”
I cried out as the first male surged forward, his way eased by my eagerness and the assistance of my second. I was stretched open, filled. When he was fully seated, deep and thick, my secondary male moved his hand to my ass, pulling gently on the plug I hadn’t noticed. How had I missed something so carnal? So… daring. It came free easily, and my second pushed his fingers deep into my ass. I gasped at the intrusion, of feeling so full. I’d never had someone even play with my ass, let alone fill it. Not with a small plug or a finger, but fingers. Plural.
I clenched down, breathed through the intensity of it.
I was wet there, whatever lubricant he had used working so well I all but begged him to start fucking me. I had no idea it could feel so good.
But I didn’t want his fingers; I wanted his cock. I wanted both of them inside me. Deep. Together. Fucking me. Making me theirs. “Please. Please. I need you.” I begged. I didn’t care. They were mine, totally and completely mine. There was no shame in me, no holding back. “Pleeeease.” I jerked against the bonds around my wrists, clamped down with my pussy muscles on the huge cock inside me.
The chanting stopped. I had all but forgotten our witnesses, too distracted by my mates to care about anything but us. “May the gods witness and protect you.”
The words barely registered before the mate in front of me claimed my lips, kissing me like he wanted to devour me.
I wanted that too.
At the same time, my second mate positioned his cock at my back entrance, carefully but with intent, pushed forward, opened me. Filled me.
I groaned into the kiss, shifted my hips, tried to anyway, so I could rock back and forth. Fuck myself on their two hard cocks.
Too big, too much. More.
Instead, my first mate’s hands clamped around my waist and he held me still. My second still had one hand around my throat, and I loved it, his other went to my breast, then nipple, squeezing. Tugging.
I was surrounded. Claimed. Safe. So full of cock I was going to scream if they didn’t move. Now.
As if they realized they’d pushed me to the edge of sanity, they moved, both of them, pulling in and out together. Slowly. Fucking me together. Filling me up.
Sex felt good. Yeah, just good. Usually. For me anyway, regular old Erica from Earth.
In. Out. Rub. Stroke. Caress. Orgasms, when done by hand… literally, were good. There was that word again. That was because it was good. Just that.
Until now.
Until this.
Holy shit, THIS.
3
Commander Karter, Battleship Varsten, Sector 438
“Ronan? Fuck, I thought you were dead. Killed five years ago on Latiri 4.”
My old friend stood, and I saw the ripped remains of his uniform, the blood on his temple and chest. He had not gone untouched in the battle, which meant he’d been on this ship when it had been attacked. Why had he been here, and why was he still here now? “Why did the Hive leave the dead? And how did you survive?”
He took a step toward me and Bard stepped between us, his ion rifle raised in his free hand. Ronan lifted his brows, a hardness I recognized in his golden eyes.
Ronan’s arms slowly lifted out at his sides to show his hands were empty and he meant no threat. “Really? You’re going to order him to shoot me?”
I didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. I’d seen things he couldn’t imagine.
Or perhaps, he could.
“I haven’t seen you in five years,” I countered, tipping my chin up. No matter how pleased—and stunned—I was to find him alive, there had to be a reason for his disappearance. “You were reported killed in action on Latiri 4. You might be contaminated, controlled by the Hive, your mind not your own. You could be full of Hive implants. In which case, you wouldn’t think twice about killing all of us and betraying your own people.”
He nodded once. “Too true. I can’t blame you, old friend, not after what just happened here.” The fire left his gaze and he slumped back, sitting once more in the chair, ignoring the ion pistol pointed at him.
Bard lowered his weapon but didn’t step back, remaining at the ready. With what surrounded us, we were all tense, all on guard, waiting for more destruction.
“What happened here, Ronan? How the fuck did the Hive get this close to a battleship?”
While any ship in a battlegroup was a potential target for Hive attack, no battleship had ever been hit this far inside Coalition space. Not like this. The standard orbital distance was—had been—too far for Hive weapons to be effective, our perimeter defenses and attack vessels making the main body of the fleet a difficult, if not impossible target. Until now.
Ronan ran his hand through his hair, inspecting the blood that clung to his palm as he lowered it. Stared at the dark stain. “They didn’t get through the defense grid. Not one forward scout ship was attacked. There was no warning. No ships. Nothing. The Hive weren’t even here, Kaed.”
He called me by my nickname, one I hadn’t heard in a long time. No one ever called me by my given name, Makaed. Not anymore. Not in years. That name belonged to an ambitious, hope-filled young Prillon male who had perished what felt like a lifetime ago.
“The I.C. knew the Hive were working on a long-range weapon of some sort, but we didn’t know what it was. Or where it was.”
I frowned, set my hands on my hips. “A long-range weapon? What are you talking about? There was nothing about a new threat in the command reports.” Those reports came directly from Prillon Prime and were sent to the active fleet commanders every day, sometimes twice a day, depending on how hot the battlefields ran.
“This isn’t the first attack. They took out the entire Battlegroup Hyrad ten days ago. Every single ship.” Ronan shook his head. “The I.C. didn’t have enough information to report or recommend any new course of action.”
“What?” An entire battlegroup had been destroyed and I knew nothing of it? “You must tell the fleet commanders. First Hyrad and now Varsten. You are risking thousands of lives on the other battlegroups if you don’t provide them with accurate intel.” Rage boiled hot for the I.C. and their constant games. “I’m going to contact Prime Nial. You’ll be executed for this.”
“Prime Nial knows. He’s the one who sent me here.” He looked up at me, and this time there was regret in his eyes. The I.C. had fucked up, royally, and he knew it.
“Tell me you’re lying. Why would he allow the I.C. to keep this from us?” Us, as in the commanders in the Coalition Fleet. The warriors responsible for protecting well over two hundred planets with billions of lives. Without consistent intel, we could do nothing to protect the people. This ship, this vessel that was barely holding together, was a perfect example of what could