Chapter 12

Nakia:

Rohn pushed her stomach down onto the table. The dishes clattered but nothing spilled.

With one hand splayed across the middle of her back, he lifted her skirt with the other.

“I approve of this garment. You wore this when you arrived,” he said, voice thick with desire.

“It’s my favorite,” she said, knowing that anything she wore at that moment would have been her favorite if it elicited such a strong reaction out of him.

His fingers brushed the cotton of her panties, digging under the elastic band. “And these? Are they your favorite?”

Her heart raced with an urgent need for his touch, so much so that even though they were one of her last pairs, she didn’t care. She’d buy more.

“No. I hate them,” she said, practically in a whine. “Please, Rohn.”

Fabric ripped and her entire body clenched with sweet anticipation. For only a moment, her ass had been exposed. Rohn knelt behind, pushing his face into her crevice and breathing in her scent.

Worth it. She’d sacrifice a pair of panties every day if Rohn continued to eat her pussy for breakfast.

Lunch and dinner, too. And as a midnight snack.

In the month since her arrival, she’d had more sex than she thought humanly possible. Well, not humanly. Mahdfel-ly possible. Her body throbbed with a delicious ache, flesh sore and feeling him for hours after. Coupled with the still-tender bite on her shoulder, she had a constant reminder of his care and devotion. A thorough, tactile devotion that involved a lot of tongue and left her breathless.

Rohn continued to lick and suck, the rub from the scruff of his beard pushing her closer to a climax. Sensation built and built. Vaguely she grew aware of Rohn stroking himself. She wanted to see. Needed to see.

She flipped and perched on the edge of the table. Gripping his good horn, she mimicked him as he worked his length. The pressure inside built and she couldn’t take her eyes off his hands he stroked himself, giving a slight twist at the boysenberry-colored head of his gorgeous cock.

Sensation rocketed through her as an empty bowl clattered to the floor. Fuck it. She’d buy new dishes, too. Rohn gave two more strokes before spilling into his hand.

He collapsed back into a chair, pulling her into his lap. Her heart thrummed with happiness and her body sagged against the broad expanse of his chest. He reached for a napkin but Nakia snagged his cum-covered hand. Humming with pleasure, she licked his hand clean. He watched, transfixed, as her tongue lapped up every drop of his spend. Emboldened, she sucked his fingers as suggestively as possibly, demonstrating exactly what she wanted to do next time.

Rohn shifted in the seat, suggesting that the next time wasn’t too far off, which was a shame as they were on a schedule.

She moved to his lap and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. “Mmm,” she said, smacking her lips. “The only cream I want in my coffee.”

His mouth, slick and glossy, fell open with what she assumed to be a mixture of shock and arousal. Unable to resist such a temptation, she leaned in and nibbled on his bottom lip. He responded with enthusiasm, deepening the kiss until all her senses focused on the musky and slightly salty taste of him.

She pulled away with reluctance. “What time does the shuttle leave for the station?”

“Thirty minutes.”

Just enough time to put on a fresh pair of panties—the very last pair.

The bell chimed, announcing a visitor at the door.

“That will be Merrek.” Rohn lifted her from his lap with ease and adjusted her skirt to sit demurely.

“I appreciate how you try to arrange me like a lady and not an oversexed newlywed on her honeymoon,” she said, crossing her legs at the ankle. “But why is Merrek here?”

“He will escort you to the Sangrin Station today.”

Nakia took a sip before responding. She had met Merrek once before and knew the male worked for Rohn but had no strong opinion of him. He wasn’t Rohn and that was the issue. “I thought we were going to spend the day together.”

“Carrie has a demonstration of the prototype tomorrow. She requires my assistance.”

“And you can’t get away at all?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

Nakia nodded and gave a pathetic smile, despite her disappointment. She knew it looked forced and she didn’t particularly care to fake enthusiasm for Rohn breaking their date for this Carrie woman. Not that shopping was a proper date, but they had planned to spend the day at the Sangrin Space Station and furnish their apartment.

As much as she had liked the cozy feel of Rohn’s one-room apartment, she had to admit it just didn’t have enough space for them both. Item one: the bed, clearly made for one person. They cuddled together in the night, but she liked to sprawl and did not share the covers—ever. Item two: closet space. The old apartment had an appalling lack of storage space. Item three: no seating. The only place to sit was the bed when it was folded upright. As nice as the bed was, she wanted a chair to rest her butt.

The new apartment had all the space and closets that Nakia could want, including a basic starter furniture set. It lacked warmth, color, and personality, which she intended to address with a good shopping trip.

“Give me a minute to finish getting dressed.”

New panties and her hair put back into order, she found Rohn reviewing an extensive list of instructions. He had poor Merrek pinned to the wall, nodding and repeating but unable to move due to the knife Rohn pointed at the man’s throat. Did Merrek deserve to be threatened with a knife? Probably not, but the Mahdfel got weird about stuff like that.

“He sniffed,” Rohn said as she joined them, as if he could read her mind.

“Oh, well, sniffing.” Totally reasonable.

Rohn narrowed his eyes and growled once more at the younger male. “Yes, he sniffed and then smiled.”

“And congratulated you,” Merrek said, not a trace of distress in his voice.

Congratulated? In a sudden rush, Nakia realized he had detected the lingering scent of their breakfast nookie.

“Good morning, Rohn’s mate,” he said with a smirk.

Rohn pressed the point of the knife against the base of Merrek’s throat, catching the male’s attention. “Do not look at my mate. Do not speak to my mate. Do not touch my mate. Or I’ll shove you out the airlock.”

“I must look at your mate to escort her and ensure her safety,” Merrek said, still unfazed.

Rohn huffed, clearly upset at Merrek’s logic. “Look only enough to complete your mission successfully. No speaking and no touching.”

“Or the airlock,” Merrek said.

“Or the airlock,” Rohn agreed.

“Before or after you slice my throat?” The younger male glanced down meaningfully. Rohn snarled but pulled back the blade.

“May I speak to him?” Nakia didn’t care what Rohn answered; she’d talk to whoever she liked, and his macho display was getting long in the tooth.

Rohn gritted his teeth and growled. “If you must. I’m sure you can find better conversation with the other females.”

Maybe. The Mahdfel really seemed to enjoy talking about their weapons and their mates or the mates of other males. Guns and chicks, all the time. She’d rather go to the dentist, honestly.

“If you feel that strongly, you can ditch work,” she said.

Another growl. “Go. Do not be late,” he said.

With those parting words, they were on the shuttle with a dozen other women, plus armed escorts. Nakia recognized a few faces from passing in the corridors and the cafeteria, but she didn’t know anyone well enough to strike up a conversation. That, however, did not deter Merrek. The male seemed at ease talking to anyone, chatting a constant stream of nothing of consequence. The other Mahdfel men glared and grumbled, but Merrek broke the ice, and soon the shuttle was abuzz with excited chatter.

The station orbited the fifth and largest planet in the Sangrin system. Shaped like a spark plug, the multilevel station housed almost anything travelers could want: lodgings, the finest restaurants in the system, the skeeviest bars, spas, a casino, theater, sports arena, mechanical and service repair, shopping, shopping, and more shopping. Nakia had never been off planet before—lots of humans never left Earth—but had visited a market at a spaceport once. The wide variety of aliens in all shapes, sizes, and colors fascinated her.

The shuttle docked and soon she and Merrek walked on a wide concourse designed to mimic an open-air mall with potted plants, a fountain, and benches under an artificial sky.

Merrek kept up his dialogue, easily holding up her side of the conversation for her. General noises that she listened seemed to appease him. Occasionally he’d pause, wait for her noise, then continue.

Unsure of where to go, Nakia wandered with the crowd, trying not to stare. Humans were the minority. Most of the crowd were Sangrin, with the same purple complexion and horns as Rohn. Faces with other colors passed by: a cherry red coupled with tusks, a leafy green but no visible body hair, and a charcoal gray with horns and a third eye.

The gray female lifted her chin and faced Nakia, proving that the sensation of feeling yourself being watched universal. And then the third eye in the center of her forehead winked.

Nakia’s heart skipped a beat in excitement. For the first time, despite being surrounded by aliens, she finally felt that she was a long way from Earth and somewhere truly alien.

Mostly she noticed that everyone in the crowd was small—human-sized. In fact, everything about the station was human-sized. For the past few weeks, Nakia had been living with everything just a bit too big and forgot how lovely it was to pick up a glass with one hand and have it actually fit. So lovely, in fact, that she bought the set of cut-glass dishes and matching drinking glasses in an enchanting lagoon blue color. They were beautiful, with a good weight to them.

She wandered through a few stores that carried home goods but nothing sparked excitement. She purchased an appropriately sized stool to use in the kitchen, rugs for the sterile floors, pillows and throws for every chair and lounging surface, but those were things she needed. The ship floors were cold in the morning and she liked to snuggle under blankets when watching a film or playing games. The blue and green blown glass lantern? She didn’t need that. The soothing table-top water fountain? Pass. The delicate multicolored glass vase that glowed like it was carved of precious stone when the light hit it? She couldn’t commit to a decorating scheme. Her heart wasn’t in it.

She picked up the clothing she needed—panties she didn’t mind Rohn wrecking and fancier ones she’d totally mind—but couldn’t muster up enthusiasm for anything else. What was wrong with her? She loved clothes, and in the midst of a huge, interstellar shopping mall, she passed shop after shop filled with designs she could never imagine.

She knew she was upset that Rohn had to work and passed her off with a stranger. It was ridiculous to be so disappointed—to allow a change of plans to prevent her from enjoying herself—but then she noticed that all Merrek talked about was Carrie. How she was so clever. How all the males admired her. How she knew the inner workings of all the single-pilot starships. How she freaking designed the starships. How she was beautiful and kind and always had time to talk to the males on the flight deck. Clearly, Merrek was a big fan.

“Vox says that Carrie enjoys fried tubers cut into strips and coated in salt, but also dipped in a partially frozen dairy-based cream. He said it was a pregnancy craving. Do all females crave this?”

She couldn’t take it anymore. “I don’t know. Who exactly is this Carrie person?”

“Vox’s mate,” Merrek said, as if she had any idea who Vox was.

“That doesn’t tell me anything.” Like why Rohn canceled their plans to work with another man’s wife.

“She and Rohn are building a new ship. One of a kind.” Merrek paused outside a shop selling scented candles. “Do you think Carrie would like one? Aromas can be relaxing, and new mothers should avoid stress—”

“How should I know what that woman likes?” Nakia snapped.

“How are your stress levels? They appear elevated from my vantage.”

“I’m not stressed.” She wasn’t stressed and she certainly wasn’t worried about her new husband ditching her to spend the day playing mechanic with another woman. The Mahdfel didn’t cheat. Everyone knew that. Why would Rohn mark her as his own if he was going to sneak around with another woman? Why threaten Merrek within an inch of his life for even looking at her if he planned to do the same with another man’s wife?

“Are you tired? Should we return to the shuttle?” Merrek hovered over her, as if unsure how to placate her distress.

She rubbed at the bite mark on her shoulder. No, the Mahdfel didn’t cheat, but that knowledge gave her no comfort. “I think I’m hungry. How about lunch?”

“Optimal. I know a fantastic place on a lower level.”

The fantastic place was a fifteen-minute walk and elevator ride away. Nakia’s feet and knees hurt. The gravity of the station, which initially she did not notice, was a smidge lighter than the gravity on the ship. Her muscles strained, overworking with each step. Often when she felt this way, she simply needed to take the prosthesis off, clean it off, and refasten it. After lunch, she’d find a nice private spot and do just that.

The lighting in the corridor grew dim and the storefronts shifted from bright and cheery merchants to dark glass and neon lights.

“Where exactly are you taking me?”

“This place isn’t much to look at, but it has the best noodle soup. Better than your mother’s,” Merrek said, smacking his lips.

“That’s not hard. My momma ain’t a good cook.” Nakia learned her kitchen skills standing at the side of her grandmother and from television chefs. “But I like noodle soup.”

A green neon cube hung over the entrance, flickering as the light struggled to stay illuminated. Charming. Merrek paused and handed his communicator to the solemn-faced male at the door, who tossed it in a box.

“I thought you had to keep that on you at all times?”

“No electronics allowed. A quaint custom, but I find I enjoy it,” he said.

Someone behind Nakia knocked into her shoulder, pushing her. She stumbled forward, desperate not to fall, and crossed the threshold.

Her leg vanished. She fell, landing hard on her hands and knees. Well, her leg didn’t vanish, but she couldn’t feel it anymore.

“Rohn’s mate! Are you well?” He stood over her, shifting from foot to foot. He reached down to help her up but pulled back, as if remembering Rohn’s airlock threat. “Can you stand? You should stand.”

“My leg is offline.” She shifted into a slightly more dignified position, on her butt with her legs sprawled uselessly before her. Stupid, useless piece of junk. “What the hell happened?”

“Explain,” Merrek demanded, turning on the male. He towered over the man at the door, probably a bouncer, who shrank back.

“No electronics,” the bouncer said, pointing to a faded red sign on the wall. “Embedded EMP disables anything that walks through the door.”

Walks. How fucking funny.

“Are you laughing at me?” She had never once in her life used her career as a lawyer a threat, but the man’s smirk made her consider it. “You can’t disable electronics without warning.”

He shrugged. The fucker actually shrugged. “We got a permit. You going to order something? No loitering.”

“I cannot believe…” God, she was tired of playing nice. Her patience snapped. “I will sue you and the owners and the station and whoever the fucking idiot was who issued that permit. What if I had an artificial heart? You would have killed me. I will sue you out of existence.”

Merrek lifted Nakia easily. “Calm yourself. We will return to the Judgment.”

She squirmed in his arms to face the bouncer at the door, not finished yet with her tirade. “I’m a lawyer! Don’t you smirk at me, you purple bastard. Everyone on Earth hates lawyers and they should—we’re parasites. We latch onto your mistakes and make you pay and drag you through the courts and it takes years. Literal years. And your misery makes us stronger!” Merrek walked away but she continued. “You can’t stop us. If you cut one down, three more take our place! Law schools are viper pits and that makes us petty bastards. We kill each other trying to slither our way to the top—and I graduated top of my class! The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers. That’s Shakespeare. Shakespeare!”

“You must stop,” Merrek murmured.

She didn’t want to. Her anger felt good, cleansing. The disappointments of the day kept piling up, pinning her underneath the weight of it. She wanted to shout. Needed to. “He laughed at me,” she said.

“He was indifferent to your plight. He did not laugh.”

“Really?” She distinctly remembered laughter. And the smirk. And the fucking permit. If her leg worked, she’d go back there and kick his ass. He was human-sized, not much taller than her, and she took karate. Once. In college. “Fuck it, let’s go back and bash his knee with a bat. See how he likes not being able to walk.”

Merrek huffed, clearly trying not to laugh. “Rohn was correct. You are a fighter.”

“And you!” She turned her ire to him. “You knew! How could you bring me there?”

“I forgot.” His gaze fell, looking at anything but her. At least he had the decency to flush and look ashamed.

“I’m wearing a skirt. My leg is pretty fucking obvious.”

“Um, yes.” He adjusted her slightly as he pressed a button on the elevator, causing the back of her skirt to ride up. His hand brushed the back of her thigh and his eyes went wide. “Do not tell your mate. Please. I did not mean to touch you. I enjoy breathing the atmosphere.”

The panic in his voice soothed her anger. This mountain of an alien feared Rohn, and of her, and he had the look of a helpless bunny about him. He was just a kid, she realized, trying to make his boss happy. She needed to chill and take charge of the situation. Someone had to be the adult.

Deep breath.

“It’s okay. We all make mistakes.” Some bigger than others, but whatever. Que será, será and all that jazz. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-two.”

Her age. Given the Mahdfel lifespan of 200, he had to be a baby.

“If you think I am inexperienced,” he said in a rush, “I am a skilled pilot and proficient in many forms of hand-to-hand combat. I have knowledge of several weapons, including—”

“That’s fine. I don’t need your resume,” she said.

“I forgot,” he said, jaw clenched. “You gave no indication of requiring special consideration and I forgot. I beg forgiveness.” He flushed then, up to the base of his horns.

That was pretty sweet, all things considered. Her leg had been working, so it slipped to the background, which was how it was supposed to be.

“Rohn trusts you. He wouldn’t leave me with just anybody.” She patted Merrek on the shoulder, briefly stunned that the electronics in her leg fried, she fell, possibly flashing her undies at everyone who witnessed her dive, and here she was, consoling him.

The palm of her hand smarted and she sucked in her breath.

“Are you injured?”

“Just a scape, I think.” She rotated her wrist, knowing it would be swollen in the morning.

“Unacceptable. Rohn will send me out an airlock.” He pressed his lips together in worry.

The poor kid. How scary was her gray wolf? The man who blushed at the sight of her panties. If she had not witnessed him hit Jaxar or pull a knife on Merrek, she might not believe him capable of violence at all. Okay, maybe Rohn was, in fact, a terrifying badass to everyone but her.

“I won’t let him,” Nakia said. “It was an honest mistake.”

Merrek nodded. “Who is Shakespeare?”

“What?” For a moment, her mind went blank. “Did I spout the kill-all-the-lawyers line?”

“Yes. Was he a great warrior? That is a good warrior’s name.” He held a hand above his shoulder, as if holding an invisible spear, and shook his hand wildly. “Shake. Spear.”

“Ha. No.” Imagine. “He’s a famous Earth writer and poet.”

“A warrior poet?”

“Not a warrior.”

“Does Shakespeare sing of glorious battles? Foes pitted against each other in a struggle for power.”

“Yeah,” she said, not liking the assumptions Merrek drew about one of Earth’s celebrated writers.

At the shuttle, another woman was already waiting, ready to return to Judgment. “Morning sickness,” she said with a sigh. “I normally get sick in the evenings but the smell from the food stalls hit me all wrong.”

“Not looking forward to that,” Nakia mumbled. Pregnancy remained a vague, abstract thing. Sure, she wasn’t using birth control and she and Rohn had plenty of sex, but the idea of children still seemed far off. Something that happened to other people. Besides, she needed to get her leg sorted out before she worried about creating little ones.

The return trip to the Judgment only took a few minutes. The sight of Rohn hopping into the shuttle the moment the door opened, waiting for their arrival, warmed her greedy little heart.

“I will take you to medical,” he said, unfastening the safety harness and lifting her from the seat.

On the ramp down, Nakia spied a red-haired human woman, who could only be Carrie, watching from the sidelines. Dirt smudged her pale face and she clutched a tablet to her chest.

This was the woman everyone loved so much?

“I can walk,” Nakia said, pushing away his hands, and stood under her own power. The prosthesis was still there, supporting her weight, and she still had the ability to lift her foot and move, albeit without grace. The lack of sensation, though, was like fumbling in the dark, and she had to trust that every step landed correctly. Her pride demanded that she do this, refusing to let flawed tech wound her sense of self. People used the old-fashioned prosthesis without the sensors or implants for centuries and they got along just fine.

“I can do this. Just give me your arm.” She leaned into her husband, knowing that if she wobbled or took a bad step, he’d catch her. “Now let’s go to engineering.”

Rohn:

“We are going to medical,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. His mate had abrasions on her hands and knees. She bled. The metallic scent was enough to drive him into a rage. Merrek caused this.

The pilot was wise enough to approach with his eyes lowered. “My apologies. A localized EMP disabled—”

“I was shoved,” Nakia said.

“He allowed you to be shoved.”

“Rohn, focus, babe.” She waved a hand to catch his attention. “We’re going to engineering.”

“Medical. I cannot think when you are injured.” True. His mind kept cataloging the abrasions, discoloration, and the slight swelling at her wrists. Instincts howled that he care for his mate and then inflict those same hurts onto Merrek as compensation.

“Jaxar said to go to engineering if my leg acted up again.” She leaned into him, her steps uneven.

He tightened the grip on her arm. He would rather break off his one good horn than take his mate to engineering and let Jaxar comfort her. “Medical. He can join us there,” he said.

Rohn hated Engineering. Too loud and too crowded, it was the vital to all operations that kept the Judgment running and Jaxar never failed to brag. He kept the biomass engines running efficiently. He kept all the drives optimal. His labor and his alone kept life support working, so you could thank him for the opportunity to breath fresh, clean air.

Bah. Pompous bastard.

Jaxar did little more than keep a nearly indestructible engine running. If it failed, they’d drift in space. Not the ideal situation but it wasn’t like the battlecruiser would fall out of the sky.

Medical, by contrast, ran with ruthless efficiency that calmed Rohn. Cool and sterile, the medics moved in near silence. The only sounds were hushed conversations and the steady beeps of monitors.

In the meditative atmosphere, Rohn’s thought turned back toward his rival, the engineer. He had observed that the engineer and his minions kept themselves busy with lots of little projects, bits of machinery to tinker and improve, but their work was not vital to the clan. Anyone could see that. Not like Rohn’s work, which brought him and his crew directly into danger. He believed that Jaxar had never even been in a battle.

Medic Kalen cleaned Nakia’s abrasions. He examined her and declared no serious damage. He even took a scan to print a temporary prosthesis for use while hers was inoperable. When Jaxar arrived, the noise level increased dramatically.

Rohn found himself wanting to retreat to a quiet corner but he remained calm. His mate required Jaxar’s assistance—as much as Rohn hated to admit it—and there was an abundance of resentment in his heart. Mostly Rohn hated the way Jaxar smiled at his mate and had readymade schematics for a new prosthesis for her. Why would he have those unless he had been thinking about Nakia? The idea of Jaxar spending brain power over Nakia made Rohn uncomfortable.

And nervous. Jaxar was younger than Rohn by several decades and in peak physical form. Old injuries did not mar him. The engineer was, Rohn reluctantly admitted, clever, interesting to converse with, and smiled easily. Jaxar was also vain and thought a bit too highly of himself, but he had been Rohn’s friend for years. All this combined to nauseating heights of jealousy that his mate had made a friend in Jaxar.

Jaxar stood at a workbench, the prosthesis disassembled across the surface. Nakia sat on the nearby stool, transfixed at the engineer's handiwork.

“I am reviewing the schematics and an EMP should not have damaged your prosthesis,” Jaxar said. “The insulation should have been sufficient.”

“Why am I not surprised that the manufacturer cut corners?”

“Inadequate insulation and short bursts of electromagnetic energy may be the root of your difficulty.”

“Are you telling me that static shock is what’s been fucking with my leg?”

Rohn tensed. He did not appreciate Nakia discussing copulation, even in passing.

Jaxar glanced over his shoulder to Rohn, as if gauging the male’s displeasure.

Good. He should be aware of Rohn’s growing agitation.

“The internal components work correctly. With the proper housing, you should have no difficulty. I can take this to Engineering and construct a new case,” Jaxar said.

“I’m not going to say no.”

Rohn paced the confines of the small space, aware of Nakia watching him. His mate would not tell Jaxar no. She should tell the overly helpful male to back off, to stop sniffing around another male’s mate.

“You distract me. Go elsewhere,” Jaxar said.

“No.” Impossible. He could not leave Jaxar alone with Nakia. The male couldn’t possibly be foolish enough to attempt to woo another male’s mate, but Rohn did not trust him. Not at all. He wouldn’t be surprised if Jaxar attempted to kiss her.

Nakia swing her head to him, eyes wide. “Are you growling?”

“I am thinking,” he replied.

“Think quietly,” Jaxar said. “I need all your lovely mate’s brain power focused on me.”

Rohn barely contained himself, only hearing the words lovely mate, focused on me. He would never be so forward with another male’s mate. Never. No honorable male would, yet Jaxar flouted the rules of conduct every male followed.

Or should.

Yet Nakia did not discourage this shameless behavior. No Mahdfel would ever be unfaithful once they claimed a mate, but he could not say the same of Terrans. Did she not admit that her first mate left for another?

No. Rohn claimed her. His bite marked her for all to see and his scent covered every inch of her body. Yet she wore a blouse with a high collar, covering her claiming mark, and she bathed in scented soaps, removing his scent, the jealous part of his mind supplied.

Did she want to be courted by another? Did she regret her choice? Want a younger male? Want Jaxar after all?

Rohn’s hand clenched into a fist. He wanted more than anything to throw his mate to the ground and claim her again, to fuck her cunt hard and repeatedly until she screamed her throat raw and understood that she belonged to him. He would cover her in his seed, drown her in his essence. Her body would ache, feel where he had been for days. She would not forget him.

As if sensing his thoughts, her head snapped up. He growled. She licked her bottom lip. He would do it. Here. Now. Demonstrate to her that he was not too old to bring her to the apex of her pleasure and hold her there, torture her with bliss, and make her beg to come.

Then he would do it again.

Kalen appeared with the new prosthesis, matte black with an open weave. “This is fascinatingly primitive technology,” he said.

Jaxar grabbed the device and knelt before Nakia.

The male went too far. Rohn would tolerate the smiles and the necessary touches, but Nakia was his mate. His. And it was time for Rohn to remind Jaxar of that fact.

Rohn growled, his hand clamping down on Jaxar’s shoulder. “Do not touch my mate.” He intended the words to be a warning, but they came out as a shout. He pulled Jaxar away, yanking the male to his feet, and shoved him into a cart, sending equipment to the floor.

With a savage smile, Jaxar sprang to his feet. “About time, old gray wolf.”

Rohn snarled, rage turning his mind into a blank. Only Nakia got to call him a gray wolf. They surged toward each other, locked in a grapple.

His mate shouted, not words of encouragement but words of distress. Her stool had been knocked over and she sprawled on the floor. How dare Jaxar upset his mate like that—

“No fighting in medical. Take it outside.” Kalen tried to wedge himself between the two males, but their grapple could not be broken. “Stop this at once or I will administer the paralytic again.”

Rohn and Jaxar both turned to the medic, to find him with a syringe and a stormy expression. They broke apart at once.

He moved to help his mate off the floor. She slapped away his hand. “What is wrong with you?” she hissed.

“With me? I am demonstrating that I am your mate.” Obviously.

She accepted Jaxar’s help off the floor. Rage flared in Rohn again. “Do. Not,” Kalen warned, brandishing the syringe at him until Nakia settled back onto the stool.

“I think I need to have a word with my husband,” Nakia said.

“Certainly.” Kalen grabbed Jaxar and the males departed.

Rohn paced the small space, unhappy to be confined, even by the paper-thin partitions. The flimsy barriers only provided visual privacy. Anyone could hear their conversation.

“What was that?” She folded her arms over her chest.

“I should ask the same,” he replied. The blood still pounded in his ears. His cock stirred, wanting her and wanting her to have doubt of his devotion.

“You know what I think? I think a jealous man lost his damn mind for no reason.”

“No reason? I have all the reasons! You were...were…” He searched for the correct word. “Flirting.”

“Flirting! No part of that was flirting.” She vibrated with outrage.

“Jaxar flirted with you and you did not protest.”

“First, he wasn’t flirting. Second, this attitude of yours can fuck right off.”

Again, she mentioned copulation, but not in an inviting way.

“I do not approve of all the time you spend with Jaxar.”

“Well, I don’t like you ditching me for the wonderful Carrie, but it’s hard times all around, babe.”

Stripped of affection, the endearment stung. He ran a hand along his shattered horn. “Do you regret your choice?”

Her eyes narrowed, hard and sharp in a way he had not seen before. If she said yes, he would not be surprised. “What are you talking about?”

“Jaxar. You got to choose males. Do you want to switch mates? Do you regret choosing me?”

Someone gasped from the other side of the partition. Jaxar, no doubt.

“You think I want Jaxar? Is that what’s this is about?”

“I think Jaxar wants you,” he said.

“That’s not what I asked. Do you think I want Jaxar?”

He breathed, aware that his chest rose and fell dramatically, and his body thrummed with adrenaline, prepared for a fight. Jaxar was just on the other side of the partition. It would take no effort at all to reach him, to bring him to his knees, to make him pay for every smile he ever gave Nakia, for every glance. Every thought.

Nakia was his and Rohn did not want to share.

“Fine. Don’t answer me.” She leaned down for the prosthesis.

“I will do that,” Rohn said, kneeling at her feet, readying to attach the device.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped. “I’m furious at you.”

“For defending you from another male?” Unlikely. Any female would be glad to have a mate who demonstrated his devotion in such a manner.

“For being a hypocrite, Rohn,” she said, voice strained. “For breaking our date and ditching me for Carrie and then having the nerve to be upset that Jaxar helped me.”

Their breakfast conversation came back to him.

Ah.

“My work is important.”

“So important that no one else can do it? Only you?”

“Yes. Lives depended on me. If I failed again, I could not bear the weight of it.” He ran a hand over his shattered horn. Admitting his greatest flaw left him vulnerable. How could she see anything but weakness in him? She would be well within her rights to turn away in disgust and ask for a new mate.

Her hand lifted, as if she were about to reach for him, but it dropped back to her side. “More important than me?”

“You said you understood,” he said. He did not misremember their conversation.

“Yeah, well, I thought I did, but that was before my husband had a meltdown about some dude talking to me.”

“He was flirting and so were you!”

“And you flirted with Carrie!”

They stared at each other. Silence fell between them, louder than any words.

She waved to the prosthesis in his hand. “I don’t want to talk about this here. I hate airing dirty laundry.”

“Agreed.”

She attached the prosthesis and stood, testing the device’s ability to hold her weight before taking a cautious step. “Kalen, is it okay to leave with this?”

“If it feels acceptable. It was made to conform to your leg,” the medic said from the other side of the partition.

“Fine. Let’s go home,” she said, moving past him.

The lack of an endearment stung.