 
# Paax: Warlord Brides

## Warriors of Sangrin 1

## Starr Huntress

## Nancey Cummings

## Menura Press

# Contents

Paax

About Paax

About Warlord Brides

About Starr Huntress

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Epilogue

About the Author

# Paax

## Paax: Warlord Brides

Warriors of Sangrin 1

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Starr Huntress

Nancey Cummings
Paax: Warlord Brides

Warriors of Sangria 1

Copyright Nancey Cummings

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Cover Design by Hard Candies Publishing

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Published August 2016

Published by Menura Press

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Digital Edition

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All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book only. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printer or electronic form without prior written person from the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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Author's Note: This is a work of fiction and all people, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination. All characters depicted in this work of fiction are eighteen years of age or older.

  Created with Vellum

# About Paax

Paax never wanted to be matched to a mate.

The situation in his clan was dangerous for a hardened warrior, let alone a **soft Human female** without fangs or claws to defend herself. **Sending her back to Earth was the only way to keep her safe.** However, the moment the curvaceous woman stepped off the transporter, his **tattoo burned with a passionate intensity** he'd never experienced before. Paax knew he would do anything to **protect her, to claim her** , even challenge the clan's violent Warlord.

**No force in the universe would take his mate from him.**

Matched to an **alien warrior** in the Draft, Mercy swore she'd do whatever it took to **get out of the marriage contract.** She liked her life on Earth and her independence. No one would take it away, not even the ridiculously hot warrior who **demanded she call him husband.**

Why is being **claimed by the horned muscular alien** the only thing she can think about?

She didn't want to stay, did she?

# About Warlord Brides

Welcome to the Warlord Brides Universe

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The vicious Suhlik meant to enslave Earth and rob her of her resources. Only the Mahdfel warriors could stand against them.

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Once the slaves of the Suhlik, the Mahdfel won their freedom. But a lingering reminder of their oppression at the hands of the Suhlik is the inability to have female children.

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Now, in exchange for the protection of Earth, these hunky alien warriors demand only one price: Every childless, single and otherwise healthy woman on Earth is tested for genetic compatibility for marriage with a Mahdfel warrior. If the match is 98.5% or better, the bride is instantly teleported away to her new mate.

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No exceptions.

# About Starr Huntress

Are you a STARR HUNTRESS?

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Do you love to read sci fi romance about strong, independent women and the sexy alien males who love them?

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Starr Huntress is a coalition of the brightest Starrs in romance banding together to explore uncharted territories.

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If you like your men horny - maybe literally - and you're equal opportunity skin color - because who doesn't love a guy with blue or green skin? - then join us as we dive into swashbuckling space adventure, timeless romance, and lush alien landscapes.

* * *

Sign up for the Starr Huntress newsletter to get the very latest in releases, promos, giveaways and freebies.

# Chapter 1

## Mercy

Mercy registered for the Draft on her twentieth birthday. All unmarried, single, childless women of Earth were required to register in compliance with the Mahdfel Protection Treaty.

She was twenty-two when her name was selected for genetic screening. Not a big concern, just give a little blood and wait. The majority of women were removed from the screening process: not healthy enough or not genetically compatible with the Mahdfel. The Mahdfel wanted to bond their warriors with healthy mates. Malnourished, sickly Earth girls wouldn't do.

Just her luck that she was healthy as a horse.

Fortunately, Mercy qualified for an exception. Critically injured during the Suhlik invasion, Mercy's mother required intensive medical care. As the only surviving family member, Mercy got a reprieve from the Draft.

Birthday after birthday, guards arrived at the front door and escorted her to the testing facility. Birthday after birthday, Mercy got another year's exemption.

Mercy knew girls her age that got pregnant simply to avoid the Draft. Worse still, married the first _human_ man they could, whether they loved each other or not. Forced to marry an alien stranger or choosing a loveless marriage to stay on Earth. Mercy guessed it was better to pick your poison but she was thankful for her mother's condition, even if that condition included crippling medical bills, allowed Mercy to avoid poison picking.

When the guards arrived on her door the morning of her twenty-fifth birthday, she wasn't worried. Nothing about her mother's health had changed.

Then, disaster struck.

The note trembled in her hand. "What do you mean there's a match?"

The nurse shifted her weight from foot to foot, a bored expression on her face. "We re-evaluated the exemptions to include more candidates in the screening process. You were sent an update."

"I don't remember." Mercy received so much mail regarding the Draft and genetic matches. Most of it was junk or propaganda. Some of it mentioned the Earth women's rights if matched.

"You have a match," the nurse said. The genetic match was important. Ninety-eight point five percent match or better. No match, no baby.

Mercy attempted to recall all her rights. There had to be a way out. Her mother needed her. She couldn't leave Earth.

It was bound to happen. Fourteen years passed since the Mahdfel agreed to protect Earth from the Suhlik invasion, an invasion humanity, as a whole, was unprepared to fight. All the Mahdfel asked in exchange for their protection was brides. The Mahdfel only had male children so they sought brides from other species across the galaxy. Lucky for Earth that humans were genetically compatible.

Seemed a reasonable bargain, right? End a devastating invasion humanity had no hope of resisting in exchange for a few women whose families were richly compensated and the Mahdfel got a new generation of warriors. The politicians justified it as the same sacrifice a soldier made when they enlisted, so the media started referring to the bride program as "The Draft". Then the propaganda started. Only a kid at the time, Mercy remembered the commercials, the posters, and the pop up ads on the internet. "Protect Earth, Become a War Bride." "Do Your Part for Humanity's Future and the Mahdfel."

Yup, protect the future by popping out Human-Mahdfel hybrid babies.

The compensation for the bride's families was generous once a baby was produced. That amount of credits could buy her mother the expensive procedure she needed, but that was months, possibly years down the road. Her mother needed her now.

"But my mother is ill. She needs me," Mercy said.

"Compassionate exemptions have been revoked."

"But she was injured in the war." Mercy remembered with perfect clarity the raid which devastated her mother's lungs. They huddled in the shelter with a single functioning gas mask between them. Mercy, only eleven years old at the time, panicked when she realized the filter on her mask failed. Her mother traded masks without hesitation. Years later, every breath was a struggle. She needed a lung transplant but growing new organs was prohibitively expensive.

"We all made sacrifices during the war," the nurse said, disinterested.

Mercy's hands clenched. Some sacrificed more than others. Others continued to sacrifice. "There has to be a way out of this."

"Are you pregnant?"

"No."

"Married?"

"No."

"Engaged?"

Mercy sighed. "No."

"That narrows down your options then."

Meaning she had no options. She was matched. End of discussion.

"By all account, the war brides are happy. The Mahdfel treat their mates well. In the fourteen years, there've only been a handful of divorces. Five thousand matches and only two divorces. That says something," the nurse said.

"Five thousand matches?" The number seemed low.

"From this facility."

Mercy wasn't impressed. A war bride was basically a baby factory. Their only job is making kids and raising them. Sure that's great for some but she liked her life the way it was. On Earth.

Her job wasn't fancy, she was a vet tech, but she got to spend all day with the best creatures on the planet. Completing her veterinary degree proved tough with scheduling classes and doing an internship, especially when she wasn't sure if she'd be matched and whisked away. She liked having a career. Honestly, Mercy needed the structure of nine to five, Monday thru Friday. She went a little crazy on vacations.

None of that meant Mercy was super thrilled about being matched in the Draft. Brides didn't even get time to prepare and say goodbye. Brides were teleported to their grooms instantly, wherever the groom was located, and no exceptions. Her little career? Over. Her house? Her family would have to pack everything up. Friends? Need to say goodbye. At least she didn't have a dog. Mercy had wanted a dog for the longest time because dogs were concentrated joy, but she feared the Draft. If her name was pulled, how could she leave behind a being of concentrated joy?

Wherever she's going, she can get a dog, or its alien equivalent, when she got there. So, lemon, meet lemonade.

The nurse presented a data tablet to Mercy. It displayed the marriage contract. "You are a ninety-nine percent match, which means there is a one percent chance that pregnancy with a Mahdfel child can end in death. Please sign here to indicate you understand the risks associated with breeding with the Mahdfel."

Yup, no sugar coating.

Ninety-nine percent was great odds, as best as the genetic tests could do, but some women still died while carrying their hybrid baby to term. It was a known risk, hence the generous compensation.

Mercy pressed her thumb to the tablet.

"Indicate here that you consent to having a translator implanted."

Mercy pressed the tablet.

"And here that you are willingly entering into the marriage contract and agree to be teleported immediately to your groom's location. The marriage will be finalized when you and your groom copulate." She made it sound so romantic. Mercy pressed her thumb to the tablet again.

"Congratulations on your union," the nurse said, voice devoid of any jubilation.

"Where am I going?" Mercy asked. Some brides went to live on military bases, other in the orbiting space station. You can have a dog on a space station, right?

The nurse read from the tablet computer. "Seems this is a special case," she said.

Fantastic. "My husband-to-be is not planet side?"

"He recently retired and returned to his home world. Sangrin. That's where you're headed."

Retired. The concept was so strange. Most of the matched warriors were young and in the prime of life. Retired? Was she matched to a decrepit old man? Maybe he wouldn't be that interested in sex. Or maybe he was an old perv who craved the taste of a young human woman. Mercy shivered.

"Dr. Nawk is a remarkable man," the nurse said. "He's made many advances. You're very lucky." She didn't feel too lucky.

"Is that my husband's name?"

"Paax Nawk. The teleporter will be ready in two minutes."

Mercy recognized the name. Doctor Paax Nawk, Mahdfel's mad scientist, creator of the genetic compatibility test. Before the test, bride candidates suffered through rounds of orientation and interviews. The Mahdfel literally "sniffed" the women to see if they were a match. The whole concept was just kind of gross.

The genetic test was better, Mercy decided. She could do without being sniffed by an endless parade of soldiers.

"Is he kind?" she asked, this being the most important question. She could tolerate any situation as long as her husband was kind. The compensation would help care for her mother, Mercy's top priority and she could deal with an older husband. Older wasn't bad. He had experience and maturity and probably really wanted a mate and family. He was a scientist, so he wasn't an empty headed soldier. They'd have things to talk about. Maybe he'd let her finish vet school. Gah, Mercy couldn't believe she was already lowering her standards to include her husband "letting" her do anything.

"He's a genius."

Well, then, Mercy thought, stomach sinking. She hoped he liked dogs.

"Teleportation is activated. Take a deep breath when the scan starts. Eat the mints when you arrive. It helps." The nurse shoved a silvery packet in her hand and set her bag at her feet. So much for a warm and cuddly bedside manner. "Have a safe journey, Ms. Drake."

Teleportation was the worst but at least she would be unconscious soon. A signal with her genetic code would be sent from relay station to relay station: near instantaneous travel across the system and not too creepy if you didn't think hard about it. A static buzzing gradually increased in Mercy's head, followed by nausea, then nothing.

## Paax

Matched. This was some sort of joke.

Paax had petitioned his clan's Warlord before to be matched to a mate but was always denied. Paax was no longer a warrior. Only warriors got the privilege of mates. The decision always rubbed Paax the wrong way.

He began his career as a warrior but was diverted into genetic research, where he excelled. Didn't he develop the genetic testing which allowed matches with women of alien species? Didn't he help accelerate the healing properties inherent in the Mahdfel genetic code? His current research could revolutionize so much about the Mahdfel.

He was a warrior. His battlefield was the lab. He fought against the genetic engineering the Suhlik did to his people so many generations ago.

Finally, Warlord Omas agreed.

In a swift change of attitude, his Warlord declared Paax's service to his clan and to the Mahdfel as a whole to be honorable and as great as any warrior.

That was not a gift. Nothing with Omas was freely given. Paax knew what Omas wanted. Paax also understood he must deny his Warlord. Since the death of his mate, Omas's temperament was volatile. Unstable. Unacceptable qualities in a clan leader. Paax's research only exacerbated the situation. An eager warrior should challenge Omas but the Warlord had superior skill and strength to spare. No one could survive a challenge.

This was the worst possible moment for Paax to be matched.

A match. A mate. His mate.

A pleasing possessiveness swept over him. She was human, from a little blue and green planet called Earth. Humans were odd looking with skin ranging from pale milky beige to dark brown. They had no horns. Plus, their stature was smaller than the Mahdfel. His mate would be fragile. She would require protection.

Absently, Paax rubbed the tattoo on his chest. It tingled, which was entirely a product of his imagination. Mahdfel tattoos were responsive to desire and to a mate, but it was unheard of for a tattoo to glow in response to the knowledge of a mate, to an unknown Earth woman.

Omas would use her presence to manipulate Paax. Judging from his tattoo's sensitivity, it would work.

# Chapter 2

## Mercy

It was snowing.

Mercy faced a great glass wall. The harsh lighting of the Transporter Station reflected her image against the snowy night.

Mercy rubbed at the ache in her forehead and fought back nausea. Teleportation sucked. It was crazy expensive, not instantaneous and left the passenger with an upset stomach. No thank you.

Mercy took a deep breath and popped the chewable mint into her mouth. Her stomach settled immediately. Right. Bearings. Transporter Station on the Mahdfel planet Sangrin.

A technician, wearing a drab black uniform, barely glanced up from his tablet. His complexion was a pleasing plum. A pair of black horns curled back from his forehead. A Sangrin Mahdfel. If Mercy had any doubt about being on another planet, they vanished. "Please queue for an automated vehicle."

"Where do I meet—"

"Please queue for an automated vehicle," he repeated, bored. He waved her off to the side.

Outside, Mercy waited for the driverless vehicle. Shivering, snow settled on her hair, unmelting. She was one of many Earth women in line with a lost expression on her face. The queue moved swiftly. A vehicle pulled smoothly to the front. A woman climbed in and the vehicle whisked her away to her match.

Teeth chattering and fingers numb, her vehicle arrived. Sighing with pleasure, she sank into the heated seating. Warmth surrounded her and sensation returned to her nose and toes.

"Greetings, Mercy Drake," the onboard computer announced. "Please enjoy your complimentary ride to your match. Direct your questions to the vehicle's computer. May you be prosperous and have many sons."

The vehicle glided smoothly through the landscape. The Transport Station was on the edge of a city. Lights and signs flashed in the written form of the Sangrin language, which Mercy understood without issue. Surprised, she realized the vehicle spoke to her in Sangrin. How odd. The translator implant worked.

Dense forests in a rolling landscape replaced the city. Lights from the road illuminated the trees near the edge of the road. Tree bark gleamed dull silver in the light. The leaves were a deep purple, nearly eggplant. Snow dusted everything. The vehicle departed the wide road for a narrower country road. Eventually that became a winding dirt track.

In an hour, the vehicle deposited Mercy in the dark and the snow. She stood at the end of a driveway. An old farmhouse with faded red paint glowed warmly in the night, nestled in thick mulberry shaded trees dusted with snow. There were no other lights in the distance. This had to be the place. Mercy picked up her bag and marched towards the house.

Time to meet her husband.

A figure emerged from the shadows, as dark as the shadows and big. Darker than, as if the light actively avoided him. His eyes were a bright blue, luminous in the dark. A warrior. From his stance, not a happy warrior.

"Doctor Nawk?" Mercy asked.

The figure chuckled. "No, little human."

Mercy waited, expecting the warrior to either introduce himself or explain where to find her match.

"So you're the match causing all this fuss," he finally said.

"I haven't done anything," she said indignantly. "I teleported immediately. I didn't have time to call my mother." She should have pleaded with the nurse for a phone call. Her mother knew about the testing appointment and would be notified by the agency of the match, but it wasn't the same as saying goodbye. Not even close.

The man stepped forward into the light. His complexion was a deep purple, almost black. His hair was shorn down to the scalp. His features were harsh, sharp as a razor. Mercy did not want to be on the receiving end of his wrath.

Angry voices drifted in from the house.

Mercy turned but the man placed a hand on her arm. "Wait. Our Warlord is not done with your mate."

"And you were sent here to...what? Scare me? Jump out at me in the dark?"

He made no reply, instead leaning in and taking a long, deep sniff. Mercy stiffened in response. He sniffed her! How extraordinarily rude.

His lips twitched in an almost grin but he shook his head. She wasn't his match.

"I am Mylomon," he said at last.

Mercy shoved past him and stood in front of the door. The voices inside no longer shouted.

The door opened before she could knock, revealing a large, athletic man. He had the warm complexion of ripe plums. Tall black horns swept back from his forehead. Straight black hair hung down his back. His facial features were strong, classically handsome. His lips, a shade darker than his complexion, were full and kissable. Please be her match, she begged to fate.

Mercy had to tilt back her head to focus on his extraordinary blue eyes. They were kind, she decided. Charmed, Mercy had an overwhelming urge to kiss him. That was a good sign, right?

"You're late."

So maybe not such a good sign.

Mercy forced her smile not to waver. She shifted her bag on the ground and stuck out her right hand. "Mercy Drake. I was just matched to Doctor Nawk."

He looked perplexed at her outstretched hand. "There must be some mistake. I expected you hours ago."

"The agency teleported me immediately. I assure you, I got here as fast as possible." This did not bode well. "Are you Doctor Nawk?"

The man stared at her for a moment before taking her hand. Instead of a pumping shake, he ran his rough, calloused thumb across her skin. His touch was electric, exciting her. Nostrils flared and he breathed deeply. His eyes flashed, color changing quickly from green to a deep blue. A low rumble emitted from his chest but he didn't move. His intense gaze ate her up from head to foot. Oddly, Mercy didn't mind. Being the focus of his concentration was exhilarating.

"Are you mine?" he asked, voice low.

A hot blush spread over her, followed by an ache between her thighs. Just a biological reaction, nothing else, to a handsome, dominant man. It'd be strange not to be attracted. She nudged the bag at her feet and rubbed her hands together for warmth. She wasn't dressed for the cold. "It's snowing."

"My apologies. My mind is elsewhere and call me Paax. Come in, please."

The front door opened into a small entry with a staircase to the right. A door was closed to the left, either an office or closet. Mercy couldn't tell. The rest of the house seemed to be down the short passage.

Paax, her husband to be, ran a hand along one horn. "I'm afraid I'm caught unprepared for your arrival."

"You were notified about the match."

"No, well, yes but only a few hours ago. I have a visitor. Completely unrelated to the match," he added hastily.

Mercy fidgeted with her hands. Did he like the look of her? Was he ashamed to present her to his visitor? Was he going to send her back? Five minutes into being a war bride and already she was failing. Why did she have the overwhelming desire to have this standoffish man desire her? Being sent back was a good thing, even if it meant losing the credits to help her mother. Mercy could get on with her life and she'd be in exactly the same situation as she was yesterday.

"I'm delighted you are here," Paax said. "Please do not misunderstand but this is not how I planned my first encounter with such a beautiful woman."

Mercy smiled. He thought she was beautiful. "I'm your wife," she said. "I'd like to meet your visitor but I need a little time to rest. The teleportation made me feel rather unwell."

"Yes," he said, attention drifting. "Those machines leave a lot to be desired."

A man appeared at the top of the stairs. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, surveying the tension between Mercy and Paax. He appeared remarkably similar to Paax, just a confident, cocky and bulked up version. "Who is our delicious little guest?" he asked.

The man and Paax exchanged a long look. "My wife," Paax said. "Mercy. She only now arrived." He grabbed her bag and climbed up the stairs. As the men passed, Paax deliberately knocked into the man's shoulder. He growled a warning.

She followed Paax up the stairs. "Call me Mercy, please."

The man did not budge as Mercy endeavored to move past. He towered over her. She brushed against the length of him. He was solid and all muscle. He grabbed her wrist and held her in place, his grip like steel. Mercy twisted her head away as he leaned in and took a long, deep sniff.

Gah. Her skin flushed from the near contact but it's wasn't right. The entire situation left a bad taste in her mouth.

"Warlord Omas Nawk," he said, voice barely louder than a growl. "Pleasure to meet you, Mercy."

Mercy yanked her hand away and hurried down the hall. "Don't be a stranger," Omas called after her, laughter in his voice.

Mercy found Paax in the second bedroom off the hall. Her bag and case neatly waiting beside the door. The room was simple but lovely: large bed with fresh white linens, a bureau, and small writing desk. The room was too tidy, missing personal effects. This was a guest bedroom. Her stomach sank again with disappointment. A large window framed a stunning view of the surrounding fields and trees. The tree outside the window had a dusty of snow, like confectioner's sugar.

"Mercy."

She turned. Paax stood close, hand on her shoulder. His warm hand ran down the chilled skin of her arm. He repeated her name, voice low and predatory, sending shivers down her spine.

He stepped back. The tension broke with an audible snap. "Please take a moment to unpack or whatever ladies do." He studied her. Absently he rubbed his chest. "We have much to discuss."

Mercy unpacked a few toiletries, washed her face with a travel towelette and checked her hair. She'd packed her bag that morning just in case she was matched. It contained her comm, data tablet and a few changes of clothes, mostly underwear and her favorite shoes. A quick brushing of her long, dark brown hair and she put it up in a loose bun. She replayed her encounter with Paax. He studied her with intense concentration and said her name dripping with sex. Mercy blushed at the memory.

They had much to discuss. Would he demand to complete the marriage contract soon? Mercy grew hot at the idea. The marriage contract was sealed with sex. Simple and straightforward. A little time to get acquainted with her husband would be nice but she'd manage. She felt an attraction, a pull to the man. That would do for now. Then again, that blush. He might be shy. Sexy but shy. Mercy really liked this idea. Most Mahdfel men were portrayed as aggressive and dominating, protective and territorial.

Paax was... different and the difference was sexy as hell.

## Paax

Paax's twin, Omas, waited at the foot of the stairs. It wasn't like the Warlord to show such patience. Typically Omas would be fuming and shouting, bullying people to get his way. And Paax had a strong idea about what Omas wanted: his mate.

Omas could add it to the list of his other unreasonable demands.

"She's lovely," Omas said, voice guarded and flat.

"She's mine," Paax said. Mercy was lovely. Long, dark hair pulled back in practicality. Great dark eyes watching him under fringe. And her scent... Sangrin was in the in middle of winter but the scents of summer clung to her: sunshine, honeysuckles and something deeper, like cool water. Most importantly she smelled liked his. The genetic tests were accurate but nothing beat the exhilaration of the old-fashioned sniff. Mercy belonged to him. He'd battle anyone who would be foolish enough to try to take her.

"Such a strong reaction so quickly," Omas said. "It'd be a shame if someone were to challenge you."

"So extortion is your plan?"

"Yes," he said bluntly. "Come back to _Judgment_. Bring your lovely new bride."

"Or?" Paax didn't have to ask. He already knew.

Omas licked his lips. "You haven't claimed her yet."

"She just arrived. Did you expect me to throw her down to the floor and fuck her on the threshold?"

The smirk on Omas's face said yes, he wanted that. "If she's matched to you, she'll be compatible with me."

"But she was matched to me, Omas. Don't be greedy."

Omas snorted. His twin was taller and broader built than Paax. Omas liked to brag he got all the brawn and Paax got the brains, but that wasn't true. Omas was cunning and was quick on his feet both physically and mentally. Paax wasn't scrawny by any stretch of the imagination. He and Omas received the same military training all young Mahdfel men undergo. Omas continued his military career, gaining bulk and experience, while Paax was deferred to a science program.

Omas would easily defeat Paax in a straight fight but Paax wouldn't roll over. Not now. Not when he could lose Mercy. Unacceptable. He'd have to outwit his twin, or claim Mercy soon.

Tonight.

"Are you going to challenge me?" Paax asked. An old rite, seldom used now since the genetic match, but still legal. Paax didn't want to fight his twin. Omas was the stronger warrior, both physically and in skill. He was Warlord for a reason. Victory against Omas was unlikely. Improbable.

"I say we let the lady choose," Omas said. "Or are you afraid she'll skip the bookworm and go for the man in the uniform? A real man, not some defect." Ah, there was the classic bully, taking all the best toys from his twin.

Paax land his hand flat on Omas's chest, causing the man to snarl. "You had your mate and you couldn't keep her." Paax regretted the unkind words as soon as he spoke them. Omas was blameless in his young bride's death. Stationed in the middle of a war field, a stray missile ended their union. Still, Omas's frustration did not mean he got to poach his brother's bride.

Omas pushed Paax away and stalked down the hall. "Return to _Judgment_ or I will have her, Par. You can't stop me. You have twelve hours to make your decision."

Paax rubbed a hand over his face. Omas would challenge him, he was certain. He needed to claim Mercy tonight but human women needed time to get acquainted with their grooms. Pushing her for sex immediately could damage their marriage. But if he didn't, Omas would snatch her away. Fuck her. Claim her. As much as he loved his twin, Paax knew Omas was cruel and short tempered. Beyond that, beyond the need to protect Mercy from his twin, Paax ached at the notion of losing her. A life without her inquisitive, dark eyes would be empty.

He may not have claimed his bride yet but he already belonged to her completely.

# Chapter 3

Mercy

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Mercy dug out her comm and faced the device towards herself, recording a quick message for her mother. "Hi, Mom. I guess you know by now that I got matched. So I'm on Sangrin, not some battle field, which is nice. It's night here but I think we're in an old farmhouse in the country. The house is big. Not too big but good. I like what I've seen. And my husband, Paax...He's older than me but not too old." Mercy blushed. "He's a scientist. I think I'm going to really like him, Mom." Mercy paused, collecting her thoughts.

"I'm sending all the compensation money to you. Don't argue. Use it to get your procedure." That was the whole reason Mercy didn't put up a fight. She heard rumors of brides running away or attempting to get out of the marriage contract. "Maybe once I get settled, I can see if we can move you in. The house seems to have room. Anyway, I'm worn out from the teleportation. I'll send another message tomorrow. Love you."

Mercy reviewed the message before hitting send.

A knock sounded on the door. After a moment, Paax entered. "Is there anything you need?"

"Something to drink and if you have anything for an upset stomach, I won't complain."

He frowned. "The teleporters leave a lot to be desired. I should work on that."

"You're not an engineer?" Geneticist, the nurse said.

"There must be some serum that can ease the journey."

Not likely. "Being deconstructed molecule by molecule and reassembled should be a little uncomfortable. Beside, the ginger candy helps. I'll take another piece if you have it."

"Ginger. Candy." He said each word as if weighing their merit. "Is that Earth food? I would have to update the reconstructor's database."

"Don't worry yourself, please." Mercy forced a smile. Wow, her husband took no preparation for her arrival. None at all. Didn't even update the food reconstructor to produce the Earth food she would surely crave. That should be step one in preparing for a bride.

"I need to discuss the contract with you." He absently rubbed a hand along a horn, gathering his thoughts.

The smile faltered. He was going to send her home. Or hand her over to that hulking brute Omas. Mercy didn't want to leave. She had no good reason to think she formed a connection with Paax, but the idea of leaving filled her with despair. It felt wrong. She needed to be here with him.

"You have rights," he said.

"I know." Mainly the ability to decide when they have, or don't, have sex. She could not be forced. Mercy also had the right to divorce.

"I hoped to take things slow, to let us get to know each other."

"Paax, please just say whatever it is you're trying to say."

The corner of his mouth twitched. Was that amusement? "Omas will challenge me. For you."

"Why? I thought the genetic test—"

Again with the horn rub. "Yes, the test removed all doubt about a match. A challenge is very old tradition and hardly ever done. But it is still legal."

Legal to fight over a women like a piece of meat. Mercy paced the width of the room. "I don't understand. A match has to be ninety-eight point five percent or the woman could die. Why would he challenge you for me? I'm not his match."

"He is my twin."

That paused Mercy's pacing. "Your twin. You look nothing alike." Omas was taller and bulkier than Paax. Similar in coloring, perhaps. Their horns grew in a great sweep back from their foreheads, true, but they were too different to be twins. Omas had cruel eyes.

"Omas excelled as a warrior and trained for many years. I was diverted into genetics. He has also benefited from various enhancements."

"I still don't understand why he would challenge you for me."

"He aims to manipulate me," Paax said. "He submitted my name to be matched, when I specifically refused, and he brought me a beautiful bride. He knows I've desired to be matched for years. Now he threatens to take you away if I fail to give him what he wants."

So many thoughts jammed their way into her head at once. He refused a match. He said she was beautiful. He desired a match for years. "What does he want from you?"

"To return to the _Judgment_. I retired." Mercy recognized the name of Omas's battleship.

So not a challenge for her. Not really. "Would you win a challenge?"

"He is a Warlord. My Warlord."

"No?"

"It would be difficult. He is the stronger and more skilled warrior."

So no. "Would it be so bad if you went back to his battleship?"

A hard look settled on Paax's face. "Yes."

"What do you suggest?"

"We need to complete the mating ritual tonight. Once I have claimed you, he can no longer legally challenge me." His words were so dispassionate, as if he was describing how to boil an egg.

Mercy shivered. She needed this to work. She needed the money to help her mother.

Paax noticed her distress. He gathered her into his arms. "I will only do this with your permission. It is a lot to consider but it is important you understand the situation."

"It's not a great situation."

"No. Many things are not as I wished."

"You refused a match?" Did he even want her?

Paax sighed. "I did not refuse you, little star. How could I? We have only just met and already there is nothing in the universe I would not do for you. I only wished to avoid bringing you into a dangerous situation."

"What do we need to do for the ceremony?"

He lowered his head, resting his forehead against hers. "There is a robe in the wardrobe. Will you require assistance dressing?"

"I'll manage."

He nodded. "I will prepare," he said and left the room.

In the closet, Mercy found a flowing white robe of delicate silk. She held it up. The length appeared correct. Mercy stripped down to her underwear, plain nude colored panties and bra. She wished she had the foresight to wear something more enticing that morning. A rummage through her bag produced another two pairs of equally practical underwear.

Mercy slipped on the robe. Silken and fine, it settled against her skin like a whisper. She found a tie on the inside and fastened one edge. The other folded over the front. A wide sash went around her waist and tied in the front. The sleeves were long and covered her hands. She felt like a child in adult's clothing but the bodice of the robe fit her well, displaying her curves to great effect.

Paax waited in the hall, dressed in a similar robe. The fine white fabric complemented his plum complexion. His eyes lit up a bright blue, assessing her with a hungry gaze.

"Are the sleeves supposed to be like this?"

He nodded. "They fold over your hands like this." He demonstrated with his own long sleeves, smoothing the cuff over his hands. "Are you ready, Mercy Drake?"

Mercy took a deep breath and nodded.

## Paax

Paax's mate was a vision of grace and elegance.

She stole nervous glances in his direction. She did not think he noticed but he noticed. She deserved to have a mate who would comfort her, woo her, and take the time to make her feel adored.

She was a woman worthy of adoration.

Paax rubbed the tattoo on his chest. It burned bright merely from the thought of her fresh, summery scent. There were so many things to appreciate about the lovely Earth woman, like her generous breasts, the sway of her hips as she walked, or the strong curve of her calves, but he always returned to her intoxicating scent. It reminded him of something, a beloved place he visited long ago.

It reminded him of home.

She deserved many things he could not give her.

## Mercy

Paax led Mercy to the heart of the home, a combination kitchen and sitting room. The walls were painted a simple white and the room was sparsely furnished. Paax had the necessities: a comfy chair, a sofa and worn wooden table with chairs. The kitchen area was immaculately clean. The space was simple and clinical in its functionality. It needed a woman's touch.

"You have a lovely home," Mercy said.

Paax nodded. "You are kind but I can tell you're lying. My home is empty. I haven't spent much time here, or anywhere, other than my Warlord's battleship."

Mercy thought back to the loud, aggressive Warlord. What kind of environment was his battleship? Stern, stoic and strategic. Not homey.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"What I've seen."

"I've modeled it on my mother's house."

"She was Sangrin?"

"Yes. We lived with her until our warrior training. My brother and I were always climbing something or frightening the cows. I imagined the same environment for my own sons."

"I'm a city girl, myself," Mercy said. "But I like the idea of the country life."

The smallest grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

A fire blazed in the hearth, casting a warm glow in the sterile room. On the ledge near the fire were a cast iron tea kettle and the implements of the tea ceremony waited. A plush white hide of some great shaggy beast spread out on the floor. Paax directed Mercy to one of the thick cushions and helped her kneel. He settled across from her, directly next to the fire, folding down gracefully with his knees on the cushions. He waited, hands folded on his lap.

Mercy mimicked his posture and carefully folded her hands on her lap, double checking that the sleeves were straight.

"Before we begin the ceremony, let me say that you are remarkable," Paax said.

Mercy blushed. She wasn't anything special. "No, you don't even know me—"

"I know enough. You woke up this morning in another star system. I tore you away from your family and brought you into turmoil, yet you agreed to complete the mating when you have every reason to deny me." He paused, throat working with a swallow. The firelight cast his features into stark relief against the shadows, highlighting the handsome profile. His gaze held hers, bright blue eyes piercing into her consciousness. "You amaze me, Mercy Drake."

My gaze shifted down to my hands. "You flatter me, Doctor Nawk."

"Paax, please."

Mercy repeated his name, a slight smile on her lips. "Explain this ceremony to me, Paax."

"For my mother's people, the people of Sangrin, marriage is a simple and private affair between a man and a woman. We prepare a special blend of tea and contemplate our shared lives. When the tea is ready, we drink. The tea is meant to aid relaxation but can have... odd effects. Some report euphoria or visions. "

Interesting. "You're not certain?"

"I have never shared the marriage ceremony with another," he said frankly.

"Of course." Mercy's blush returned. The Mahdfel mated for life. "We drink the tea and then we are married?"

"Technically, we are already married. You signed a contract on Earth."

"It's not finalized." Not until they had sex. The marriage contract was very clear that the brides were not to be forced or coerced into sex without consent. Technically, Mercy didn't have to go through with the ceremony until she was ready.

He lifted her chin, holding her gaze and thumb brushing across her lower lip. Her lips parted, allowing his thumb to probe inside. Her tongue flicked against the digit, tasting the salt on his skin. Desire flared in her core and she squeezed her thighs together. Yeah, she was ready.

"Allow me to prepare tea for you, mate," he said.

He picked up a red cloth, folded it twice and used it to remove the cast iron teapot. Gently he poured the boiling hot water into a white ceramic tea pot. He set the kettle down on a trivet on the ledge, along with the cloth. With both hands, he picked up the teapot and swirled the water, heating the vessel. Satisfied, he empted the hot water into two cups.

Paax moved with a refined grace of a trained predator, controlled and thoughtful. The well defined muscles of his shoulders shifted under the robe. Her eyes kept returning to the black horns sweeping back from his forehead. What would they feel like if she touched them? Hard? Soft? Could he sense her touch on his horns? Was it true what Earth girls said about the size of a Mahdfel's horn? Her gaze shifted quickly down to his lap. She shifted on the cushion, squeezing her thighs together. She hoped it was true.

Mercy tried not to stare but this was her soon-to-be husband, after all. Wasn't she allowed to appreciate his physical perfection? And speculate about the size of his horns?

He picked up a scoop and wiped it down with the cloth. It was clean before but Mercy appreciated the gesture. In a smooth motion, he held up the tea leaf cannister and gently rolled the blend onto the scoop. He then emptied the scoop into the teapot. Finally, he added the hot water.

Paax's attention returned to the cups. He repeated the earlier swirl, letting the hot water warm the smaller vessels. Then he poured the water into a bowl and set the bowl aside.

He sat back on his heels and folded his hands in his lap.

"Do we—"

He shook his head, indicating silence. Breathing deep, he closed his eyes. Now was the time for contemplation.

Mercy could not still her mind or close her eyes. The front of Paax's robe fell open, revealing a hard muscled chest covered in an elaborate black tattoo. Instinctively, Mercy licked her lips. It wasn't creeping if they were married, right? Where was her head? That morning she was on Earth, single, and dreading being matched to an alien. Now she couldn't stop staring at his pecs or his horns.

He opened one eye and caught her staring. The tattoo flickered from black to a bright, glowing white. Mercy blushed and glanced down to her lap.

Tea steeped, he poured the brew into the cups with care and precision. One hand cradling the cup on the side and the other from the bottom, he held out the cup for her. Mercy accepted with both hands and mimicked how he held his own cup. She cradled the warm ceramic cup, letting the heat seep into her fingers.

He sipped the tea and nodded, indicating she should drink.

The tea was dark, nearly black. A heady fragrance of rose and light grassy notes drifted upward. The first taste was tart, vanishing quickly to reveal a subtle note of fruit. The second sip was more palatable.

Paax drained his cup. Mercy followed, nearly gagging on the bitter brew. He refilled the cups. Mercy accepted the refill without enthusiasm. She wasn't feeling relaxed, euphoric or experiencing a vision. Well, if you didn't count ogling Paax. She didn't mind admiring her husband. He was certainly a vision.

"It gets easier," he said. In one swift motion, he tilted back his head and gulped down the tea. He grimaced.

"I suspect you're lying, Paax," Mercy said. Closing her eyes, she downed the bitter tea. Coughing, she handed the cup to him. As their hands touched, Mercy paused. Did she really call the scary Mahdfel warrior a liar? She covered her mouth, eyes wide in surprise. What was in that tea?

His expression was blank, unreadable. He was going to send her home. Mercy just knew it. She'd be sent packing back to Earth, a rejected bride, and her mother's medical care would disappear.

"You see through me, wife." His eyes crinkled in amusement, a genuine smile on his lips.

Mercy sighed in relief. "What are we supposed to do now?"

A rumble came from her stomach. Mercy blushed. "Sorry. I guess I haven't eaten since this morning." Even then, nerves dampened her appetite. A couple sips of orange juice and a piece of toast was not a meal.

"Let me feed you, wife." Paax rose in a graceful movement, holding out a hand for Mercy. Her own limbs were stiff and protested as she climbed to her feet. "We can do anything we desire, including sharing a meal."

The kitchen, attached to the great room, was bare of all but the most basic supplies. "You're not much of a cook," Mercy said, opening empty cabinets.

"I use the reconstructor mostly," he said. He opened a cabinet door, revealing a chilled pantry. "But I have some fresh fruits."

"Sounds great." Reconstructor food was largely bland and flavorless but had the necessary amount of nutrients and calories to be technically "food". There would be changes in the kitchen, starting with real food.

"I suspect you're the liar now, Mercy Drake." He removed cartons from the cabinet. One clear plastic tub contained berries which appeared to be like strawberries. The second carton contained wedges of a clear jelly with flecks of embedded gold. The third was a tub of small, pink blossoms.

"Fruit is great. Reconstructor stuff I can do without. Luckily your wife likes to cook, so she won't be using that contraption."

"What if your husband likes the taste of cardboard?"

"My husband's been a bachelor too long."

Amusement returned to his eyes. He plated the fruit, presenting her one of each. " _Meffus_ ," he said, pointing to the strawberry. " _Bricyll_ jelly and _Eirin_ blossoms."

Paax picked up the strawberry and brought it to her lips. She opened instinctively. "Close your eyes."

She did. He rolled the fruit along her lips, the flesh prickled with tiny seeds. She swiped it with her tongue, licking his fingers in the process. Taking a small bite, a slightly sweet and sour flavor burst on her tongue. Not like a strawberry after all. He gradually feed the berry to her, her teeth sinking into the flesh nibble by nibble. When she finished the piece, her greedy lips held onto his fingers, teeth nipping just hard enough.

The jelly this time. Paax held a bite sized piece on the palm of his hand. Mercy leaned down and her lips wrapped around the confection. Surprisingly firm and subtly flavored like citrus, she chewed before swallowing. She grabbed his hand and licked the palm clean, lapping up any trace of the citrus flavor.

He picked up the tiny pink blossom. "Open," he commanded. He placed the blossom in her open lips. "Swallow. No chewing."

Mercy swallowed the blossom whole. Chilled honey trickled down her throat. "Oh wow." Her eyes flew open. "I think that's the best one."

" _Eirin_ blossoms are a delicacy." He picked up another blossom and repeated the procedure. This time, Mercy grabbed his hand as she swallowed the blossom. She tenderly kissed the tips of his fingers, taking each one into her mouth and sucking.

The collar of his robe fell open. The tattoo glowed a brilliant white.

Mercy paused. "What is that?"

Paax removed his robe, now entirely nude. Quickly, Mercy's gaze swept over his form, taking in his physical perfection. Not an ounce of fat on the warrior scientist. Every muscle was hard and well defined. His abs rippled for days. His thighs were massive trunks. And his cock... A darker shade of plum, almost black, and thick. And hard. A series of ridges up along the side. Hmm. That was interesting. The head glistened with precum. Everything about this Mahdfel warrior shouted vitality.

And she worried about getting an old man.

Her eyes returned to the swirling, massive tattoo. The pattern covered his entire chest, starting at the collarbone and covering both pecs. It extended down well past his ribcage.

Mercy extended her hand to touch but paused. "May I?" He nodded. She placed her hands on his considerable shoulders. Her hands glided over his velvety skin and drifted to the tattoo. The inked skin felt smooth. It was dyed black but glowed white.

"The pattern is my clan, my victories and my defeats."

"Defeats?" Mercy couldn't imagine this prime specimen of Mahdfel warrior being defeated.

"It is a short sighted fool who does not learn from their mistakes."

She nodded. "But the glow?"

"For you. It means I desire you."

# Chapter 4

## Paax

That blush again. Such a strange woman.

He reached for her hand. An electric thrill sparked when their skin touched. Mercy's breath caught. The warmth from her was more intoxicating than the tea. She leaned forward and kissed Paax quickly.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. His mouth claimed hers, eager and hungry.

Mercy's eyes were hooded and burning with longing. "Is this the tea?" she asked.

Paax paused but did not pull away. "It relaxes only. It cannot make you do anything you are uncomfortable with."

"Oh."

She felt so light in his arms, like a bird that would fly away if he moved suddenly.

"May I touch your horns?" she asked. He nodded and lowered his head. Carefully, as if she expected him to rear back in pain or surprise, she lifted a hand to his horn. She stroked downwards from the tip, towards the base. Paax closed his eyes and moaned.

"I'm sorry," she said, quickly withdrawing her hand.

"No." He grabbed her hand and brought it back to his horns. "It is very pleasurable."

"It feels... velvety. Hard but soft underneath. Does that make sense?" Her fingers circled the base, stroking where the horn's protuberance met flesh. Paax fought to hold back another moan as she caressed the most sensitive part of his horns.

"It is cartilage. Hard on the outside, softer in the center."

"What purpose do they serve?"

A grin flickered across his face. "To give pleasure."

His little star blushed fiercely, turning a deep pink, and drew back her hands.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked.

Mercy answered with a smile, loosening the tie on the robe. The silken fabric fell off her shoulders in a quiet hush.

His hungry gaze ate up her. Long, dark hair spilled over her pale shoulders, stopping at the swell of her breasts. He longed to suck on those rosy tips. Her stomach had a comfortable roundness, her waist trim, and the curve of her hips was beyond description.

She was perfection.

Paax never had the time, or the inclination, to chase after women. His work was important. Now, with Mercy standing before him in just a pair of panties and bra, his work seemed trivial.

"Paax?" she asked nervously.

So eager to please him. He remembered to smile. His smile put her at ease.

"It's time I taste the fruits of your world." That blush again, such a pleasing pink, spread across her face and her chest. He led her by the hand back to the fire. She shimmied out of her remaining garments.

Kneeling on the rug, he twisted his fingers into her hair. He buried his face into bend of her neck, breathing deep the scent of her. Summer. Sunlight. Every joyful memory of racing through the tall grasses with his twin.

He kissed the delicate skin, groaning. She trembled from desire. Soon. Soon he would sink in the wet heat of her core, claim her, and fill this remarkable woman with his sons.

He took her breasts into his mouth, sucking forcibly with teeth grazing her nipples. Wet and hot, his tongue seared a wide path across the underside of her breast. Mercy leaned into him, arching her back, dazed by pleasure before returning to herself. "Paax," she murmured.

His need for her was too great. He couldn't think beyond his throbbing cock. Mercy deserved to have him slavishly kiss every inch of her, to make her come on his hands and then on his tongue. Only then would he claim her but his need was overpowering. "I'm sorry, little star. I cannot wait."

"Claim me, husband."

He knelt between her thighs and lifted her hips, pulling her onto him. His large hands raised her without a problem. He was in her suddenly and roughly. Mercy exhaled in surprise from the pressure of so much in her. Features half illuminated by the firelight, a smile played at her lips. Her pussy gripped him tightly, fitting like a glove. He stretched her like a beast, moving in deeper.

Paax cast a shadow over her.

Every stroke back was slow and the push forward was hard. Mercy's breasts jiggled from the force. Her back arched. She braced herself against the floor but Paax held her in place. She tilted her head back and moaned. Raising her thighs to his shoulders, he plunged deeper. His rhythm was relentless, only going forward and never pausing.

Her core wrapped tightly around him. His release curled at the base of his spine. Too soon. She did not have her climax yet. Paax may have been impatient, but he was not selfish. He grunted and rolled to one side. He pulled her on top of him.

On top, the firelight illuminated Mercy wholly.

"You're beautiful," he said, knuckles brushing against her lips. Her eyes closed, leaning into his touch. His fingers glided over the area where the delicate skin of her neck met her shoulders. He would sink his fangs into the tender flesh, marking her to remove all doubt. "I will claim you here."

She lifted herself and slid her inner fold along the length of his shaft, dragging her slick skin along his rock hard member. She paused in the journey to let the head probe her entrance, savoring the sensation of soft skin as it gave way to the rigid, engorged head. Every fiber of his being demanded that his little star impale herself on his cock and ride him into a screaming orgasm, but he must have patience.

Paax grunted. His fingers dug into the soft flesh on her hips.

Mercy leaned forward and kissed him. Hungry and possessive, like a glutton at a feast, his mouth reached for hers. His hips bucked automatically, searching for her pussy.

This time when Mercy moved against his shaft, he lifted his hips and pushed into her ready and slick tunnel. No lingering at the entrance. Mercy did not pull away but met his thrust with enthusiasm.

Mercy rocked forward. He was in her deeply. His large hands gripped her thighs. She lifted and lowered herself back onto his cock. The first convulsions of an orgasm welled deep in her. Mercy locked eyes with Paax. She rocked faster, lowering herself on his cock forcefully, her ass slapping against him. She tilted her hips just enough for his member to hit the perfect spot inside of her. Suddenly, her hips jerked uncontrollably. A cry escaped from her, louder than she intended but she was beyond caring.

Paax's fingers dug into her hips to coax her into movement but she would not budge until the last of the quaking left her. "Paax," Mercy whispered. "I want you to bend me over and fuck me hard."

He lifted her off his cock like she weighed nothing. She knelt on a cushion, facing away from the fire. The light illuminated the smooth, pale skin. His large hands caressed the perfect round of her ass, giving it a slap and delighting in the jiggle. A thick finger parted the swollen lips of her sex and then Paax filled his bride again.

His wife.

_His_.

No one would take her from him. No one. Not even his twin.

His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips. He marveled at the contrast of his skin against the pale, almost pink expanse of her smooth skin. Worries surged that his grip was too tight and would bruise this delicate flesh. She was so delicate underneath him.

Mercy rested on her elbows and let her head hang. She pushed against Paax's mass, as if to disprove his concerns about delicate humans, meeting each of his forceful thrusts. Shameless and loud moans escaped from her. Her thighs quivered. In the morning he would rub her down and sooth aching muscles, tend to any bruise or blemish on her skin but now was not the time to be gentle.

His hands wrapped around her hair and pulled her back with a stinging yank. Yelping, Mercy was off her elbows and her back pressed against Paax. His lips were at her ear. His teeth nibbled forcefully, not breaking the surface but leaving red welts. "I'm going to come all over your pretty little ass, wife" he said, voice a growl.

She moaned in reply, pussy clenching with anticipation. His little Earth woman liked the dirty talk. He could do that. "Or should I fill you tonight with my seed? Make you round with my sons?" One large hand cupped her breast; the other found her clit and applied direct pressure. Her moan grew more urgent. She was close and he was merciless. Mercy squirmed away, to lessen the sensation, but Paax was too strong and held her in place. He had her completely.

"I want to see your face when you come, wife."

"Yes!" Her voice shuddered before dissolving completely into a cry. His hot breath pressed against the back of her neck. She would come soon and nothing could stop it. "I want you," she said between pants, "to fill me up, husband. Every drop."

Paax gave a yell, snarling, and pushed her down onto the fur rug. The weight of him pressed her into the white fur. He covered her completely, hands planted on either side of her head. His hips thrust against her exposed behind, pushing into her. Mercy pushed herself up on to her elbow but Paax swatted her hands away. Another stroke pushed her forward, breasts flattened against the fur. Another stroke and she was pushed forward, the cheek of her face pressed flat.

"Yes, husband!" she shouted.

Paax growled. He gripped her by the shoulders, shoving her towards him with each thrust. His muscles tensed. His cock twitched and pulsed. Soon. Her thighs quivered. Suddenly flushed, she was going to overheat and melt. She cried out. Paax matched her cry. He leaned forward, fangs sinking into the tender flesh where her neck joined her shoulder. He emptied into her, fangs biting deep enough to taste coppery blood. Her muscles clenched his cock, milking every drop, just like she asked.

He fell on top of her, covering her small form with his bulk. Tenderly, his tongue laved the bite marks. The healing agent in his saliva closed the wounds quickly. His mate. His wife.

He kissed the top of her head. She rolled over, eyes bright in the firelight. His rough fingers stroked the side of her face, traveling down her slender neck to those delicious breasts. His hands caressed the expanse of her abdomen, resting above her womb. His sons would grow here. He couldn't wait.

"Paax—" she started to say.

He shushed her with a kiss. "In the morning, little star. Let me hold you and touch you because I do not believe you are real yet."

"Why do you call me that?"

"Little star?"

"Yes."

He placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead. "The Mahdfel word for star is _murce_. _Murcie_ would be the diminutive. Little star."

"That's lovely."

"As are you." His wife curled next to him, content to let his hands rove and stroke.

No one would take this from him.

No one.

# Chapter 5

## Mercy

Mercy woke alone in an unfamiliar room in a large bed. Paax must have carried her upstairs during the night. A mug of tea, still steaming, waited on the nightstand, along with a plate of fruit and toast. Produced from the reconstructor, the toast tasted of cardboard smothered in butter and jam. The fruit was good.

Wrapping her hands around the mug, Mercy inspected the room. The furniture was quality but simple. The walls were white. The carpet an uninspired tan. Again, much like the other rooms, the bedroom was functional but sterile, devoid of personality.

Mercy pulled back the curtains revealed a bright blue sky over a snowy white landscape. The sky was a hostile shade of blue without the clouds. Glare from the reflected light on the snow hurt her eyes. The lawn and driveway hid beneath a flat, uniform surface.

A familiar male figure shoveled the pavement, the scrape of the shovel breaking the morning silence. Paax did not wear a shirt, his plum skin flush with activity. His shoulders strained with exertion, muscles moving smoothly. Her husband.

Admiring his fine physique, Mercy sipped her tea.

He paused to wipe sweat from his brow and faced the window.

Naked, Mercy stood in the window, not ashamed. She remembered licking the sweat from Paax's skin last night and desire flared in her once more. She couldn't explain it but she was insatiable when it came to her husband.

A hot shower worked out the stiffness in her muscles and relaxed nerves. Mercy dressed in a knee length white skirt and lavender blouse. She pulled her dark hair back in a bun.

Alone downstairs, Mercy explored. The air had a slight chill. She'd ask Paax for winter appropriate clothing soon.

She found the study easily: the first door on the right of the foyer. The study seemed to be a combination library and home office. Books stuffed shelves, books on top of books, spines neatly face out. The shelves held discarded mugs, and paperbacks mid read, opened and face down.

A desk faced the windows with a tablet computer and stacks of notebooks. Books were piled on the floor. A couch with deep seats, good for napping, sat along the interior wall. The throw blanket half on the floor testified to the naps.

Paax was a slob.

"I recognize that look," Paax said, standing behind her. "You're horrified. The cleaning bots don't come in here. I can't risk them disturbing my research."

"This is research?" Mercy gestured to the empty cups on the bookshelves.

"I need a little chaos to think."

He stood close to her. What was the morning after protocol? A quick kiss on the lips? A firm handshake? They were married, Mercy decided, and it was silly for married people to be shy. Warm and flush, Mercy stood on her tiptoes and landed a kiss on his kissable lips. He responded eagerly, hands firmly on the small of her back.

Oh yum.

"Tell me about your research." What was she doing? That was the least sexy thing she could have said. Bend me over the desk and fuck me now, as an example. She should demand that he eat her pussy until she screamed his name but no, she asked about research.

"Oh, it's really interesting. Mahdfel have an accelerated healing factor. It's one of the things the Suhlik engineered into our ancestors." Paax's pulled away, his voice excited. The Suhlik did many things to the Mahdfel before they rebelled, including making it so they only bred sons.

"I believe the healing factor can be used to reverse the aging process."

"Reverse aging?"

"Well, that's simplistic. I'm focused on accelerating cellular regeneration and rejuvenation."

Mercy scanned the room, recoiling at the piles of unstable books and notebooks. "And this is your research?"

"Only the reading material. Let me show you my lab. It's a basic set up."

Behind the main house was a red barn. Some things were universal, Mercy noted. The old barn housed the lab. A quick journey down the shoveled path through the cold and snow and they were safely inside the building.

The door slid closed. Sunlight streamed through the windows, creating pools of light. The lab had a deep chill in the air. Mercy wished she had asked for a coat. She shivered.

"Lights." The lights flicked on with a hum, revealing a room with lab benches with black epoxy resin counters and built in sinks. Gleaming new equipment, and refrigeration units with clear glass doors, dotted the room. The concrete floor had several drains. In the corner was a large, intimidating computer. The set-up seemed new and expensive. Near the door was a large, old fashioned desk similar to the one in the study.

"This is your basic lab?" Mercy asked.

"Nothing like the facilities on the _Judgment_ but it serves my purpose."

The concrete floor radiated cold. Mercy shivered.

"Let me turn up the heat," Paax said. "I hardly notice the cold." He handed her a lab coat resting on the back of a chair.

Grateful, Mercy wrapped herself in the coat. "Why is Omas so interested in your research?"

Excited, Paax went to a bench with a microscope. "Mahdfel cells are excellent reproductive machines. Repair and replicate; again and again. Copy after copy."

Mercy nodded.

"But the code gets corrupted. Mutated. The one millionth copy is not as good as the original, but it gets the job done. The twenty billionth copy works but only half as well. It breaks down." Paax turned on the microscope. He placed a slide on the stage and adjusted the knobs.

"I think I follow," Mercy said.

"What happens when we age. Pigmentation goes gray. Collagen decreases. Cartilage breaks down. Repairs on the cellular level slow. Everything takes longer to heal."

Enthusiasm transformed his face to an almost boyish quality. "How old are you, Paax?"

"Afraid you married an old man?" He lifted his head from the scope and a devastating smile spread on his face. No man had the right to be that sexy. "Earth years do not correspond with Mahdfel years."

"Humor me, old man. I'm twenty-five Earth years old."

"Seventy-six."

That seemed an impossible age. "Earth years?" Mercy asked in shock. Paax appeared in the prime of his life, vigorous and bursting with carnal energy.

"Mahdfel life expectancy is longer than a human's. Barring an accident, there is no reason for me not to reach two hundred. I'm not that old."

"And your research would extend that further?" So much for growing old together. Mercy could expect to reach ninety, maybe one hundred. The best case scenario was seventy-five years with her husband, and he still would have decades left.

A sudden fear that Paax would trade her in for a younger wife swept over her. She knew nothing about this alien man. He didn't seem shallow enough to abandon an elderly wife but he also didn't seem to be seventy-six years old.

Paax pulled her to him and planted a kiss on his forehead. "What troubles you?"

"Nothing. I'm being silly."

"You are upset at the age difference," he guessed. He lifted her chin upwards and held her gaze, eyes searching for the source of her distress. Mercy tried to deny his voiceless question but could not.

"No, just... I won't live as long as you. I'll get old and you'll leave me for a younger woman."

"You are my mate, Mercy Drake," he said, voice firm and resonating in the quiet of the room. "Mine. I will not let you go, not now, not ever."

A relieved smile spread on her face. "Thank you. I'm sorry I'm so needy. My emotions are all over the place. Please continue explaining your work."

Paax adjusted the scope to her height. "What if we can introduce a compound to encourage the native Mahdfel heal factor to increase? Here." Mercy leaned over the lens. He stood near her, radiating heat.

"What am I seeing?"

"If you were a biologist..."

"Well, I'm not. Explain it simply for me, please."

"Those cells are young. They have all the qualities of a sample taken from a twenty year old subject."

"Okay."

"Those cells are taken from a seventy year old subject and they are fully restored to youth."

"Where did you get the sample?"

"Omas."

Mercy straightened and looked Paax in the eyes. "This is what he wants so badly."

Excited, Paax went to another bench. "I've developed an experimental compound. It encourages cellular restoration. A fountain of youth if you're poetic."

"So this serum can make anyone super strong and healthy?"

"In a _cnau_ shell, yes. It encourages muscle growth and heightens the senses. Injuries heal quicker. I've hypothesized that it stalls the aging process but I need more data."

"This is amazing!" His smile was infectious. Mercy wanted to throw her arms around him and plant a kiss on his gorgeous mouth.

"Yes, but I've had a few setbacks." Paax opened a black and white lab notebook. Glasses emerged from his front pocket and rested on his face. "The formulation is unstable."

"It has a short shelf life?" Harder to manufacture and ship, but other drugs faced similar problems.

Paax shook his head. "There are psychological side effects from prolonged use. Bursts of anger. Irrational thinking."

"And this has happened to your brother?"

He nodded, mouth turned down at the corners. Gone was the boyish joy. "My twin and my Warlord. Yes. I did not consider the consequences when I started him on the regimen."

"A regimen?"

Paax flipped through a notebook. "He was seriously injured. Without his mate, he... Omas did not want to live. He wasn't healing properly. The clan needs their Warlord. I had the serum in development. Early results were positive. I was certain it was the only thing that could bring him back." He glanced up from his notebook, a sad smile. "It is rather impressive, isn't it? The way I brought my brother back from the grave but condemned him to be an unstable monster."

"I'm sure he's not a monster." Probably, right? Mercy knew less about Omas than she did about Paax. They only had the encounter on the stairs where he sniffed her.

"Remarkable." Referring to the formulation and in no way talking about the lurch in her stomach when he looked down at her, passion burning in his bright blue eyes. "Such compassion for such a little thing."

"I'm not little." Damn that sexy man.

He moved swiftly forward and claimed her lips. Mercy moaned with desire in the back of her throat. A slow kiss. Thoughtful. All the time in the world to let lips brush against each other, for tongue to scout the horizon beyond. Her hands drifted to his horns, caressing them in long strokes.

He blazed a trail of kisses from the corner of her mouth, across to the earlobe and down her neck. His tongue laved the curve where her neck joined her shoulder, the area he bit last night. He growled possessively, "Mine."

"Yours," she said. Her fingers undid the buttons on his shirt. Kisses went down to his chest.

His grip on her hips tightened.

Mercy went to her knees, cold concrete forgotten, and undid his fly. His cock eagerly greeted her. Mercy kissed the tip and glanced up at Paax. Their eyes locked and she took him in her mouth as much as possible. He grew harder in her mouth, swelling and stiffening. She ran her tongue around the head and down the underside, along the length of rigid veins. Both of his hands gripped the back of her head, urging her to continue.

Mercy grabbed the shaft with one hand and cupped his balls with the other. She kept a slow pace down the length of his cock and back up again, around the head. All the time in the world. She steadily increased in the suction until his hard cock pulsed.

"Mine," Paax cried, hands clutching her head, fingers tangled in her hair.

She did not pull away as he came. She swallowed every last drop. His member twitched as he came. She waited until he finished and rose, skimming his body with hers.

Paax lifted her. Without a word, he sat her down atop a black workbench. Pushing her skirt up to her hips, his hungry fingers tore at her soaked underwear, yanking down the fabric.

He ran his hand along her thighs, outside and then parting them, all the while maintaining eye contact. Little kisses journeyed from her knees towards her inner thigh. Stubble brushed against delicate skin.

He spread her legs wide like a specimen to be examined. He paused, his hungry gaze gobbling up the view of her pussy. The bright light through the windows cast his face in shadows. "You're gorgeous."

A finger parted the downy hair and pushed further in, finding wetness. His eyes did not leave her pussy. His fingers slowly spread the slick evidence of her arousal. She throbbed with desperate need.

He pressed his face in, breathing deeply. "You smell amazing, wife. I bet you taste even better." His tongue flicked against her clit and his fingers worked in and out of her. Mercy didn't last long before she clutched his horns and begged for mercy. His tongue did not cease its relentless teasing, spearing into her, and he drank every creamy drop of her release.

He was hard again. She was ready.

His mouth sought hers. He pulled her towards him and entered in one swift motion. Mercy gasped in pleasure. Her legs wrapped around his waist. One hand cradling the curve of her rump, the other leaning against the counter. The touch of skin on skin. All the time in the world. Mercy closed her eyes and leaned into Paax, head resting on his shoulder.

He set a gentle rhythm, pushing into her. Her core clenched tightly around his thick cock. He was making her come again, so quickly.

"Mine," he growled. A driving need replaced the gentle strokes.

"Harder, my love. You won't break me."

His thrusts grew rough and he slammed his cock into her. Mercy loved the way he attacked her pussy: desperate, forceful, and essential to his survival. His jaw returned to the sensitive spot on her shoulder, still red and marked from the bite the night before. His teeth rested against her skin but did not penetrate. He lifted her entirely from the bench and slammed into her. His release came with a growl. He closed his eyes, an expression of pure bliss on his face as he emptied into her.

# Chapter 6

## Paax

The lights flickered.

"He's here," Paax said. He did not want to pull away from his little star. Warm and so responsive to his touch, she was the greatest joy he had ever known.

No one would take her away.

"Could be a power outage," Mercy said with hope. "Happens all the time back home."

"We do not have power outages," Paax said gruffly. It could only be Omas. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the door. He blocked the threshold with his bulk. Mercy attempted to peer around him, eyes squinting in the bright sunshine.

Wind kicked up snow and a deafening roar of engines filled the air. A fighter ship hovered over the house. A red light glowing on the underside of the craft was all the warning given. Faster than he ever moved before, Paax shielded his little star from the blast with his body.

The house exploded into flames. A rush of scalding hot hair slammed into his back. Mercy gave a fearful cry.

Paax picked her up, cradling her to his chest and ran. His legs pumped into the snow, kicking up clouds of white powder. He did not get far before a large, muscular form tackled him to the ground.

Still clutching Mercy, he rolled. They tumbled into the snow, cold powder melting against his skin. His only concern was that Mercy wasn't dressed for the cold and the snow. He had a wife for less than a day and already he failed to protect her from the most basic of elements.

A pair of strong arm wrenched her away. "Paax!" she screamed.

A different pair of fists slammed into his jaw. Paax stumbled. Omas loomed over his twin.

"Twelve hours already?" Paax asked, gingerly touching his lip. His finger came away with scarlet blood.

"I will have the serum or your bride," Omas said.

Paax moved to his feet. "My answer hasn't changed."

A pained look flickered across his twin's face before steely resolve replaced it. Did Paax's face hold the same betrayed emotion paired with a stubborn lift to his chin? "You made me do this," Omas said. Another punch landed on his right side, knocking the breath out of him. He staggered back.

"I won't fight you, brother," Paax said.

"Then return to your proper place on the _Judgment_." The light from the house fire flickered on Omas, casting a sinister illumination on the Warlord.

"No."

Omas sighed heavily. "Then you give me no choice." With a silent command, the jet fired a missile into the red barn. The structure and the lab exploded into a fireball. "You made me do this."

Ash drifted slowly downwards, settling on Paax's skin with a scalding kiss. The intense heat between the two raging fires rippled in the air. Mylomon held Mercy in a iron grip. He pressed a dagger against her throat, the wicked blade glowing red and orange in the firelight.

"Last chance," Omas said.

There was only one more thing Omas could take from him. Paax watched Mercy twist in Mylomon's grip in a fruitless effort to escape. He could not lose her. Paax prepared himself to rush Omas's lackey.

Omas's gaze shifted to Mylomon. With a short nod, Paax was too late and too slow. He ran towards Mylomon but the man slashed the blade across Mercy's side. He dropped her to the ground.

Paax gathered her fragile body in his arms. She shivered from the cold. A deep red soaked through the lab coat. A wave of panic and helplessness threatened to overtake him. Humans did not have the accelerated healing of the Mahdfel. He allowed the emotions to run rampant for five seconds. He closed his eyes and counted backwards.

Five.

His little star was vulnerable to so many things in the universe.

Four.

He was only one man.

Three.

He was only one man against a Warlord enhanced chemically to be bigger, stronger and faster than any other Mahdfel warrior.

Two.

He would not lose her. There was no power in the universe that could take his mate from him.

One.

Paax opened his eyes.

"If you want to save her," Omas said, "you'll seek _Judgment_."

## Mercy

Paax ran across the snowy fields carrying Mercy in his arms. Adjacent to his property was an abandoned farmhouse, he explained. That would do for now. They needed shelter and heat. He needed to treat Mercy's wound.

Cresting the hill, Paax spied the empty house, white paint peeling on the clapboards. He crossed the deep snow in the fields. Finally, he reached the building.

The door did not budge. Locked tight. Without shifting Mercy from his shoulders, Paax gave a growl and kicked at the handle. The door crashed opened.

Paax set Mercy down and commanded her to stay while he scouted the house. Mercy leaned against the wall and slid to the ground. Her heart raced and pain radiated from her side. She listened to the Paax's footsteps creaking on the old boards.

Minutes passed.

Her eyes grew heavy. She was so tired. Maybe a little rest.

"Up you go," Paax said, lifting her with ease. He carried her through the dingy house which last saw a new coat of paint three decades ago, judging by the faded orange carpet and flowery wallpaper. Everything was in shades of burnt orange and olive. Musty air festered in a hot room without the windows open. There was furniture: a sagging couch, a wooden kitchen table and uncomfortable looking wooden seats. If she lived here, she'd abandon the place, too.

Paax carried her upstairs into a dusty bedroom. Gingerly he placed her on a sagging bed. Mercy winced as she lay back. Paax frowned as he removed her shirt, revealing the knife wound.

"This is the first place they'll look for us," she said. Hiding one farm over. Not clever. "You're supposed to be the smart one."

"I am familiar with my brother's strategy. He will not come for us yet."

"But he will." Mercy sucked in her breath as Paax probed the edge of the wound. It bled freely.

"Soon enough. He wants me to panic. Hold this here." He placed a folded cloth against the wound, staunching the blood flow. "I will fetch water and clean this."

Mercy held the cloth in place, desperate to occupy her mind with anything other than the burning sensation spreading across her abdomen. "How will he make you panic? I thought you were Mister Calm Cool and Collected."

Paax returned to the room with a bowl of fresh water and old bed linens. He brushed aside her hand and inspected the wound. Carefully he poured water, washing away the blood. The linens he tore into strips and cleaned the area.

"Does it hurt?" he asked after she sucked in her breath for the third time.

"Is it supposed to feel like I'm on fire?"

"If Mylomon used _marwol_ on the blade, yes." He folded the linen into a compress and applied pressure.

"Is that a poison?"

He nodded.

Panic seized Mercy. Poisoned. Omas wanted panic and she had it in spades. Omas would come for them before the poison finished her, right? He wanted his twin to panic, to give into his demands, not for Mercy to die. "What do we do?"

"We do nothing," Paax said. "Rest is your only concern."

Sleep was the farthest thing from her mind. "What if he doesn't come back for us?"

"Rest. Agitation will only help the poison do its work."

Tears collected in her eyes, dampening her lashes. Mercy turned her head away. She didn't want to cry, not in front of Paax, not when he was so calm.

"Little star," he whispered. "I am sorry my Warlord hurt you to hurt me. It tears me apart to see you in pain."

"I'm fine," she said, lying.

"Liar." He climbed into the bed next to her, gathered her close. She rested with her head on his chest, an arm protectively around her shoulders. "But you are brave. You have come across the galaxy to be with me and I have done nothing but place you in danger."

"I don't think I can sleep. Not with my heart pounding."

"Then I will stay here with you until you do sleep."

"I'm sorry about your house."

He grunted. "It is only a building."

"Was it in your family a long time?"

"No. The house where Omas and I grew up is on another continent."

"Why did you buy a farmhouse so far from home?"

"It is close to a transporter station."

Mercy smiled. Her eyes grew heavy but she was uncertain if it was due to exhaustion or a reaction to the poison. "You liked the commute. That is so human."

"Some things are universal. Tell me about your family, Mercy Drake."

"It's just my mother and me. My father died during the invasion. I was...eleven? Ten? I can't believe I don't remember. It's the strangest thing. I remember every detail so clearly the day the Suhlik came. I was at school, in the library, and we were watching the press conference on the television."

The Suhlik, golden skinned and ethereally beautiful, were an instant media sensation. Footage of the aliens aired on every station. Everyone talked about the aliens with such wistful enthusiasm. Then the press conference. The entire world watched as the Suhlik ambassador grew a fist full of claws and eviscerated the President of the United States on live television. Leaders from around the world met similar, gory fates. The Suhliks showed their true, savage colors.

"I'm sure you know what the Suhlik did to my planet." He worked his free hand in a long stroke down her back. Tension in her shoulders melted away.

Paax nodded. "They have done it to many other worlds. My own included."

"My father died in a raid. My mother was injured but she survived. She needs a lot of medical care now and a procedure but we can't afford it."

"Your mother is unwell?"

Mercy nodded. "There was a gas. It burned her lungs. She needs a new pair but we can't afford the cost of cloning organs, so we get by on medication." And lots of doctor appointments.

"I fail to understand. It is simple enough to replace basic organs."

"If you have money. That's why—" She paused. It seemed crass to discuss the monetary compensation now. "I gave her my bride money."

"And yet you came to me when your mother needed you?"

"The treaty is absolute." Mercy wasn't happy about it at the time but, well, she couldn't say the current situation was better. Things were pretty grim.

"You are generous and kind, Mercy Drake." He squeezed her shoulder. "When this unpleasantness is finished, we will bring your mother here. Mahdfel medicine can repair her damaged tissue."

Mercy yawned. Her eyes grew too heavy to keep open.

"Mercy." A cool hand on her forehead. She surfaced into consciousness. "You have a fever. You need the antidote. I will be back soon."

"No, don't leave me," she mumbled.

A kiss pressed on her forehead. "I will be back soon," he repeated.

"Finally alone, little human," a voice said in the dark.

Mercy stirred in the blankets, struggling to sit up. A firm hand pushed her back down. "I planned to stab you a second time to make Paax seek medicine. He is a stubborn one."

"Mylomon," Mercy said. The desire to rage at him, to sneer for using a poison blade crossed her mind but it felt like too much effort. Staying awake was hard enough. "Paax is—"

"Quiet now. Let me bring you to the Warlord."

Strong arms lifted her from the ground. Mercy slipped into unconsciousness.

# Chapter 7

## Paax

Desperate times. Desperate measures.

Paax always liked that Earth saying. Humans understood compromise and necessary evil.

Working in the lab, he recreated the serum Omas demanded but his thoughts never strayed far from Mercy or her shy and trusting smile. She sacrificed so much to journey to him and only asked that he be kind.

Omas had never been a particularly kind man. He had no expectations of his warriors being kind. Paax could not fathom where to start but he would reshape the universe to include a kind hearted version of Paax Nawk, because his little star desired it.

A luminescent blue fluid glowed in tubes. He placed a rack of the tubes carefully into a centrifuge. Watching the tubes spin faster and faster, until they formed a solid blue wall, Paax absently rubbed the tattoo on his chest. It burned feverishly.

Yes, Omas sent her to manipulate Paax. Yes, he could see Omas's plan from orbit it was so obvious. Continue to manufacture the serum for Omas and keep his bride. Refuse and Omas will claim Mercy. Paax was a man of reason, above petty manipulations and threats. And yet Omas's crude plan worked.

To be without Mercy was unthinkable. Unacceptable. He vowed to do what was necessary to keep her.

To willingly sacrifice himself for another was so unexpected. So foreign. If his Warlord had told him two days ago he'd willingly agree to return to the _Judgment_ , trading his freedom for the life of a human woman, he'd laugh in his Warlord's face. Omas never let sentimentality guide his actions.

He was same as his twin in that regard.

Yet this woman... Less than a day in his life and already so much had changed within him.

What Omas demanded was unacceptable. Even if Paax capitulated, Omas grew more unstable every day. His moods swung wildly. He was unfit to lead the _Judgment_ and her crew. He needed to be challenged. Yet the serum made it impossible for a challenger to hope to win. Omas was strong and wickedly fast. A dozen swords could run him through, his regeneration rate was quick enough that such a wound would not slow him.

If only...

If only what? If only Omas was still the boy Paax remembered? The other half of his being? Those days were long gone. Wishing for their return was pointless.

Paax would only reach one conclusion. He made Omas. He would unmake him.

## Mercy

For the second time in as many days, Mercy woke in a strange bed.

Bright lights overhead temporarily blinded her. Beeping machines surrounded her. A dark demon leaned over the bed. The curve of his horns came to a wicked point.

Mylomon.

Weak as she was, Mercy attempted to scramble away. Pain radiated from her side. She drew her breath in sharp. Her hands clutched fruitlessly at the sheets and only managed to shift her weight. She lacked the strength to sit up, let alone run away.

"Calm yourself," the demon said.

"You fucking stabbed me! Where's Paax!"

"I'm not your enemy." Could have fooled her.

"You. Stabbed. Me."

Mylomon leaned in close, his nose nearly touching hers. His eyes, dark and empty as the void, held hers. "Quiet, human, or I'll do worse. Are we agreed?"

Mercy gulped and nodded.

Satisfied, Mylomon pulled away. "I brought you here for a very specific reason."

"You kidnapped me!"

He growled a warning. "To Sangrin, human. I suggested to the Warlord that Paax should be matched. I planted the seed."

"To manipulate him." The conversation with Paax came back to her in great detail. Omas gave Paax two options: return to the ship and keep his bride or defy his warlord and face a challenge he cannot hope to win. It was no choice at all.

"To open his eyes!" Mylomon paced the room. "Paax Nawk is brilliant but myopic. He cannot see beyond his laboratory. I've struggled for ages to make him confront the flaws in our Warlord but he refused. Flaws he exacerbated."

"The serum."

"Yes," he hissed. "That blasted serum. As if being stronger and faster could protect his mate when she already slipped through his fingers."

Mercy did not understand. "Who?"

"Omas's mate. Naomi. She died unexpectedly."

"From childbirth?" A ninety-eight point five percent match still held the chance that pregnancy would prove fatal for mother and child.

Mylomon gave her a look that implied she was simple. "No. Mortar fire hit our encampment. The Suhlik caught us by surprise." From the grumble in his voice, Mercy suspected being caught by surprise hardly ever happened. "Since then Omas has been... troubled. He is no longer the right Warlord for our clan but no one man can challenge him."

"Because of what Paax did."

"Yes. When Paax finally saw the problem, he ran away. I suggested to Omas that a bride could bind him to the _Judgment_ better than any threat."

"You call me a coward," a familiar voice said. Mercy twisted her head. Joy rose in her chest. Paax stood in the doorway, hands clenched and looking thoroughly displeased.

"I'm calling you lazy and selfish," Mylomon said.

"I should challenge you here and now for such words." Paax ignored the other warrior and strode towards Mercy's bed. He examined a chart and the machine next to the bed.

"Omas is not the one who should be Warlord," Mylomon said. "And you know it."

"What you're suggesting is treason."

"What I'm suggesting is necessary."

The men held each other's gaze, silently evaluating the other. Finally, Paax nodded and returned his attention to the chart.

"Where am I, Paax?" she asked.

"Medical Bay on the _Judgment_."

"Did they, he," she said, tossing Mylomon a hard glare, "bring me here to lure you back?"

Paax glanced up from the chart and his expression softened. "No, little star," he said, brushing the side of my face with his enormous hand. "I brought you here myself."

"But—"

"No. It is done. You were dying, Mercy."

The poison. Her throat dried and the next words were like sand in her mouth. "And now?"

Paax opened his mouth to reply but a pale lilac man in a lab coat bustled into the room. "What are you doing with my patient?"

"My wife," Paax said, shoulders rearing back.

"My. Patient." The man snatched the chart from Paax and shifted his attention to Mercy. "Kalen Halse, ship physicians to these hopeless idiots. Did they disturb you, my dear?"

Drawn instantly to the doctor, Mercy smiled. He seemed surprisingly young for someone with such authority. "I'm fine."

"Hmph." He waved a scanner over her, frowning at the results. "The poison has been removed from your system."

"I was going to tell her that," Paax grumbled.

"Were you?" Kalen asked, voice sarcastically sweet. "And were you going to tell her how you dragged in your pet human half dead, sliced to ribbons, and bossed me around the Medical Bay like I was your servant?"

Paax growled a warning.

Kalen ignored him. "Fortunately for you, human," he said, addressing Mercy, "I'm amazing. Humans heal slower than Mahdfel but the wound is closed. No vigorous activity for two days. And tell your husband to take better care of what is his."

Paax moved to the bed. "I will take her now." Paax lifted Mercy from the bed like she weighed nothing.

"No vigorous activity," Kalen repeated.

"Are you going to supervise me, physician?"

"If you bring her back with so much as a bruise, I will lock her away in quarantine until I'm satisfied she is properly healed." Kalen continued to shout warnings as Paax carried Mercy from the Medical Bay.

# Chapter 8

## Mercy

"Ignore him, little one," Paax said. Her head rested against his shoulder. "He does not like taking instructions."

Paax carried Mercy down the wide corridors of the battle cruiser. They passed other Mahdfel warriors who gave short, brisk salutes to Paax. Dim overhead lighting revealed functional grey walls and a practical white floor. Mostly Mercy noticed the silence. Warriors spoke in a hush and moved without a sound. Finally, they stopped at a suit of rooms.

"Is this your cabin?"

"My quarters, yes."

They entered a large, central room. A sitting area with an entertainment screen dominated the center of the room. A food prep area was off to one side. Weapons lined the other side. Closed doors circled the room, presumably to smaller rooms. Paax carried her through the central door to a bedroom.

Paax set her down carefully on the bed. For the first time she realized she was wrapped in only a bed sheet. He carried her through the ship completely nude. Mercy blushed.

He cocked his head to one side and raised his eyebrow.

"What happened to my clothes?"

"I will supply replacement garments," he grunted.

"Did you just move in?" Her eyes scanned the room. The lights were dim but Mercy spied shelves along one wall, empty of any personal items. Much like the farmhouse on Sangrin, the suite was practical and had little in the way of creature comforts or personality.

"I have lived most of my adult life on board the _Judgment_."

Huh. He so needed a woman's touch. "It seems rather large for one person."

"The battle cruiser is as large as a city. We have room for warriors and their families, when they are matched."

Mercy tried to picture Human-Mahdfel hybrid children running down the silent corridors of the _Judgment_ and came up short. Children needed fresh air and sunshine. "Why did you come back? You walked right into Omas's trap."

Paax pressed a glass of water into her hand and remained silent until she drained the contents. "Do not worry yourself, wife."

"I'll worry if I damn well please, _husband_ ," she said.

"I had no choice."

"There is always a choice."

Paax sat on the bed next to her. His hand, large and warm, rested on her thigh. "Mylomon spoke truly. You are everything to me, Mercy Drake. I believed my life too full for a mate but now I understand it was empty, waiting for you. I have been yours completely since the moment I saw you on my doorstep with snow in your hair. No, earlier. Since the moment I learned of the match, I belonged to you." The top most edge of the tattoo peaked out from his collar, glowing a bright white in the dim room. "There was no question I would come back if it meant saving you."

"But Omas will force you—"

"No." Paax leaned and placed a silencing kiss on her lips. "Mylomon spoke truly. No one can challenge Omas as he is. He is also correct that it is my responsibility to challenge my brother."

"You can't." They were an uneven match. Omas would trounce Paax.

Paax reached into a pocket and produced a syringe filled with an intensely blue fluid. Mercy's eyes grew wide. "Omas is my creation. I cannot unmake him but I can give myself the same serum."

"You can't! It's too dangerous."

"This is the second dose. It is already done."

Mercy threw herself back into the pillow. If she had the strength, she'd storm out of the room but all she could do was roll to the side, turning her back him. "You stubborn man! Did you even consider that injecting yourself with a super serum is something you might discuss with your wife!"

Paax was silent. "It seems I miscalculated."

"Idiot," Mercy grumbled.

A chuckle pierced the silence.

"It's not funny," she said, tugging the bed sheets over herself.

Paax undressed and stretched down on the bed, pressing himself against her back. His hand rested on her hip, caressing an appreciative circle on the curve of her hip and thigh. He nuzzled into her hair, nipping at her neck. "No one has ever had the courage to call me an idiot, woman."

"Well you're being one." Mercy brushed his hand away. Undaunted, his hand went to the rounded swell of her ass.

"I like it."

"Hrmp." She knocked his hand away again. "And what will this serum do to you?"

"My muscle mass is increasing. My senses are heightened. I can smell your arousal, by the way. Please continue this farce of acting indifferent but know that I will have you screaming my name."

Mercy squeezed her thighs together, aching at his words. "No vigorous activities. Don't make me tattle to Kalen."

Paax chuckled. He laid a series of slow and sensual kisses on her neck and shoulders. His hands pushed down the sheet, revealing the expanse of her creamy skin. He rolled her toward him; a finger under her chin guided his mouth to hers. The kiss was slow and deliberate. Her toes tingled with excitement. His tattoo burned white hot.

He rolled on top of her. His lips blazed a trail from the corner of her mouth to her jaw and down the sensitive skin of her neck. The journey ended in the hollow between her breasts.

"You're so lovely, little star," he whispered. His hands glided over her smooth skin, caressing her soft curves. His hands kneaded her breasts, pulling at her nipples. They traveled the flat expanse of her belly, rounded the curve of her hips and drove into the valley between her thighs. His fingers parted her lower lips, working her slickness, circling her most sensitive spot. On edge all day from constant fear and arousal, she didn't need much. Mercy trembled and moaned with desire.

His mouth captured a nipple, licking and sucking until the sensitive point swelled. His tongue licked the underside of her breasts and he kissed a slow journey down her abdomen. He paused at the long red slash on her side. The wound healed quickly but not quickly enough for his satisfaction. He growled in anger.

"It's okay," Mercy said, hand resting on his head.

"No, it is not. To injure a woman is the greatest crime in Mahdfel society. It is unthinkable."

She twisted her fingers into his long, black hair. "I'll be fine. Us Earth girls are tougher than we look. I only need to rest."

Paax lowered himself to her thigh, his large hands spreading her open. Mercy trembled with anticipation. Gently his large fingers stroked her, like an inspector taking inventory. This bit belonged to him. And this bit. And this over here, too. He pressed his nose in and breathed deeply, taking in her scent. Finally, his large, wet tongue lapped the length of her slit.

Mercy sighed. She wasn't fragile. She wasn't going to break. She needed him on her and in her.

This was what she craved.

"Yes, husband," she moaned. Her hands gripped his horns, urging him on. His tongue flicked her clitoris with speed. Thighs, placed on either side of his head, quivered. Her orgasm welled within her. This time he did remain in place; his tongue keeping the stimulation constant. A finger probed into her. Muscles clenched around the appendage. Her pussy craved a thick cock, craved more.

Right on the precipice, ready to fall over into bliss, he pulled away. Mercy cried in frustration. He gave her a placating kiss on the lips, tasting her salty self. Her husband was tender but also teasing.

He climbed between her thighs, raising her hips to meet him. In one smooth motion, he filled her. It was like being complete for the first time.

He set the pace, eager but not cruel, and pushed forward with certainty. Mercy rose to meet him with each thrust, relishing the slap of his balls as he sank all the way in. His thick cock split her in two. There wasn't room for anything more but he persisted, out and in, drawing her breath away with each retreat and bringing it back with each thrust.

His mouth claimed hers as her moans became cries. Nothing could stop the wave swelling within her. Pain was a distant memory, replaced with euphoria. She neared her climax.

Finally, he spoke, whispering in her ear between ragged breaths, "You are mine, little star. No one will take you from me."

The wave broke. Mercy cried out her agreement that she belonged to her Mahdfel husband, completely. There was no one else in the entire universe, only him and her. Her thighs trembled and exhaustion tinged the flush of satisfaction spreading over her like a warm blanket.

He pushed harder now. His cock swelled and pulsed, emptying into her. Her muscles clenched around his cock, accepting every scalding hot drop of his seed.

With a small laugh, he collapsed next to her. On his back, he turned his head towards her and said, "Omas believes he has me trapped but he has only caught himself. I will challenge Omas. I will be the next Warlord."

His word was absolute.

# Chapter 9

## Paax

Paax left Mercy sleeping in his bed. He never wanted to be back on the _Judgment_ but he appreciated how right she looked in his bed, like she belonged. Tenderly, he pulled the blankets over her fragile human form and kissed her forehead. She belonged. He never realized his bed was too large, too empty, until that moment.

In the suite's common room, Paax sat cross legged on the floor and contemplated his weapon collection. The swords and blasters on display were functional. He trained as a warrior in his youth, some sixty years ago. He was more than proficient in all the weapons on the wall. His favorite, a thin bladed sword, hummed with a blue energy at the edges. Infused, the weapon would never dull and remain sharp enough to split molecules.

Perhaps his fondness for the blade made him biased.

Paax frowned. Even with his favorite weapon, he was no match for Omas. Paax stopped his warrior training fifty years ago. He maintained a regimen of practice and sparring, but that was not enough. Not nearly enough for when he challenged Omas.

Paax could not afford to be honorable when challenging Omas. That was why he already gave himself an injection of the serum. He would cheat.

He breathed deep, calming his mind. Omas would fight dishonorably. He purposefully injured a woman, the most heinous offense to the Mahdfel when women were so rare and precious.

Another breath, exhaled slowly. Tension uncoiled at the base of his spine. He needed to think like his twin. A solution existed. He would find it.

"Meditating? Really, Doc?"

"I am thinking, assassin. Perhaps you should try it." Paax did not open his eyes or otherwise move to acknowledge Mylomon. The man was Omas's best warrior and his preferred choice for dishonorable work.

"You come up with any good ideas?"

"Cheating."

"Some call that 'using your brains'."

Paax's patience broke. "Are you here for a specific reason or to torment me?"

"I came to check on your mate," Mylomon said.

"She is well, no thanks to you." His rational mind understood Mylomon had no choice; he simply carried out the Warlord's command. The irrational part demanded he lunge at the man who would dare to injure his mate.

"You know who is responsible."

"Yes."

"And you understand my sincerity when I said the wrong man was the Warlord."

Paax responded with a nod. "I will challenge my brother. He already decided his fate when he hurt my mate." When Paax won the challenge, if he won, he would be the new Warlord.

If.

Mylomon studied the weapon collection on the wall, arms folded neatly behind his back. "You love her?"

That was no question at all. Paax was completely, totally and hopelessly devoted to the human woman. "Yes."

"So soon."

"It is a matter of biology. She is my match, which stimulates my endocrine system and releases chemicals to inspire devotion and affection. It is how the Suhlik designed us." His attraction to Mercy was more than biology, though. The human woman was made for him, perfect in so many ways. His love was absolute.

Mylomon spat on the ground at the mention of the Mahdfel's former masters. "We should be fighting those lizards instead of each other."

"Were you sent to spy on me?" Paax asked.

"No, I am here to offer you aid."

Paax doubted the warrior. "So my brother sends you to trick me into treason."

Mylomon picked up a set of short swords. He tested the weight of each blade and then moved through a set of exercises designed for speed and flexibility. Move faster than your opponent, reach into melee range, stab and then dash away. "You already said you plan to challenge the Warlord. What other treason is there?"

Actually, the topic they barely discussed was closer to mutiny but Paax knew not to split hairs. Mylomon offered to aid him. To offer to help another warrior was a supreme insult, implying the warrior was incapable of victory on their own. Weak. A child. Only those beneath you needed help. Would Paax's pride prevent him from accepting the warrior's assistance? His pride had created this crisis.

No, Paax corrected himself. Arrogance created this situation. "I can accept your aid. I can fight dishonorably," he said.

Mylomon paused in his performance. "There is not a warrior on this ship who would deny you aid, Paax Nawk."

"Truly?"

"Omas has been unfit for many turns now."

"But no one would challenge him? No one younger, stronger?"

"No one is capable."

"So your hope rests on me? An old, out of practice warrior with more time in the lab than with a sword?"

Mylomon shrugged and returned the short swords to their place in the display. "When can you take the second injection?"

So the assassin knew. "I already did. I need four hours before reaching the full effect."

Paax watched as Mylomon picked up the blue edged sword. The energized edge hummed faintly. Perhaps it was the serum taking effect, but he could feel the vibration. The weapon resonated with him.

"I will dull the Warlord's senses." Mylomon held out the sword to Paax. "It is remarkable how many poisons can be hidden on the edge of a weapon like this."

Paax nodded. Of course. He needed every dirty trick imaginable to succeed. His pride had no complaints about that, either.

## Mercy

Paax wore a suit of thin, exo armor crafted from of a material so black it seemed to absorb the light. The armor molded itself around his body. He wore a modified helmet with a face plate, leaving plenty of room for his horns.

"I prefer you in a lab coat," Mercy said.

He raised an eyebrow. "Just a lab coat?"

A slow smile tugged at her mouth. "This is serious. Don't joke now."

"I am lighthearted."

The man was impossible. He marched into certain doom and destruction, bantering like she wasn't going out of her mind with worry. "Can you be a little serious?"

He pulled her toward him. Mercy rested the flat of her palms against the armor. The hard surface felt oddly springy. "You are my heart and you fill me with light." He leaned down to capture her mouth. The kiss, deep and contemplative, erased her irritation.

"Idiot," Mercy said, lips tugging up into a smile.

"Your idiot." A grin flashed on his face, transforming his stoic features to boyish and carefree.

"All mine." Another kiss. Her teeth pulled at his lower lips. She needed to convey so much with that kiss, to express her worry, her growing affection and her desire for him to be safe. His strong arms held her curves against the hard planes of his armor.

She pulled away. "I'm scared, Paax." She searched his face for a response, silently pleading for him not to give her false platitude about everything being okay. "What if the serum changes you?"

"It shall not."

"Omas changed."

"My brother's regimen was a higher concentration and prolonged," Paax explained. "My calculations indicated that I will remain... me."

"What happens if..." She didn't want finish the statement. No undercutting his confidence right before marching into certain doom.

"Mylomon will return you to Earth. He will protect you."

"Mylomon? The asshole who stabbed me?" Being stuck with him was worse than being comforted by obvious lies.

"He is a warrior following orders."

"Didn't deny the asshole part," Mercy muttered.

The door to the suit slid open. An unknown green skinned warrior gave Paax a curt nod. Despite a lack of horns and being green, there was no doubt the warrior was Mahdfel. The imposing build and the confidence in his shoulders was all Mahdfel. "It is time, Sir," the man said.

"Come," Paax said, guiding her by the elbow.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

The green skinned warrior glanced at Paax before answering. "The Warlord is in the training arena."

Paax nodded as if the information pleased him. "Good. Omas will want an audience."

"Audience for what?"

Both warriors ignored Mercy. In the corridor, more warriors fell into formation behind them. Slowly their numbers increased. The warriors who joined them were various hues but still distinctly Mahdfel. Mercy tugged on Paax's arm to get his attention. "Why are they different colors? And have tails?"

"Did you think all Mahdfel looked like me, little star?"

Mercy blushed, ashamed at her ignorance. "You were the first I've met."

"We have traits from our mothers. I am from Sangrin. They are from Anille, Eleter and Korgol."

"So you look like your mothers?" He nodded. Mercy wondered what a Human-Mahdfel baby would look like. Well, she knew. There were fourteen years of Human-Mahdfel marriages. The eldest progeny were teenagers now. She wondered specifically what their son would look like. Would he be plum like his father? Pale and easily sunburned like his mother? Horns? Her lips twitched with a grin. She appreciated Paax's horns and just knew little horn buds would be adorable on a baby.

The warriors paused outside a set of double doors. Sounds of conflict spilled into the corridor, bringing Mercy back to the problem at hand. Get through today; then worry about her children's appearance.

She did want children, though. Paax's children. Three days ago the thought of marrying an alien warrior, having his babies, was foreign. Something to be dreaded. Now that it slipped away, she desperately wanted that future. Was it love? So soon? Three days with the Mahdfel warrior and she didn't want to imagine life without him.

Paax lowered the visor on his helmet and drew his sword.

"Wait," Mercy said, touching his arm.

He paused, lifting the visor.

"Come home to me," she said and pressed the flat of her hand to his chest plate.

"Always," he said, voice low and rumbling.

He stepped back, holding her gaze until he entered the training arena. Her eyes watered and Mercy refused to acknowledge the tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. She refused to cry. She refused to worry. Her warrior husband would come home. No other option existed.

Mylomon touched her softly on the shoulder. "We should leave now," he said.

"I want to watch."

"We need to leave now while we still can. If Omas wins, he will claim you."

Tears welled up in her eyes. Blinking furiously, Mercy shook her head. "I'm staying."

"Humans." He sighed, resigned. "Stay with me. Run when I say run. Understand?"

Mercy nodded.

"Repeat what I said."

"Stay with you. Run when you say."

"Good. No more tears. They will not help your mate."

Mercy wasn't sure what could possibly help Paax at this point. Shaky hands wiped at her face, drying the tears with the sleeve of her shirt.

Mylomon lead her to a bench near the entrance. He motioned for her to sit.

The training arena was a large, circular room. The center was a hard packed sandy floor. Equipment littered the floor. Benches and raised platforms circled the area. The room was filled to capacity.

Omas stood in the center of the room. Blood and sweat from previous opponents adorned his bare torso. Paax approached his twin, weapon drawn.

"You would turn against me, brother?" Omas asked. His words feigned shock and betrayal but the grin on his face was pure exhilaration.

"You gave me no choice," Paax said. "You ordered my mate to be attacked."

"Oh, I gave you plenty of choices. You were too cowardly to do anything."

Paax growled in irritation. He adjusted the grip on his sword. The edge glowed a wicked blue.

Mercy's throat seized with panic. Omas aimed to get Paax angry, to make him sloppy. Please let Paax spot the obvious tactic, she begged. Her hands twisted at the hem of her shirt. Next to her, Mylomon disappeared into a shadow. She only had eyes for the drama in the center of the room.

"You are unfit, Omas, and it is my fault."

The larger man growled. He held his sword casually at his side, grip loose. "And you're the one to fix it?"

"Enough talk. I challenge you, Warlord."

Omas snapped his head around, as if stung on the back of his neck, and his eyes found Mercy in the crowd. "I'll claim my new bride immediately. Let all the men see how a Warlord takes what he desires."

Anger clouded Paax's features. He moved fast but Omas was faster. The Warlord's blade sliced into his armor, drawing scarlet blood against the black material.

The two men moved in a blur of steel. Taller as a side effect of the serum, Omas had a longer reach. Paax moved in quickly, striking shallow blows across the larger man's arms and legs. Reaching striking distance was not without risk. As he got closer, Omas rained down with heavy, low blows across his back. The armor absorbed much but it would fail in time.

Omas jerked his head towards the crowd, searching. He reached to his arm and plucked out something too small to see. He threw it to the ground, lips curling in disgust.

Paax seized the opportunity and struck with an inside right blow. Omas roared in frustration but Paax danced away, out of reached. Omas grew slower. The strategy of a thousand cuts weakened the Warlord but not fast enough.

"Enough of this," Omas said. "Take off your armor and face me as an equal."

The men could never be equals. The armor was one of the few advantages Paax had over the enhanced warrior. Disbelieving her eyes, Mercy's mouth fell open as Paax nodded. The armor retracted quickly and quietly to the epaulettes at his shoulders. Now he stood shirtless and barefoot, wearing only loose fitting trousers.

Faster than she could follow, Omas's sword swung high to the left and sliced through one of Paax's horns. The man roared in pain, blood coursing down the black stump.

"This is your fault, Paax. I have NOTHING without Naomi!" Omas shouted, swinging to the inside right. Paax blocked just in time, pushing the blade away with his own.

"You should have let me die!" Omas charged forward, driving Paax backwards. The men moved across the sandy floor. Omas pushed Paax into a series of hurdles, used as an obstacle course. Paax side stepped the first but his back pressed against the next.

Omas's blade pushed down, slowly lowering his guard. With both hands, Paax attempted to break free but the larger man had the advantage. Paax flipped backwards over the hurdle, slipping free. Omas charged. Paax reached the next hurdle and dove over. Omas's grasp nearly had him.

The Warlord froze over the hurdle, shock on his face.

Paax crouched on the ground, his sword pointing straight up from underneath the hurdle. Omas impaled himself by reaching for him.

He drove the sword in further with a shove.

Omas struggled to rear away but Paax knocked the large man to the ground. He stood over the fallen man, pressing all his weight on the sword, pinning the man to the ground.

Emotion flickered in Paax's bright blue eyes. He reached to the knife strapped at his thigh and quickly sliced Omas's throat. He leaned in and whispered words too quietly to be heard as his twin bled out.

Finally, the light left Omas's eyes.

Paax stood at his full height. Covered with a dozen freely bleeding wounds and with one horn broken, the new Warlord surveyed the arena full of warriors. His warriors.

"Anyone else!" he shouted.

No one in the crowd moved.

"Good. Someone take my brother to the crematorium. We will remember him as a fair Warlord, before he... before all this." Paax dropped his sword to the ground and staggered. "Where is my wife!" he roared.

The crowd parted for Mercy. She ran to him, wrapping her arms around him.

"I'm covered in blood," he protested.

"I don't care, Paax. I'm so happy right now my heart my might explode."

He gripped her arms tightly, crushing the soft flesh. "Human hearts don't do that, do they? You need a medic. Now."

Kalen pushed through, interrupting her reply. "You like making my job interesting, don't you?" A frown set heavily on the man's features. He waved a scanner over Paax, frowning intensifying.

"Ignore me, medic. My mate's heart will explode. She needs your attention."

"It's a turn of phrase," Mercy said. "My heart is fine. Your lovely horns." Her hand lightly touched the bloody stump. Paax sucked in his breath and closed his eyes.

"They will grow back, little star." He picked up his sword, stumbling a tiny amount, before sheathing the weapon.

"Get to medical before I drag you there, Warlord," Kalen said.

"Warlord," she repeated.

His bright blue eyes locked with hers. He reached for her hand and kissed the palm before placing it over his heart. His muscles were like steel but she swore she could feel his heart pounding. Sound vanished. There was only the beating of their hearts. The universe fell away until they were the sole inhabitants.

"I love you, husband," she whispered.

"You are my home and my heart," he said. "I will always return to you."

# Epilogue

## Mercy

The older woman lay on the medical bed, immobile. Placed in a deep sleep several days ago, she would remain asleep for several more. Mercy studied the women through a glass wall. Her mother's color had improved dramatically, no longer blue at her lips or fingernails. She could breathe again.

"You cannot watch her the entire time she's in there," Paax said. He wrapped his arms around his wife from behind, nuzzling his face into the bend of her neck. He breathed her scent in deep and then gave her little nip.

"She looks better, don't you think? Healthier?"

Paax nodded. "Your mother has improved already."

Mercy spun around in his arms and smiled. She rested a hand on his chest. If she had been told two months ago that she would be matched to an alien warlord, she'd laugh. If she had been told that she would love her warlord so completely, she'd flat out call them a liar. But it was true. She loved her husband with every ounce of her being.

When she was teleported from Earth, all she wanted was her mate to be kind. Paax was so much more. He was kind, clever, cunning, fierce and loyal.

"Thank you for helping her," Mercy said. "I know you didn't have to."

"She is the mother of my mate. There was no question if I would throw all of _Judgment's_ resources to her medical care." He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. "And I would do anything to please you, wife."

"I guess being the Warlord's wife has its privileges."

Paax rumbled in agreement. His hands ran down her arms and circled around her waist.

Static from the comm interrupted them. "Warlord, we have an issue—"

"It can wait," Paax said.

"Yes, but Sir—"

"Are we under attack? Are Suhlik boarding us this minute?"

"No."

"Then let Mylomon deal with it." Paax disconnected the call and turned his attention back to Mercy. "Time my second in command earned his keep."

Since taking the mantle as Warlord, Mercy and Paax lived full time on the _Judgment_. She adjusted to life on the battle cruiser. A security detail followed her everywhere but the crew was respectful. Occasionally he received a challenge from a young hothead, which caused Mercy no end of worry, but Paax always bested them. Mercy had worried about the effects of the serum on Paax and that he would transform into a monster like his brother. Paax assured her the dose he took was much smaller than the ones Omas received. Soon there would be battles with the Suhlik. Mercy wasn't sure how she could sit and wait while Paax was on a strange planet's surface, fighting the lizards.

One problem at a time.

"You told me once that warriors and their mates lived on the battle cruiser." He nodded. "Then why don't I see any children? Or other women?"

"Ah. You see, when my brother lost his mate, he could not bear to see another warrior with their mate." He tucked back a stray piece of hair behind her ears.

"He didn't kill them," Mercy said with a gasp.

"No, they transferred out to other battle cruisers. _Judgment_ is entirely manned by unmatched warriors."

Seemed like a lot of testosterone and sexual frustration for one ship. "So if a warrior's wife were to become pregnant..."

"We have the facilities. Nurseries. Schools. Even a greenhouse with a grassy field." Paax frowned. "That has not been maintained. It has been many years since there were children on board. I look forward to their return."

Mercy smiled. She placed his hand on her stomach. "Well, then, I have news..."

Paax looked at her blankly.

She raised her brows, waiting.

"Oh!" A smile broke across his face, brighter than any sun.

Finally. And they said he was a genius.

He fell to his knees and pressed his face to her abdomen. Pushing up her shirt, he kissed her bare skin with abandon. "My son." He tilted his head up towards her, joy radiating across his plum skin. "Our son. I did not think I could love you more, but you have surprised me again, little star."

"Kalen told me Mahdfel pregnancies go faster than human, so we have a lot to do in a short amount of time." First, get her mother out of the medical bay and back on her feet. The new lungs would dramatically improve her quality of life. She'd need a room in their suite, unless Paax didn't want his mother-in-law living under his nose. Hmm. Maybe separate suites were a good idea. They'd set her mother up in her own apartment on the ship. The _Judgment_ had the space. Then there was the nursery to set up. Then restoring the parks so their son had somewhere to run and play. "Can we have a dog?"

"A what?" Paax asked, bemused.

"A dog. It is an Earth companion animal. Four legs and a tail. Loyal. Concentrated joy."

"Anything," he said, arms wrapped around her middle, holding her tight. "Everything. Nothing I could give you would compare to what you've given me, little star."

* * *

The Warlord Brides story continues in Kalen.

# About the Author

About Nancey

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I am an unapologetic nerd. Time travel, space opera, superheroes, tabletop games, fountain pens and video games where you beat up robots, I love it all. I write the type of fun, fast and flirty books I want to read, featuring plucky heroines, wickedly charming heroes, and plenty of steamy, fun sex. Hopefully you want to read them to.

I live in an old house with my husband and two cats that have complaints with management. I try to wear pants as little as possible.

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