She’s so loud.
The constant buzz inside my nog is silenced because her unusual, boisterous voice drowns it out. She’s no longer naked but instead now wears a minnasuit that is tight on her chest. I’m struck, staring at how the material seems to hug her breasts. It’s then I realize both Oz and Galen are admiring her there, too.
Molly needs friends, not five morts hovering over her just waiting for her to bend over so they can spurt their seed in her.
A growl of protectiveness bellows from me, yanking all their attention my way. The cool, open air of the doorway behind me keeps me calm. With the most threatening glare I can muster, I tell Oz and Galen wordlessly to back off.
She’s mine.
The thought has me pausing.
I don’t want her for a mate.
I simply want to protect her from those who want to mate with her.
“Leave,” I bark out. I am second-in-command at the facility, and I’m not afraid to use my position over them.
Sayer snorts, and Molly lets out a huff.
“Rude much?” she grumbles.
Snapping my eyes to hers, I check her over to make sure she is not distressed. If anything, she looks fairly comfortable. Far more comfortable than Emery or Aria ever were. Her brown eyes assess me with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.
Not fear.
Not like earlier when I inadvertently let her out of her cryotube.
“I was just bringing her a gift,” Galen says as he sets down a bag filled with what I know are goldenroot candies.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
One by one, my sub-bones crack in my neck as I rise to my full, intimidating height. I have twenty-eight sub-bones, and I crack them slowly, my eyes full of fury as I glower at Galen. My ears flatten so tight against my nog I can hardly hear anything besides the burning rage roaring inside me.
Goldenroot candies are something he created for the humans. For when Breccan was trying to please his mate. Is Galen trying to please Molly?
Galen slinks away wisely, but Oz’s attention is still on Molly. He holds out a zuta-metal necklace. Another gift the female aliens are known to enjoy.
Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.
Oz nearly trips over his own feet when he realizes I’m approaching and snarling. Our eyes meet as my final sub-bone cracks into place.
Pop.
“We were just leaving,” Galen says, grabbing Oz’s arm and dragging him away.
Turning my body, I shoot my vicious stare at Sayer. Instead of scrambling away, he grins at me.
“We were just explaining to Molly about our planet’s future. Our race’s future.”
“Leave,” I bellow.
The piece of rogshite doesn’t flinch a muscle. “I’m not a threat, Draven. I don’t want to mate with Molly.”
Molly.
Finally, my attention turns back to her. Her brown eyes twinkle with amusement, and then she starts laughing. Laughing and laughing. And laughing.
I blink at her in confusion.
Maybe I found another being on this retched planet who’s just as mad as me.
And as much as that should terrify me, it doesn’t.
Rekk, why doesn’t it?
She’s mine.
I don’t want to mate with her!
But protecting her gives me a feeling of purpose. Something I haven’t felt in more revolutions than I can remember. I will keep her safe from Oz and Galen. And that empty-nog Hadrian. Avrell is no threat to me, even though I am sure he would love to have a mate. But Theron is. He’s the one who procured these females in the first place. He may think he has ownership over my Molly.
Over my dead rekking body.
3
Molly
At Draven’s harsh words, the rest of my visitors exit the door, leaving me alone with the imposing alien who still looks as though he’d like to eat me alive. Being someone’s dinner is most definitely not on my bucket list.
“You didn’t have to scare them away,” I chastise. “We were just getting to know each other.”
His nostrils flare, and his neck cracks ominously. “You have no need to get to know them,” he answers.
“Oh, honey,” I say with a dismissive wave of my hand, “I may have been brought here against my will, but that don’t mean I have to be inhospitable. That’s just bad manners. Besides, aside from you, the other aliens have been downright gentlemen.”
“Morts are not gentle,” he growls. “And you are the alien.”
I hold the curious necklace the one named Oz gave me out for inspection. I’ve always had an affinity for pretty things. Gesturing to Draven, I say, “Isn’t this just darling?” Sounds of pleasure escape my chest. “The others have been explaining to me about how I ended up here. I have to say, I was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs at first, let me tell you. I mean, you have to agree it was a shock.” I chuckle a little as I turn the necklace this way and that. “I think we both may have given each other quite a scare. I may still be a little out of it, but I pinched myself hard enough to give me a heck of a bruise, so I guess it can’t be a nightmare.” I’m babbling, I always babble, but I can’t seem to stop. “Sayer explained about your race and the disease. I just can’t even imagine. Bless your hearts.”