Breccan growls as he hands Sokko over. “Yes, Madam Commander.” His voice is tight, and I nearly chuckle as he uses his body as a shield anyway to protect her from Galen’s curious stare.
I leave them to seek out my mate. She’s sitting in the sub-faction chatting with Emery and Sayer. Jareth is in a chair nearby with his long legs stretched out in front of him as he fiddles with a piece of metal. It’s a thick ring and it makes me realize that both Aria and Emery wear something smaller but similar proclaiming they are taken by their mates. I stalk over to him.
“I need that,” I growl.
He lifts a brow. “My cock ring?”
My jaw unhinges slightly. “W-What?”
“This is my cock ring. You need it?”
I take a step back. “I need for you or Oz to make me a zuta-metal ring for my mate. She is mine, and I want everyone to know it.”
Jareth laughs. “Oh, we all know it. We know it all night long. You never let us forget it.”
When I growl again, he holds up a hand in surrender.
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant, I’ll get you one.”
I give him a nod of thanks. Then, I tilt my nog to the side, curious about his cock ring. “What’s it for?”
He straightens in his chair and tears his gaze from mine to look down at it. “Just looks rekking awesome.”
“You wear it around it?”
He scoffs. “You think my cock is that small? It’s a piercing, Draven.” He makes a motion of pinching his claws of one hand and indicates on his other finger where it goes.
He pretends to poke a hole through the tip of his cock.
No.
Who would do such a thing?
I stumble back, my stomach roiling in disgust. “Why?” I demand.
His shoulders shrug. “It feels good.”
“Feels good with what? You don’t even have a mate.”
Pop! Pop! Pop!
His sub-bones start cracking as he jumps to his feet. Calm Jareth is now snarling at me. Does he suffer from The Rades? What is this madness?
Molly’s arms wrap around me from behind, and Sayer steps between us to break up a would-be altercation.
“Molly needs a nap,” Sayer tells me. “Why don’t you go on and take her back to your quarters?”
Jareth glowers at me from over Sayer’s shoulder. I frown in confusion but give him a nod. Jareth storms off without another glance back. Sayer claps a hand down on my shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll go check on him. He’s had a rough time at it lately.” He offers his elbow to Emery, who stands nearby with a worried look on her face. “I can escort you back to Calix if you want the company.”
She leaves with him, and my mate comes around to stand in front of me.
“You’re tired?” I ask her, brushing her hair from her pretty face.
Her grin is devious. “No, I just wanted an excuse to get some alone time with you. Plus, I heard toxica is good for the baby.” She waggles her eyebrows at me.
I don’t give her an answer.
Just scoop my mate into my arms and run straight for our quarters, nearly knocking down a few morts on our trek.
Her laughter forever chases away any lingering darkness.
She is my light, my mate, my future, my love.
Mine.
15
Molly
Three Weeks Later
“That’s good,” I call out. “Take it nice and easy, don’t spook her. Hold your lasso up at the ready. In a few seconds, toss it how I taught you, and aim for Eileen’s head—nog.” I’m still getting used to the alien lingo. “She might be angry at first, but hold steady like you do when you’re hunting the sabrevipes.”
Hadrian raises the braided rope Ozias and I had manufactured for this specific purpose. He’d shed his shirt at the beginning of our practice when the brilliant Mortuuian sun began to rise high in the sky, painting the lands with red and gold streaks. On his bare skin it had the curious effect of being absorbed instead of bouncing off or shimmering like it did on mine. I’ll have to ask Avrell why that is. Hadrian, like the other morts, is incredibly fit. While he may be younger than the others, he could probably hold his own. Maybe not against Draven or Breccan since they are the biggest dudes around here, but definitely with someone like Oz.
“Like this?” Hadrian asks.
I smile and shout, “That’s it. You’ve got it!”
“Next time, bring Aria,” Hadrian suggests, his eyes on the rogcow. “I want to show her what I can do.”
Oz and I exchange a knowing look. He talks a lot about Aria. To the point I think he has a serious crush on her. Unfortunately for him, her husband would crush Hadrian if he knew.
“He looks like a wifflebird,” Ozias says from beside me, his shoulder-length hair fluttering a bit in the breeze. “So gangly.”