I ran my hand over my face, trying to think of something… anything besides my case, my tiny cell, my new life. It was easy to think about the testing dream, for it had been perfect. I’d been free, no bars or concrete walls. I’d had two men who wanted me with desperation. I’d felt wanted. God, had I needed. And the things they did to me!
I was no prude. I knew where my clit was and ensured my lovers did, too. Lovers, but not two at once like the dream. It had been a fantasy of mine. What woman didn’t dream about two men who knew exactly what they were doing? And they hadn’t had the Brides Program testing dream like I’d had.
Holy hell, that had been hot. Twice as hot.
My nipples tightened and my clit throbbed just remembering their hands, their mouths, their cocks.
The dream lingered in my blood and I wanted to touch myself, knowing I was wet. The ache there had my hands slipping down between my thighs. Remembering that there were guards watching, I pulled my hand away. I wouldn’t taint the dream by touching myself and having the guards watch. I’d touch myself at night, when they turned the lights out. Again and again.
God, even my orgasms were controlled. And bland. Even if I used my fingers to circle my clit and slip inside my pussy, it wouldn’t be anything like what those men in the dream made me feel. For twenty-five years I’d have in-the-dark, masturbation delivered orgasms. Nothing else.
And just that fast, I was back to feeling sorry for myself.
Maybe I should just call that Warden Egara and leave. Leave all of it behind. The lawyers and prison guards. The guilt.
Strangely, the hair on my arms rose as if lightning had struck mere seconds before I heard voices. They were tipped low, but deep. It wasn’t lunchtime and I hadn’t heard the loud buzzer indicating the floor’s locked entry door was opening. There was no squeaky wheel from the food cart. No footsteps, until now. Someone, or two someones, were walking along the hall quickly.
“How will we know who she is?”
I jumped to my feet, curious. Nothing different from the monotonous routine ever occurred.
“Warden Egara says we’ll just know.”
The voices became louder. I could hear others down the line of cells calling out to them. From walking past, there were four cells between mine and the main door, and two after.
“No. No. No.” It sounded as if they were playing Duck, Duck, Goose.
When the big men walked up to my bars, they stilled. Their eyes were on me, roving over every single inch. I felt it, their gazes, as if there weren’t bars between us and their hands were on me.
“She is the one,” the taller man said to the other. They held guns in their hands, guns unlike anything I’d ever seen. Smaller than a tiny pistol, they were very shiny metal and no competition for the rifles strapped over some of the prison guards’ shoulders.
To call the other man short would have been humorous, for they were large. Very, very large. The shorter one was easily a few inches over six feet. They were like lumberjacks and Highlanders combined. They weren’t wearing plaid, but form-fitting armor of some kind that made them look like gladiators wearing armor molded to define every muscle. The strange black armor was mottled with browns and greens, almost like military camouflage but more like the swirls found in decorative marble.
One had dark, deep coppery brown hair and dark skin, the other was golden and light, his hair and skin both a pale yellow. And Terminator parts. But I wouldn't consider them now. The dark one had eyes like milk chocolate, the light one’s eyes were amber. But neither was human. The angular lines of their cheekbones and oddly shaped eyes made them look just strange enough to make my heart race in panic. But their massive frames and muscular bodies made my pussy cry out in welcome. I knew those features, those huge hands. This was the race of alien warrior I’d seen in my dream at the Brides Processing center. And thanks to the warden and her brain games, all I could think about as they approached was the size of their cocks…and what it might feel like to be sandwiched between them.
My body reacted viscerally. Yes, they were handsome. Yes, they met every single one of my checkboxes for what I considered to be a hot guy. Times two. My palms were damp and my heart literally skipped a beat, but I felt a connection as if there were a thread between us. It was more than just the processing center dream, it was instinctive. Deeper.
I felt like I knew them.
“Rachel Pierce of Earth. I am Maxim and this is Ryston. We are your mates from the planet Prillon Prime.”
Oh. My. God. They were mine? My mates from the match.
I couldn’t move. My feet felt as if they were anchored into the concrete just like my bed and the stool.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered. I craned my neck, twisting in an attempt to look past them, knowing the guards would be coming. How had they gotten past security?
“We are claiming you,” the dark one said. “We are taking you with us. Now.”
“Taking me…you can’t be serious.” I looked at the bars and knew it wasn’t going to happen. The guards were not going to release me to go with these guys. No way. And I couldn’t decide if that made me happy or strangely disappointed.
“Transport.”
Transport? This was insane. Was I becoming delusional and hallucinating now that I’d been alone for so long? Was I dreaming again?
They seemed confident in their words. They didn’t look for the guards nor seem to worry that they would encounter them anytime soon.
“But, I said I wasn’t ready. I don’t want to be a bride. I… I refused the match.” Looking at these two had me wondering why I’d done so. If these were my mates, perhaps being sent off-planet wasn’t such a bad idea.
No. No! I had my name to clear, my life here on Earth. I wanted a choice, and this didn’t feel like one.
But neither was prison. That wasn’t my choice either.
“We will discuss this back at the transport center.” It was the dark one that spoke, Maxim. Only him. The other, the golden one named Ryston, remained stoic beside him. While it seemed he was not the leader, I didn’t doubt that he was a commanding figure all on his own.
“Transport center?” I was a scientist. I had two advanced degrees, and yet I was reduced to simple questions.
“Your life is in danger and we will not allow your innocent notions of justice to cost you your life. We are taking you with us for your own protection.”
I laughed then. “That’s noble of you, but you’re forgetting one thing.” I pointed to the bars that kept us separated. “I’m a prisoner here. They’re not going to let you take me.”
“You think ionized steel can keep us from you?”
“Well, yes,” I countered.
The dark one, Maxim, stepped up to the bars, took one in each hand and grinned at me as he pulled them apart like they were no more substantial than pieces of aluminum foil.
I stumbled back, bumped into the metal edge of the bed and sank down.
When the other, his second, joined his efforts, the bars were pulled apart within seconds, just like in a Superman movie.
If I had time to think about it, I’d find the action hotter than hell. But the odd sound of the steel bending wasn’t the only thing I heard. The buzzer at the end of the block indicated the entry door to the cellblock was opening. Another sound, one I hadn’t heard before, yet very obviously an alarm, blared. I winced at the loud noise, but was mesmerized by the men.
Maxim stepped through the opening they made followed by Ryston. The cell was small to begin