Helion had wisely given me the sole task of guarding my mate, then getting to her and ensuring her safety while the others took care of everything else. One small part of a huge operation. To me, the most important job of all.
The hallway had been cleared. The other doors to all the cargo hold on this level had been locked so no one would get in the way of our mission. Or shout, or do anything to give away our presence before it was time. Only a single door remained unsealed. There was only one way into this room. And one way out.
Cerberus would arrive. He would not leave.
I focused on Helion as he went over planning and positions one last time. Cerberus would arrive soon. And we would end him.
* * *
Quinn
Twisting my wrists to test the bindings the alien called Rett had placed there, I was careful not to look concerned. I had not expected them to actually be confining. Catching Rett’s attention, I made a face at him, trying to get him to understand the bindings were too fucking snug. He shook his head and leaned over so Bahre would not hear him.
“They have to look real, Quinn. Be real. Cerberus is not stupid. Do not worry. Bahre will not allow anything to happen to you. Neither will I.”
Well, I’d signed on for this shitshow, so I was along for the ride now. I’d volunteered to be bait. The ankle bindings were snug as well, but nothing hurt. I took a deep breath, nodded at Rett, and waited while the others did their thing, whatever it was, to prepare. They were setting a trap in this large cargo area, and I was the cheese right in the middle of it.
The group of aliens who’d just earlier been serious and attentive were now the scariest bunch of aliens I had ever seen. Their demeanors shifted into some kind of battle mode. They were dressed in various uniforms; however, they were all heavily armed. The saying about a guy in uniform being hot was true. These guys were all handsome. Virile. Powerful. And their focus now was single-minded. They moved silently around the room, getting ready to ambush and kill another scary alien on a space station.
In outer space.
It was like I was in a movie. The bait always lived, right? The bait never had a huge Atlan mate with cuffs about his wrists that matched her own.
How the hell had my life turned into this?
Bahre. That’s how. And as much as this was not fun, I wouldn’t change a thing.
Once everyone agreed to the plan, most specifically Bahre, I had deliberately manufactured a nearly identical outfit to the one I’d been wearing when Lukabo kidnapped me. The pink silk blouse was the same, except I’d replaced the half sleeves with full length ones to hide the mating cuffs I had no interest in removing. Helion had mentioned it and Bahre had immediately gone beast. That had been enough for me to refuse the idea. I hadn’t wanted to take them off either. My black skirt wasn’t quite as tight as the pencil skirts I normally wore on the air, just in case I had to run. But my shoes? Oh yes. I’d given myself a bit of extra height and made sure the heels themselves were made of stainless steel. If I had to jab someone this time, I was going to make sure I did some serious damage.
I fought a smile thinking about how I’d gotten Lukabo with the sharp tip. Twice.
The S-Gen machines, or Spontaneous Matter Generators, as Bahre had informed me they were called, were absolutely amazing. I could start a fashion design empire with one of those things. Shoes. Clothes. Jewelry. The only limit was the imagination, and when it came to making beautiful things, I could dream up new designs forever.
Bahre wore some kind of battle armor that made him look terrifying. Black. Snug. Thigh holster for a big space gun. All of which made me feel totally safe. He was magnificent and mine, and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to me. I truly believed that.
He’d killed Lukabo. He’d only said Lukabo wouldn’t bother me ever again, but I knew. I was fine with that. Lukabo had been evil to the core and would have committed some other crime if he hadn’t been stopped.
As for Cerberus? I wasn’t going to let some space alien stalker/sex trafficker ruin an innocent woman’s life, not when I could stop him. If it wasn’t me, it would be someone else. I was doing this for Jeff Randall, and all the Jeff Randalls out there who felt like women were things and not people. I was over it. Over being afraid. Over looking the other way and reorganizing my life because of their obsessions. I’d moved to fucking Florida because of him. I’d slowed my career. I was finally ready to fight back, and I had one hell of an army helping me.
Some of them even had fangs, which reminded me that while Lukabo’d had them and been an asshole, Styx and Blade were not evil. I had much to learn about the various races in space, although my time off Earth hadn’t been all that great. Yes, I’d had a wild night of fucking and being claimed, but we could do that on Earth.
My home. I wanted to get this done and get home. With Bahre. Together.
I stared at Styx, trying to read his tattoos because I was sure they actually said something, when he noticed my interest.
“They are the names of all the people under my protection. The people of my legion.”
My eyes widened at the intricacy, the detail. “How many are there?” I asked, intrigued.
“Thousands.”
That was a lot of ink. Looking at Blade, I couldn’t resist asking. “What about you? Why aren’t you covered like he is?”
Blade shrugged. “I am marked with the names of those under
