Prime Selection (3 page)

He wanted to rush down into the valley and kill the enemy. But he’d hold the line, follow orders.

To her astonishment, so far the Prime under her command had done the same. Her decision to send the scouting teams back to base camp earlier had saved lives. Her risking her skin to make sure her soldiers made it safely back to camp had earned her respect.

She’d impressed the notoriously chauvinistic Prime—for now.

Prime warriors weren’t used to following orders issued by a woman. She had the feeling she’d have to continue to prove herself worthy of their deference. The meshing of the Prime military into the Alliance was still too new.

“Who do you think the enemy is?” A’tem’s piercing, navy-blue gaze focused on the valley. His Volusian vision was different than a Terran’s—he could see the two furtive shadows without the aid of specialized goggles. A trait she’d love to have; the goggles were heavy and bruised her nose and cheekbones when worn for too long.

Nadia remained silent for several seconds. “Not sure. I suspect the real soldiers are either captured or dead. The ones who attacked us are probably mercenaries hired by the Pure Blood fanatics. They would love to cause a galactic incident and damage the new treaty between the Prime and the Galactic Alliance.”
God, I hate fanatics.

She angled her head toward the two men on the valley floor; they wandered up and down the dry riverbed in a standard search pattern. “Those two aren’t Prime military, that’s for damn sure. While they have some military training, they’re searching the low ground when any Prime soldier who’d trained on Tarn would look to the high ground and the caves hidden among the rocks. They aren’t familiar with this planetoid at all.”

“I concur.” A’tem turned away from the activity below and looked at her through narrowed eyes. “An Alliance or Prime-trained soldier also wouldn’t have tipped their hand so soon. Instead, they should’ve lured us into the war games and annihilated us during mock battle. By acting prematurely, they’ve allowed us to gain the better defensive and ultimately offensive position.”

“Exactly,” Nadia said. “They hurt us, but we’ve recovered quickly due to superior training. With our better knowledge of the terrain, thanks to our squad’s Prime soldiers, we’ll be able to hang on until Mel and Wulf realize we haven’t reported in.”

Unfortunately, Nadia still couldn’t radio for help. Whoever the enemy were, they had control of the military facility and had blocked all off-planet communications.

For a short, chaotic period after the surprise attack, Gold’s com units didn’t work.

But once back at base camp, Joen had managed to overcome the com unit block. He was currently working on fixing the off-planet communication issue.

“We’re lucky Commander Dakkin was scheduled for this joint training. If anyone can get the off-planet communications up and running, it will be him. Only Iolyn Caradoc could do better,” said A’tem.

“Luck is all well and good, but Lady Luck’s a fickle bitch. I’d rather rely on brains and training.” Deciding the two clueless mercs in the valley were no danger to her people sheltering in the caves, Nadia turned to A’tem. “Let’s finish setting up the perimeter alarms Aeron and I rigged. With any of that luck you mentioned, we might run across our missing team members.”

Renewed grief—and anger—streaked through her. Nadia was missing six soldiers— two Terran females from the
Renard
and four Prime newly assigned to that particular Gold Squadron battle cruiser. They hadn’t answered after the intrateam communications had been re-established. Nor had they made their way to base camp.

Remaining on her stomach so as not to skyline herself, Nadia wiggled her way off the cliff’s edge. “If the fuckers make a mistake and attempt to search the high ground, they’ll not leave alive. No more of our people will be harmed or go missing—we defend what’s ours.”

She and Aeron had incorporated some explosive surprises into their perimeter security. Aeron’s choice of caves had proven to be serendipitous with the Prime military base’s overstock of food, medical supplies, and explosives and other munitions. They could hold out for a very long time if they had to.

A’tem captured her narrowed gaze with his navy one. “No mercy to the traitors and their hired killers. It is a good policy—very Prime and Volusian.”

“And very, very Siberian.” Yeah, the Prime as a race underestimated Terrans and especially Terran women. This joint training should go part of the way toward dispelling that ignorance.

Nothing like getting dumped in head first, eh, Nadia?

Her arm throbbed as the local Lia had given her had begun to wear off. But she couldn’t stop and rest, couldn’t give in to the pain … she had her soldiers to protect. She also had a responsibility to represent all Terran female soldiers well. No pressure.
Yeah,
right.

Nadia let out a sigh and rubbed the back of her neck. Her head pounded so much she was forced to let go of the shields she’d built around a newfound psi ability; the energy she used to maintain the walls tapped into her reserves. She’d strengthened the mental walls two weeks ago when Huw Caradoc had held her naked against him after he and Wulf had come to her and Mel’s aid. She wasn’t only extremely sensitive to his emotions, but was also telepathic with him—and only him.

Since then, the stubborn ass, while always cordial and polite, ignored the psychic connection between them and the intense attraction they had for one another.

With Tarn at the outer edge of the habitability zone of the Cejuru solar system, Huw was over six standard hours away; he couldn’t sense her—and she couldn’t sense or feel him denying the bond between them
.

Grow a thicker skin, Nadia Petrovich. The man has tunnel vision about mating a
Prime female—and you ain’t Prime.

The relief from lowering her shields was immediate. Her headache lessened, and she obtained a second wind.

Yet, as soon as her shields were down, some deep-rooted urge had her seeking the connection she shared with Huw.

All she found was a bleak blackness. The resulting pain was soul deep.

What did you expect? The man is hundreds of thousands of kilometers away on the
main planet. He’s at that party for Wulf and Mel—probably has some Prime sex
surrogate on his arm. Later, he’ll go home and have sex with her … she’s Prime. You’re
not.

Jealousy. Anger. Grief. The emotions overwhelmed Nadia. She closed her eyes, well aware A’tem watched her curiously.

“Nadia…” A’tem’s soft voice and light touch on her back brought her outside of herself. “You okay? You looked deadly there for a moment. I sensed … more rage in you than before. Then sadness … you were so deeply sad.”

Dammit. I won’t let whatever in the hell this connection is turn me into a weepy
woman pining for a man.

“Not rage … fighting mad. There’s a difference.” That the mad was not only aimed at the enemy, but also at Huw “stubborn as a jackass” Caradoc and the thought of him having sex with a woman who wasn’t her … well, A’tem didn’t need to know that.

Her lips twisted into a parody of a smile. “I’m fine. Let’s finish setting up the perimeter defenses. I could use some food, and my arm needs some further attention.”

Nadia was back in control again. She didn’t need to touch Huw’s mind to do her job, to protect her soldiers. She was a goddamn decorated Alliance officer.

And soon the enemy, the Prime, and Huw “blind as a fricking bat” Caradoc would learn there was nothing more deadly than a pissed off Siberian female who could trace her ancestry back to the early days of Terran history when Attila the Hun had ruled all of Asia and parts of Europe.

Cejuru Prime, Premier Caradoc’s Ballroom

The ivory, gold, and black circular-shaped Caradoc family ballroom was crowded, so crowded that the yellow-liveried servants had opened the doors to the terrace that lined the outside curve of the house.

Mel inhaled deeply; she could smell the flowers growing on the terraced gardens that bordered one small arc of the porch. The same gardens she and Wulf’s mother Beria had picked flowers from for tonight’s dinner tables now had armed guards hidden among the blooms in case any of the rebel faction decided to crash the party. The rest of the terrace was built for defense and faced a deep drop to a rock-strewn river that swept to the distant moonlit ocean. It was a breathtaking view and one she’d like to enjoy with Wulf, but that was not what they were there for. Their job was to mingle with the tall Prime males in their dark formal wear and the few ladies in their brightly colored gowns.

She hated mingling, hated crowds. Crowds provided too many chances for people to shove up against you and stab you in the back.

No one, however, had managed to make it close enough to her to do any sort of damage. Wulf, her overprotective
gemat
, had scared most people off. He’d glared and growled more tonight than he had since he first pulled her out of his ship’s maintenance tunnel traps.

“Melina,” Wulf whispered against her ear, “let’s leave. I must see what you have on under that dress.”

Her Prime mate and the man she shared command with over the Gold Squadron, and the heir-apparent to the ruler of Cejuru solar system, slid his hand down her mostly naked back to cup her rear. His sharp inhalation made her smile. He now realized she wore nothing underneath the skintight creation.

“You are in so much trouble,
gemate lubha
.” Wulf patted her bottom and slid his arm around her waist, where he massaged her through the thin, silky fabric.

“You love this dress.” Mel turned into his big, warm, well-muscled body. He looked very handsome in his dark suit with a pristine white collarless shirt closed at the top with a jeweled pin featuring his family’s royal crest. She traced the wolf-like creature on the pin and brushed a kiss over his chiseled jaw. “And you especially like it when I’m naked under my clothing. Admit it.” She nipped his chin, then soothed the spot with her tongue, uncaring that others stared. “It took you all evening to figure it out, though. You’re slipping.”

Wulf eyed the room populated with Prime Elder Council members and their families and myriad members of the various branches of the Caradoc family. He growled low, in the back of his throat. She let out an exasperated breath. This was one of his kill-someone snarls, not one of the I-want-to-fuck-you growls. His aura read as jealous of male eyes on her—and of fear.

“Wulf?” She stroked the muscle pulsing in his jaw. “Are you sensing a danger I’m not?”

She opened her empathic abilities to the room and found no trace of a killing rage, just some low-level animosity, lots of curiosity, and a goodly amount of jealousy aimed in their direction. She shared her findings with him telepathically, but his tension remained. She attempted to access his thoughts through the psi connection that was a part of their unique battle-mate bond, but his prodigious mental shields were up. “Talk to me.”

Wulf took the hand stroking his face in his and kissed her fingertips and traced her palm with his tongue. “Even though there is no direct threat in the room, I’m worried about your safety. The mood could change in a nanosecond. There are too many people here—most of whom I do not even like. Some of them would kill you without blinking an eye. My father’s insistence on these fetes is insane.”

“I’m fine. We’re fine.” She rubbed his chest over the area where the mark that made him hers could be found, soothing him in a way unique to bonded Prime mates. “The parties are necessary for political reasons.”

Her efforts weren’t working. “Stop growling. You’re giving me a headache—and scaring the natives.” She smiled at an Elder Council member who approached them. He eyed Wulf with fear and retreated.

The older man had good instincts. If the poor man had said one wrong word, Wulf would’ve exploded. Her mate’s temper had been on an extremely short leash since her kidnapping two weeks ago.

“Two more days and all the parties will be over.” Mel rubbed Wulf’s back under his black evening jacket until the buzz-saw-like rumbling ceased. Tomorrow evening, there’d be another ball to introduce her as Wulf’s
gemate,
and the first battle-mate since the Berean Wars, to the upper echelon of Prime society. And the day after, there would be a day-long, open-air festival to introduce her to any Prime citizen who wished to attend.

Her father-in-law Ilar Caradoc, the hereditary leader of the Cejuru solar system, was footing the bill for all the celebrations. He and Beria understood the potential for danger, but had felt the Prime as a people needed to see Wulf and Mel.

For many Prime citizens, Mel, one of the Lost Ones, was a miracle, and the people were elated to celebrate her return. There was now hope other Lost Ones would be found when Gold went on their first mission with Wulf’s Prime crews merged into the Alliance Gold crews.

The couple’s bonding was also touted as the hope for a Prime resurgence in galactic politics.

Those who weren’t happy with Mel’s resurrection—the Pure Blood faction and certain distaff Caradocs—wanted her dead. The Pure Bloods hadn’t wanted the closer ties to the Galactic Alliance. With her status as an Alliance officer and the new mate of the Prime heir-apparent, her appearance had made the situation worse in the fanatics’ warped minds. For those Caradocs who weren’t in the direct line of power, some wanted her dead before she could produce an heir.

“I hate parties,” Wulf grumbled, echoing her earlier thoughts. “I’d rather be crawling around in the dirt on Tarn playing war games with our Gold team.”

“So would I.” She resumed rubbing Wulf’s back with an occasional detour to pet his nice firm ass. She smiled at his low rumble of pleasure. She ached for privacy and their bed. But there was still a sense of worry underneath his desire and the worry wasn’t all for her safety.