Page 21 of Bonded Queen: to the Alien Warlord Triad

“If he draws, I will take Krazak. Orr, cut down the other two from behind. Kriz, keep yourself in front of our Mate.”Ra’al stands, nonchalant, as if everything is normal in the garden, but he utters the command with crisp, clear, telepathic tones.

Krazak pushes the woman aside. She is terrified, yes, but he is right—there’s a hint of lust in her body, for the brutal triad. He moves her out of the way so that he can draw his blade easier, fighting against us without putting her in danger. I can’t understand it. Krazak has lived only for battle since he lost his Mate. Ra’al was offering him the choice of a servant, knowing that the man would never take a harem again, that no woman could possibly have the scent of a potential Mate.

I don’t want to cut down Krazak, a man I served with for hundreds of years. I competed with his triad since I was a boy on Colossus. Our triads wrestled against each other, sparred with bare knuckles and dull training blades, fighting to be the top students of our hundred years of Academy.

If one of his triad takes another step towards my woman, I’ll draw my Orb-Blade that thirsts for blood and quench it.

Now my Mate stands in the garden. The light flows through the leaves of the trees, making patterns on her body. Her white robes cling to her curves, her hair matts to her face, and she has offered herself to us willingly.

“It is our right to punish the insolent bitch!” Krazak spits out the words. His eyes have been wide since he held the bones of his Fated Mate on the Tomb. I watch him through my peripheral vision. I can see the whites below and above his grey irises.

When he calls my Mate a bitch, my rage fills up, overwhelming me. My hand grips the hilt of my blade. Kriz gives me a warning glance, and it is only that look of his that stops me from drawing.

Against any other triad, Krazak would have already drawn. It’s only his deep respect for us that stays his hand. If any other Aurelian had gone between him and a human who insulted him, he’d have killed them without thought. His fingers wiggle, as if they cannot believe their blade has not been drawn.

We don’t speak. We wait, to see what he will do.

Krazak growls. “I earned the virgin! Lola belongs to my triad, by right of conquest, and by her own need. She is in heat for me!”

Ra’al could not have predicted this. Neither Krazak nor his triad has even looked at a woman since the Tomb. On Obsidious, the dark planet where we waited for Obsidian, he earned his first honor. That tattooed-in brand gave him the right to three harem women.

He did not take one. He lived alone, only for violence and revenge.

Ra’al offered him first pick of a servant, not as a harem woman, but to attend to the vast estates that would be his on this planet. This was no formal auction, to be done by the laws of the Old Ways. This was an off-hand, extra favor, to reward a loyal soldier. He took it a different way.

I did not think a man who lost his Mate could ever yearn for another woman. But this Lola has ignited something in him—and now, a human woman has insulted him and offered a trade which could take his new conquest away. Worse yet, his commanding officers have gone against our customs. He can’t understand, and the tension in the garden grows.

Every muscle in my body aches from the slog outside. We cut down hundreds of Scorp today. It was nothing compared to the Tomb. This was just the first wave of Org-Ships. There will be many. If we want to protect this planet, we need strict, military discipline. Humans have a way of rebelling, when they should be grateful for protection.

There can be no insolence from our subjects, but the woman who I am certain is our Fated Mate chose to insult our best warrior.

“She is our Mate.” Ra’al says the phrase simply. He says the only words that can avert bloodshed once Krazak’s honor is wounded.

I wait to see how they will react. It shocks me. The three brutal men deflate. The anger disappears as quickly as it surged up, replaced by deep, endless sorrow. They aren’t able to conceal their emotions.

The threat of violence is over. I keep my hand near my weapon, but I avert my gaze from Krazak. It is a shame to show your emotions so clearly, but the man has suffered deeply.

Rachel notices the change. She’s confused. She doesn’t understand what happened, and she cannot know that the triad she provoked are shattered inside.

Mate or no, there is justice to be handed out. I step off the bench and stride towards her. She looks down at my boots, but I put my hand under her chin, forcing her gaze upwards.

Gods, but she’s beautiful. Her face is covered in soot and dust, with streaks from tears. Her blonde hair is matted with sweat, framing her perfect face. Her eyes are a deep, brilliant blue, and I imagine my sons growing up with those eyes instead of the slate-grey that all Aurelians born of a cryo-chamber have.

“You would trade yourself, willingly, to us.”

“Yes.”

“You do not know what you do, my sweet little Mate. We would not be gentle masters.”

She looks down. Fear sours her aura, but underneath it, there’s a pulse of lust at my words. Her gaze comes up, her blue eyes fierce.

“I’ll trade myself to you. For Lola. For these nine to be set free.” She’s scared, but she’s determined, and I can smell the twirling, intoxicating scent of her need. She is giving herself to me not just to protect the others.

She gives herself because deep down, she craves my triad. I know she must have felt it when the Bond thrummed. She felt our minds, and she knows the depth of our ownership.

“Nine? You change your bargain.”

“Because I know I’m valuable to you. I’m your Mate.”

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