Dr. Brianna Martin (Bria), one of the Lost Ones, has her own enemies — a crazed Dornian security guard in her lab– and all the enemies of the Prime race plus the Pure Blood rebels since she’s trying to solve the Prime race’s negative population growth — and because she is mated to one of the Prime leader’s sons.
Iolyn races across the galaxy to protect his mate, only to find she isn’t where she’s supposed to be. In fact, she has found even more trouble.
For a Prime male who’d lost hope of ever finding a mate, Iolyn is one unhappy space camper. Needless to say, when the two finally get together, it’s explosive.
For now, Jotak mirrored her movements, stalking her like the predator he was, while closing any gap she created. Then he stopped. His head swept from side to side as his split-tongue tasted the air. His slitted yellow eyes flared. He’d noted Cheri’s lingering scent.
Thank the One, her friend was long gone, out of Jotak’s reach.
“Someone is-s-s here?” He pinned her with his basilisk stare.
It didn’t work on her.
“We’re alone.” Bria placed her workstation between her and the large male. “Now, say what you have to say and then go. I have work to do before I can leave for the day.”
He flicked his tongue, quickly tasting the air once more, and then emitted an almost orgasmic guttural sound. His body seemed to grow another inch in height and breadth. His thin lips twisted upward. If she were brave enough to look, she knew she’d find evidence of his arousal. He was feeding on the smell of her fear, and like the apex predator he was, he liked it.
Why had she ever thought she could be “just friends” with this man? She must’ve been nuts.
“If you wish to leave Oz, Brianna, I will take you wherever you wish to go. We can join my parent’s space caravan.”
“I am leaving Oz to do my job. I have no desire to wander the universe–”
She left “with you” unsaid.
“Wrong ans-s-swer,” he hissed.
Her gut told her an attack was imminent. How long had it been since Cheri left? Five standard minutes or less? It seemed like hours.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.
Copyright, Monette Michaels, 2014.
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