Читать книгу Viken Command - Grace Goodwin - Страница 7

Whitney Mason, Interstellar Brides Processing Center, Miami, Florida

Foreplay was great, but I liked fucking better. A good, hard, make-me-forget-my-name pounding. In my opinion, candlelight, flowers, and whispering sweet nothings were no indication of a man’s God-given talent between the sheets. In fact, those things could be used as a crutch. There was effort there, sure. But there was also money. Tossing cash around didn’t impress me. It wasn’t what got a man in my pants. It was the expectation of a wild ride.

Jaded? Definitely. But I was jaded about everything—and everyone—these days.

But what was happening to me right now? Holy fuck.

Never happened before. Never felt anything like it before. Never imagined it was even possible.

Right now?

Bring on the foreplay!

Hands were on my naked body. Lots of them. Way more than the usual two. They caressed my shoulders, arms, breasts, up my thighs, cupped my pussy. Full-on foreplay. Then there were the whispers. They sure-as-hell weren’t sweet nothings. They were promises.

I’m going to lick your pussy until you come. Only then will you get my cock.

That was Voice One.

These lips. They’ll look gorgeous wrapped around my cock.

That was Voice Two.

This ass. I want to show off how you can take me there, so they see how perfect you are.

That was Voice Three.

Yes, three voices. Three guys were touching me, warming me up for not just a pounding, but a… God, what was it to be? My mind supplied the answer even though the thought confused me.

A claiming.

I had no doubt I was going to lose myself to them. Not just in pleasure, but in body.

And soul.

“Please,” I breathed the word, truly begging.

I gasped, my eyes popping open. I tried to catch my breath, but I had none. They’d pulled it from me just from their touches. Their promises. But they weren’t real. I wasn’t on a soft bed with three men. I was in a sterile room, restrained to a testing chair.

The Brides Processing Center.

Shit.

I blew out a breath to push my hair off my forehead.

“Are you all right, Miss Mason?”

It was Warden Egara who spoke. The mild, friendly tester stood from her chair, her tablet in hand.

I frowned. “I hate begging,” I grumbled.

She frowned but didn’t say anything.

“Are all dreams like that?” I asked. The metal that had kept my arms pinned to the testing chair slid back, and I sat up, wiping my face.

“Steamy?” she asked, a smile turning up the corner of her mouth.

I nodded.

“Yes.”

So, I wasn’t the only one who’d probably begged. A hot dream with three skilled men who knew how to touch me and what to say? Yeah, lots of women begged.

I was turned on, completely unfulfilled. Cranky, because of it.

“That’s downright cruel,” I told her.

She laughed, the sound soft and light. And that pissed me off even more.

“Some women orgasm from their testing and wake up from that.”

I narrowed my gaze at her. “Are you trying to make me hate you?”

I squirmed in the hard chair, tugged at the testing gown. It was a ridiculous hospital-style garment with little Interstellar Brides emblems all over it. Made of some kind of scratchy blend of materials that had me eager to ditch it, although I was naked underneath, which wasn’t a good alternative. I’d made a fool of myself enough, and I should have gotten an orgasm as payment like other women.

Grrr.

The warden sat back down at the plain table, her gaze upon her tablet.

“Your testing was successful.”

“Really?” I was surprised, and that surprised me. I’d come here to get the hell off of Earth, and this was the easiest way to do it. I wasn’t overly subordinate, so volunteering for the Coalition Fleet wasn’t a smart move. I’d volunteered to be a bride instead. I didn’t trust Earth men, or anyone else, for that matter.

“Yes, to Viken. You’re very lucky.”

I raised an eyebrow and waited.

“While your match is to one specific Viken male, they mate in threes.”

Three.

“Meaning three aliens.”

“Yes.”

So that was why I had that dream. I’d never ever thought of having sex with more than one guy. Sure, I wasn’t naïve enough to not know people shared, but I hadn’t. The idea wasn’t repulsive to me, I just hadn’t had the opportunity. But after that dream? Bring on the three Vikens. And soon because my pussy was wet and aching.

“Does this mean I can leave soon?”

She smiled. “I’m glad you’re eager for your mate.”

“You said mate, but you also said three of them. Which is it?” I asked, confused.

“You were matched to one Viken male. Their new custom is to claim a bride as a trio, one from each sector of their planet. It is possible you will only have one mate, but I suspect three.”

“I dreamed of three,” I admitted.

She offered a slight shrug, but a spark lit her eyes. “Lucky you. I can’t say with certainty, but I would guess you will have three.”

Three. Three mates. Holy fuck. Remembering the dream, it didn’t seem all that bad of a concept. “Works for me. I’m eager to get the hell off Earth.”

She looked down at her tablet. “You’ve volunteered. You’re not a convicted felon choosing an alternate to their punishment.”

“You don’t recognize me?”

I wasn’t vain, but I was famous. Sadly.

She looked up at me, studied me. “Ah.”

“That’s all you want to say? Ah? My family robbed thousands of people out of their retirement and savings. Destroyed lives. You don’t want to yell at me? Hate me?”

She looked at me with eyes that held not pity but understanding.

“From the news reports, you had no involvement in your family’s crimes.”

I squirmed in the chair. “No. My parents and brother live in New York. I’ve been living in California since college. I’m surprised you don’t know that.”

“I do, but I wanted to hear it from you.”

“Then you want to hear the rest of it? That while I was in college and grad school, my family created a pyramid scheme and stole millions from unsuspecting people? That we hadn’t been rich enough from my father’s hedge fund, and they were greedy enough to steal more?”

She shrugged. “To be honest, Miss Mason, I want to ensure you aren’t fleeing the planet to get away from a crime.”

I stood then, not caring that my ass was hanging out of the back of the stupid gown.

“I’m leaving the planet because I can’t get a job. No one will hire me. I’ve lost all my friends. I can’t walk down the street without people either jeering me, or a paparazzi camera shoved in my face. I’m never going to find a guy. My life is ruined all because of my family. I’m innocent, and no one cares. They’re out for blood, and I’m the only blood left that’s not behind bars. Do you have any idea what it’s like to not trust anyone?”

She studied me for a moment. “Very good.”

I sighed, a little because she’d gotten me riled up, and a little because I was relieved. She wasn’t going to deny me this new life just because of my miserable family.

“Do you wish to claim the right of naming your world, Miss Mason? Or do you submit to the processing center’s placement protocols?”

I thought of the three men and how my body still felt.

“I accept Viken.”

“Very good. Let’s begin the placement selection protocol. For the record, state your name.”

“Whitney Mason.”

“Are you currently, or have you ever, been married?”

I laughed at that. “No.”

“Have you produced biological offspring?”

I frowned. “Biological offspring?”

She glanced up at me. “Children. Have you given birth to any biological offspring?”

“No.”

“Are you legally responsible for any minors?”

“No. Why do you ask me that?”

The warden lifted her gaze and met mine, the look in her eyes said she was the one who asked the questions. “You’d be surprised, Miss Mason. Although I can’t fathom their reasoning, there are women who choose to leave their minor children behind on Earth. The Coalition races are very protective of their mates and children, whether biological or adopted. They do not approve of allowing any parent to abandon a child.”

That I completely understood. “But what if a woman can’t have children at all? I mean, what if she’s got fertility issues? Does that mean she can’t volunteer?”

The warden smiled at that question. “No. Of course not. There are many warriors who simply want a mate to share their life. Should a woman not wish to have children or be unable for whatever reason, there is a mate out there perfect for her. If the issue is a medical one, often the more advanced technology of the Coalition can resolve the problem.”

“Okay, but what if it can’t? What if she just can’t have kids? Or if she had her tubes tied or something. It’s not like they can just grow new fallopian tubes. Or what if she doesn’t want them?”

She sighed. Weren’t other women who came in to be tested as curious as me?

“The Interstellar Brides Program is about finding love and happiness. For many—human and alien—that has nothing to do with children, Miss Mason. The system matches you to your perfect mate, Whitney. Not the other way around. The testing doesn’t find a female for a male, but a male for a female.”

Warden Egara took a breath, then continued. “The match is a good one because the male who is chosen to be yours is the most highly compatible with your needs and desires. The focus is on making the female happy and content. The Coalition figured out, long ago, that females are the heart and soul of a strong community and, for many dominant warriors who long for someone to protect and care for, a contented life.”

Well, that was a lot of information that I hadn’t counted on, but it did make me feel better. Not that I didn’t want children. Frankly, I hadn’t thought about it that much with all the insanity going on around my family, and politics, racism, climate change, and just the expense of raising a child these days. But maybe, if I met the right man—or alien—I would be inspired.

“What about the rest of it?”

“You mean if someone has had a tubal ligation? Will a ReGen pod fix that?”

I didn’t know what a ReGen pod was, so I just nodded.

“A tubal isn’t something that’s broken, Whitney. It doesn’t need to be fixed. Also, unless the surgery was recent, and the body not yet recovered, the ReGen pod would’ve considered the site inactive and already healed.”

That, I guessed, was true.

“And, before you ask, if you were missing an arm, it wouldn’t grow it back. ReGen pods can’t heal everything. And even things it can heal might not be achievable if delayed too long.”

Now I was on a roll, so why not go for broke? I was nothing if not curious. One of my biggest weaknesses, my mother had often told me. I never could just mind my own damn business. “What about gay aliens? Alternate lifestyles? What about lesbians? Are there female fighters who want brides?”

“Are you telling me that you are a lesbian, Miss Mason?”

I shook my head. “No. But my cousin is. She’s single and just as miserable as I was trying to date these days.”

Warden Egara lifted her brows, but there was a twinkle in her eye as if she were enjoying the strange turn of the conversation. I would imagine that saying the same thing over and over every day would get a bit boring. Protocol this and protocol that.

“Yes, we have processed some lesbian brides. For now, the Brides testing is primarily female. However, there are several races which request gay males for matings. I just processed a gay match two days ago. It was my third.”

“What?” Holy shit, I’d been kidding. Mostly.

“What if the gay guy is a volunteer fighter, and he just meets another hot alien guy in a bar?”

She actually laughed, and the happiness on her face transformed her from a severe-looking woman to, well, beautiful. And she wasn’t as old as I’d first thought, either. Probably not even thirty. “Well, they’d have to wait to settle down together until their two years of service was up, but yes, I’m sure that happens as well.” She waggled her eyebrows at me. “Except in space, the bars are normally called canteens.”

Weird choice of word, but whatever. I had visions of uber-hot, gay aliens getting all up in each other’s business, and it wasn’t helping me cool off. I knew I was a bit of a kinky woman, so what the hell. Hot men were hot men. I didn’t mind watching…

The warden cleared her throat and got back to the business at hand—sending me into space.

“I’m going to stop your questioning there and get back to you. I am pleased to tell you that the system has made a successful match and you will be sent to a member planet. As a bride, you might never return to Earth, as all travel will be determined and controlled by your new planet’s laws and customs. You will surrender your citizenship of Earth and become an official citizen of your new world.”

Tears came to my eyes. I hadn’t cried in months, not since I’d first learned about what my father and brother had done. I’d used my tears up. But now? Knowing I wasn’t coming back to Earth, that I had a fresh start somewhere else? Where I could be me and maybe learn to trust again, to find people who weren’t sociopaths who had zero empathy or morals.

I blinked them away.

“Works for me.”

“There is no coming back, Miss Mason. Per Protocol 6.2.7a, we can’t force you to remain with someone incompatible, regardless of how accurate your test. You will have thirty days to decide if the primary candidate is acceptable. If you are not satisfied with your mate, you will be assigned another mate on that world and transferred. You will have thirty days to accept or reject each candidate until you settle down with a mate from your matched planet.”

A return policy. “As long as I’m not coming back here, I’m totally fine with that.”

She stood and held out her arm. “Good. Then if you’ll settle back into the testing chair once again.”

I glanced at the dentist-chair lookalike. Was I going to get that orgasm I so desperately wanted? I did as she requested, and with a swipe of her finger across her tablet, the restraints were back in place.

“For your safety,” she explained. Once I settled, she continued. “For the record, Miss Mason, you have been assigned to a mate per testing protocols and will be transported off-planet, never to return to Earth. Do you understand this and accept the match?”

Why was she confirming this three times? Did other women freak out at this point? Did they not realize why they’d walked through the center’s doors? “Yes.”

The chair tipped back then, and I looked up and saw the wall behind me open. The testing chair slid, as if on a track, right into the newly revealed space on the other side of the wall. The tiny room was small and glowing with a series of bright blue lights. The chair lurched to a stop, and a robotic arm with a large needle slid silently up to my neck.

“Don’t be alarmed. It is the NPU that will allow you to process other languages.”

I winced as the oversized needle pierced my skin, then all I felt was a slight tingling at the injection site. A sense of lethargy and contentment made my body go limp as I was lowered into a bath of warm blue liquid. I was so warm, so numb…

“Just try to relax, Miss Mason.” Her finger swiped her tablet, and her voice drifted to me as if from far, far away. “Your processing will begin in three… two… one…”