“I got lost in his eyes.”

What a load of crap. Or at the very least, a sentiment reserved for poets, sappy song writers, and hopeless romantics. A belief Eryn Lockwood, who had seen more than one love-struck woman giddy about meeting the man of her dreams, had always held true.

Until now, when she gazed up into a pair of mesmerizing gold eyes, she felt the same thing, and more. Lost in their beauty, the incredible heat and smoldering passion.

So lost, she almost missed how the tilt of his head sent his long black hair falling over one shoulder. Like a silky dark curtain, it blocked much of the moonlight streaming in from the window, yet enough light remained for her take in every compelling feature of his handsome face—ebony brows so smooth and perfect they might have been painted on by an artisan’s hand, and angular cheekbones that seemed to guide the eye to his full, sensuous lips. He had a straight nose with the tiniest bump near the bridge as if it had been broken in the past, and a bit of a square jaw, both of which kept him from being too beautiful.

Otherwise, the man holding her was flawless, and from the intensity of his stare, he meant to have her, without a doubt tired of waiting.

He moved, aligning his body over hers, and his head came down, his mouth taking hers in a heated kiss. She resisted, squirming, and pressing her palms to his broad chest. A token effort at best because she could sense the power within him, feel the muscles rippling and bunching under the warm skin beneath her hands, and, regardless of her good intentions, she couldn’t muster much of a defense. This proved true when his tongue slid along the seam of her lips, seeking entrance, and she opened for him, answering his need with a fervency of her own.

He rewarded her with a husky groan of approval, along with the taste of him exploding on her tongue—warm, sweeter than honey, with a delicious hint of spice. The moans rising from deep within her chest signaled him to deepen the kiss and take more.

Years in space on a ship full of women had left Eryn yearning for a man, but she hungered for this one.

Despite not knowing his name, she bowed up against his body, arching so the tips of her aching breasts collided with his bare chest. Heaven. And although she didn’t make a habit of jumping the bones of strangers, it appeared three long, lonesome years without sex could turn even the most cautious and reserved woman into a slut.

He didn’t seem to mind, driving his tongue into the warm recesses of her mouth, exploring, claiming, taking. Quiescent at first, when he moved her hands above her head, pinning them there, she tensed. Undeterred, he transferred both wrists to one hand then stroked down her arm with the other until he found an upthrust breast. When he palmed the full lower curve, his thumb sweeping over the beaded tip, the ache inside her became a burning need.

With a breathy cry, Eryn lifted her hips, pressing her long-neglected pussy against the firm length nudging the vee of her thighs. She parted her legs, a blatant invitation for him to give all his gilded gaze, full lips, and large, muscular body promised.

He answered the uninhibited offer by pinching and rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. While tugging firmly, his tongue dueled with hers and he settled over top of her, the rigid length of his cock slipping between her thighs. When it slid along the slit of her pussy, she opened wider, a whimper rising from her throat.

This is wrong, a nagging voice in the back of her mind warned. He’s the enemy. Still, she craved him with such intensity she didn’t want to stop, no matter who or what he may be.

“Please.” Her whispered cry so breathless and soft, she didn’t know whether she begged for more or for mercy.

“That is my goal, little one.”

Passion filled his smooth, velvety voice which melded with her husky moans of desire. The two sounds fit together as though bowed from a cello’s strings by a master. Undeniably decadent music to fuck by, and the erotic composition spurred her need even higher.

Almost sobbing, she called his name in a pleading tone. No way could he miss the fact she wanted and needed more.

“Eryn…”

Most times, the sound of her name in his deep voice alone had the ability to flood her pussy with liquid heat, yet something seemed off and jolted her, scattering the sensual haze surrounding her.

“Eryn.” This time, when he spoke, she flinched. His voice, once smooth and mellow, had become higher pitched, grating on her already-sensitized nerves.

Restless, she turned her head away, wanting to stay in the heat of the moment but knowing something didn’t make sense. Ram had gone home, returning to Primaria on the Dauntless weeks ago.

All of a sudden, a loud banging and a woman shouting her name penetrated the haze with a jolt. She bolted upright like she’d been shot through with electricity. Dazed, she glanced around, trying to get her bearings. With disorientation clouding her mind, it took a moment to realize she sat alone in her bed, the sounds of pleasure she thought had come from the two of them, had only been hers.

She clamped her lips together to contain her cry of frustration and raked trembling fingers through her damp, mussed hair. The vivid images from the recurring dream faded along with the rapid pounding in her chest.

“Eryn!” Lana, her suitemate, fellow USIF officer, and resident worry wort shouted through the door again. “I heard choking or groaning or something. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Shaken and mortified her friend had overheard, her reply came out a whisper. Thank God Lana mistook her groans for pain instead of the impending mind-blowing orgasm courtesy of her dream warrior.

“Open up and let me see,” she insisted.

She squinted at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s 3:00 a.m. Go back to bed.”

“Not until you open this door.”

Eryn’s head tipped backward, and she sent a familiar plea up to heaven. Kill me now, please.

But lightning didn’t strike, nor did she drop dead on the spot, which left her no choice except to deal with the situation. Stubbornness may be one of her own qualities, but Lana had taken it, perfected it, and elevated it to an art form. She wouldn’t go away until presented with undisputable, visual proof Eryn was okay.

With a muttered curse, she threw off the covers and stalked the short distance across the matchbook-sized bedroom to the door. While fumbling for the light switch, her foot clipped something hard on the floor. Her cry of pain—the real thing this time—changed to a hiss as her stubbed baby toe burned and started to throb. Hopping on one foot, she located the wall panel and sent light flooding into the room with a click.

Beyond irritated, she threw the door wide and glared at her well-meaning roommate. “See, Mom! I’m fine. Sorry to have woken you.”

Out in the hallway, the tall blonde stared back at her, beautiful upon waking in the middle of the night—unlike Eryn, who always looked a fright when she rolled out of bed, hair standing on end and in complete disarray. Lana stood in front of her, wavy hair fluffed and flawless, no wrinkles or red blotches on her face from her pillow, and wearing a nightgown, clean and meticulously pressed like it had come straight from the laundro-matic, rather than worn in bed for the past several hours. While she gave her a head-to-toe inspection, two thin worry lines appeared between her impeccably arched brows, the sole thing keeping her from resembling a Barbie doll.

After a thorough assessment, which seemed to satisfy her concern, she heaved a relieved sigh. “No obvious trauma or bloodshed. That’s a relief. However, since this is the third nightmare this week, I don’t think I’m off base when I say, you are not fine.”

“Let it go, please. It was just a dream.” Eryn huffed a breath, bracing herself for what she knew would come next.

“Which one this time? The chase and capture in the woods? Or the really good one with Ram treating you to multi-orgasmic, mind-blowing sex?” She paused, arching a perfect blonde brow in challenge. “It’s hard to tell if your groans are from terror or ecstasy, so it could go either way.”

Eryn wanted to scream. Why had she told her about her dreams? And why in hell had she been so specific? It had been a huge mistake, and out of character for her, someone who seldom shared anything with anyone. Except maybe her closest friend Maggie, but even with her, she seldom disclosed things of such a deep, personal nature. Reserved and tightlipped, as a rule she kept non-work-related problems and emotions to herself. Or she had, until six months ago, when her life changed forever.

At the time, the Odyssey, a USIF research vessel, had been nearing the end of its three-year mission, still trying to locate a world suitable for colonization. They’d come across MP13 in the Spero star system, located in a galaxy far from home. Preliminary scans had shown it to be much like Earth, and the first promising option after months of fruitless searching.

Brimming with hope, she and the others in the landing party had shuttled down to the surface to explore. But while they gathered samples from what they assumed was an uninhabited planet, a band of giant aliens attacked. Outmatched in number, size, and fire power, the research team had been overpowered, and the half-naked, loincloth-wearing, gorgeous barbarians took them captive, claiming them for their mates.

Much had changed since that day. The aliens ended up being far more advanced—both in weaponry and technology—than expected. And, after living with them for weeks, they learned, although these men took arrogance to the extreme, and their views on society, in particular the roles of men and women seemed antiquated, they weren’t unreasonable or beyond redemption. Thanks to the influence of many of the female captives who’d become mates, a mutually beneficial alliance had been formed between their two worlds.

For Eryn, one of the original eight taken, the experience had taken a more personal toll, changing how she saw herself, and what she planned for her life—irrevocably so.

She and Lana had being captives in common. They shared the same fears, anxieties, and anger, and, at first, the same barred cell. But this hadn’t led Eryn to confide in her. She’d shared her dreams because out of all the successful matches between the Primarian males and Earth females, her and Lana’s were the only two resulting in a failed mate bond.

Their species, she’d learned, mated for life. For them, it was a choice as much as biology. When the male’s seed was introduced into the female for the first time, what they called a breaching started a biocellular transformation, mainly in the female, who would take on some of the characteristics of her mate—hair, eyes, or skin tone changed most commonly—but the result differed with each pair. In cases of fated mates, the transformation was so pronounced, their chemistry became nearly identical, and the male’s familial marking appeared as a mirror image on the female. This occurrence, though rare on Primaria, was something every mated pair hoped for because, not only did they become close, emotionally bonded, but the odds of conception rose substantially.

Because the mating resulted in a lifetime union, their scientists came up with a test, the results of which, when entered into a planet-wide database, led to the selection of the ideal match for every mate-seeking candidate. Foolproof since its introduction decades earlier, the compatibility test had never failed them. Until now.

To figure out why, she and Lana had both been questioned endlessly by medical professionals on both sides. Neither had been forthcoming about the personal details of their failed mating, other than to say they hadn’t bonded, and they wanted to go home.

In Eryn’s case, there was more to it. Much more. And other than Ram, no one else knew what. If left up to her, they never would. Perhaps keeping it to herself for so long had spawned the dreams. She didn’t know. But she would bear the burden gladly to keep her unspeakable act a secret.

Considering this was an inter-species mating pool, there were bound to be variations. And, since the overall number remained limited to slightly less than half of the Odyssey’s three hundred females—who, when given the choice between becoming mates or returning to the turmoil and uncertain future of their own world, had stayed behind—the counsel deemed two failed matings a small outlier.

She eyed Lana who remained closemouthed, suffering from nightmares and flashbacks, too. Though Eryn couldn’t imagine her friend’s troubles could be less appalling than her own, they’d taken a toll. The once vivacious young woman had changed drastically, seldom smiling, which she’d done often before her capture. Since the encounter, Eryn frequently found her sitting alone, staring at nothing, while lost in thought, or trapped in her memories, a pained expression on her face or unshed tears in her eyes. With all her friend’s inner turmoil, she found it ironic when Lana repeatedly suggested she needed help.

Right on cue, her well-intentioned, know-it-all friend advised, “You need to see a doctor.”

She answered with a weary sigh. “I get a physical once a month as part of our reconditioning, just like you.”

“I didn’t mean from one of our doctors,” Lana clarified, her gaze sweeping down to her already-rounded belly. “Rather, one of theirs.”

“No.”

“You have to. There’s no telling what alien changes are occurring in your body.”

Once again, she raised the same old, worn-out argument, and Eryn’s irritation level shot through the roof. “I keep telling you, it’s not his!”

“Oh, come on.” Lana’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling, something they always did when Eryn tried to deny her claim. When they lowered again, they zoned in on her protruding belly, more noticeable than usual thanks to the damp, clinging nightshirt plastered to her like a second skin.

Lana tugged the fabric, pulling it away from her body, but when she let go, it went right back, doing little to conceal her progressing pregnancy. “You are obviously more than three months along. It has to be Ram’s.”

“Thank you for the diagnosis, doctor. Your concern is duly noted. Especially coming from such an expert in obstetrics. Oh, wait, that’s right. Your PhD is in geology, not medicine.” Lana couldn’t miss the biting sarcasm in her tone. “I’m going back to bed. Again, sorry for waking you.”

Tired of rehashing this topic, she stepped aside to close the door.

Lana leaned in, blocking it. “Consider your baby, honey.”

“I am.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “It’s all I can think about.” Except, that wasn’t exactly true.

For the first few months after leaving Primaria, Ram consumed her thoughts 24/7. After she learned of her pregnancy, and more recently, when the baby began to move and became real in both mind and body, nagging fears about their future had crept in, vying for the top spot.

“As I’ve pointed out time and again, don’t you think I’d know if this was Ram’s child? It’s impossible. I don’t bear his marking or the smallest sign of being mated to him. We didn’t bond, plain and simple, case closed.”

Her friend’s gaze dropped pointedly to her waist.

“I don’t mean that kind of sign,” Eryn bit out, struggling for patience, “because it isn’t his baby! I thought you understood bonding is necessary for a Primarian to breed. Further, if by some strange chance, we had mated, unknown to us, don’t you think when he went home, leaving me light years behind, if I was his mate and this his child, I would have fallen ill with the sickness long ago?”

“What about the nausea and dizziness on the ship?”

“A simple case of the flu or a virus. The physician onboard agreed.” She’d given this rational explanation so often her exasperation spilled over and her voice rose.

Lana bit her lip while Eryn returned volley on every question she raised, ripping her theory to shreds.

After taking a deep breath, she went on in a more modulated tone. “Lana, you, better than anyone, know what it’s like to have a failed mating. Everyone thinks once it’s decreed, it’s a done deal. However, mistakes can be made, lab tests flawed, and just because a computer says two people are a match, doesn’t make it true.”

“But—”

“No buts! Ram is not the father of this baby. We aren’t mates and never will be, the same as you and Trask, evidently.”

Her friend flinched.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” Eryn declared upon seeing her reaction. “I didn’t mean… I shouldn’t have mentioned… Damn my big mouth. I know you had strong feelings for the general—”

Lana held up her hand.

Though she insisted she was over her handsome alien, Eryn didn’t buy it. For the mention of his name to cause such a reaction, her anguish palpable, she was as messed up and haunted by her former mate as Eryn.

More so than any of the others, Lana had taken to the powerful Primarian who had claimed her. And General Trask had been as enamored with her. They appeared to be a perfect match. Therefore, when the opportunity arose to go home, everyone had been stunned when Lana was the first in line with her bags packed, seeming desperate to get off the planet, leaving her besotted and utterly confounded warrior behind.

Adamant she wanted to leave, she maintained her position until Primaria became a distant blip on their radar screen then she’d deflated, as if the abundant joy she’d once had for life had been sucked right out of her. And ever since, she’d refused to explain her sudden change of heart to anyone.

“I’m sorry, Lana, I’m a shit friend and shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she replied after a moment, her tone flat, although her tense, closed-off body language spoke of her pain. “It doesn’t change the fact my mating with Trask failed, and when I left, it hurt, a lot. But leaving was my choice, Eryn, the only one I had.”

“What do you mean?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now. After I got home, I had to find a way to move forward. Like you, I wanted to finish what we started, to build a new life on a new world before this one blows to smithereens. If doing so means keeping the Primarians happy by helping with the prospective mates, so be it. I’ve accepted my fate.” She glanced away, uncertain, as though she’d done no such thing. A moment later, determination filled her face, and her chin came up, her gaze locking on Eryn. “My story and my fate are irrelevant. We’re talking about you, the pregnant one. The one who isn’t sleeping night after night. You and your baby can’t go on this way. And neither can I.”

Not surprisingly, Lana had turned the conversation around, making it about her needs, the sleep-deprived roommate of the crazy, pregnant, orgasming at the top of her lungs, in the wee hours of the night basket case down the hall. Playing the guilt card worked well because Eryn felt genuinely sorry for disturbing her sleep.

“I’m preparing for a mission in less than a week. I need sleep. Please, if not for your sake or your child,” she implored, “do this for me. See a doctor, a psychiatrist, or a voodoo priestess, I don’t care which, just get help so we can all get some rest.”

“I really am sorry,” Eryn murmured, though committed to nothing.

Lana stared at her for a moment, not having noticed or too tired to fight anymore. She then nodded, turned on her heel, and headed back down the short hall to her room.

Eryn slumped against the doorframe. With eyes closed tight, she pressed her forehead against the cool wood, reflecting on all Lana had said. The baby, taking that moment to make its presence known, gave her a vicious kick right in her bladder. The urge to pee suddenly overwhelming, she spun, sending the door swinging shut behind her as she rushed to her small bathroom.

She took care of business then washed her hands. Still feeling sticky and hot, she leaned forward and, with her eyes closed, splashed cool water on her face. When she did, Ram’s image reappeared in her mind. The lover from her dreams, but also the wild, gorgeous barbarian she had encountered the first day in the forest. The man who haunted her became a swirling, flashing montage of images in her head—Ram, standing proud, determined, and incredibly sexy in his scarlet warrior’s tunic and snug black pants. Playful Ram, grinning and teasing her gently, which he did at the oddest times, a captivating dimple appearing in his cheek when he smiled.

No matter which moment popped into her head, she found him breathtaking, more so than any man she’d ever seen—especially when he gazed into her eyes, his own becoming like liquid gold from the heat of his desire.

Her last time with Ram haunted her the most, however. She’d never seen him so angry, with his jaw clenched and his mouth set into a hard line, hatred making his gilded gaze seem cold and distant rather than warm and approachable.

A tremor of revulsion swept through her. Aimed inward, her disgust mixed with shame and regret for the unforgiveable thing she’d done. She’d never forget what he said to her.

When she raised her head, she stared with scorn at her reflection while water dripped from her chin and off her red-tipped black lashes. Did he ever think of her? Or had he expunged her from his mind when he walked away? Did he remember with fondness the few tender moments they’d shared, when she’d been civil and hadn’t incited his anger?

Did his image of her match the one in the mirror—flushed cheeks, mane of deep-auburn hair tumbled around her face and shoulders, lips parted on quick intakes of breath? Did he think of her this way? Or become aroused, like she did, when the stirring memories of their time together made her heart race and her skin tingle, as though sparked by static electricity. Could it be he longed for her with the same intensity she did for him?

Doubtful. He despised everything about her. If his parting words hadn’t made it clear, the anger emanating off him in waves, his tensely held shoulders, and the tic in his jaw as he glared at her would have.

Things had changed a great deal since she’d walked away from him in such a disturbing fashion. Their worlds had found peace in alliance. And the brief time she’d spent with him had changed her, too. She often wondered if he would like this version of her any better.

With a tormented groan, she twisted away from the mirror and reached for the hand towel on the rack, breaking the cycle of recriminations. She dried off without looking at herself again because she didn’t like what she saw.

Even though it was too early to get up, going back to bed to toss and turn for three more hours would be pointless. She dropped the rough scrap of terrycloth in the sink and went to get ready for another monotonous day.

Like Lana, she found little pleasure in life anymore. The baby should have made her feel different, except, with uncertainty surrounding it all, she couldn’t summon the emotions most first-time mothers experienced—excitement, happiness, hope.

Hugging her budding belly, she whispered, “Maybe if I had any concept of what our future holds.”