“A translation device will be inserted so you can communicate.”

“What do you mean, inserted?”

The question came as expected. After about two dozen such Q&A sessions with prospective mates, Eryn could write a script for how the conversation would go.

“Where?” the puzzled young woman asked. “Is it like an earpiece?”

“No.” Eryn swept her gaze over the group of women, preparing for the reaction she knew would follow. “It’s a permanent device which is implanted into the speech center of your brain.”

Twenty-five gasps arose in unison.

“Implanted? Like with an operation?” exclaimed an auburn-haired attendee, her big blue eyes round as moons.

“Will it hurt?” inquired another.

Yet a third declared loudly, “No one mentioned anything about surgery!”

“Ladies, please.” Eryn raised her hands to signal quiet. She waited until they settled down before she continued. “The Primarians are much more advanced than we are, including their medical technology. I had a translator inserted and didn’t feel a thing. And, now I can attend a full United Nation’s session and understand every word spoken by each member without an interpreter. It really is remarkable.”

“Did they have to shave your head?” A pretty brunette with long, waist-length hair spoke up next.

“Does it leave a scar?” the woman beside her blurted out.

“No, their techniques go beyond our capabilities. When I awoke, I couldn’t find any trace of a wound at all, but, instantly, what they said all made sense.”

The group erupted in heated conversation while they debated this new twist. Eryn didn’t blame them for being concerned. Everything about the first twenty-four hours after her capture had been a whirlwind of uncertainty, fear, and confusion, and also jam-packed with many firsts for her. Namely, being seized by aliens, transported to their vessel by having her atoms scattered across space then somehow reassembled in one piece hundreds of miles away, and a recipient of both brain surgery and a spanking. If she had to do one over, she’d choose the last, without hesitation, if it was Ram’s hands doing the deed.

At the time, she’d been outraged and, unlike these women, had no advanced warning, no one to explain what to expect, no classes to attend with others in the same situation, and no application process to say she wanted everything involved with becoming a mate.

As she replayed the events in her head, the images in her mind became vivid like it all happened yesterday.

---

She opened heavy-lidded eyes to a strange triangular-shaped light overhead and a jumble of hushed conversations, mostly male voices with an occasional softly voiced question in a higher-pitched tone from different women, and sobbing.

The last disturbing sound penetrated, and she remembered her living nightmare—they’d been abducted by barbarians. She sat up, her gaze sweeping her surroundings. A medical facility of some sort, monitors lined the walls, the screens flashing, annoying blips and beeps from alarms pervaded the room, and men wearing black-and-white tunics, who she assumed were medical staff, busily flitted about doing God knew what. Two rows of beds ran parallel to one another, each occupied by one of her crew, their eyes darting around in nervous confusion or mouths gaping at a tall alien standing at their bedside.

Directly across the way, Brenna stared at her, appearing stunned, her cheeks wet with tears. Lana lay in the cubicle next to her, a big male bent over her, speaking intently, although too low for Eryn to hear. And the entire time he held her hand gripped in one of his own while stroking her hair with the other.

“Ram, your female is awake.”

Movement beside her preceded a gentle touch on her shoulder. She looked up into the familiar gold eyes of her abductor from the woods. Inches away, he gazed down at her with what she thought might be concern then his lips twitched as if he would smile, and a dimple appeared in his darkly stubbled cheek.

“How are you feeling, little rebel?” The voice was the same as from the forest, but since she wasn’t running from him or trying to knee him in the balls, it sounded even and low, with a velvet-edged texture.

Stunned, she stared at him, realizing she understood his every word, like the man in black and white who had spoken first. He’d called her “his female”—a disturbing idea she’d deal with later after she got over the shock of being able to understand them both, plain as day.

“What’s happening? Why do I suddenly know your language?”

The doctor, medic, or whatever tapped his fingers on the side of his head, right above the temple. “Simple. We inserted a translating device into your frontal lobe.”

What bullshit! Far from simple, it was freakin’ complicated and totally unacceptable.

Eryn glanced at the others, their calm complacency flooring her. Didn’t they know they’d been tampered with?

Everything that had transpired—losing her freedom and the sole way to return to her ship, and now, not being the person she’d been two short days ago because of the alien device imbedded in her brain—became too much for her to endure. She freaked out.

Wildly, she struck out with both fists. Dimples, who stood leaning over her bedside, got it first when she landed a brilliant right hook to his jaw. His head snapped to the side, and he swayed enough for her to dart past. This time, her own body thwarted her escape.

On shaky knees, her world spinning, Eryn staggered forward. To catch herself, she reached for the half-wall partition, the nearest sturdy surface. Hard and slick, without seams, it had no give and her hands couldn’t hold on.

She fell face-first onto the unforgiving floor, her stomach rolling while she struggled to keep from sobbing like Brenna. This show of weakness was unlike her, but with her frustration teetering on intolerable, she was unable to stop tears from welling up.

Strong hands curled around her upper arms and lifted her to her feet. When she swayed and the room started spinning and tilting on end, a long arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his body and steadying her before she fell on her face again.

“Foolish woman,” a low, irritated voice rumbled near her ear. “It was a minor procedure, but after teleporting and not eating hardly anything in two days, of course you would be weak and dizzy.”

“Let me go,” she whispered, her voice cracking on the last word.

“That isn’t going to happen, mate.”

“Mate?” Her head angled back, and she glared at the being towering over her. As she did, she pulled against his hold, to no avail. “You’re delusional,” she spat, “if you think I’ll mate with you in any way, shape, or form.”

“It is already decided. We are compatible.”

“Undecide it,” she demanded. “Can’t you get it through your thick head I don’t want to be here? I have a job, a mission, and people depending on me.”

His unusual eyes snapped with anger, yet his voice stayed calm while he spoke. “You have new people who are depending on you now. All of Primaria to be specific, which takes precedence over everything else.”

“Like hell!” she screamed, jerking hard against the arm encircling her, while she brought up a knee.

“Not again,” he roared, twisting, and blocking her shot.

“Need some help with your mate, Ram?” someone called out. “These females are so big and ferocious; I can see how you might.”

Laughter at his expense rippled around them as her captor growled. Clearly, his friend’s implication that he couldn’t control a “small” woman like herself, despite being six feet tall and every bit of one hundred sixty pounds, bruised his ego.

Eryn didn’t care about his wounded male pride, however, and continued to struggle.

Then, for the third time in—had it only been two days?—he scooped her up, draped her over his shoulder, and carried her out, words of advice and chuckles from the other men, following in their wake.

She kicked and fought against his hold until his giant hand once again came crashing down on her ass, delivering a sharp slap on each upraised cheek. “Be still,” he barked.

“I’ll stop fighting when you let us go,” she shot back, her voice shrill from outrage, not pain, although the swats had really stung. “And how dare you treat me like a child? I’m a free woman and demand my release.”

“Demand all you like, little rebel, but I won’t let you go, and you will get ten times what you just received unless you start doing what your mate tells you to do.”

“Never! I’ll fight you to my dying breath, asshole,” she shouted while pummeling his back with forceful blows he didn’t seem to feel. He was fully aware of them, however, because his response came swiftly with four more smacks landing with blistering heat on her vulnerable backside.

“You’ll have a hard time sitting until you realize who’s in charge here and that none of this is up to you.”

The sting of her cheeks, his intractable hold, and his calm, as he delivered on his promise of more, made her see this was a fight she couldn’t win. Bottoms up in a disgraceful position, on top of the day’s events had a hand in convincing her, too. Everything combined drained her strength, especially when dizziness continuing to plague her since waking from brain surgery. This last thought rattled around in her head for an instant longer… They’d done surgery on her brain! Holy fuck!

In surrender—although temporary while she regrouped and shored up her defenses—Eryn slumped over his shoulder, quiescent for the moment.

He grunted, whether from relief or approval she could be sure, but his broad hand took up residence on her sore, tingling behind, holding her securely in place as he began moving faster. When she didn’t resurrect her resistance in several steps, he gave her bottom a gentle squeeze. “I know this is a lot to take in all at once, but I’ll help you adjust to your new life.”

“Lucky me,” she grumbled beneath her breath.

“Yes,” he answered, surprising her with the acuity of his hearing. “You are very lucky because I intend to care for you well, little mate. There will be time to thank me more fully later, however.”

Sarcasm was lost on him, evidently.

His steps slowed, and she heard a soft whooshing. The sound repeated after he entered a darkened room.

“Lights up,” he ordered. They came on to reveal a moderate-size stateroom. “These are our quarters.” He carried her through the main living space and through another door. Eryn stiffened upon seeing the bed. Did he intend to mate with her now?

It came as a surprise when he bent and set her on her feet instead.

“I must shower then I have a meeting. You may rest while I attend to my business. Sleep will help with any residual effects from the teleportation and anesthesia.”

He crossed to a different door—what she assumed was a bathroom—glancing back after it whooshed open. Upon seeing she hadn’t moved from the spot where he set her down, he tipped his head toward the bed.

“Lie down, mate.” An order, given softly, but an order all the same. “And try to sleep. You’ll need your strength for the breeching, later.” After dropping this bombshell, he winked, which shocked her clear to her toes then he disappeared inside.

Slack-jawed, she stared after him. Breeching sounded ominous, and sexual. And what was the wink about? After all his talk of mating, it didn’t take much calculation to clue her in to his meaning.

“Fuck that,” she muttered. Spinning, she ran for the main room. No way was she mating, breeching, or anything else with this arrogant, bossy, dictatorial, spanking-obsessed alien. When the door didn’t slide open automatically, Eryn waved her hand over the sensor.

Nothing.

“Dammit!” She pressed both hands flat on the panel, trying with all her might to get it to budge even an inch. When it still wouldn’t move, she began to pace, her insides trembling. She wanted none of what he had to offer. How could she convince him he needed to let her go?

A noise from the bedroom sent her into a panic. Eyes darting around, she searched for a weapon, but the room was essentially bare. No knickknacks on the lone table, not a single what-not on the desk, and, with the lighting recessed, not so much as a lamp lay at hand to bash over his head.

“You must have trouble hearing, because I know I told you to get in bed,” boomed a deep voice behind her.

Startled, she jumped clear off the floor. If she’d been a cat, her claws would be embedded in the ceiling. In an effort to slow her thudding heart, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. So caught up in her escape, she hadn’t heard him approach. How did such a big man move with such stealth?

When she glanced back, she realized he had changed into a form-fitting red tunic and black trousers that appeared custom-made for his large, muscular frame. Clean-shaven now, he’d also combed his hair into a sleek ponytail at the back of his neck. Clothed and groomed, he now appeared quite civilized. She couldn’t decide which was more attractive, this look, or the wild, carnal barbarian. Either way, the little moisture remaining in her mouth evaporated.

He was gorgeous. Too bad it went hand in hand with being a colossal jerk. And he didn’t change her opinion when he cocked one dark brow and began spouting more orders.

“Defying me will only cause more strife between us and earn you a long trip over my knee. I expect you to do what I say, and, right now, that means rest. If you can’t sleep, you need to lie down at least and let your body recover from the events of the past two days.”

Moving aside, he swept his arm toward the door, his stern expression a silent command he expected her to obey. Beyond his extended hand lay the bed. It looked inviting with the covers already pulled back—a nice touch on his part, especially since exhaustion was pulling at her. It made it difficult to think, something quite necessary with him as an opponent, and if she planned to find a way out of this mess.

Hesitantly, she started forward.

He didn’t say anything when she moved closer, although she noted his jaw had relaxed the tiniest bit. She angled sideways to pass him, careful not to brush up against him. She’d almost made it past when his thick forearm caught her at the waist and drew her against his hard body, his free hand curling around her neck, threading into her hair, and giving a firm tug. With her head tilted back, she met his gaze, noting the gold glimmered more than before.

“Your bravery and determination are admirable, little rebel, but you can’t win against me. I’d much rather we start out on amicable terms than at odds.”

“I’m in prison yet have committed no crime. Why would you think I’d be anything other than determined to escape this unacceptable situation and get back to my people and my duty?”

With a keen observant eye, he searched her face. This close, she noticed the gold intermingled with a hint of brown—toffee and a darker cocoa—framed by long black lashes. She could want him if they weren’t enemies because she found his easy command of her body, his strength, masculine beauty, and his dominance appealing somehow. When he inclined his head, she thought he meant to kiss her, and her breath caught in her throat, but he continued the conversation as though there hadn’t been a break.

“In your shoes, I would be determined, too. But I am a warrior. You and your crew are eight small females against two hundred men. Consider those odds while you plot your escape.” After releasing her hair, he slid the backs of his fingers lightly along her cheek then let her go and stepped back. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. I’ll bring food upon my return.”

When he exited, the sensor over the door changed from green to red, indicating he’d locked it behind him.

Left alone, her tensely held shoulders slumped, and she became aware of the fatigue in her muscles and, least of all, the tingling warmth in her paddled hind parts. She needed to stay focused, but exhaustion consumed her. Although it made the big jerk right, she agreed with him; she needed to rest. Dragging herself to his bed, she stubbornly flipped the covers back in place and climbed on top of them. She would try and rest for a bit, but not because he told her to.

Locked into her alien prison cell, what choice did she have?

---

Lost in her memories, Eryn’s tactile senses kicked in, causing her bottom to warm and tingle. The sensations so real, she wiggled in her chair.

A ripple of laughter in the room made her look up. The sea of smiling faces aimed her way sent heat rushing to her cheeks. “What’s funny? Did I miss something?”

“I think you zoned out on us for a bit,” one grinning girl told her.

“And from the grin on your face, it must have been a pleasant trip,” another said as she giggled. “We called your name at least three times.”

“Sorry.” Mortified at being caught in the midst of a naughty daydream, she was ready to call it a night, but had at least twenty minutes left in the class. She offered a lame excuse, instead. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“About this translator,” a serious-looking woman who appeared to be in her late thirties cut in. “Can you be sure zoning out isn’t a side effect of the implant? Or your lack of sleep? While unconscious, they could have done all sorts of tests and other unspeakable atrocities to your person.”

Eryn smiled ruefully. This woman’s distrust paralleled her own in the beginning. Still, an alliance had been formed between their people and a treaty signed.

“If you feel strongly about it or have serious doubts, then maybe, integration isn’t for you.”

The woman blinked in surprise. “But what did you think? Weren’t you suspicious? Until then you couldn’t even communicate with them.”

“True.” Although she didn’t admit it, she’d experienced every one of those worries, and was the worst of the bunch when it came to suspicion. It took all her willpower not to rub her hands over her scalp, searching for a bump or scar, or lump under her skin where a chip had been embedded, and, although she’d done so at least a thousand times, she’d never found a thing. Other than a pinprick in the bend of her arm when she had awoken, outwardly she’d seemed the same, except she could speak and understand Ram’s language.

He’d called it a minor procedure; as if brain surgery was no more serious than an ingrown toenail. And here she sat, a few months later, purporting the exact same nonchalance when the idea they’d been rooting around in her head without her permission had once left her trembling with horror.

“The difference is you have the benefit of both knowledge and consent. As captives, we had neither, so our suspicions were driven by anxiety and fear of the unknown. We had laid eyes on these aliens only the day before and had rather unorthodox introductions.”

“You mean they claimed you like barbarians, chasing you down and flinging you over their shoulder.” This came from a dreamy-eyed honey blonde sitting in front huddled up with a platinum blonde with similar stars in her eyes.

“And spanked you when you didn’t obey, isn’t that right?” A hush fell over the group for a moment until the two Barbie doll look-alikes began to giggle.

Times like this made Eryn want to pull her hair out. What happened to their concern for the common good or gratitude for the opportunity to get off this dying planet ahead of the next major quake, flood, or other natural disaster struck? They just wanted to know about sex and discipline, but she supposed their openness to both boded well for the success of the treaty.

“I have another question about this brain surgery,” the forty-something woman began again.

“I’m not worried about a silly translator,” a bubbly redhead called out over the noise. “I want to hear about the size of their…” She gestured with her hands. “Is it proportionate to the rest of them?”

More laughter rippled through the group, most of it nervous, and twenty-five pairs of curious eyes shifted to her.

“Did it happen to you?” the girl added before she could reply.

“Do tell us, please,” urged yet another, obviously titillated. “Did any of those handsome hunks take you over his knee and paddle your bare bottom?”

Although the question came up every time, Eryn hadn’t learned how to control the flush that heated her cheeks. As usual, when embarrassed, her face scorched, and she could tell her fair skin had become bright red like a stop sign.

“One did,” the animated woman accused, barely able to contain her excitement. “Was it bad? I mean, it had to hurt, but did he make it all better afterward?”

Titters of laughter swept through most of the group, a few frowning or rolling their eyes in annoyance.

“I don’t go into detail about my personal experience,” Eryn began, giving her pat answer.

“Why not?” Devon, an irate twenty-something demanded. She knew her from two previous sessions. Outspoken and chatty, it was surprising she hadn’t monopolized the questions as she had in the past. “You’re asking us to put up with this bullshit and won’t elaborate?”

“No one asked you to do anything,” Eryn reminded her. “It’s been made clear the Primarians are a male-dominant race, and they expect their women to submit to their authority. All of this is explained in the brochure and contract, but, still, you signed up. I urge you all to remember this is a voluntary program.” Her gaze drifted over the group before coming to Devon. Though intended for all of them, she wanted to be certain the woman got the message this time. “If being submissive to a man is a sticking point, there is the door. I suggest you take it.”

“And stay here, roasting in the triple-digit heat until the big one hits New York?” she groused. “That’s not much of a choice.”

“There are plenty of applicants who don’t have a problem with the Primarian’s old-fashioned ways. If you prefer to withdraw, there are applications in the back to move to the colony when it’s ready.”

“Which will take how long?” Devon snapped. “Months? Years? A full decade?”

“Things are progressing. I’m sure it won’t be decades.”

“But it could be years,” she surmised, deflating. “I’m so screwed.”

Eryn never gave predictions or promises because she couldn’t. Although Devon had it right; it would probably be several years until her name came up on a waiting list. Those moved in first would be prioritized. Skilled workers and professionals who could provide a needed service would be admitted ahead of the general population. Her only chance to leave Earth anytime soon was as a mate.

The girl next to her patted her arm. “It can’t be all bad. Be good, obey the rules, and he will have no cause to punish you.”

Devon shot her a horrified look before twisting to face front again. “So, they can abuse us however they like and we have no say?”

“No.” Eryn sighed, her patience waning. “And you’d know this if you’d read the agreement.” Devon’s blush said plainly she’d signed without thoroughly going over the very detailed documents as she’d been advised to do. With an exasperated breath, she went on. “This is a new world; the Primarians are a different race. It’s not like moving cross-country from L.A. to New York.” Again, she stared at her troublemaker—every class had at least one. “To hit the high points for anyone else who didn’t read the brochure, once mated you will become a Primarian citizen and be subject to their laws in addition to their social code and rules for conduct. The details of which are outlined in the intro packet.” Her gaze cut to Devon who shifted in her seat. “The male is the undisputed head of the household in their culture, and, as such, he is also the disciplinarian. Punishment, if earned, is up to his discretion, within limits. It can, and often is corporal in nature, but abuse is strictly forbidden and punishable by law.”

“I don’t understand. Do you mean they can hit us?” one of the blondes pressed.

“Not hit. Spank,” Eryn clarified. “They believe there is a difference and don’t see it as abuse.”

Devon snorted in disbelief. “In what world is spanking not abuse?”

“For goodness sake, have you been living under a rock?” Marion, one of the older women exclaimed from the back row. She had been quiet up until this point, although Devon, the Barbies, and this persistent line of questioning had obviously pushed her buttons. “On our world, for one. Turning a recalcitrant child or woman over the knee has been around since the Stone Age and has continued throughout history. Corporal punishment has existed in schools for years, Victorian men commonly birched a wayward wife or servant in their household, and with the rise of kinky bondage play near the end of the twentieth century, spanking, paddling, and flogging became commonplace, almost the norm. It’s still common today, and both men and women are into it.”

“For sex, not punishment,” Devon shot back.

The speaker, who seemed to have extensive knowledge on the subject, much more so than Eryn, cast the younger girl a cutting glance while shaking her head. “You can’t possibly be so naïve. Were none of you disciplined over a parent’s knee as children? Or swatted by a boyfriend or spouse? Whether for play or for real, it exists to this day, on Earth, and on the other side of the galaxy. You can suck it up or stay here and take your chances. It’s as simple as that.” Having said her peace, Marion turned to Eryn. “Can we move on now?”

Eryn wanted to kiss the woman for taking the hot seat for her. And she was spot-on in her succinct analysis considering the number of nods and murmured yeses coming from the others. One girl with pigtails who didn’t look old enough to become a mate raised her hand as though in school.

“You don’t have to raise your hand,” Eryn told her gently.

“Oh, well… I just wanted to say Marion is right. It does go on. My daddy took a switch to me when I broke curfew and came home drunk a few times during my senior year.”

Eryn had guessed it; eighteen, nineteen at the most. So young, yet the criteria for application specified single women, between eighteen and forty, without known fertility issues, with both proof of age, and a medical exam required prior to acceptance, had to be past the age of consent and, considering Daddy and his switch, maybe not so innocent.

Nonetheless, Eryn needed to ensure they all understood the rules. “A switch is prohibited on Primaria. A spanking on your bare bottom, however, is allowed, if not expected, for coming home drunk. That behavior wouldn’t be acceptable to a Primarian male, either.”

“There’s no drinking?” one participant gasped in alarm. “No beer? No wine? I might have to reconsider.”

Eryn found it amazing what different women keyed on as important.

“I didn’t say no spirits. They have this wonderful fermented fruit juice called vilo. It packs quite a punch. And, they have their own version of marijuana. It’s prohibited, though it’s rumored some of the elders partake, so I don’t think it’s firmly enforced. But don’t quote me on it. I’ll deny it down to my last Doritos crumb.”

Her munchie joke prompted another round of laughter.

“What happened between you and your alien?” Marion, who so adeptly handled the spanking debate, asked.

This was another question posed at every session, although deeply personal and no one’s business but her own, she had no doubt it would be asked, yet Eryn never seemed quite prepared for it.

“Yeah,” Devon chimed in. “They’re all hot, the ones I’ve seen, at least, and their old-fashioned protectiveness, wow, that really gets me going—except the spanking business, of course. And the stories and descriptions I’ve heard make Primaria sound like a beautiful fantasyland come true. So, why didn’t you stay?”

“I’m a career soldier and had a mission to complete. I came back to help all of you.”

“Weren’t you tempted? By the one who spanked you, perhaps?” This softly spoken question also came from Marion, the astute brunette, at least thirty-five by her estimate, with a gleam of keen interest and intelligence in her eyes. Her motivation unclear to Eryn at this point, if nothing else, she seemed to have foregone any silly expectations, and was neither dreamy-eyed like the Barbies, nor fearful like Devon. She seemed pragmatic, and Eryn suspected she would have made a good soldier, and reminded her a lot of herself.

“Yes.” She stood. “Except we didn’t match well, and duty called. I’m sorry, but our time is up for today. We’ll have another forum tomorrow at six if you have more questions. Those ready to proceed to phase two, which includes a preliminary contract, physical, and a few lab tests, Sarah, at the table in the back, is here to assist and get you scheduled.”

Some applauded and a few thank yous could be heard when the group rose and began to split apart. Marion, along with the older brunette who had sat by her side without saying a word the entire time, the Barbie twins, the bubbly redhead, and the timid teenager moved without hesitation toward Sarah.

They would be fine, not put off by the spanking discussion in the least. She would have liked to reassure them it wasn’t all bad, but maybe they already knew. Although a new twist for her, some of the other crew members hadn’t seemed surprised by their disciplinary measures, and admitted to having participated in what one of them referred to as a little slap and tickle for fun. She’d been the first from Odyssey to volunteer to stay on, shrugging when Mailynn, also newly mated, and Eva, who had run similar Q&A’s back on Primaria, had explained that sometimes the males punished for real.

Seemed Eryn had led a more sheltered life. She knew kinky people existed in the world, but she’d never been one of them, or so she thought. She’d been stunned when her introductory experience had left her warm and tingling. But the sample swats Ram had given her while over his shoulder were merely a preview. She’d expected it to hurt, which it did, but it had also been a sensual experience.

She’d never forget his unwavering confidence when he took her hand in his, lowered her over his lap, and positioned her just so. Then he’d bared her, and, while holding her securely, his fingers had gently stroked her bottom and the backs of her thighs. Both horrified and excited over how much a spanking made her senses come alive, other things stood out in her memory and repeated often in both her daydreams and fantasies. Like the way his big hands handled her with care, but the skin felt slightly rough against her skin, and how the hardness of his thighs pressing into her belly sent her heart racing. And when she breathed deep, how his intoxicating scent surrounded and entranced her.

Then, as now, her nipples tightened and wetness pooled between her legs.

“Will you lock up, Eryn?” Sarah’s voice cut into her thoughts.

“Pardon?” She glanced around, surprised to find the room empty except for them.

“Are you okay?” She took a step closer, concern creasing her brow.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“You were standing here, staring off. And during class, you seemed…” Sarah paused, searching for the right word. “Distracted.”

Worse words had come to Eryn’s mind, like loopy, ditzy, and most of all, horny, all normal effects of pregnancy according to her books. She waved her coworker’s worries aside. “With all the recent changes and everything happening so fast, I suppose I am.” She didn’t elaborate upon seeing Sarah’s concerned expression. “I’m fine, really. Did you get many takers for phase two?”

“Oh, yes, fifteen signed up. That’s better than half, so a good night. But it put me behind schedule, and I need to get home for my sitter. Do you mind cleaning up and locking the doors when you go?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Thanks, Eryn, you’re the best,” she called, waving as she rushed out.

It didn’t take long to set the room to rights, gather the few stray coffee cups, and straighten the chairs then shutting off the lights. When she walked out into the muggy night air, an MP—military police from base security—waited beside his Jeep HC3.

“There’s been a disturbance at the main gate, ma’am. The major assigned escorts to all personnel this evening.”

“I only have two blocks to walk, Corporal.”

“We’re under strict orders, you understand,” he replied politely, although his business-like tone made it clear she didn’t have a choice.

“Of course, although my plain clothes don’t say so, I’m in the service as well.”

“I know, Chief Lockwood. I’ve followed your story.”

How could she forget the returning crew of Odyssey had been, and still were, headline news?

“Was anyone hurt in this disturbance?” She climbed into the open vehicle. The hovercraft started soundlessly with the push of a button and whisked her across the square in minutes.

“A few protesters with signs, but they were quickly disbursed,” the young officer replied. “Afterward, someone discovered a few flyers which bothered the alien commander. He ordered security tightened.”

Roth would do that. In addition to Maggie, he had his own people to protect, and almost five hundred prospective mates already on-site and awaiting the first transport.

The Jeep pulled to her curb as several other vehicles whizzed by, their electric engines whisper-soft and easily drowned out by the sound of boots on the street. About a dozen men, a combination of soldiers and warriors, the latter towering over their Army counterparts, followed on foot. Eryn stepped into the shadows. Out of habit, she scanned the faces of the alien men. None were Ram.

With a mix of relief and disappointment, she nodded to her escort. He didn’t notice, still watching the group of warriors, an odd, almost-strained expression on his face as they moved past.

She verbalized her sentiment this time. “Thank you for the ride home, Corporal.”

“Anytime, Chief.” His handsome features relaxed as he pulled his gaze away and turned back to her. “If I may say so, ma’am, I think those of you who were captured, convinced an alien society we have value enough to save, and then came back to lead the transition, are heroes. So are the women who stayed to make the ultimate sacrifice.”

Surreptitiously, her hand moved to her belly. “You mean by mating with the Primarians?”

“Yes.” He shuddered. “How awful for them. I liken it to bestiality, which is a horrific sin.”

She flinched at his words and sudden change in demeanor. “They’re not animals, Corporal.”

“They aren’t human, either. And interspecies mating—” His face twisted into a grimace of total revulsion. “How is it any different from doing it with a goat or a dog?”

Tense with anger, she exited the vehicle. “You have a narrow-minded perspective on the universe, I must say.”

“Yeah?” His eyes cut to where she stood in the open door, seeming surprised by her reaction. “I believe procreation should occur between a woman and a man, not some giant alien creatures from a far-off galaxy we know nothing about. Sorry.” He shrugged, seeming sincere in his bias. “But it’s how I feel. Of course, what others choose to do, if it saves the rest of our asses, I’m all for them taking the hit.”

“How gracious of you,” she drawled, not attempting to mask her derision. Her gaze dipped to his identification badge, committing his name and number to memory. “I appreciate you making your viewpoint known. Good night, Corporal Douglas.”

She’d be passing his insights along at once. Only open-minded, accepting people needed to be involved with EPIC and the Primarian emissaries. Eager to leave his intolerant company, she didn’t linger and hurried inside.