Kragen followed Andromeda up the floating steps to the Leonid transport ship that hovered above the hospital’s roof. The Alliance helicopter was long gone, and in its place was a Leonid vehicle capable of bringing them to the orbiting queenship. They had completed their short trip to see the matriarch Gramzy, and Kragen had confirmed that she was not in immediate danger. He would fix his error, eventually. He would not allow Andromeda to suffer the loss of her matriarch, but there would be time enough for that later.

Now he watched her, carefully, as she entered a Leonid ship for the first time. He could feel her awe and wonder through their bond, and it brought a smile to his lips.

And Kragen’s smile brought fear to his guard’s heart. That, too, made Kragen smile. He looked briefly to his right, at the young warrior who was responsible for watching him on the narrow steps. This male was young, his pale-green skin barely showing the telltale metallic highlights of a mature Leonid, his silver hair shorn short, in the military style. To a human, this young warrior would be intimidating.

To Kragen, he was a child. Even without the bond, Kragen had been a commander of the Royal Guard. He would be more than a match for any three of these Leonid warriors. But now?

The power that surged through Kragen, through the new, strengthening bond he shared with Andromeda, had changed everything. None of the Leonids present had seen anything like it, because it had not existed for over a hundred years.

That was when most of the Leonid females had finished dying off. No Leonid female had been born in all that time, and so no one had seen, with their own eyes, the effects of a newly formed mating bond. Especially the effects of a mating bond delayed or denied. Kragen could feel the attention of every Leonid present. He could even feel how careful they were not to look directly at his mate.

Leonids always had good instincts.

But nothing could have prepared them for the reality of a mating bond. Nothing had prepared Kragen. And it was not just the bond. Not just the physical need that tormented him at every moment.

Kragen was beginning to understand that it was far more than that.

He stepped into the transport, his eyes immediately adjusting to the dim light, and let his eyes rest on Andromeda. He could see her heart, as she looked around the transport with wide eyes. He could feel it.

They had always been taught that the mating bond was a physical thing. That a bond between a dominant Leonid and his submissive meant sexual compatibility, and nothing more. That a Dom would have to work to bring love into their lives.

His eyes settled on Andromeda’s and watched her smile.

This was not work. He stood in chains, unable to touch his mate, but none of it was work. The fire inside him burned bright whenever he looked at her, demanding more fuel, demanding that he drink of her. His cock was hard and swollen, his muscles tense. But his heart also swelled. He had seen her heart, and he would never forget it.

He growled suddenly as a Leonid came forward to help Andromeda strap herself in to one of the seats, and the entire guard came to alert.

“Everybody calm down,” Andromeda said, a slight smile on her face. “I can figure it out myself.”

Kragen stood, unmoving, until Andromeda had strapped herself into one of the seats that had been modified for humans who needed to travel to the queenship. Only then did he allow the young guard to strap him in to his own seat, next to his mate.

There was a pause, as the Leonid guard took up their positions, their weapons still trained on Kragen. The transport seemed small with that many Leonids in one space, crowded around his mate. He could smell their fear, their awe, even their jealousy. Kragen took a deep breath, and watched as the guards took a step back.

With a dull hum, the bay doors to the transport slid shut, and the transport began to fly smoothly, the Leonid temporal engines buffering the tiny vehicle against any turbulence. They would reach the queenship’s orbit in mere minutes.

“Why do I get the feeling that those chains you have around your arms are just for show?” Andromeda said, just barely loud enough for him to hear her. She looked at him, her fear and excitement mixed with something else.

“Again,” she added.

Kragen allowed himself another smile. And he was irrationally proud of his mate. She was clever, she was brave. She had more than just a warrior’s heart. She had a commander’s vision.

And she was correct.

It would be so simple. Kragen knew he could destroy everything he saw with almost no effort. The animal hunger inside him wanted him to do let go. To unleash. To destroy everything and anyone that stood between him and his mate, to consume it all, to kill, conquer, and then claim. The urge beat against him like an angry sea.

But his human female was more complex than that animal hunger understood. If Kragen were to bring the transport crashing out of the sky, cradling his mate in his arms, no matter how he protected her body, he could not protect her heart from the consequences of that choice. Her life would be changed forever. It was Andromeda’s own words that echoed in his head, providing a counterpoint to the snarling kravok.

This is my home.

If Kragen turned to war, this would never be her home again. Many would die. His mate would grieve. She would be harmed.

Unacceptable.

“Yes,” he said simply. “They are safe as long as you are safe.”

Kragen saw her turn to him as he spoke. The hem of her dress rose as she twisted, exposing the smooth skin of her leg, and Kragen hissed. His cock strained against his leathers, and it took all his discipline to remain bound. His skin began to glow with the fever, illuminating the faces of the Leonids who watched them both.

The possessive instincts of the mating bond were becoming more and more difficult to ignore. There were too many Leonids looking at his female.

Kragen growled. The Leonids looked at him instead.

“Better,” he said.

“Uh,” Andromeda said, and he could feel her awareness of the tension in the tiny transport. “Have they never seen a human female before?”

“They have never seen a human mate before,” Kragen answered. “None of us has.”

“And no one was sure you would find any, were they?”

Kragen looked at his mate, her eyes watching him steadily. She had told him she knew, now, after the last time their bond flared, when he drank from her last. She had mentioned rivka. How many Leonid secrets did she know?

“The decision to come to Earth was not an easy one,” Kragen said, aware of the many guards within earshot, and aware that he could not be sure of their true loyalties. “We fought a civil war for that decision.”

There was a silence between them, one that belonged to only them.

“Is that how your parents died?” Andromeda whispered finally. “Is that why you went to live with Rune’s family?”

Kragen turned his entire head, his eyes searching for hers. The urge to take her, in that moment, was nearly overwhelming. How did she see so much without the benefit of kuma?

“Yes,” he said.

“So,” Andromeda went on, “a civil war, Leonids who are starting to fall to the mating sickness, and two whole years without a mating match? And now I’m the first? I’m the only proof that humans can mate with Leonids?”

Kragen growled as the hunger flared high and hot within him. His mate, he could not forget, had a plan. She was not just a warrior, at heart, but strategist. He looked at her bare, exposed neck, and his fangs extended of their own volition.

Andromeda had become so upset about the idea of submission, about not being…what had she called it? An equal partner. It had amused him. No mate of his would be anything other than his sexual submissive, but just as the mating bond only guaranteed physical compatibility, he only demanded sexual submission. A true Leonid Dominant valued his mate as a partner.

But he had not explained, because it had not mattered. No human female could ever understand the implications of submission to Kragen under the circumstances. Kragen had sworn to protect Andromeda Knowles, and allowing her to submit to his claiming when she was unable to understand the consequences of mating a broken rivka would, without a single doubt, cause her great harm.

But she had said she understood, now. She had seen it, in their bond. She had used the word rivka.

His eyes trailed up the length of her leg, his nostrils flaring as he remembered the weight of it on his shoulder. His gaze lingered over the swell of her breasts, the glow of his mating mark on her body, until he found her eyes with his. Her eyes called to him. He could taste her on his tongue again.

“Lubcha,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Tell me what you saw when last I drank from you.”