Chapter 6
Egon — Six Hours Later
I was going to kill someone. The thought had repeated itself so often over the last six hours it had become almost meditative. Calm. Focused. Controlled. Unfortunately, the producers would likely object to me executing one of their staff on camera.
It was nearly midnight, and I had spent the evening enduring a parade of human females throwing themselves at me with escalating desperation.
The producers had chosen a ridiculous theme for the evening.
Royalty Among the Stars apparently required me to wear this absurd dark sorcerer costume.
My cape was black velvet with silver embroidery, and so heavy with gemstones it weighed nearly as much as my Coalition armor had during the war.
They had instructed me to pretend to cast "love spells" by waving my magical scepter around.
When I growled, Chet improvised. A wizard character stood behind me for several hours, chanting ridiculous poetry and waving a wooden staff taller than the frail old man who held it.
I had no idea where Chet had come up with the elder and did not care.
I had cast exactly zero love spells. Instead, I had stood where they placed me and stared across the ballroom at my mate. Watched. Waited.
Hungered. If I had the ability to cast a spell of love on one of these females, it would only be her. I wanted her love. Her acceptance. I needed her to find me worthy and claim me and my beast. She was the only living being who mattered.
The fucking males on The Colony owed me a life debt for this. For acting as if she was not mine. Pretending I did not hunger for her with every beat of my heart. I was aware of every word she spoke. Every movement. The smallest change in expression on her soft, feminine face.
Mine. The beast surged at the thought, claws scraping inside my skull. Claim her.
"Soon," I muttered under my breath. I couldn’t fully claim her the way I wanted to, could not allow him to claim her.
The problem was the mating cuffs. The metal bands rested in a sealed display case, saved for the dramatic finale when I would put them on my ‘mate’ on live television.
It was the only episode of the show this year that would be broadcast as it happened.
Chet had explained that with the volatile nature of previous beasts, the show’s producers had decided to film and edit most of the season.
I didn’t fucking care what they did as long as the Warlords on The Colony were not doomed to execution for mating fever, and Tori was mine at the end.
Before Tori, their plan had been irrelevant to me. I would act for their cameras. ‘Claim’ one of the females to complete the illusion. And when it was over? My brethren on The Colony would have their access to Earth and I would leave. Return to Atlan. End my misery.
Now Tori was here. Everything was different. But the beast had become even more difficult to control. I needed those fucking mating cuffs on my wrists. On hers. Needed the connection. The pain. The control. Needed to know she was mine.
My bare wrists were a fucking constant reminder of everything that had not yet happened.
On Atlan, placement of the cuffs around the wrists of a male and female was more than ceremony.
It was a bond recognized by the entire planet.
A vow. A claim. A promise that quieted the beast and anchored the warrior.
Without them, my beast paced restlessly inside me, furious and half-wild.
He’d been berating me every second since we’d found her and not claimed her.
My cock had been hard and aching for so long I was in physical pain.
Cuffs. Claim her.
"I will."
Now! My beast snarled inside me. Another male could touch her. Take what is mine.
"Not while I breathe." The vehemence in my response soothed him enough that I could function. For now.
My jaw clenched as the events of the evening replayed in my mind.
The female, Jessica, draped over my arm.
Another contestant laughing, too loudly, while sliding her hand across my chest. Each time it happened my beast had surged forward, roaring for blood.
The only reason the ballroom still stood was because Tori had been there as well.
Across the room. Watching. Every time I caught her scent—sweet, warm, edged with sharp jealousy—my beast calmed just enough for me to maintain control.
The producers had loved it. "The brooding Warlord!" Chet had announced gleefully during one of our breaks. "The tension is palpable! The audience will eat this up!" Tension. That was one word for it. The truth was far less charming.
Every second I had been forced to pretend that my mate was just another contestant felt like someone holding a blade against my throat.
Because she was twenty paces away. Close enough that I could see the way her breathing changed when another woman touched me.
Close enough that I could smell the heat of her desire beneath the perfume she wore.
My mate had suffered through it, too. I had watched her hands curl into fists at her sides when Jessica wrapped herself around my arm and called me "my dark prince." I had seen the flash of temper in my mate’s eyes. The possessiveness. The hunger.
Mine. The beast preened at the memory. She wants us.
"Yes," I said quietly. And thank the gods for that because I could not let her go.
The filming had finally ended an hour ago.
The contestants sent to take some pictures and then return to their rooms. The lights across the resort slowly faded one by one while the production crew packed equipment and retreated to their quarters.
I had stood on the balcony of my suite and waited impatiently for my female to return to me while the ocean wind rolled in from the beach below.
The air here was warm, even at night. The scent of saltwater drifted through the palm trees surrounding the resort.
Tropical flowers perfumed the breeze—jasmine, plumeria, something sweet and intoxicating that mingled with the scent of warm sand.
And beneath it all… Her. Tori. My mate. Her scent threaded through the night like a beacon.
The beast rose eagerly. Find her.
He was tired of waiting. So was I. Where the fuck was she and what was taking so gods damned long?
I grabbed a basket of food and a bottle of wine I had liberated from the catering pavilion—the drink something Chet had apparently been saving for a "special moment"—and slipped out of my room.
The wooden walkway beneath my boots ran between clusters of palm trees and flowering shrubs.
Beyond them the beach stretched toward the moonlit ocean, waves whispering softly against the sand. The resort was quiet. Perfect.
Tori and the other contestants were doing a moonlight photography session down on the beach.
Chet had arranged that little detail himself.
I suspected he believed promoting the beautiful women in their advertisements would increase the chances of multiple warriors volunteering to participate in future seasons of his television show.
I could have told him not to waste his time.
If they could, every single male on The Colony would be here already, searching for a compatible mate.
Human females had developed a reputation throughout the Coalition as very beautiful, passionate, intelligent partners.
Some of the highest-ranking Prillon warriors, Atlan Commanders—even the three kings of Viken—had taken a female from Earth as their mate.
Which was why criminals from Rogue 5 were now kidnapping Earth females and taking them into space. To keep. To sell. Even the Hive had taken an interest.
As I approached my mate, my gaze lingered on the soft shimmer of moonlight on her dark skin.
I understood the universal desire for a human female completely.
Her dark hair framed her oval face to perfection.
Her big, brown eyes widened when she saw me.
Her lips—those fucking lips—I was going to own those lips this night.
I had never seen another female, from any planet, more beautiful than my mate.
The beast stirred restlessly as I approached. I stayed just out of sight of most of the crew. Since my mate was the last contestant, it was just her and a handful of others still on the beach. They’d made her wait. Made her be last.
Fuck. That. I would make sure that did not happen again.
I scanned the surroundings, prepared to murder two unreliable Prillon warriors. Relief flooded me when I spotted both Rohn and Krag standing guard nearby. I gave them a nod of thanks. They were relieved. She was mine now.
Mine. The beast agreed.
I walked into the small group of humans and let my beast show in my eyes. “Leave us.”
The staff and crew scrambled at my command. Smart. My mate was exhausted, swaying on her feet. A shiver raced over her skin as I stepped closer. “Are you cold?”
“No. I’m fine.” Tori stood there like she had been waiting for me. The sight of her stole the air from my lungs. Her lips curved slowly as she stared up at me. "You came." Her voice was soft, but the heat in her eyes sent fire through my veins.
"My apologies, mate. If I had known Chet had this planned, I would have forbidden it.”
She laughed. “Forbidden, huh? I don’t think that’s how this is supposed to work.”
Fuck Chet. Fuck the show. I had held up my end of the agreement this night, protected the rights of my fellow Warlords. Right now, she was mine.
I lifted the bottle slightly, and the basket. "I brought a drink. And food. I do not know if the wine is good, but the producers seemed very protective of it." The wine was probably terrible, at least compared to fine Atlan wine, but it was all I had.
She laughed quietly. The sound wrapped around my chest like warmth. “A Masseto? Oh, dear. You stole Chet's private stash?"
The sparkle in her eyes made me want to steal a hundred more.