Mylomon: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 3) Read online

  He thought of her comfort only, of course.

  “Wait, this is the master bedroom,” Daisy said, suddenly away of their location.

  “This is my bed,” he said. “You are my mate.”

  Daisy nodded. He could see the flutter of her racing pulse in her delicate neck. Her pink tongue licked her lower lip. She responded with desire to the absolute certainty in his voice. “But you never tried to get into bed with me before.”

  “That was your bed. You did not invite me.”

  Daisy blushed a pretty pink and slapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m such a bitch.”

  He frowned, displeased at her words. He brushed back the hair from her face and held her gaze. “No one speaks ill of my wife, not even my wife.”

  She nodded. “I wasn’t even mad at you, not really. Just distracted. And I made you sleep on the floor. Like a dog.” Then, in a quiet voice, “Like a monster.”

  “You are as the stars made you,” he said.

  “Did you just agree that I’m a bitch?” Her tone edged away from playful and into distraught.

  “Your concern for your sister blinded you,” he said, stroking her arm. “As it happened, you spent many nights sleeping in a chair in medical. I slept in your bed then.”

  She took a step back, hand on hip and grinned up at him. Expecting. Mylomon arched an eyebrow. “Well,” she said, “are you going to invite me?”

  “All that I have is yours. You do not need to ask.”

  Daisy motioned to him to turn around while she changed into the ridiculous sleeping shirt. So needlessly shy. He had yet to see his mate nude but he knew she was breathtaking. He would enjoy exploring the perfection of her form but not tonight. Not yet.

  He stripped down and sank down to the bed.

  “You’re naked,” she said.

  “As I have been every night,” he replied.

  “Well, yeah, but we weren’t in the same bed.” Her voice sounded strained. He studied the warm flush spreading across her face, chest and the apex of her thighs. He listened to her quickening pulse. Desire. Anticipation.

  Mylomon wanted to shout with victory that his mate found him desirable but this was not the time. Daisy remained skittish. An unexpected outburst could frighten her away.

  Would it? Had Daisy demonstrated herself to be a timid female frightened of her own shadow? No. His mate was far from that. She had fire in her blood.

  Mylomon moved quicker than a rumor and pressed Daisy against the mattress, his form above her. He nuzzled the curve where her neck joined her shoulder. This is the spot where he would mark her. He licked the skin, letting her flavors burst over his tongue.

  Her eyes grew wide. “What are you doing?”

  “You taste sweet, wife, just as I knew you would.”

  She shifted underneath him. Not a struggle. Everything in her body told him that she enjoyed this. Wanted more. Her nipples pebbled beneath the thin cotton shirt. Her breathing grew erratic. A plea for attention, then.

  “Do not fear me, female. I will not touch you until you are ready.” He rolled away, leaving her alone to one side.

  She panted for a moment before regaining herself, hand resting on her chest. “Perhaps you should fear me.”

  “Good night, female.”

  “Good night, Mylo.”

  Chapter Seven

  Daisy

  Being matched meant never being alone, at least that’s how Daisy understood it. She’d have her big, strong alien warrior to protect her always and she’d never be alone. So why did she feel more isolated than ever?

  She’d gotten her big, strong alien but he was also the tiniest bit terrifying. By “tiny” she meant huge. He was completely terrifying. He had no friends, as far as she could tell, and he made his clan nervous. How scary do you have to be to frighten an army of fierce warriors?

  Sometimes he would be in the room and she couldn’t tell, his breathing so quiet as to be cloaked in silence. And he moved so quietly that he snuck up on her. She’d turn around with a start, finding him right behind her.

  Yup, that was her husband: big, strong, silent and scary in the dark.

  The strange thing wasn’t that Mylomon frightened her. She felt safe in his presence. If he was the scariest thing in the universe, then he’d chase away the other scary things.

  Being surreptitiously watched from the shadows by her scary husband was, oddly, not the same as having him with her. Humans craved companionship. Daisy reminded herself it was normal, healthy even, to feel little pangs of disappointment when she woke up in the massive bed alone. Her companion only crept in during the night and vanished again before the alarm rang. So far, if this was married life, it sucked.

  The day after Daisy arrived on the Judgment, Meridan and Kalen arrived. The day after, normalcy settled in. The hums and whirrs of the ship were normal. Sleeping next to her purple alien husband was normal. Listening to his even breaths was normal. And waking up alone felt normal.

  It sucked.

  “I require you to clean these instruments, not scrub them into oblivion,” Kalen snapped. He took the surgical instrument out of her hands and gave Daisy a box full of med kits. “Let your idle hands re-stock these.”

  Daisy rolled her eyes but cracked open the first kit. The expected contents were present and well before their expiration dates. Busy work. The male gave her busy work. Still, it was better than being stuck in that unwelcoming apartment by herself.

  “Sorry,” Meridan said, opening her own busy work kit.

  “You’d think he’d be nicer so, you know, you’d want to clean his instrument.”

  Meridan blushed.

  It took Daisy a moment to account for her sister’s blush. She didn’t mean… Stars. Oh well. Better go with it. “So, have you?”

  “Have I what?”

  “Cleaned his instrument?”

  The contents of the kit became fascinating to Meridan.

  Daisy didn’t want to needle her sister. Well, maybe a little. New normal, right? And what was more normal than your little sister giving you grief? “I don’t know how you live with that,” she said.

  “He’s not so bad,” Meridan said. She carefully checked the expiration date on the contents. Satisfied, she repacked the kit.

  “He’s a condescending, foul-tempered, mean-spirited dick.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of Meridan’s lips. “Oh… So that’s how the cool kids define ‘bad’ nowadays? I can’t keep up with the lingo. Then yes. He’s bad.”

  “Seriously, how can you sit there all smiles and rainbows? I mean, you hear how he talks to us, right? Like we’re simpletons good only for busy work and not highly skilled professionals?”

  “Mmm.” She opened another kit and emptied out of the contents. “Look, I know he’s all snarls and barks on the outside but underneath it all he’s—”

  “A new and exciting layer of snarls and barks?”

  “A marshmallow. He’s sweet.” Daisy gave her sister a look. “Honestly. Of course, just when I’m getting all warm and fuzzy he opens big fat mouth and ruins it.”

  Daisy giggled.

  Kalen stomped over, exchanging the completed kits with new ones. “Females! Are you here to work or to socialize?”

  Daisy giggled harder as the physician stomped away. “Sourpuss,” she said.

  Meridan shrugged. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

  “What a load of baloney.”

  “No, seriously. I had to fight him to get out of our quarters today. If he had his way, I’d never leave the bed. I told him that work was the only way I would build my muscle tone back up.”

  Daisy rolled her eyes. “Medical gave you the all clear yesterday. You’re not an invalid.”

  “So he’s over protective.” Then, “I am a little tired, not that I’d ever admit it to him. How about you? How’s the married life?”

  Daisy reached for a new kit. “I guess Mylo’s really busy. I haven’t seen him much.”

  “Really?” Meridan s
topped working, focusing her attention on her little sister. “I thought the biological imperative to, ah...” Her voice trailed off and she blushed. Talking about sex with her your sister was hard, no matter how old you were.

  “Well, it doesn’t seem to bother him too much.” It bothered her. They’d been married on paper for more than two weeks and he still had not claimed her. Was there something wrong with her?

  No. Daisy shoved that thought right out. The timing was wrong. How could he come sniffing around her bed with her sister floating in a regen tank, near death? It was considerate the way he did not pressure her for sex.

  But they were back on his ship. Her sister was fine. He could pressure her now. She’d even welcome a little pressure. More than welcome. Enthusiastically get all on it.

  “These things take time,” Meridan said. Concern darkened her eyes. Her sister’s face, so familiar, had been altered subtly by the regen tank, but that look of concern remained the same.

  “You know,” Daisy said, forcing brightness into her voice, “I just can’t get over you not having freckles. It’s weird. You’re you but not.”

  “I don’t feel like myself.” Meridan patted her chest and waved vaguely at the rest of her body. “This is weird.”

  Daisy reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “The whole situation is weird but I’m glad you’re here.”

  Meridan’s eyes softened and she gave a meager smile. “As long as we’re together, we’re never alone, right?”

  ***

  Never alone, right? Daisy felt more alone than ever.

  Three weeks and Mylomon still hadn’t claimed her. The Mahdfel didn’t wait, she heard from other wives. They were the kiss first, get to know you later kind of guys.

  At first the waiting to claim her seemed sweet. Considerate, even. Now the lack of sex made her nervous. Did he not want her? Did he find her unattractive? She wanted him. The whole situation was pure frustration. She was a healthy girl with a healthy appetite.

  Maybe he if was home more they’d have a chance to talk about it, but he was never home. She hadn’t figured out his schedule yet. He came and left at all hours, seemingly without a pattern. Second-in-command was a prestigious position. Perhaps an unstable work schedule came with the rank. Not that he told her when he left or when to expect him back. Why would Mylomon share that information with his wife? He behaved as if he expected her to sit and wait in their quarters all day, which was complete garbage, by the way.

  Working the last week in the medical bay with Kalen and Meridan only highlighted the problems in their marriage. Meridan and Kalen seemed to have reached an accord. Meridan smiled and hummed under her breath when she thought no one was paying attention. Kalen’s barking demeanor had softened. Well, he remained rude and arrogant as all get out, but he listened to Meridan’s, and Daisy’s, professional opinions.

  Daisy had even met the warlord and his human bride, Mercy. Half-way through her pregnancy, Mercy frequently visited medical. Every ache or slight discomfort sent the warlord into a frenzy of concern. Including Mercy’s mother, there were only four human women on board. The Mahdfel simply had no experience in what to expect from a Terran-Mahdfel pregnancy. While her sister was the obstetrics specialist, Daisy was more than willing to serve as a shield between a pregnant woman and an overly concerned warlord.

  Daisy did not miss the genuine affection Paax displayed for his wife, or the warmth in Marcy’s eyes when she squeezed his hands. Their love was obvious and sweet.

  It annoyed her.

  And Meridan and Kalen, while not overly affectionate, were clearly getting along. They’d probably done the claiming ceremony already. Jealousy stabbed at her heart. She should be happy her sister got along with her unexpected alien husband but she only felt bitterness because her own husband continued to avoid her.

  The entire situation annoyed Daisy. She wasn’t the kind of girl to sit and wait around all day for scraps of her husband’s frosty attention. And she also wasn’t the kind of girl to sit around and feel sorry for herself. Unhappy? Do something about it. That’s what a Vargas did. The frosty situation with Mylo made her unhappy and she intended on doing something to fix the situation.

  Assess and adapt, right? Hard work gave her focus and control of the situation, so it was fair to say that Mylo walked into a trap that morning.

  She waited at the small kitchenette table. She prepared—fetched from the mess hall—two plates of eggs with a bacon-type product she saw him eat once and coffee. Lots of coffee.

  Mylomon entered their quarters. He paused, sniffing the air. Daisy pushed a plate forward while sipping from her mug of coffee.

  “What is this?”

  “Breakfast. Join me.” She pushed the plate another inch across the table. With a grunt he joined her at the table. He ate unceremoniously, shoveling the almost-bacon into his mouth. Charming.

  “I’m not happy,” she said.

  Mylomon stopped chewing, his eyes watching her carefully. She had no idea what he was thinking and that was the problem.

  “I’m not happy because I don’t know you.”

  “You know me.”

  “No, I don’t. Do you have a favorite food? Movie?”

  “Food is food. I don’t have a preference. Films are a waste of time,” he said, resuming the shoveling of the almost-bacon.

  Three entire sentences… that was progress, right? “What about hobbies? When you’re not, I don’t know, stabbing things, what do you do to relax?”

  He drained the cup of coffee in one go. Graceful meal companion he was not. “I like knives.” He waved to the far wall, to his displayed knife collection.

  Of course he did. Daisy turned to look at the wall of sharpness. Mounted on the wall, a bluish light illuminating each knife of his collection. “Well,” she said, “we should have a date night.”

  He paused in the shoveling. “What is a date night?”

  “It means that when I get off my shift at the medical bay, I want to spend time with you. We can have dinner and do something fun.”

  His eyebrows shot up.

  “Not sex,” she said quickly but she knew she’d cave if he expressed the slightest interest. “I’m not the kind of girl who puts out on the first date.”

  “Is this part of the human mating custom?” he finally asked.

  “Yes.”

  “We’re already married.”

  “So we’re doing it out of order. Deal. I’m trying to build a bridge here. Are you going to help me or are you going to rain on my parade?”

  He said nothing. She watched the muscle in his jaw clench and unclench as he worked through her question. Finally, “I have no idea what that idiom means.”

  “It means when I return in eight hours, we're going to spend our recreation time together. You pick. We can do something you like.” Polish knife blades or practice stabbing things, she guessed.

  “I’m in charge of date night?”

  “I made breakfast. Equal distribution of work.”

  “You brought this from the mess hall.”

  The alarm on her wrist comm beeped. Time to go. She stood up from the table and leaned in for a kiss but stopped short. Instead she awkwardly patted Mylo on the shoulder. “I’ll be home at eight. Surprise me.”

  Mylomon

  He needed guidance. Bright enough to know when he was out of his depths, everything about his Terran mate was so far out of his depths the pressure paralyzed him. Bright enough to say this to his mate?

  No. The shyness that crippled him to inaction continued to plague him. The situation was unreasonable for a warrior of his rank. He served as second-in-command of a clan. The warlord relied on him to solve problems. He had been the victor of countless battles and yet this small Terran woman paralyzed him. Just the simple act of speaking to her was daunting. The same questions that plagued him the first night he saw her continued to vex him now. What would he say to her? What could they possibly have to talk about?

  How was your da
y, dear?

  I crushed the larynx of a crewman who questioned the warlord’s fitness to lead. If he so much as mumbles an insubordinate word again, I will slit his throat. What’s for dinner?

  No. None of that seemed appropriate to say to his sunny, eager mate. If he shared his activities with his mate, she would be horrified. She had already called him a monster once in anger. If she discovered his true nature and learned that he really was a monster…

  He couldn’t finish the thought. He would lose her forever.

  The skin on Mylomon’s chest burned in frustration. She was unhappy now. He was losing her now. There was no good solution. He needed guidance.

  But who to speak with? The warlord? Paax appeared to have a solid relationship with his mate. Mylomon knew the warlord loved his Terran mate, had loved her almost instantly, and he was certain Mercy loved Paax in return. Mylomon would benefit from Paax’s wisdom.

  There was the small problem of Mercy despising Mylomon. His stabbing her probably had something to do with their lack of affinity. He did not excuse or regret his actions. They were necessary. Mylomon had followed the orders of the previous warlord. His actions brought Paax back to the clan—to seek medical care for his injured mate—and ultimately to challenge and defeat the corrupt warlord Omas. Even if Paax’s mate did not have a warm regard for the assassin, he had nothing to regret. Still, seeking Paax’s counsel would bring up more problems than it would solve.

  The medic Kalen? He had a Terran mate, his mate’s sister, in fact. Perhaps the medic would have some insight into pleasing a mate.

  Mylomon thought back to the last private encounter he’d had with the medic. It had ended with punches being thrown.

  Perhaps not.

  The list of potential mentors shrank. Other members of the clan with mates? No. His current rank and history of being the assassin would create an uncomfortable situation. He had no close friends. He’d never considered his lack of friends to be a detriment but now he reconsidered that position. A friend would be helpful.