Vox: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 4) Page 8

  “Knock it off. If you keep talking like that I’m going to be over stimulated.” Didn’t he understand that she was compromising to make him happy? He wanted her to sit. She sat. He wanted her to eat. She ate.

  What she refused to do, however, was to give up her work. Her dream.

  “Go fly my ship already,” she said, waving him away and totally not checking out his butt in the suit of tight fitting armor.

  It was hard to stay mad at a butt like that.

  The flight deck was very wide, allowing for several crafts to be stored and serviced. Launching required that a craft pass through a force field haze at the far end of the hangar and enter a long corridor. The craft would gain speed and eventually pass through the final force field into the cold vacuum of space.

  Light blinked and warning chimed that a craft was about to leave. Personnel needed to clear the area. Carrie sat safely behind a glass-like wall, watching Vox work his way through the pre-flight checklist.

  “Do not worry,” Rohn said. “Your mate is an excellent pilot.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  “You appear worried. Is that not what the frowning lines mean?”

  Carrie sighed. Aliens.

  Vox

  He glanced back to his mate. Safely behind a protective barrier, she frowned. She should not be on the flight deck. He went against his instincts and allowed her to observe his flight.

  She should not be here. Nowhere was completely safe and there were so many things outside his control. Even on Earth’s moon base, heavily fortified and filled with warriors, the Suhlik attacked. Meridan, his sister, nearly lost her life. The Judgment cruised unprotected in open space, inviting attack. Every moment he was not at her side was a moment she was alone and unprotected.

  He raised a hand and waved.

  She returned his gesture.

  The morning had improved her mood. He understood that female emotions were volatile while pregnant and he shouldn’t hang too much importance on mood swings. Still, he liked to see her smiling. Especially smiling at him. Her smile was one of the few truly good things in the universe and he was a greedy male. He wanted her smiles every morning.

  Vox eased into the single-person cockpit and completed the safety checklist. The console indicated that all functions were within acceptable levels.

  Time to fly.

  He disengaged the locks on the craft and eased up on the throttle, letting the engines rev. Maybe he was showing off a little.

  Two things happened.

  A hissing sound filled the cockpit.

  The engine burst into flames.

  Chapter Eleven

  Carrie

  Her heart stopped.

  Carrie watched helplessly as the fire suppression system deployed and surrounded the Sly Fox.

  In that moment, all she could think was that her husband was in there. Her baby’s father was in center of an inferno.

  And it all became real. Her marriage. Their baby. The short and brutal life expectancies of Mahdfel warriors. She needed Vox. They needed Vox. Her son could not grow up without knowing his father.

  Unknown males pulled Vox out of the cockpit.

  Please be okay. Please be okay.

  Covered in soot, he walked away from the fiery wreckage under his own power.

  Carrie jumped up from the chair and raced toward him.

  He removed the goggles from his head, leaving a band of clean heather-tinted skin in a face of dark soot. He grinned, white fangs flashing bright.

  That jerk was pleased. Excited. She wasn’t sure if that made him a giant child or worse.

  “You should not be here,” he said, placing a sooty hand on her shoulder. “The fumes are detrimental for your health.”

  “Are you hurt?” She inspected him, tearing at his armor until she reached clean clothes and skin. No obvious injuries. The observing males hooted with laughter. Vox laughed with them. This was all a big joke to them. Her baby just burst into flames and they laughed. Her husband could have been seriously injured and they laughed.

  “You jerk! Don’t scare me like that ever again!” Carrie slapped at his chest and arms, anywhere she could get. Her hands were sooty now and she left handprints on his clean undershirt.

  “Calm yourself,” he said, wrapping his arms around her.

  “I’m calm,” she protested. “Mostly.”

  “At least now we don’t have to argue about you working, hmm?” He kissed the top of her head.

  Perhaps if his tone had not been so condescending, Carrie might have been able to keep a handle on her emotions. Or perhaps if his friends had not stood around, slapping him on the back, she might have been reasonable.

  Or perhaps not.

  “You did that on purpose!” Carrie pushed away from him. “You did! So you can keep me locked up until this kid pops out of me. Well, I got news for you, buster, I’m not your baby factory. I wouldn’t settle down and make babies on Earth. Why would I do it here?” She spread her hands wide before tossing them up in a questioning gesture. “You males are all the same. You think a woman’s place is barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”

  “I would not allow you in a kitchen. There are far too many sharp blades in use there.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t allow. Allow?”

  His brows knitted together. “Is that not the correct phrase? Kitchens are dangerous, my mate. Please do not go into one.”

  “You don’t get to tell me where I go and don’t go! You don’t get to tell me what to do!”

  “But you are my mate—”

  Her frustrated scream was not muffled this time. He reached for her as she marched away. “Don’t. Touch. Me,” she snarled.

  Vox shrank back, hurt confusion on his face. He moved to follow her but Rohn placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

  “Give her space,” Rohn said.

  “Why do all the males in this clan think they know more about my mate than I do?” Vox demanded.

  She did not linger to hear Rohn’s reply.

  ***

  That smiling fool. Had he never flown a ship before? Did he not understand how to manage the fuel supply to prevent the blasted ship from bursting into flames?

  And then he just smiled at the wreckage, pleased. Like this was a game. Like her heart didn’t stop with worry, afraid that her husband was incinerated before she had to chance to say she wasn't mad at him anymore more. Before he had a chance to know his son.

  Well, she was plenty mad now.

  Carrie stormed off the flight deck before anyone thought to stop her. Yes, this was a tantrum.

  Scratch that. This was not a tantrum. She was pissed and fully justified to be so. Vox was smothering her, trying to control her. If he couldn’t get her to agree to stop working entirely, he’d blow up her dang spaceship.

  Which was a totally dangerous move, by the way. Fire on a spaceship, even a ship the size of the Judgment, was a bad idea.

  In the corridor and moving as fast as she could in no particular direction, her anger cooled. What was he thinking with that stunt? If the fire suppression system was a fraction late, the blaze would have spread to the entire flight deck. And if the containment fields failed, the fire would spread, consuming the entire battle cruiser.

  No. Vox was foolhardy but he wasn’t stupid. He’d never endanger the entire battle cruiser.

  It was an accident, as much as she hated to admit it.

  She was still mad at him, though. Sly Fox going up in flames just feed into her narrative of being controlled by her overbearing, over-protective alien husband. She wasn’t quite ready to let her indignation go. She needed a bit of space to cool off. If she were on Earth, she’d go to her parents’ house for a day or two. She’d scarf down a miserable meal of hamburgers at the squirrel with Justin.

  Her chest clenched. She’d never experience commiserating with her brother again. All at once homesickness flooded her senses.

  She wanted to go home. She wanted famil
iar comforts. She wanted to drink her morning coffee out of that silly unicorn mug Justin gave her on her eighteenth birthday. A month ago she believe there was nothing in her apartment worth keeping, that it was all meaningless stuff and could be replaced. Distance and change, so much change, made her realize there were some things she couldn’t replace, like a unicorn mug or the comfort and concern of her brother.

  A choked, half-sob/half-laugh worked its way out of her throat. She only had to leave her solar system to realize that she missed her stupid brother and his stupid gag gifts. She missed her home, even her parents.

  Could she even go home? She couldn’t be the first Mahdfel bride to have an argument with their mates.

  No. Carrie took a calming breath and lifted her head. She wasn’t the type to run away from a problem. She solved problems, given time. She just needed the time to think. No matter what happened, the life growing inside her that very moment would connect her to Vox always. There was no running away from that.

  The thought of returning to their shared quarters, air thick with the smothering perfume of a dozen bouquets… No thank you. She needed somewhere neutral. She could ask Mercy, but then Mercy would tell the warlord and Carrie didn’t want Vox to get into trouble.

  Meridan or Daisy? No, those were Vox’s friends. She didn’t want to feel like they had to choose sides because Carrie and Vox were fighting.

  Who else did she know? Rohn? Maybe, but she already left the flight deck and Vox was there. She didn’t want to put Rohn in an awkward position in front of Vox.

  That left Seeran. Grumpy, serious Seeran. The male wasn’t a fan of Vox, that was for sure. And if anyone would understand why she was upset because Vox didn’t take anything seriously —didn’t take her seriously— it would be Seeran.

  Carrie asked the computer to locate Seeran and she followed the light path on the floor.

  Chapter Twelve

  Carrie

  For the first time in her life, Carrie wanted her mother.

  She needed to unburden her worries and talk to a friend. Only she didn’t have friends. Her work had always kept her too busy for trivial matters such as friendships. She felt a connection to Meridan. She liked the woman. They could be friends, if Carrie sought her out and made the effort.

  No, Meridan was Vox’s friend. Anything she said to Meridan might make its way back to Vox.

  She needed to talk to her mother. That was the only option.

  The connection took a half hour but the call went through with perfect clarity.

  “Carrie?” Eleanor peered at the screen. “What is it? You look pale. Are you eating enough?”

  She snorted. That was the first time her mother had ever accused her of eating too little. “I was wanting to talk.”

  Now it was Eleanor’s turn to snort. “You going to pull my other leg, too?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Carrie waited for Eleanor to gloat or explode into a rage. Something. Any reaction other than nodding and saying “Of course. That’s marvelous, pudding.”

  “Marvelous? Weren’t you trying to convince me to weasel my way out of this?”

  “And weren’t you the one claiming to be an adult who could make her own decisions?”

  Carrie frowned. This was not the conversation she expected or wanted to have. “I guess.”

  “Can I deduce that you’re calling because you’re not over-the-moon thrilled?”

  “We’ve done nothing but fight for the last day.”

  “People fight.”

  “You and Dad didn’t.”

  “Oh, pudding. We fought, just never in front of you or Justin.”

  Carrie sat on the bed, settling in for a long conversation. “Really? About what?”

  “The usual. Money. Sex. Housework. Family. Mostly his family.”

  She tried not to visibly flinch when her mother said she and Josiah fought about sex. Carrie tried to avoid picturing her parents having sex. Ever. “And how did you stop fighting?”

  Eleanor’s expression softened. “We didn’t fight less, we fought better.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Sometimes you have to compromise for the good of the marriage. Give an option, not an ultimatum.”

  “Vox wants me to stop working.” How could she compromise on that? Her work was central to her identity.

  Eleanor nodded. “You get that from your father. He worked all hours. He never saw you kids. It was a problem.”

  “And did you give Dad an option?” The concept of her parents fighting was so foreign. They always presented a united front to the investors, to the company and their children.

  “Actually, yes. I wouldn’t harass him about working late nights if he had a sit-down dinner with the family once a week.”

  “Sunday night dinner,” Carrie said. A fixture of her childhood and adult life was the result of an argument.

  “Just state how you feel and how his actions make you feel, pudding.”

  “That works?”

  “Are you scared, pudding? Is that why you called?”

  Carrie nodded.

  “Then tell your brute that.”

  Just when Eleanor was being reasonable, she had to go calling names. “He’s not a brute.”

  “Talk to your husband. Alien or not, he can’t read your mind.”

  That was actually a good point. “Thanks, Mom. I will.”

  Vox

  “Where is my mate.” His fist slammed into the wall next to Seeran’s head.

  The magenta toned male regarded him with passive, cool eyes. “I cannot say.”

  “She is my mate!”

  “And she asked me to secure her lodgings for the night.”

  “Are those lodgings in your quarters?” Vox ground out the question, teeth ready to rend and tear.

  “No.”

  He did not believe Seeran. The male displayed an untoward amount of interest in his mate. Vox puffed out his chest. “Do you challenge me?”

  “For your mate? No.” Seeran chuckled.

  Fury blinded him. Vox lunged at the male, tackling him at the waist. They fell to the floor in a flurry of blows. They wrestled, struggling for dominance. Vox fought to land blows, intending to pummel his challenger into pulp.

  Seeran’s every move was to deflect. Vox’s fists connected but they did no substantial damage, infuriating him more.

  “Stop! Stop, damn you!” Seeran shouted.

  “Where. Is. My. Female.” Each word was punctuated with a punch.

  “She’s in a private cabin. I won’t tell you more than that. Now get off me.” Seeran pushed Vox away. Standing, he smoothed down the front of his rumpled uniform.

  “You will give me the location.” Battle hormones still boiled in his blood. He could beat the answer out of the security officer if he had to.

  “I will give you nothing. Now leave or spend the night in the brig.”

  “She is my mate. I must protect her.” Vox folded his arms over his chest, decided.

  Seeran sighed. “I just want the rest of my shift to be quiet. Apparently, that is too much to ask. Leave or I will force you to leave.”

  “Would you be so calm if she were your mate?”

  “If she were my mate, I would treat her better!”

  A smile tugged at Vox’s mouth. A crack finally marred Seeran’s cool demeanor. “So, you do plan to challenge me?” Battling for a mate was legal, technically, and a holdover from the days when mating was done by scent. The genetic match took away the need to challenge other males when they had a female that smelled like a mate.

  “Her scent does not appeal to me.”

  “Then why such interest?” Vox visibly relaxed. Her scent held no fascination to Seeran. The male would not challenge him.

  “Because she asked and it is my duty to insure the safety of every person on the Judgment, even your stubborn mate. When she is no longer angry with you, she will return to your quarters. You should wait there.”

  “I cannot.” H
e could not rest while she was away. His empty quarters were barely tolerable when he was single. Now, knowing that he had a mate and son on the way, it would be torture to sit in those empty rooms. “I swear on my father’s honor, I will not disturb her. I will sit patiently outside her door and wait.”

  “You will not ask for entrance?”

  “No.”

  Seeran narrowed his eyes, judging Vox. The males had not known each other long and so far, every interaction involved Vox trying to punch the male. This did not bode well for his hopes.

  “Very well,” he said. Vox let out a sigh of relief. “I am sending you the location. But do not disturb her. Do not query the computer for entrance.”

  “My word. I will sit outside the door. Nothing else.”

  He’d sit across her threshold all night if need be. He’d protect his mate, even if it meant he had to sit on the floor in an undignified manner.

  Carrie

  Carrie stumbled over Vox when the door opened. Meridan sent a message that Vox was sitting vigil outside her door but she didn’t believe it. Not really.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I am guarding your door.”

  “Because this battle cruiser is such a dangerous place?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice. The Judgment had to be one of, if not the, safest place in the system.

  “The Suhlik can attack at any time. They can teleport into the depths of the ship.”

  “That won’t happen—”

  “It happened on the Earth moon base.” The good humor vanished from his voice and Carrie understood instantly that he was serious. “The Suhlik attacked and they tore my sister to shreds. I carried her bleeding, broken body through the chaos to medical. Do not tell me it is safe. Nowhere is safe. Not while a Suhlik still breathes.”

  “Who was it? Who died?” she asked, voice soft.

  “She did not die. Meridan survived because one arrogant, rude medic refused to let her die.”