Chapter 7

“Did ICUS send a child? What the hell, Brax? I don’t know of a species this small that are soldiers.” Landrix assessed the small, petite form on the table.

“This is sniper PW001. Intelligence Command sent him over, emergency transport.” Brax kept his hand on PW001’s shoulder. He couldn’t remove his hand. He had to touch the solder’s arm.

What was wrong with him? This almost seemed like the beginnings of a mating bond from what he was taught decaphases ago when he was a boy. From a young child, the male Arcturians were taught about the melding phases, the first phase is physical and the overwhelming need to touch, hold and, yes, fuck, their females. Arcturians did not mate until eight to ten decaphases had passed. Brax had longed passed this age. Arcturians spent those years learning to pleasure and please females until their mate triggered their melding instinct and initiated the first phase of melding to manifest their marks. No current Arcturians had mating marks displayed on their bodies.

Landrix ran a medical wand over the unconscious form, reading the data from the wand.

His eyes widened when he read the data. He did the scan a second time, not believing the information was correct.

“Species: Earthling.”

“Type: Female.”

“Mission: Sniper, PW001, Secure last land mass in Beltway. General Brax, commander unit 1.”

Landrix reached over to lift the visor, but before Landrix could touch the armor, Brax grabbed Landrix’s wrist and moved his body between the soldier and Landrix.

“Do not touch,” Brax growled out, surprised by his words and actions. His primitive instinct drove the response from him.

Landrix stopped his reach and looked over at Brax with surprise. Landrix took a step back and started a scan of Brax.

“I don’t know what is wrong, I think it is my haze, but you will not touch this soldier.” Brax tried shaking his head, confused and disoriented with these possessive and protective sensations coursing through his body and towards a warrior in his unit. He had not processing “Earthling” and “Female” when Landrix had read the information off the medical display.

“Shit, Brax, it's an Earthling female, the Repopulation Mission. Maybe she is the first mate to one of our warriors?” Landrix drops his hand, looking at the data and the soldier’s information. His general, his friend, was acting very unlike himself. Brax’s scan showed a dangerous battle haze level, but it was manageable. This was different. Something was triggering Brax.

“What? Earth? Female?” Brax’s shocked eyes meet Landrix’s, repeating Landrix’s words. Brax moved his body closer to the soldier lying on the table. As if his body moved without his permission, Brax leaned over and smelled the soldier’s armor where the body armor met the helmet. Brax growled as he breathed in the soldier’s scent. Female. Mine.

“Brax, she is triggering your protective responses. She might be your mate, or maybe just the presence of an Earthling female is triggering your arousal. She might be the matched mate for another warrior.” Landrix looks between the two. His eyes widen with hope.

“May I approach?” Landrix took a step towards the soldier on the table.

“Fuck no, do not approach, do not touch,” Brax growled, moving his body between his friend Landrix and the female Earthling.

Something bristles within Brax at Landrix’s words, the idea of Landrix being close to her, of her being a possible match to another warrior beside himself…No. A possessiveness cascades over him.

“Mine.” Brax quietly and firmly says as he keeps his hand on her arm. He doesn’t know how or why, but this female has triggered his mating instinct. For the first time, he hopes that somehow his warrior gene marker won’t matter, and he’ll get to keep her. With the war raging inside, he considers that he could mate her, but they could not have children. Would that be fair to her? Would that be fair to his other warriors and the priority to repopulate Arcturia? But all of his instincts drive him to claim her. He would deal with the other issues later.

He yearns to see her eyes, smell her skin, just a tiny touch. That primitive part of him that drove him to keep his hand on her did not care about repopulation or duties to his people. Every fiber of his being demands that she is his, warrior mark or not, she is his.

“General Brax, touchdown in twenty minutes; I count fifteen units of six. Two are in defensive positions. The other thirteen are set up as integration units to take all the island's biological material.” Ward announces through Brax’s comm the critical situation breaking through Brax’s thoughts.

“What are you going to do?” Landrix steps back, holding his hands up to show he is not a threat and to give Brax some space.

Brax gently raises the visor and sees beautiful peach-colored skin. Brax has never seen skin this color. He studied what little of her face he could see. Round eyes, black-colored hair above the eyes.

He removes his glove and strokes a finger over her eyes, curving it along her face. Brax closes his eyes, savoring the electrical zing of touching her skin. He watches as her eyes start to flutter open.

“Fuck! I want to put her back in the pod and send her back to safety. We’re about to go on a mission, but she’s my primary sniper. Shit! I will find out who arranged this at Intelligence Command and beat them bloody!” Brax wanted to storm around the room, but he could not leave her side. This was going to be a problem.

“Program her cyborg for full defensive measures, and it is to protect and defend her. Tell no one. I do not need anyone else distracted by a female. I will reposition her position with mine to keep a fucking eye on her.” Brax looked over at Landrix, fighting his primitive instinct to keep her here on the ship versus transporting her back to Intelligence Command. The idea of sending her back, of her not being near him, panics him.