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Baby For The Brundle Commander

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Brighton hoped for a permanent match, but her alien barely notices she’s alive.
Brighton has been impatiently waiting to be matched after her friends found happy endings with their alien mates. She’s assigned as the proxy for brundle commander Dantel Oleig, but despite her high hopes, he barely notices her existence. She doesn’t understand why he claimed her if he doesn’t want a child or the possibility of a mate. The enigmatic warrior is frustrating, and it takes a catastrophe to get Dantel to open to her. Can understanding what drives him lead to a second chance, or is he too consumed with his mission for Brighton to ever reach him?

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Description

EXCERPT

Chapter One

Brighton presented herself at the Faction embassy a few minutes early for her appointment the next day. She had brought a bag with her just in case she was taken right away as Sarah had been. Violet had a couple of days in between meeting and leaving, but she’d learned from their experiences not to count on any timeline. A proctor in a long black coat greeted her, and he seemed distant and completely unengaged in what was happening around him. “Brighton Fielding?”

She nodded. “That’s me.”

He marked something on the tablet in his hand and said, “Follow me.”

She did without questioning to start with, but as they walked down a series of hallways and approached the Medbay, she said, “Aren’t we supposed to stop for tea?”

The proctor paused to look at her. “Tea?”

“Both my friends who’ve been through this before had tea with their respective partners.”

“Oh, the meeting ceremony. I’m sorry, but Commander Oleig has chosen to set aside the usual formalities. He’s already signed the contract, and I’ll get your signature in a few minutes. He’s on a tight schedule and will be by to acquire you after your modification.”

Brighton was stunned. “That’s it? I don’t even get to meet him first?”

If the proctor had any sympathy, he was good at hiding it. “Not this time. The Faction has the balance of power, Miss Fielding. You should accept that and do as you’re told. Your year will be a lot easier for you. Particularly being paired with a brundle, you’ll want to be disciplined.”

Her stomach jittered slightly. She hadn’t even had that much information from the email that had summoned her to the embassy. “He’s a brundle then?” Her mouth went dry. “I don’t remember much about brundles right now.” Probably because she was so nervous, and her education had been fractured throughout the years, constantly displaced first by battles and then by resettlement and trying to reorganize into a cohesive society again.

“They’re a warrior class, complete with the whole honor code and all that.” He sounded bored. “They’re big on following orders, so I assume he’ll expect you to behave and do what he says. I’ve heard they can be stern disciplinarians, so it’s better for you to just go along.”

Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat. “Isn’t there someone else?”

With a deep sigh, pausing outside Medbay, he pulled up her chart on his tablet. “I’m sorry, but your genetics most closely favor brundles, so you’ll be easier to modify for surrogacy if you’re paired with that species. The fewer modifications required, the more easily it is to undo them via epigenetics when your term of service ends.”

“Great.” She tried to stifle a hysterical laugh that came out more like a choking sound, which earned a look of concern from the proctor. She waved a hand and followed him inside a moment later.

While they waited for one of the medical team to acknowledge them, he thrust the tablet at her. “Sign.”

She thought about refusing, but what was the point? If she didn’t sign her agreement to the proxy situation, she’d find herself in jail until she was twenty-five, or a minimum sentence of seven years. One year with the unknown brundle had to be better than that. With a small sigh, she signed her name just as a mosaic alien gestured her forward, directing her toward an alphan waiting for her.

She knew from Violet and Sarah not to be too nervous about the genetic modification. It was a simple scan, which she had already undergone when she had registered, and the protocol would already be prepared. There was a slight sting from the shot in her arm as the alphan doctor told her in a smooth voice, “You’ll hardly notice a thing. You might have transient aches and pains for the first few hours, but that’s unlikely. It’s an almost instant change.”

She managed a small smile and said, “Thank you.” She slid down from the table where they’d placed her. The proctor was already gesturing for her to follow, and he seemed impatient. She left Medbay with her arm sore and wondering just how quickly it would modify her hormones and reproductive system to be able to carry a brundle baby. She tried to tune deeply into herself but felt no change, and she exhaled in relief.

“You’ll wait here,” said the proctor after leading her into a sterile-looking room.

There was a metal bench built into the wall, and all the tile was stark white. “What is this place?”

“It’s a docking room. Commander Oleig will be docking his ship and come to fetch you, so be ready.” There was a slight softening of his features when he said, “Good luck.” Then he was gone.

Brighton sat down, at first not minding the stiff and cool surface of the bench underneath her bottom. Soon enough, it started to feel uncomfortable, and she began pacing around to relieve the ache in her bum. She didn’t think it was a reaction to the shot. Merely a response to sitting so long on a hard, flat surface.

There were no clocks in the room, but the wrist comm device she wore for communication when she wasn’t in the POD marked two hours before the airlock door opened. She didn’t see it, but she could hear it even from the room. There was a rumbling sound and a swish of air, and then the door closed again.

After that, there were footsteps in the hallway, and her stomach clenched with nerves and dread, though a hint of excitement, as she waited for her mate to present himself. She still had high hopes for this, and she didn’t want to think of herself as just his proxy. She wanted a family of her own, and this brundle commander represented her best opportunity.

He entered the room without much fanfare. He looked at her for a moment and nodded his head. “Are you Brighton Fielding?”

She nodded slowly. “You must be Commander Oleig?”

He nodded. “I suppose should call me Dantel.” He sounded reluctant to reveal his name.

She frowned in confusion as he stepped forward and lifted her bag. With his tall frame and bulging muscles, he made it look easy. She spent a moment admiring him as he turned slightly away from her. He had deep bronze skin with an undertone of orange, along with golden hair that fell to mid-back. It was currently confined in a braid, so it might be even longer once he loosened that. He wore a standard uniform, but his vest was sleeveless, revealing the bulging muscles in his arms as well. He could easily pick her up and carry her—or break her. It was a scary thought that she tried to dismiss. He didn’t seem to have any interest in hurting her.

“Come along,” he said briskly.

Feeling confusion and a little uncertainty, Brighton goaded herself to follow him, passing through the airlock. He didn’t speak at all as they waited for it to close and the other side to open, and then they were in his ship.

She looked around, finding it rather utilitarian. She hadn’t expected much else, since it was only a shuttle meant for one or two people. “What’s the name of my temporary home?”

“My shuttle is called Daytlien. It means fierce in my language.”

“It sounds pretty.”

He sent her a look of disbelief. “I assure you, brundles do not value the sound of pretty things.” His tone was dismissive as he walked down the hallway, leading her through the ship. A moment later, they arrived at what she presumed were his quarters, and her stomach twisted with a hint of fear and excitement. Would he expect to bed her right away? She was prepared, or at least she thought she was, but she wouldn’t mind getting to know him first.

He opened the door for her and indicated she should pass through. When she did, he set her bag beside the door and said, “Put your hand on the biometric panel.”

She did as he instructed, and he added access to the ship for her. Then he stepped back and said, “I’m sure you can find the galley and know how to use a synthicator.”

Brighton nodded. “Would you like me to prepare dinner for us?”

“I have no time for dinner at the moment. Entertain yourself.”

With those abrupt words, her alien was gone. She wanted to think of him as her mate, but it seemed like there was a great deal of distance between them, far more than the length of the shuttle. He seemed virtually uninterested in her, which was quite different from her friends’ experiences. Their mates had been eager to know them, even if things had started awkwardly. Dantel seemed to have no interest in her at all, which hurt.

She occupied herself by finding the galley and preparing a meal, which she ate by herself. Then she briefly explored the ship. As she neared the bridge, a forcefield kept her from entering. She could see some of what he was doing, and he seemed to be programming a jump point route for them. She assumed it was to avoid vorathan detection, so he was using a roundabout way to find the Baxa homeworld. Perhaps it would add time to their journey—time they could maybe use to get acquainted.

When Brighton ran out of things to occupy herself, she returned to their quarters. His shower system was slightly different than what she was used to on the POD, but she was able to figure it out with the A.I. system’s assistance. Once she was bathed and had brushed her hair, confining it to a braid to keep it from becoming a wild, tangled mess in bed—particularly during the throes of passion, which she’d read could be quite intense—she returned to the bedroom.

There was a frilly nightgown inside that she had bartered to acquire, wanting to make a good impression on her alien. She donned it and slipped into bed, trying to soothe her nerves. At first, fear of what was coming consumed her, but then irritation started to take over as it seemed less and less likely he was going to join her.

Another couple of hours ticked past, and she tried to occupy herself with reading, but her thoughts couldn’t focus on the story. All she could think about was her mate had not come for her, and as it got later and later, she stopped trying to fight the urge to sleep. She bit back the need to cry, refusing to shed tears for the cold brundle commander with whom she’d been paired.

Pei Ling was right. She’d been setting herself up for disappointment by expecting the same happy ending as her friends had received, but it was all too obvious she was going to be little more than a burden to the brundle, and she couldn’t imagine for the life of her why he’d chosen to accept her. He obviously had no interest in a mate or even a proxy to be surrogate for his child.