Claimed for the Alien Bride Lottery by Margo Collins (the little red hen read aloud txt) 📗

Fury burst through me, but a glance in the mirror at Josiah reminded me to keep it under control until I was out of his sight. “I’m going to get your mother,” I said casually, calmly standing up from my seat in front of the mirror.

“Okay,” Josiah replied with the insouciance of childhood. “Can we play when you get back?”

I nodded, anxiety coursing through my veins, urging me to hurry to save Mia. But I continued to move slowly for Josiah’s sake. At least until I closed the door behind me.

Once the door shut, though, I put on a burst of speed, ducking around anyone in my way, racing to the lift and sliding into the tube. A single phrase beat an insistent tattoo in my head, over and over again in time to my footsteps. Save Mia. Save Mia. Save Mia.

I slid around the corner into the Brides’ Quarters hallway, slamming to a halt outside my mate’s door.

I tried to open it, but it was locked. Without my wristcom, I couldn’t override the system or call anyone else for help.

Some commander I am, rushing headlong into a dangerous situation without proper assessment.

At least no one onboard Station 21 had weapons—not outside the shuttle bay, where we were all required to check them in.

If Frank had transported aboard, any weapons on his body would have been left behind. So he was almost certainly unarmed.

I leaned my ear against the door, hoping to hear something that would help me decide what to do. Go for help? No. Frank was a violent, dangerous male. Unless I couldn’t figure out any way to get into the room, I would not leave Mia with him, not if I could help it.

“Tell me where he is,” I heard Frank's voice say.

“He’s not here, I told you,” Mia replied. “I don’t know why you think Josiah is on the station, but he isn’t.”

She had him talking. That was good.

But then I heard the crack of a fist against bone. “Tell me where he is!”

I had been in battle before. I knew the feel of battle lust, a Khanavai trait that made us great warriors. And I had heard that the mate bond could cause a similar kind of rage.

Everything I had heard was wrong.

It wasn’t similar at all.

Mate-bond rage was a million times stronger, like comparing a single ray of light to the strength of a burning star.

My protective fury swelled inside me, erupting from me as a roar that echoed up and down the hallway.

Even as I reared back and slammed my shoulder into the locked door, from inside the room, I heard Frank exclaim, “What the fuck was that?”

The door flew open, its broken lock whirring as it stopped halfway.

I wrenched it the rest of the way open and strode into the room to find a human male—bigger than most, but not as large as a Khanavai warrior—with one hand fisted in Mia’s hair, tugging her head backward, the other raised above her, preparing to strike her again.

The man was pale-skinned compared to Mia, but his own rage had turned his face a shade not far from my own.

In the corner, a round woman with golden hair huddled with her arms over her head, her cheek purpling in a bruise. Becca, I assumed.

Frank quickly shifted his hold on Mia, tugging her in front of him to use as a shield. “Come one step closer and I will snap her neck,” he warned.

I skidded to a halt, eyeing the tableau warily.

Slowly, Becca began shifting toward something under the bed. She glanced up at me and put a finger to her mouth.

“Let her go,” I said to Frank, as much to distract him from Becca’s motions as out of any sense that he would do what I told him too.

“You’re the son of a bitch trying to steal my family from me,” Frank growled.

“No. You lost them long before they ever met me.”

Behind Frank, Becca slowly pulled the blue gym bag out from under Mia’s bed.

“I don’t care what happens to me,” Mia said to me, her eyes pleading. “Just don’t let him get Josiah. Don’t let him hurt my baby.”

“Shut up, bitch,” Frank snarled, shaking her a little.

Becca pulled one of the paint guns out of the bag. Under the guise of calming Frank, I held out one hand, straight in front of me.

“Everything is going to be okay,” I promise Mia.

Then I flicked my gaze toward Becca.

With a nod, she stood up and tossed the paint gun to me. In one smooth motion, I flipped it around and shot the paint directly into Frank’s eyes.

He screamed and grabbed his eyes, releasing his hold on Mia, who darted directly to me. I slung her around behind me and tackled Frank to the ground. Holding him there, I instructed Mia, “Contact security. Get them here now.”

Frank lay on the ground writhing and cursing, but I held him there with one hand.

“You must be Becca,” I said to Mia’s friend. “Nice to meet you.”

“That was amazing thinking,” Mia said to Becca.

“After he hit me, he wasn’t watching me at all,” Becca said.

So it hadn’t been Mia he had hurt.

I glanced up at my mate, who had retrieved the second paint gun and was holding it aimed directly at her ex-husband’s face.

“I guess Frank didn’t learn one very important lesson from you,” I observed.

Mia’s gaze flickered toward me for long enough to frown before going back to watching Frank warily. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“He needed to learn to watch his six.”

An hour later, we had given our statements to station security.

I let them think that I had brought Josiah up to the station. I had the authority to approve that, after all.

Becca was in medical, having her bruised face seen to. They were going to keep her overnight to make sure she didn’t have a concussion.

I had commed Thorvid to let it know that we were okay and headed back.

And I was