Chapter 2

TWO

Mavrel Yrixis was in trouble.

Big trouble.

When he’d agreed to help Commander Jerik secure a mate, he hadn’t expected to encounter a human female that would set his senses on fire.

But alas, he had.

She was called Bea.

Short for Beatrice Maina.

Her name sounded sweet, almost innocent, but she was far from it.

Closing his eyes, Mavrel leaned back in his seat, exhaling softly.

Just a few rotations ago, he’d been holed up in some human corporate office on Earth, playing along with an absolute farce—all for the sake of his boss. The human owner of the tower, Garner, had even hired human mercs to try and get Jerik Garul out of his building.

What idiots.

But Jerik was trying to convince his prospective mate that he wasn’t a violent, ruthless Kordolian warlord, so Mavrel had been forced to sit around idly while those human fools actually thought they had the upper hand.

In the end, it had all worked out, but Commander Garul owed him one.

Especially since he was now caught in an entanglement that was not of his own making or choosing.

Mavrel hadn’t wanted to chase a mate—not yet.

He had things to do.

Such as the five-hundred-odd different human information databases he was currently breaking into.

Most had almost non-existent security, but a small handful were providing a welcome challenge.

At least one human on Earth knew what they were doing. Nevertheless, he would be usually done by now, but he couldn’t focus.

Pressure was building inside his head, in his chest.

It had been there ever since he’d left Earth, starting as a small niggle, expanding to become an irritation, then a nuisance, then an all-encompassing frustration.

He knew what this was.

He didn’t need this—not now.

Abruptly, he burst out of his chair and started to pace around the room.

This was all because of her.

What was he supposed to do now?

Mavrel stared at the array of holos and datafeeds, the blue glow comforting and familiar. This was his workstation, his personal sanctuary away from the noise of the rest of the station.

Techs like him were often left to their own devices for long periods. The higher-ups gave their orders and expected them to be done. He was used to tight deadlines and exacting demands, especially from the commanders and Tarak.

Mavrel liked working alone. He liked working to his own schedule.

He did not like unpredictability, things outside his control, uncertainty, unknown timelines…

And this was all of those things.

The stirrings of what he very well knew was the infernal Mating Fever.

You doubly owe me now, Jerik Garul.

Coming to a sudden realization, he stopped mid-pace.

No amount of walking around like this was going to burn off this frantic energy. No amount of speculating was going to help him organize his thoughts.

Beatrice.

Bea.

A human female who had been completely unafraid of him and almost appeared to share his complete and utter disdain for the human mercs holding him hostage.

She’d even smiled and winked at him.

The audacity.

How could he forget that smile—perfect white teeth between full, luscious lips painted in the most tantalizing shade of red, making her warm human complexion glow.

That human.

She glowed .

And she’d seemed perfectly oblivious to the effect she’d had on him.

Mavrel groaned as he turned and walked out the door, heading for the med-bay.

Pacing and ruminating wasn’t going to do shit. He had work to do.

The only solution was to have Zharek pump him full of drugs.

He wouldn’t allow this matter to occupy his mind for a moment longer.

Of course, he could just scan the human Networks and compile every single piece of information on her that existed, but…

No. He shook his head, muttering to himself as he stalked down the dark corridors. That wouldn’t be good. It would ruin everything.

For the time being, he would forget about her.

He had work to do.

He couldn’t afford to get distracted now.

After all, look what had happened to the ruthless Commander Jerik.

So down to the med-bay it was.

Zharek would understand. The medic hadn’t yet succumbed to the perils of the Mating Fever. Surely, he could put a patch on things until Mavrel figured out a plan.

He’d seen how they got—even the mighty and terrifying General Tarak al Akkadian. It was ridiculous. Because of human contact, they’d come so close to courting disaster.

Mavrel swore to the Goddess it would not happen to him. He might accept his female with time, but he would not allow the biological changes to overwhelm him. He would not make any stupid or rash decisions.

If he were to enter the mating phase, it would be so on his terms.