15 MINUTES.
The door hissed open.
A man walked in.Short and balding, he wore a designer suit and had a datapad tucked under his arm.
"Ms.Evans," he said, not offering a hand."I’m Director Haynes.Please, sit."
"I’ll stand," Emily said, crossing her arms over her chest."Director, my mother forged my signature.I am a social worker.I have a life.I am not interested in being shipped off to some colony world to breed with a warrior who can’t subtract without using his fingers.Void the match."
Haynes sighed, tapping his datapad."It’s not that simple, I’m afraid.The initial screening was...irregular, yes.But the genetic markers were a definitive positive.The match has been logged in the Imperial Mainframe."
"I don't care about the mainframe.I care about habeas corpus."
"Habeas corpus doesn't apply to Imperial Decree, Ms.Evans."Haynes looked up, his eyes cold behind wire-rimmed glasses."And this is an Imperial Decree."
"What are you talking about?"
"Usually, we offer a cancellation window," Haynes said, sounding bored."For standard warrior matches.Even for high-ranking commanders, there is a negotiation period.But your genetic profile triggered a Priority One alert."
He turned the datapad around and slid it across the table.
Emily looked down.A face stared back at her.A Latharian male.He was terrifyingly handsome, with dark hair and green eyes that seemed to burn even through the digital image.He wore a crown of simple, unadorned iron.
"You haven't been matched to a warrior or a colonist, Ms.Evans," Haynes said softly."You have been matched to the Emperor himself.”
The silence in the room pressed down on her.
"The...Emperor," she repeated.The words sounded nonsensical."The king of the aliens."
"The ruler of the Latharian Empire.The most powerful individual in the known galaxy."Haynes straightened his cuffs."Rejection of a direct match to the Imperial line is… well, it’s probably considered an act of war.You aren't just a bride, Ms.Evans.You are now a treaty obligation."
"I'm a what?"Her voice rose, cracking."I’m a person!You can't just wrap me in a bow and ship me off to—to some asshole alien in a crown because a computer said we have chemistry!"
"It is not about chemistry.It is about genetics.And it is done."Haynes checked his watch."Your transport is in orbit.Your escort is here."
"Escort?"She backed away, hitting the wall.“Oh no… I’m not going.I’m not going anywhere with anyone."
The door behind Haynes slid open.
"I am afraid," a new voice rumbled, deep enough to vibrate in the floorboards, "that you do not have a choice."
Emily stopped breathing.
The man—no, thealien—that filled the doorway was massive.He had to be seven feet tall, his shoulders so broad he had to turn slightly to enter the room.He was clad in black leather that looked battle-worn, hugging muscles that seemed carved from granite.Long, pale blond hair was pulled back in intricate braids, revealing a face of harsh, predatory angles.
But it was his eyes that froze her blood.They were violet.Vivid, beautiful purple with vertical, slit pupils like a cat.
He stepped into the room, and the air felt too thin.
She felt ayankin her chest, a physical sensation like a hook snagging behind her ribs.It pulled her toward him, a terrifying, magnetic drag.Her knees weakened, almost dropping her to a puddle on the floor.
What the hell?
The warrior ignored Haynes completely.His gaze locked onto her, intense and unblinking.He looked at her not like a woman, but like an object.Something to be transported.He stalked forward, the heavy thud of his boots echoing in the small room.Stopping three feet away, he towered over her, radiating heat against her skin.
"I am Raaevik K'Vass," he said.His voice was gravel and steel, a low sound that sent shivers down her spine."I am from the Emperor's Guard.And you are coming with me."
She looked up, craning her neck to meet those alien, purple eyes.Blood pounded in her throat.She thought of her mother.She thought of the shelter.She thought of running.
