Defying the General (Primarian Mates Book 4) Read online

  Defying the General

  Primarian Mates, Book 4

  By Maddie Taylor

  Copyright © 2018 by Maddie Taylor

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States of America

  First Electronic Edition: May 2018

  Cover Art/Design by Fantasia Frog Designs

  Cover Photo by Period Images

  Editing by Wizards of Publishing

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and as such, any similarity to existing persons, places, or events must be considered purely coincidental.

  This book contains content for adult audiences and is not suitable for readers aged 17 and under.

  For mature readers, only.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Other Titles by Maddie Taylor

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  About the Author

  Keep up with Maddie at the following links:

  Prologue

  USIF ODYSSEY, SOMEWHERE in space...

  The icy chill in the air penetrated the layers of his clothing. Trask could see it in the misty cloud that appeared with each exhalation. He’d only been in the cargo hold minutes, and already a pervasive coldness had seeped into his bones. Not only from the temperature, but from fear, of what he would find or perhaps, what he would not.

  His mate had been gone for three interminable days, the terse note she’d left telling him next to nothing. Already they had searched every recess and corner of the ship. The hold was the last place to check, and the fact the thermal scans hadn’t initially picked up her heat signature here concerned him.

  “Lana,” Trask called out as he strode between the secured shelves loaded with enough supplies to last twice the anticipated six-week-long voyage.

  Commander Roth activated communications at the wall panel behind him. A fellow warrior and close friend since childhood, the fleet commander had stayed with him throughout the search. “Bridge, have you pinpointed her location?”

  “To your left, sir, by the rear wall, far right corner.”

  Immediately reacting, Trask veered that way. He moved quickly, the hollow ring of his boot heels hitting the metal floor, echoed the painful thud of his heart.

  He rounded the corner of the last row of shelves at the rear of the cavernous hold and spotted a dark shadow in the far corner. Rushing forward, he found her curled up in a ball, a thin blanket separating her from the cold floor, a second insubstantial blanket her only covering. When she didn’t move, dread twisted like a knot in his gut, but when he looked closer, he saw the faint rise and fall of her chest and the little swirls of steam rising from her lips. Otherwise, she was still as death, but thank the Maker, it hadn’t claimed her.

  He dropped to a knee at her side and touched her cheek; it was like ice.

  “Paulova,” he called softly.

  His little lamb, a silly endearment for such a beautiful woman, but she was small, soft, and sweet, and he’d tagged her with it early on. She didn’t mind; in fact, she seemed to warm to him when he called her that, often smiling, or turning into his touch with affection, whether by nuzzling her cheek against his hand or rubbing her face in his neck. And on more than one occasion, she’d admitted she liked the pet name.

  Gently, he stroked her mussed hair back from her forehead and whispered her name again.

  Her eyelids fluttered then opened. A split-second later, she twisted and sat up.

  “Mate, I’ve been worried,” he told her.

  She averted her eyes, pain flickering across her face as she said in a distant voice, “You shouldn’t have come after me, Trask.”

  Stunned, his head snapped back. “Why would I not?”

  Lana didn’t answer. Instead, her gaze shot over his shoulder where he knew the commander and his mate stood looking on.

  “Are you all right?” Maggie, her former captain asked.

  She nodded, but she was thinner, her pale hair, which fell in waves almost to her waist, in so many varied hues he found them difficult to count, had already lost its luster. Without the benefits of the full spectrum lighting throughout the rest of the ship which simulated daylight, she’d turned ashen. The usual rosy hue of her lips and cheeks had vanished in the span of three days. A short time on a space journey, but to Trask, an eternity. He shuddered to think what she would have been like after two months, which was how long it would take, despite the upgrades they had made, for the Odyssey to reach Earth.

  His anger, eclipsed by the overwhelming worry consuming him since he’d found her gone, rose to the surface. She wasn’t staying here another second, he wouldn’t allow it.

  “You’re freezing,” Trask observed gruffly, while gathering the blanket and wrapping it around her.

  “I’m fine,” she whispered, her eyes darting from him to Roth, and back to Maggie, briefly, before they skittered off.

  “It’s been three days, have you eaten?” Trask inquired, his voice rising. She didn’t reply, her gaze shifting to a box in the corner and the full shelves.

  “I’m well-stocked in here,” she murmured at last.

  With a grunt of disapproval, he leaned forward and slipped his arms beneath her. Taking both blankets with him, he came to his feet with Lana cradled in his arms. “We’ll discuss this back on the Dauntless.”

  She stiffened. “No, put me down.”

  He ignored her, feeling her tremble with cold. Before he did anything else, he had to get her warm. “We’ll shuttle over and be in my quarters in half a time-cycle. The physic can examine you there.”

  “I don’t need a doctor, and I’m not going to your ship. I’m going home.” She began struggling in his hold, but he outmatched her easily in strength, and kept her firmly in his embrace.

  “Unfortunately, we’ve come too far, so going home isn’t an option for several months.”

  “Not your home, Trask. To mine, on Earth.”

  His jaw tightened, and he growled with mounting impatience, “You aren’t behaving rationally. The illness and the extreme cold have taken their toll. Once you are warm and fed, we will talk. Until then, you will do as you’re told.”

  “Maggie...” she called.

  This incensed him further, that she would plead to her captain for help, from him, her mate, was absurd.

  “Lana—” Maggie replied.

  But Trask heard Roth’s low warning. “No, they are mated; you cannot interfere.”

  Upon reaching the doors of the hold, Trask exited and turned right, carrying her down the corridor to the shuttle bay. When she saw where he was taking her, she went wild, thrashing in his arms and screaming no. She had become utterly unreasonable, nothing like the sweet-natured, usually cooperative mate he’d come to know. And while she carried on, he couldn’t miss the chill of her skin where she touched him or the alarming blueness of her lips.

  Her health must be his priority, no matter how much he wanted to shake her f
or frightening him and demand answers to what was going on in her head. Once she was warm, he’d decide which to do first, kiss her breathless from relief she was alive and in one piece, or turn her over his knee and paddle her backside until it was rosy red, and she vowed never to run from him again.

  Both were in her future.

  For now, however, one of them had to be sensible. Since she apparently couldn’t be, it fell to him.

  “Enough,” he growled. “You may remain here for the time being.”

  Her struggles instantly ceased.

  He turned to Maggie and Roth who had followed and were watching with justified concern. “I need to get her warm, now.

  “Use our quarters, General,” Maggie offered. “I’ll order food and something hot for her to drink.”

  “And I’ll send the physic to you, at once,” Roth said from behind him.

  Trask nodded, his only response, his mind whirling with a mix of fear, anger, and frustration, all focused on Lana.

  The Odyssey was much smaller than any in the Primarian fleet, and it took him only minutes to get to the captain’s quarters. Once inside, when he paused a moment to get his bearings, he noticed a clicking noise. Glancing down at the delicate creature in his arms he identified the source of the sound—Lana’s teeth were chattering.

  “The frigid cargo hold, paulova, what were you thinking?” He asked this genuinely perplexed; her behavior made no sense to him. She didn’t reply. Since she’d won their power struggle over where she would stay, her eyes had remained closed, her body motionless—except for her shivering.

  “You’re chilled to the bone, mate. I need to get you into a hot bath.” He moved down the short hall where he expected the bedroom and bathing room to be.

  “Don’t call me that, please.” Her tone was flat, yet insistent.

  He’d seen Lana angry, frustrated, laughing, and happy—a wide range of emotion—but she’d never been distant. “Why shouldn’t I call you mate, when that is what you are?”

  “No longer. I explained. You need to let me go, Trask.”

  “The cold has affected your thinking. Talk no more, for now. We’ll do so, later, at length, when you have recovered.”

  “No, there is no point in belaboring—”

  “I say there is, mate,” he deliberately repeated.

  Her face tightened although she didn’t open her eyes. He didn’t like it, nor did he like the severe contrast of her dark eyelashes against her pale skin. It was a sobering reminder of how ill she’d been in the days prior to her leaving. There was no question the mysterious ailment had taken a physical toll, but perhaps she suffered from a psychological one as well. Why else would she have run from him, and stowed away on a ship bound for a planet millions of miles and many galaxies away? He had many more questions than answers, but his mate needed to be seen to first.

  He set her on her feet by the bed and pulled off the blankets that still carried the chill from the cargo hold. “You can get in bed and under the covers while I prepare your bath.” He tugged on the laces fastening her dress next, but she knocked his hands away.

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Like you’ve done these past few days? Hiding in a dark storage bay while you slowly freeze?” he grated out, his anger showing. “I am your mate. It is my duty to care of you, no matter how foolish your actions are.”

  “I am not your duty anymore, Trask. Listen to me—”

  He took her cheeks between his hands and lowered his face next to hers, but her lashes came down, shutting him out. She couldn’t close her ears and block out his words, however. “Maes eternium, Lana,” he whispered fiercely. “Forever mine, or have you forgotten? I’ve told you often enough how it is.”

  “For a Primarian, but I am human,” she replied, her voice shaking as much as her thin body. “As I said in my note—”

  Trask grunted. “We’ll discuss that later too.” He dropped his hands and strode to the bathing room, silently cursing her stubbornness. He’d pick her up and put her in the tub, clothes and all, if he had to.

  “We’ll do it now,” she shouted at his back. “I don’t want...this anymore.”

  Except in his head, he heard very distinctly, I don’t want you anymore. He stopped in his tracks and couldn’t hold back a roar of frustration. When he spun to face her, he didn’t miss how her body stiffened in reaction.

  “Whatever this is about, we will fix it when we get home,” Trask declared, intending to put an end to this fruitless discussion.

  “I’m not returning to Primaria. I’m going home, to Earth.”

  “I forbid it.”

  “Is your translator malfunctioning?” she snapped. “It must be because you aren't getting what I'm saying. You don’t have the right to decide for me anymore. I was your captive, so you never actually did!”

  A stillness pervaded the room for several long moments. Trask stared at a woman who looked like the mate he’d come to know and love but was acting like a stranger. Lana, for her part, stood with both arms crossed over her chest, her chin set, her eyes averted not deigning so much as to glance his way.

  “What has happened? You were happy; we both were. What changed?”

  “The treaty happened; it changes everything.”

  This startled him so much his body jerked as though struck. “What are you saying?”

  “By decree of your Princep and the council of elders, all captive humans were free to leave and go home if they chose.”

  “That does not apply to existing mates.”

  “You know it does, Trask. Eryn and Ram were mates, and she is also going home. I’m sorry if this isn’t what you want to hear, but I had no choice before now other than to accept what I thought was an inevitable future. I was trying to make the best of a hopeless situation. The new treaty gives me a different option. I’ve decided to take it. I’ve made up my mind; I want to go home.”

  “Your home is with me, on Primaria.”

  She shook her head. “My home is with my people, on Earth. And perhaps, one day, the new colony.”

  “You can’t mean this, not after what we shared. We have bonded.”

  “You know as well as I, we didn't test well. Our bond is so weak its barely considered one.”

  “It is enough.”

  Lana speared her hands into her hair and closed her eyes tight. “You’re not listening,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “To nonsense? Why should I waste my time? Get in bed while I draw your bath.”

  “Have you always been this stubborn?” She heaved an exasperated sigh. “I signed the dissolution documents before I left. You are free, Trask.”

  Having heard enough, he turned and punched the bedroom wall in an explosion of raw fury. His mate let out a small scream of surprise, and, with his loss of control, no doubt fear. While particles of dust and debris fell in a shower around him, Trask stared at the hole larger than his fist, but didn’t really see it.

  This couldn’t be happening. He was Primarian; mates were for life. What could have possibly changed between the time he’d left her sweet, warm, and loving in his bed three mornings ago, and now? He stood frozen in disbelief for several pounding heartbeats, trying to make sense of the nonsensical, when she observed with a touch of alarm, “Your hand is bleeding; it should be seen to right away. It could be broken.”

  Glancing down, he saw several dark circles had accumulated in an erratic pattern on the floor. He held up his hand, blood welling from the broken skin on his bruised, swelling knuckles, numb to anything except the pain building in his chest.

  “Who are you? Cold and uncaring, denying what we had one moment, but concerned for my welfare, the next.”

  He heard a faint sound, which he thought might be a whimper. When he looked over, she was staring at her feet, both hands covering her mouth, her body trembling.

  “Lana,” he breathed, instantly contrite. He hadn’t intended to frighten her, but he needed an outlet for his confusion and feelings
of helplessness—something foreign to him until this Earth woman came into his life.

  He reached for her, but she took a step back, her gaze locked on his injured hand.

  “Don’t,” she whispered.

  “Paulova,” he murmured while moving forward.

  This time, her response was to take two steps away.

  A part of him knew he should go soft, cajole and convince, gentle her like the frightened animal she appeared to be right now. But the overt sign of his mate’s rejection ignited his volatile emotions. When all he could think of was losing her forever, he couldn’t manage charm and finesse.

  “I swear,” he stated, low and menacing, “if you move away from me again, the fragile thread containing my anger will snap.”

  Her retreat halted and he took a deep breath, striving for calm. Scaring her and making threats wouldn't advance his cause. “You've been ill; you aren’t thinking straight.”

  “There is nothing wrong with my thinking.”

  He ignored her. “I will have Ellar examine you. In a few days, we'll talk again.”

  In a quiet voice, she replied, “I won't change my mind.”

  “Why are you doing this?” he roared.

  “Because I don't...” she began but halted quickly. “Because I can’t be with you, Trask.”

  “What about your declaration of love? Was it a lie?”

  Once again, she avoided meeting his gaze. It was then he realized she hadn’t looked him in the eye, not once. She’d stared at his chest, his hands, but never above his chin. If she was determined to rip out his heart and throw away what they had shared, she wouldn’t do so while hiding like a coward.

  In one long stride he was in front of her. Gripping her by the arms, he pulled her up on her toes. She turned her face away sharply.

  “By the Maker, you will look at me.”

  Tenacious in her refusal, she said in a ragged whisper, “You must accept we weren’t meant to be, not like Eva and Kerr, Maggie and Roth, or Mai and Krager. No matter how much you want it, or command it to be true, we aren't mates; it isn’t our fate.”

  “Open your eyes, dammit,” he growled. Giving into his frustration, he gave her a little shake. Never would he harm her, but he needed the truth. “You can at least meet my gaze when you tell me you don't love me anymore, or that you never did!”