4
Dorian, Battleship Karter, Transport Room
When I woke up this morning, I’d expected to potentially die in battle fighting the Hive, not be claiming a mate. Holy f**k.
Yet the hairs on my body raised from the familiar electrical pull of the transporter signaling her arrival. Her arrival. I glanced at Seth, who, while completely calm of face, was holding onto his control by a thread. His hands were in fists by his sides. Not to punch someone, but perhaps the only outward way of showing his fear, his anxiousness, his worry at what a mate would mean, and what would become of her were he to be killed in battle.
After he explained to me why he never wanted that damned Christmas gift—his exact words—from his sister, Sarah, his nerves made a hell of a lot of sense. Completely paranoid, but r
