f**k. My c**k was hard as a rock and not at all comfortable stuffed inside my armor.
Fuck. I closed one cuff around my left wrist, then the right, the seal on them secure. The match had been made, my mate identified. There was no going back. I would fight until I couldn’t fight any longer, then take my mate home. I would grow old and fat on Atlan with a beautiful and well-f****d woman at my side. I felt the snugness of the bands, felt the weight and finality of my decision and let it settle around my shoulders like a cloak. I took a deep breath, then another, and grunted once the cuffs were secure.
The doctor held out a matching set of smaller cuffs meant for my bride and I clipped them onto the belt at my waist. She’d don them and be free from the military immediately. To her commander,
