Prime Obsession:The Prime Chronicles 01

By: Monette Michaels


Melina Dmitros is a seasoned battleship captain for the Galactic Alliance. Calls from ships in distress are not all that uncommon in the outermost spirals of the Milky Way.

Calls from the warlike Prime were. Now that they were allies, Mel figures she’d better get used to working in conjunction with the chauvinistic race. She never expected to be attracted to one of them.

The Prime, one of the oldest species in the galaxy, were known for going their own way. But with problems on Cejuru Prime and increasing attacks by the Antareans, the Prime joined the Alliance to lend their expertise in battling the warlike reptilian species—

and ultimately, to survive as a race.

Captain Wulf Caradoc, the eldest son and heir apparent of the Prime leader, looked forward to the trip to the Alliance ambassadorial planet. His mission is ostensibly to deliver the diplomatic team to the new Prime embassy. His real mission is to meet his fated mate, his gemate, one of the Lost Ones. Wulf hadn’t anticipated the diplomatic mission being attacked by pirates—and he especially hadn’t anticipated his gemate, Melina Dmitros, being the one sent to rescue his ship.

Two strong people pulled together by biology and fate. Their union       will be forged in a crucible of survival, treachery and duty.


This book could never have been written without the help of my critique buddy Sherry Crane and early critical advice from Bonnie Dee and Jayelle Drury. I would also like to thank my two beta-readers for their comments and encouragement: Laura Adlam and Holly Shelley. And, as always, thanks to my editor Terri Schaefer, who manages to find all my mistakes. Special thanks to Geoffrey Kidd, proofer extraordinaire, and his spot-on suggestions.

Finally, I dedicate this book to my friend and fellow author, Linnea Sinclair, who writes the best damn science fiction romance in the universe.

Chapter One

A resort on Tooh 2, Mu Arae Solar System

“Captain! Captain! Mel! Dammit, wake up!”

Galactic Alliance Captain Melina Grace Dmitros roused from her light nap in the sun. The tenseness in her second-in-command’s voice was vastly different than the relaxed, jovial mood from their earlier lunch with fellow officers. If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought they were back on the command deck of their battle cruiser Leonidas and not lying by a pool in a seaside resort on the garden planet of Tooh 2.

Turning her head slightly to the right, she growled, “What is it, Nowicki?”

“We’ve got a problem!”

Commander Royce Nowicki angled his head toward the poolside café where only ninety minutes earlier they’d officially kicked off Gold Squadron’s three-day leave. Prior to this well-deserved vacation, they, and Captain Garth Warten’s Blue Squadron, had spent three standard months chasing pirates all over the Mu Arae Solar System.

Mel did not want to hear about a problem. Not one. But Nowicki’s body language told her she needed to deal with whatever was bothering him. He did not raise false alarms.

Following Nowicki’s gaze, she not only saw, but heard the problem.

Ensign Steve Parker of Blue Squadron was in the process of taunting and threatening three large men. From the look of their clothing, they were part of some diplomatic team.

Great, just what she needed, a political powder keg.

Removing her dark sunshades, she squinted more closely at the objects of Parker’s drunken rage. Depending on the race, the problem could be more or less serious.

It was more.

“Well, hell. Count on Parker to pick on the new Cejuru Prime ambassador to the Alliance. Is he suicidal or what?” She turned her head and glared at Nowicki. “And, dammit, how in the blazes did Parker get off Tooh 10? I thought he’d been confined to quarters for that last bout of insubordination.”

“Insubordination?” sputtered Nowicki, his eyes fiery with remembered rage. “The cretin almost got you killed!”

Mel rubbed her side where the healing wound was now merely a faint scar. The regen bed had done wonders for the superficial healing, but the underlying muscles and nerves were still knitting back together. Nature could only be helped along so much.

“Warten convinced me that he’d handle the matter. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. But, at the very least, Parker was to be confined to quarters while the Admiral and Warten decided what to do with him.”

She scanned the pool area for Parker’s commanding officer as she reached for her cover-up. Settling potential galactic incidents in a bikini was not protocol.

“Warten’s not here,” Nowicki stated what she had already determined for herself.

“He left the café after lunch, said something about a date with a pillow.”