Prime Obsession:The Prime Chronicles 01(2)

By: Monette Michaels


“Sure. Fine,” she muttered as she struggled into the sheer silken chemise that had looked just right for a day by the pool, but now seemed all wrong for the coming confrontation. And that there would be a confrontation she had no doubt. Parker was a hothead; he wouldn’t back down. Dammit. “Garth is off tangling in the sheets with some tanned, voluptuous Tooh 2 cutie, and I get to clean up his mess.” Spying two other of her senior officers, she turned to Nowicki. “Get J’ar and A’tem.

Call for military security. Then clear the area around Parker. I don’t want any innocents hurt if the Prime decide to teach Parker a well-deserved lesson.”

“Captain, what are you gonna do? Maybe we should just let the Prime pound him.” Nowicki’s pale blue eyes glinted at the possibility.

“You didn’t wake me up so foreign dignitaries could beat up one of ours. You and I both know the Alliance does not need a galactic cluster fuck,” she stated. “The Prime are joining us after centuries of isolationism. We need their knowledge and skills in fighting the Antarean raiders. I’m still not sure what they need from us, but I do know the Galactic Alliance Counsel is thrilled that they’ve chosen to fight alongside us. But it isn’t a done deal.”

“Great,” snarled Nowicki. “So, you need to place yourself between Parker and danger—again—for the frigging peace of the galaxy. I should have just let you sleep and beat on the scum-sucking bastard myself.”

“You did the right thing. Parker would never have listened to you. Then you would’ve been thrown in the brig for fighting or, worse, injured, and I really would’ve been annoyed.” Raising one brow, she smiled. “Me? I outrank him. He hates my guts.

And has always underestimated me. Plus, I owe him,” she touched the healing scar again,

“and am hoping to have to use un reasonable force. So, your job is to keep everyone out of harm’s way. Understand?”

“Yeah, just be careful. He cheats.”

“I know. Now go!”

Striding toward the café, she opened up all six of her senses and observed the three Prime males, testing their emotional response to Parker’s insanity. The oldest one, the Ambassador—his name escaped her for the moment—spoke to Parker in what she could tell were low, calming tones. The Ambassador’s emotional aura read as cool and calm, a true diplomat. Not so for his two much younger associates; they were all red-hot anger barely controlled.

Knowing Parker, the diplomatic route would just set him off even more.

Mel approached the four men. Cautiously. Quietly. Her heightened senses became even more so as adrenaline poured into her system. Her heart pounded. She licked suddenly dry lips and took a deep, cleansing breath. Her muscles twitched, readying themselves for whatever might come.

As she’d expected, anger roiled off Parker in waves, probably exacerbated by alcohol consumption. She could smell him; it was as if he’d bathed in potent Tooh 2

whiskey. Alcohol notwithstanding, Parker always ran hot; his temper could boil over in a flash. Definitely not officer material. Coolness in the heat of battle was always best. He’d only made it to the rank of Ensign because of political connections. If he survived this incident, she’d have to insist he be sent away from the Mu Arae system. There was too much tension in this sector of the Milky Way as it was without adding loose cannons.

“Ensign Parker!” She stopped about three feet from his right side, in his peripheral line of sight. He’d have to turn his head to see her. “Stand down.”

“Go away, you fucking bitch!” he spat out. She could always count on Parker to be disrespectful, mentally adding insubordination to the list of charges against him. “This is a private conversation.”

“That’s Captain Fucking Bitch, to you, soldier.” All three Prime turned their attention away from Parker. They eyed her bikini-suited body inadequately covered by the thin shift. Their pale amber gazes turned molten hot, darkening to the color of aged single malt scotch. She could smell, almost taste, the adrenaline levels shoot up in all three men. Their gazes projected a complex mix of emotions—concern for her, anger at Parker, and lust for her body.

Great. This could get ugly fast. A damn disaster in the making.

Historically, male Prime were described as overprotective of females and needed few reasons to fight. Right now, they had the perfect trifecta of excuses to hand Parker his head on an ancient Prime battle lance. Documented as the oldest humanoid race in the galaxy, the Prime hadn’t survived this long without learning how to fight to win. They sure as heck didn’t need her, a mere Terran female, to fight their battles. Yet, Parker would be dead meat if she left them to it. And a horrible diplomatic mess would then ensue, that most likely was the only thing holding the Prime back—for now.

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