Fated Mate Conquered - Luna Voss Page 0,12

exchange glances. I get the impression that meeting women is pretty much the only thing they came here for. Well, too bad. When I’m around, there are consequences for not treating people the right way.

Especially women.

Especially Vostra women.

“Give me your Imperial ID cards,” I order, extending my hand.

“What? Why?” sputters the one with the messed-up nose.

I point my gun at him and raise my eyebrows. “Your ID cards. Now.”

Grudgingly, the three men pull their ID cards out of their wallets and hand them to me. I take the time to read their names, then slip them into my pocket.

“I can’t believe this,” mutters Henry under his breath. “My father is going to—”

I sweep his leg out from under him, sending him sprawling to the ground. He lands hard on his ass, and my boot is on his chest before he can even raise his head. I stand over him, grinding his ribcage into the floor with my boot.

“I will make your father my bitch,” I snarl, “if he ever comes near me or my associates. I’m part of a world you couldn’t begin to understand. A world that isn’t kind to weak, pathetic little humans who think they’re tough guys.” I keep grinding my boot into him, letting him feel my full weight. “You can tell your daddy about this if you want to. If he’s smart, he’ll tell you the same thing I’m telling you now: do not ever fuck with the Vostra.”

I see fear in each of their eyes as they hear me name the criminal organization I represent. I’m glad it had the intended effect. They would be stupid not to be scared. Holstering my weapon, I remove my foot from Henry’s chest and walk calmly over to the door.

“It was nice meeting you gentlemen,” I say with an icy smile as I exit the room. “Touch either of those women again, and you’re going to die cold and alone in some far-off asteroid belt where they will never find your bodies.”

6

Kora

Over the next few weeks, I ignore Turan like the plague, unable to even meet his eyes, much less spend time in the same room with him. I feel so humiliated to have been punished by him like that, and mortified that he might have noticed my arousal. As far as I’m concerned, my life would be a lot better if he didn’t exist at all.

On one particular evening, I’m sitting with Aspen in one of the living rooms in the mansion when Milana enters. Milana Vultior is an assassin for the Butarza Family, a newly made member, and highly respected. And not just respected by the other vostrata: as a woman who has achieved high status in this world, she’s someone Aspen and I look up to very much.

“Hey!” she greets us with a smile. “Geddion told me you two were up here. I heard I got you in trouble last week with the funnel cake.”

Milana is referring to the recent incident in Dartyr. She was the one who originally recommended the food truck we were trying to eat at when Turan caught us.

“It was our fault,” says Aspen with a chuckle. “It’s not like you forced us to try to go get some.”

“Well, I thought I would try and make it up to you,” says Milana, sitting down on the couch and putting down three cartons of food. “Three Dajorkan funnel cakes, straight from the food truck! I got chocolate, original, and fuvalberry. Dig in!”

Aspen and I don’t need to be told twice before we start chowing down on the funnel cakes. I guess I didn’t even think about it amid the drama of being spanked for the first time, but I never did actually get to try them. And goddamn, are they good.

“These would have been worth getting in trouble over,” Aspen laughs, her mouth completely full. “The fuvalberry one is so fucking good.”

“Try the chocolate,” says Milana. “That’s my favorite.”

We keep eating the funnel cakes, talking and laughing with Milana. I’m glad for her company. There aren’t usually a ton of women around here. I’m also nervous, because I’m working up the courage to ask her about something that’s been gnawing at me for the last week or two. Something I wish I could ask my mother about, if she were still alive.

I decide to open the topic slowly: “Do you think you’ll ever let someone mark you?” I ask Milana nervously.

Aspen snorts.

“Doubt it,” Milana laughs. “They’d have to dominate me first,