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    “You can’t go in there. You’ll get killed by the trap,” Huw yelled, avoiding the elbow Wulf threw at his jaw. “Trust in Melina. She can take them.” He roared and tossed his brothers aside then reached for the door again.
    “Stop it, Wulf,” Maren ordered, placing his body between Wulf and the door. “Or I’ll have you sedated. Do you want Melina to meet you the first time as you lie unconscious and in restraints?”
    Wulf shuddered as he shook off his lava-hot rage. “I’d bet you’d do it, too.” Maren nodded. “Yes, I would. Melina would not thank you for getting yourself killed.” He pointed to the screen. “See, one man is dead. The other soon will be. Watch and learn.” The amused older man then added, “And I would lose the I-am-your-lord-and-master tone of voice with her. She will not appreciate it. She is a warrior and leader in her world.”
    “She is Prime and my mate,” responded Wulf bluntly.
    “Ah, that is a mere fact of biology,” said Maren as he watched the screen with a slight smile on his face. “You need to add to those facts. She was raised by two Terrans who, to all accounts, loved her and gave her the best of everything. She was trained by the greatest military presence in the galaxy, besides the Prime, of course. And she commands more soldiers than you. She is more than a gemate , Wulf. You’ll have to accept that so that she will accept the biology.”
    Wulf merely grunted as he watched his tiny Melina finish off the smaller man with an efficient slit to his throat and then calmly wiped the blood off on her already bloody uniform.
    Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he shook off the lingering remnants of his rage—
    and fear. The connection between Melina and him that awakened upon her proximity and the sound of her voice was strong. He felt her satisfaction at successfully eliminating two more of the enemy. He also sensed her caution—and her pain and exhaustion—and her determination to reach him and his crew.
    Pride in her strength and courage threatened to choke him. She was a miracle. His miracle. And he would protect her whether she liked it or not.
    He did not like being afraid.

    Returning to the master computer panel to work on reprogramming the last trap, the deadliest trap, he snarled, “Someone find my mate some clean clothes. She’ll need something to wear by the time she gets here.” Then he muttered, “I’ll be damned if she wears bloody clothes around me.”
    Someone laughed. Wulf looked around for the guilty party, but saw only blankly schooled faces.
    * * * *
     
    Mel saluted the camera. “Thanks for the two clicks. It helped.”
    “No problem, Melina.” Iolyn replied, not Wulf.
    “Iolyn, what happened to your grouchy brother?”
    She thought Iolyn might have choked back a laugh, but that could be static. The communications were still scratchy at times. “He’s trying to reprogram the last trap.”
    “Reprogram? I don’t like the sound of that,” she said as she walked along the tunnel, trusting in Iolyn to warn her of any trouble ahead. “What’s wrong?”
    “Three of the traps were sabotaged,” explained Iolyn. “We think so that we couldn’t use the tunnels to get out and make surgical strikes on the pirates. Wulf killed the traitor before he could shut down our other security measures on the engine room door.”
    “O-o-kay. So, you’re telling me I have to work my way through three traps to get to you?”
    “Yes.” That was Wulf’s voice. He was angry again. At her—or the situation?
    “ Ansu bhau, ” she swore. Seemed a fitting time for her first use of the Prime vulgarity. “Okay, tell me what is coming up, and how I can get through it in one fairly whole piece.” She patted her fanny pack. “By the way, this pack has ear-com units that are programmed for a rotating communication frequency. You’ll need them to bring my men in to help you—if something happens to me.”
    “Nothing. Is. Going. To. Happen.