Gwen has been living a life of duty and responsibility. Her first Alliance assignment was as an Enforcer, her next the polar opposite, Matchmaker. She has fought rabid crowds with ease and control, but facing an endless supply of bridezillas is too much to handle when her old boss comes knocking. Etien Mathijen has pulled in every favour he was owed to get his true mate to his planet in a capacity where he can court her. Now he just has to get her cooperation and they will be able to live happily ever after. With her mind on duty and responsibility, can he crack her shell of reserve in time to save her from her own mindless obedience?

Excerpt:

It took her alarm clock three tries to get her out of her bed and into the shower. She moved quickly to make up for lost time, scrubbing her teeth with the minty-fruity paste that passed for toothpaste on Raxos.

Her brown hair fought the brush, but she got it arranged in a formal but relaxed twist. A headpiece that she had gotten from a friend back as an Enforcer kept the fine strands from flying away. Beads and flat panels of shells covered her forehead and kept folks from staring into her eyes, a very handy thing when she tended to start rifling through open minds when they stared at her.

Her formal gown was next, a simple white dress with a dusty violet tone. She slipped on knee-high boots under the gown and then shrugged on her open outer robes.

Gwen quickly checked her chronometer. She had five minutes to spare.

She waited in her kitchen, her small travel bag with long gloves ready while she had a drink of water. A light outside her building tipped her off to her ride’s arrival.

She drew on her gloves against the early morning chill and picked up her bag as she walked to the door. She opened the door and saw the shadowed figure waiting by the skimmer. “Are you my ride?”

She heard a smile in his voice. “I am here to take you to Tomas’s wedding. Anything after that will depend on how much you drink.”

She caught the reference and snickered as she let the figure assist her into the skimmer. She was in the back seat and buckled in before he had resumed his seat in the pilot’s area.

“How soon until we arrive?”

“You can have a nap, Matchmaker Steryio.” He lifted them smoothly from the open field in the centre of her cul-de-sac. Hers was the only home in the area, so there was no worries about waking the neighbours.

She settled down in the comfortable seat and dozed off as he flew them around the city and into the mountains.

“Gwen, time to wake up.”

She obviously didn’t respond fast enough as he tipped the skimmer from left to right to wake her. She yelped and clutched the arms of her chair.

“What was that for?”

“Time to wake up, Enforcer. Your public awaits.”

His voice was familiar. “Do I know you?”

He didn’t say a word, merely landed the skimmer and opened the pilot’s door. He was gone only a few seconds when the passenger door swung open.

In the light of pre-dawn, she swallowed heavily as the man in her dreams stood in front of her. “Commander Mathijen?”

“Etien, please. I am retired from active service.” He extended his hand and she took it blankly, letting him draw her out of the skimmer.

Her heart was pounding in a runaway beat. “I was not expecting to see you again.”

“Well, I was expecting to see you. Please, the ceremony is about to begin.”

She took his arm and let him lead her through the darkness to the ceremonial grounds. The Oefric liked to start their events before dawn. It indicated life starting in darkness and developing through the day, only to fade in the evening.

The crowd was silent—meditation was how all were expected to spend their time before the start of the event.

Etien helped her to a kneeling pad and he knelt next to her. Her robes and gown foamed around her knees and she settled in, her mind whirling.

He was here. He was next to her and she was bound by the Citadel from pursuing him romantically. There was no restraint against him pursuing her, but she didn’t have the nerve to consider that option.