The Voraxian king has come again—and this time, he's come for me. I've got no desire to be claimed by the alien king. Blue skin, seven feet, and strapped with muscle, I've seen what his kind does to humans. And I don't care that he watches me with hunger.

Echo knew that being caught by a ruling Berserker would mean becoming his pawn, a plaything to be used for her powers. That wouldn’t be her fate. She’d rather run lost through the woods forever, dangerous though they may be. But there’s something even more sinister than beasts and Berserkers lurking in the woods. Something both undead and deadly. She can’t fight it alone. She’ll have to turn to the Berserker who’s caught the trail of her scent and won’t let it go. He says she’s his. She says never. He says forever.

R'jaal has waited many turns of the seasons for his khui to resonate, only to be disappointed time and time again. But when he is taken captive by strange beings hiding in the very tunnels of the fruit caves, he wakes up to find himself in a strange underground cage. Also in the cage? A very pretty unfamiliar human female. She says her name is Rosalind. She makes his khui sing. It's finally his time. There's a big problem, though—Rosalind has no khui of her own. And if she doesn't get one soon, she could die.

The blue alien warrior pacing in his cage terrifies me. His long dark hair is wild and messy, and his scarred body looks made for murder. I deliver food to him every day, and I'm sure by the way he stares at me that he'd rather eat me. Yet there's something about him that captivates me, and I can't stop watching him. When he lets the snarling, fearsome mask slip, I start to see there's a cool calculation to his actions. I would be risking everything to help him escape, but do I dare let this monster free from his cage?

As the first humans allowed in Suevan space, there’s a lot riding on my all-woman team. Earth desperately needs their tech, and I’m determined to prove we can negotiate the price. Without their planetary defense systems, Earth is a sitting duck, ripe for invasion. Except the Suevan culture is nothing like ours. When I take part in what I think is a welcoming ceremony, I leave with more than I bargained for: a husband. A mate. Apparently, we’re there to marry them as payment—something the top brass on Earth doesn’t bother denying. Fantastic.