Chosen by Chigs (Paperback)

His duty is to rescue his fated mate, but a tiny human is stealing his heart.

After discovering her fiancé was taking part in Syndicorp's atrocities, Emmy’s done with men, done with heartache, and determined to help the rebels overthrow the corporation’s underhanded regime. When Chigs, a massive rebel gunner with a heart of gold, asks for help interpreting what he claims is a prophetic dream, she thinks his subconscious has dredged up clues that could locate a Syndicorp lab holding captive Denaidans.

Chigs is certain he’s been called to claim his fated mate among the captive females. But when he and Emmy are forced to pose as newlyweds on an undercover mission, Emmy’s intellect and courage ignite a war within his heart, making him doubt the path of destiny.

Caught in a dance of heated glances and unspoken desires, the two are pulled into a whirlwind of corporate secrets, forbidden kisses, and questionable loyalty. Will they surrender to their passion, or is destiny too powerful to resist?

Chigs stood motionless beside the sterile med bay cot, his face a hardened mask as he stared down at the copper-skinned denaidan woman. Beside him, Tovik shuffled his feet, the usual youthful mirth drained from his face.

Across the cot, Mek, the ship’s doctor, pulled the retractable arm of the med bay scanner out of the way, his usually clean-shaven face dark with several days of stubble. “Her neural pathways are fried, just like the others. Dollard’s experiments left nothing but husks.”

Chigs’s fists clenched involuntarily, feeling the weight of a thousand lost futures in the quiet rise and fall of the woman’s breath. Ellam Cua, how could you allow this to happen? To give us such hope, only to tear it away so cruelly?

Though her chest rose and fell, beneath her closed eyelids there was no flicker of consciousness, no trace of what should be a vibrant animating spirit. Several more women like this one had been returned to cryopods, awaiting a decision on what should be done.

“I thought we’d found our future.” Tovik’s voice hitched. “We only saved bodies, not lives. Not mates.”

A heavy silence settled between them, broken only by the relentless beep of the vital monitors.

“There has to be a way to reach them,” Chigs insisted. “We can’t abandon them to this empty existence.” He refused to give up, not when the nagging urge to locate his destined mate had become his singular driving force. Other males had discovered mates among the human women on their crew, but to Chigs, humans had always seemed too small, too fragile, to offer him a viable bed partner.

Mek sighed, his dark eyes clouded with resignation. “I’ll keep digging into the lab data, but we need to face reality. The odds of them ever waking are almost nil.”

Tovik turned away morosely. “I’ll get cryopod ready so she can rest with the others.”

Feeling useless, Chigs retreated with heavy footsteps, the corridors of the Icarus stretching out before him like the tunnels of some ancient crypt. His quarters offered little relief, the spacious confines now seeming too tight, too suffocating. He’d never had such lush accommodations in his life, but the captured Syndicorp flagship had enough officers’ quarters on board for each rebel to have their own suite. The Icarus—with its advanced technology, size, and weaponry—had become a floating base for the entire rebellion in their fight against the corporation that ruled the galaxy, and they’d executed several successful raids on Syndicorp facilities in the past few weeks.

Chigs had believed finding the denaidan females was an answer to their prayers; Syndicorp had exterminated all life on their home planet, and his species had believed their females were extinct. But instead of lighting divine hope among the rebels, the brain-dead women only served as a reminder for all that had been lost.

Chigs peered longingly at his rumpled bed, glimpsing his eyes, bloodshot with blue veins, in the mirror across the way. He needed to sleep, but dreaded the nightmares of women in cryopods that had been haunting him every night. He’d believed they were a sign he was destined to find his mate. Now, he could only think his god was playing tricks on him. Collapsing onto the edge of his bunk, he cradled his head in his copper-skinned hands. Deep breaths failed to ease the throbbing ache spreading through his skull.

“Ellam Cua, stop this torture.” He prayed that somewhere in the vastness of space, his deity was listening.

With a sigh, he lay back and closed his eyes, surrendering to the lull of sleep...

Devastation and decay surrounded Chigs, like the remnants of a city lost in time. Ahead, a dusty road faded into mist. His gorge rose in dreadful anticipation. He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to see this nightmare again. Yet his body felt numb as he glided forward on unmoving legs, the insistent breeze nudging him along until the road transformed into a long corridor with metal floors and pale, sterile walls. Rows of translucent, pod-like chambers caged him on either side. Harsh lighting glinted off the pods, hiding the contents, but he already knew what lay within.

His hearts pounded like twin fists in his chest, his mouth dry as sand as he tried to turn aside. Yet he was compelled to peer inside the nearest one. The copper-colored skin, perfect breasts, and curved hips of a denaidan female lay motionless behind the glass. Tubes and wires coiled around her like malevolent sea creatures. Her open eyes seemed to stare back at him with accusation.

He wanted to help her. To free her. But his movements weren’t his own. He moved to the next pod and the next, each one holding another female. Some resembled his mother, his aunt, his cousins, all long dead; lost in the destruction of his planet.

Through the mist, a familiar feminine voice whispered his name, the sound caressing his senses like a lover’s touch. He spun, searching for the source. So many pods. How was he supposed to find her? Yearning and anguish entwined his heart as he moved down the rows.

A bark of hoarse, male laughter echoed through the room, harsh and grating. Although Chigs had never met Dr. Dollard in person, he was certain that’s who the laughter belonged to—the scientist responsible for the atrocities committed against his people.

Rage burning in his gut like molten lead, Chigs whirled, bellowing, “You’re dead!” His voice reverberated off the sterile walls.

“You’ll never find her,” the voice cackled, mocking him. “Never...”