Mated to the Beast of the Wasteland (Gillian and Merrick) novel Chapter 6

Tristan Lawson watched the female standing in front of him drag on forever at the counter. Even his usually ample patience had worn thin.

He was about to step forward and speak when she finally finished. She turned, flashed the soldier a bright smile, and left with the elderly woman.

He clamped his mouth shut and stepped up to the counter.

"I need a replacement S-class wrist terminal," he told the beastman.

"Sorry, Major Lawson, but your rank doesn't qualify you for an S-class wrist terminal," the beastman replied after checking the system.

His tone was crisp and businesslike, a stark contrast to the warm, friendly grin he'd just given Gillian.

"I have a direct order from the Commander," Tristan said smoothly. He slid an authorization form onto the counter.

The beastman checked the document and confirmed it was legitimate.

"My apologies, sir. But the last S-class wrist terminal on this shuttle was just issued moments ago."

"What do you mean? The system showed one in stock only minutes ago," Tristan snapped.

Then it hit him. That woman took the last one.

He spun around, but she and her companion were already gone.

"Sir, there are no more S-class wrist terminals aboard. You can submit a new request at the main depot once we reach Wasteland City. Processing usually takes around fifteen days," the soldier explained, polite but firm.

"Who was that female? Why was she approved for an S-class wrist terminal?" Tristan demanded.

"Her mate's rank fully qualifies her, sir."

"What's his name?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I can't reveal that information."

The beastman spoke politely and evenly, his smile calm and professional.

Tristan brushed a hand over his own wrist. Knowing further argument was useless, he snatched back his authorization form and left without another word.

*****

The past two days aboard the shuttle had been dull, but Gillian didn't mind at all.

Compared to the life she'd lived through in Wasteland City, this was practically paradise.

Gillian said, "Grandma, I'm going to get dinner. We'll be landing in Wasteland City before midnight."

"All right, Gillian. I won't wander off," Mabel promised.

"I know you're getting a little bored," Gillian said softly. "Our application for base housing in Wasteland City got approved. Once we settle in, we can grow things. I bought plenty of seeds for you. You can plant whatever flowers you want."

Mabel's tired face lit up at once. "Really? Then I'll finally have something proper to do!"

A male voice scoffed nearby, "Hmph. Good at sweet-talking an old lady. Wasteland City is exactly what it sounds like—a wasteland. Nothing grows there, let alone flowers."

The sleep pod across from Gillian hissed open.

A man in a black military uniform stepped out. The dark uniform suited him.

His hair wasn't the standard short military cut. It was curly and a little longer.

He looked at people with a lazy, evaluating gaze, like a scheming fox.

His gaze fell on the wrist terminal on Gillian's arm, and he froze.

The plain, unadorned device looked better on her wrist than any expensive bracelet.

Tristan's face darkened. That was supposed to be my S-class wrist terminal.

Reapplying would take another fifteen days. He couldn't wait that long. His father would drag him back home long before then.

Gillian didn't even glance his way.

Who I choose to make happy is none of his business.

I should've requested a private cabin.

Is even a 9th Legion shuttle stuck with some idiot?

"Grandma, make sure the pod is sealed," Gillian said calmly.

She shot Mabel a look that said to ignore strangers.

So rude. Tristan frowned as he watched her leave.

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