They don’t implant unless they choose you. Mara’s just a xenobiologist cataloging dormant alien eggs… until one pulses to life beneath her hand. It doesn’t just react—it marks her. Branded low on her pelvis with a glowing sigil, she’s suddenly no longer a scientist. She’s a vessel. Now the Hive knows. Every drone scents the mark—and every one wants to finish what the egg started. Drawn into a sensual labyrinth of ovi-prep, breeding heat, and possessive drone worship, Mara’s body begins to change. Her resistance unravels. Her instincts twist. And as the Hive’s queen watches with knowing eyes, Mara learns one This was never about study. It was about selection. And she’s already been chosen.