Alien Lord's Captive, Page 2

  He wasn’t human.

  For all she knew he could have two cocks. Her head began to swim… his face wavering in and out of focus. What was wrong with her?

  He smiled, tiny lines appearing around his eyes and reached up with his free hand to touch her cheek.

  “Ve’lani,” he murmured and bent his head to claim her lips.

  Which was when her head decided that enough consciousness was enough and dropped her back into the darkness.

  It was her. The deliciously curved, little human female was the one they were looking for.

  As soon as the signal came through from one of Karryl’s avie-pilots that he’d found a voice match, Tarrick had set off at a run across the flight deck. The human women scattered this way and that, but he ignored them. Now the property of the Lathar, they needed to get used to warriors running about, since most would end up claimed by one eventually.

  He reached the avatar-bot, and a surge of anger filled him that the pilot had the little female pinned down by her throat. That didn’t stop her fighting back though. Amusement filled him for a second as she screamed right in the face of the avatar. She had no way of knowing, but that kind of high-pitched sound would overload the bot’s auditory sensors and give the pilot an earful of static.

  “Let her go, now,” he ordered and the pilot released his grip. Instantly, the woman bolted from beneath it. The bots weren’t sexual in any way, shape, or form, but he still didn’t like the sight of her pinned beneath it like that. She scuttled across the floor on her ass toward him, hand brushing his boot. Within a heartbeat, she clambered up him, her small, trembling body pressed against his as she used him for balance.

  His protective instincts surged to the fore and he wrapped an arm around her waist. He hadn’t realized when she was lying down but standing and pressed against him, he became aware of just how small she really was. Child-like tiny, but the body under his hands was all woman. All. Woman.

  His cock surged to life at the touch of her small hands, even as the violent trembles that raked her body triggered his primal male need to protect. She was fixated on the avie-bot, still crouched a few steps from them, the pilot no doubt in a panic that he’d angered Tarrick. His men both respected and feared him in equal measure. He was fair, to a point, but a man’s claimed woman was an entirely different matter and to lay hands on one without permission…

  She looked up at him and all such matters were instantly wiped from his mind. Dark curls surrounded her small, heart-shaped face, falling around her shoulders in glorious disarray. Dark brown, with hints of red and black, it was a color he’d never seen before. Lathar hair was one color, no tones, didn’t shimmer and entice the touch of his hands like hers. But her hair paled in comparison to her eyes, a warm color that reminded him of the forests near his home. Of the soft leaves of the Herris blossom tree at the bottom of his father’s garden and the smile of his mother, a fading but cherished memory now.

  Blood still covered her temple and cheek, which worried him, but he couldn’t resist reaching out to touch her soft skin, smiling to ease the fear he saw in her eyes.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered, wishing he knew enough of her language to reassure her everything would be okay now. That she was safe in his arms…in his bed.

  Touch led to other needs and the urge to claim her lips overwhelmed him. A willing slave to the impulse, he leaned down and brushed her lips with his. They were soft and warm, and her soft intake of breath urged him on.

  A groan welled up in his chest as her lips became pliant. She welcomed his touch…immediately submissive. Triumph swelled within him and he tugged her closer to deepen the kiss. Then her head fell back, her body heavy in his arms.

  She’d slipped back into unconsciousness.

  “Fuck,” he hissed, gathering her limp form into his arms. “If you’ve damaged her in any way,” he growled at the crouching avatar, knowing the pilot could hear him. “Then you’d better start praying to the gods. Hear me?”

  The bot tucked its head, movement relayed from its pilot to avoid looking Tarrick in the face. He strode past it, toward the flyers he and his warriors used to board the base. “Alert Healer Laarn that his services are required, and start loading the women. Leave the men, they’re worthless.”

  His warriors scrambled to do his bidding, and Tarrick ducked his head to step into the flyer, his precious bundle in his arms.

  “Back to the Velu’vias,” he ordered the pilot and settled himself into one of the jump seats behind the cockpit. He didn’t bother strapping in, not for the short journey back to the destroyer. Not like anyone was going to attack with the might of a Lathrian war group surrounding the base.

  He looked at the woman in his arms. She lay curled in his lap. A perfect fit, as though she belonged there, and again, he marveled at how small she was. How perfectly formed. Dark eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks and he could see the steady beat of the pulse in her throat. His panic over her collapse receded a little. Stress perhaps? Latharian women, when still in existence, had been delicate creatures. Highly strung, they’d been susceptible to stress, which explained the highly protective instincts of the male warriors. His little female need not worry about anything ever again, he vowed, holding her carefully. She was his and he would do anything to protect such a precious gift from the Goddesses.

  The journey to his flagship, the Velu’viass, was brief. The pilot had no sooner engaged the engines before he was throttling back to bring the transporter to a soft landing in the main flight bay. Tarrick gathered the woman securely into his arms and stood, nodding to the pilot as he exited the craft. He didn’t voice his approval of the smooth ride or otherwise indicate his mood. It would be neither expected nor looked for. Their culture was hard and if his warriors didn’t perform as expected, he’d replace them.

  His boots rang out on the deck as he headed through the corridors toward the healing bay. No one mentioned the fact he carried the human woman in his arms, and any curiosity was carefully kept under wraps. As a K’Vass and the commander to boot, his actions were beyond question.

  Apart from for one person anyway…

  He strode through the doors to the healing bay and laid the human on the nearest diagnostic unit before lifting his head to yell. “Laarn! Get your lazy ass out here!”

  Like the rest of the ship, the healing bay was devoid of luxuries and decoration. Each bed unit was set in an alcove created by the internal bulkheads and support structures. Summoned by his shout, a tall figure stepped around the corner at the end of the bay. Broad shouldered with the build of a warrior, he wore a warrior’s leathers like Tarrick, but with the teal sash of a healer instead of red for command. Except for the long hair and the fact his eyes were green instead of gold, Tarrick might as well have been looking in a mirror.

  “Lazy?” His twin raised an eyebrow as he strolled closer. “Do you have any idea of the delicate experiments your bellow just destroyed?”

  “Will you ever learn to respect your Lord, healer?” Tarrick demanded, but his lip was already beginning to quirk up into a smile.

  “When you learn to respect your elders, pup,” Laarn snorted his standard response. Born a few minutes before Tarrick, he often reminded his brother of the fact. Even as he spoke though, Laarn’s attention wasn’t on Tarrick, but on the still form of the woman on the bed. “What have you brought me this time? You really should resist picking up every waif and stray you find, you know.”

  “Asshole healer.”

  “Dickhead warrior.”

  The affectionate banter trailed off as Laarn stepped forward to the side of the unit. Recognizing the presence of the healer, the diagnostic bed flared to life. A holofield covered the form on the bed in an arc of shimmering blue. Symbols that meant nothing to Tarrick crawled over its translucent surface.

  “This is one of the humans?” Laarn asked as a diagram of the woman’s skeleton formed on the display. Leaning forward, Laarn tucked a long strand of hair behind his ear as he examine
d the skull area. Tarrick leaned in and breathed a sigh of relief when there was no apparent damage.

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re sure it’s fully grown?” Laarn’s fingers moved on the input panel and the machine scanned her bodily systems.

  “Have you actually looked at her? Instead of those dry readouts?” Tarrick raised his eyebrow. “Any idiot can see she’s an adult.”

  Laarn snorted. It was his default expression around his brother. “Yeah. Well, not every species expresses maturity in the same way. For all we know, what we consider a physically mature appearance might be a juvenile for her species.”

  No. There was no way she could be a juvenile. The fates couldn’t be so cruel as to present him with a female who finally interested him, tugged at his soul, for her to be a child.

  “No…they all looked like this. And some of them were warriors as well, so unless their species sends its children to war, she has to be an adult.”

  “Hmmm…Yeah, I think you’re right.” Laarn intently studied a list scrolling over the display. “All the hormones and neurotransmitters are very similar to ours, and would suggest she is mature.”

  Snapping off the holo display, Laarn moved around her, running strong hands down her limbs to check for breaks. Tarrick had seen him do this often with other patients. Even though he used the diagnostic beds a lot, Laarn never trusted them, saying they weren’t as sensitive as a healer’s hands.

  Tarrick gritted his teeth as the urge to knock his twin aside and snatch the woman out of his grasp assailed him. He trusted Laarn more than he did the rest of his sworn warriors, so his jealousy was out of character.

  “And what were you doing when she passed out?”

  “Err,” Tarrick paused for a moment. “Kissing her.”

  Laarn stopped his examination to look up. “So…her base has been attacked by technologically advanced beings, she’s sustained injuries in said attack, then is captured by an avatar-bot…which, in case you failed to realize is probably the stuff of nightmares for her. Then you, an alien, kisses her…” He blew out a breath, blowing the bangs out of his face. “Goddesses, give me strength, were you born an idiot, or are you making a special effort today?”

  The machine beeped before Tarrick could reply, and Laarn’s brows snapped together when he read the message on the display. “That’s odd.”

  “What is?” Tarrick crowded forward.” Is she okay?”

  She had to be okay. He needed her to talk to him, needed to try to figure out why her voice called to him so much.

  “Get your fat ass out of the cleaner field. You don’t know where she’s been and I’m not letting her loose until she’s clean down to her skin.” Laarn waved him back irritably as he studied the machines readouts, and then grunted. “Nope. The machine is wrong. I’ll run it through maintenance routines later.”

  Stepping to the side, he prepped two medi-patches before pushing up one of her sleeves and pressing them to her skin. Almost instantly, the patches turned translucent and dissolved beneath the surface.

  “Standard biotic in case she’s brought anything aboard or reacts badly to anything onboard. I’ve also added a shot of ker’ann; I assume you intend to bed her. She’s so small, she’ll need a little help if you expect her to take you,” Laarn said, his light eyes unreadable. “The second contains a neuro-translator. It’ll make its way to the correct area in her cortex and install our common languages. From the scans, we shouldn’t have any problems with linguistic compatibility.”

  “Excellent. My thanks.” Tarrick stepped forward, unable to wait to get her into his arms again.

  “You’re welcome. Are… are there more like her?”

  Tarrick stopped, his little human in his arms and halfway off the bed, to look at his twin. “There are. Why?”

  Although they were near identical, and Laarn was easily as deadly a warrior as Tarrick himself, he’d never once expressed an interest in females. Oh, he had all the male drives, but Tarrick got the feeling it had always been a physical function for Laarn, rather than a pleasure.

  Laarn shrugged, picking at an invisible speck of lint on his sash. “They’re different. New. Interesting. I might want one for study.”

  “Just for study?” Tarrick grinned, holding his woman closer. “And there are, but you might want to get down to the holding cells quickly. More than one warrior has his eye on claiming a human.”

  3

  Cat hadn’t had many concussions in her life, but she knew what they felt like. This, when she awoke on a large, soft bed to see a steel beamed roof above her, was not how they felt. The fuzziness and weird feeling was there, but everything else, the pain and nausea, was absent.

  That blessing paled into insignificance though as she realized she was being watched.

  In a chair opposite sat the largest man she’d ever seen. With a gasp she pushed upright and scuttled backward until she hit the headboard. He studied her, an unreadable expression on his face. Hand shaking, she shoved her hair out of her face.

  “Who are you? Where am I?”

  Keeping him in her line of sight, she risked a quick look around. They were alone in what looked like a bedroom. Memory filtered back and her blood ran cold. The attack on the base, the metal monsters—robots she now realized—and…the alien who had kissed her.

  Him.

  “Tarrick.”

  “Say what?” She blinked in surprise, attention all on him again. He hadn’t moved, but only an idiot would think he wasn’t a threat. Danger clung to him like a second skin, inherent in every line of the big, muscled body. With those golden, slitted eyes, so odd in what looked like a very human face, he reminded her of a big cat.

  Would he eat her all up? Heat hit her cheeks, her body humming as she pushed the thought away. He wasn’t human, so who was to say his idea of sex would be the same as hers? For all she knew, she could be the appetizer for his main meal or something.

  “Tarrick,” he growled the word again, but before she could ask, he spoke again. “It’s my name. Yours?”

  Name. He wanted her name. She allowed herself a small sigh of relief. Okay, that boded well. Most people didn’t introduce themselves to their meals. With the introduction, she realized he spoke perfect English. Fuck, she was so screwed.

  “Moore, Cat. Sergeant. Three-seven-five-alpha-four-seven-nine,” she replied automatically. She’d slipped up by asking him questions, Terran fleet protocol was to give out only the mandated information.

  He shifted, gaze still on her. Was that a hint of a smile she saw on his lips before he covered them with his hand?

  “Your people use numbers as names, Moore Cat?”

  She treated him to the “Moore look,” a gift from her grandmother, and lifted a hand to check her temple. She’d fallen, she remembered the feeling of blood running down her cheek. But there was nothing. She looked at her fingers in confusion. Okay…

  “My healer sorted your injuries, little Moore Cat. Does it still hurt?”

  His voice was closer. She looked up and stifled a gasp to see him leaning forward, arms rested on his knees. The leather top he wore pulled against the heavy muscle of his shoulders and arms, but it was his look that was more intimating. Utter focus. On her. It was like being viewed under a microscope. Unsettling.

  “Moore, Cat. Sergeant. Three-seven-five-alpha-four-seven-nine,” she repeated, stubbornly. Alien dude might be the hottest thing she’d ever seen, even with those weird eyes and all muscled, but that didn’t mean he was getting any information out of her.

  “Really? You think I don’t know a standard response when I hear it?” His lips quirked again and he sat back. Amusement danced in his expression. “Little human, I’m not trying to get information out of you. I’ll have all the information I want once my AI reconstructs your computer core.”

  “Reconstruct?” She allowed herself a small smile. “Hard to reconstruct from data that’s no longer there.”

  “No longer there?” He rubbed strong fingers agai
nst what looked like an equally strong jaw with just a bit of a five o’clock shadow. “Now why would that be a problem? Your computer is ridiculously simple, it won’t take the AI long to reconstruct the deleted data from the traces in the system.”

  Her blood ran cold. If they could get that data back…they could find the other bases, even find Earth.

  “You can’t…it’s deleted,” she whispered. “I deleted it myself. Directly in the computer core.”

  “You? A female?” He blinked, apparently surprised, then smiled. “Do you take me for a fool? No commander would trust a female with such an important task, women are too delicate.”

  So sexy alien was a chauvinistic asshole. He lost some sex appeal for that. She gave him the look again for good measure.

  “Does it still hurt?” He nodded toward her head, a look of concern on his face.

  Debating for a moment, she gave a little shake. What could it matter if she admitted that? Not like it was giving away any secrets. “No. Your healer is excellent at his job. Normally I’d have a headache after a knock like that.”

  Anger tightened his features for a moment, and she was reminded even though this chat was pleasant, he was an alien. Of a species she’d never seen before. Oh, she’d seen the more primitive species the fleet had discovered in its travels, but humanity had gotten used to being the top dog in the area.

  Until today.

  “I regret that you suffered an injury,” he said tightly.

  She drew back, wariness running down her spine. With the danger that emanated from him, she didn’t want to risk his anger turning toward her.