by Loki Renard
The Alien King’s Prey
Royal Aliens
Loki Renard
Bad Girl Books
Copyright © 2020 by Loki Renard
All rights reserved.
Cover images via @depositphotos.com
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 1
She couldn’t run fast enough.
Behind her, saplings snapped and the world pounded beneath the feet of the crowned predator who had her scent and would not stop the hunt until he was sated.
He was close.
Growling inhalations followed by the bellowed exhalations seemed to touch the back of her neck, an unnatural shadow falling over her, blanking out what was left of the frightened sun.
Still she ran.
She ran even though running was pointless. Even though it was inevitable that she would be captured and no doubt consumed in some way which would leave her nothing more than a ragged remnant of the hearty young woman she was now in these, her last moments in which innocence was being ripped away with every panicked step.
“Go away!”
The words were so pathetically useless, hurled into the air and whipped away moments later by the wind and the snarling of the creature behind her.
“GO AWAY!”
Screaming them louder only made her out of breath and depleted her dwindling reserves of energy. This was a persistence hunter, one who would run her until she lay panting on the forest floor, unable to stop what was going to happen to her.
Then the beast could take his time. He could do with her as he willed. No matter how painful it was, or how it humiliated her human sense of dignity, everything would be stripped away from her.
She knew that with the same instinct a mouse knows to scurry away from the path of a cat.
She was fast, but he was faster.
She was fit, but he was fitter.
She could flit through the trees and underbrush, but the monster simply came through them. Living wood splintered where he ran, moving through the world like a raging bull.
Iris could not spare a moment to look back, but she knew what he looked like. His appearance had been burned into her mind’s eye.
He was a massive beast. Almost like a man, but so much more than any man could ever be. Blue eyes. Slitted vertical pupils. Scaling over his shoulders, back, and neck. He was a monster in every sense, a king from another star descended to her human world to ravage it - and her.
A human would call out to her, tell her to stop. But this thing behind her, this massive monster with broad shoulders and long legs, an unnatural amount of physical power, it did not bother to speak.
He was going to hunt her down.
He was going to absolutely destroy her, as he had destroyed everything she ever cared about.
She could not keep this pace up much longer. He had to know that. And she knew that he could outpace her easily. He was chasing her because he enjoyed it. Because letting her run was the same thing as making her run.
The woods she had played in when she was very young had turned cold and dark with the setting of the sun, lit by the remnants of fire which still blazed behind them, but she knew where she was going.
Iris dipped into what might be the last hope of escape, a small tunnel which ran between the trees. A long time ago it had been used to carry water. Now it was dry. She had to go down on hands and knees and scuttle along as fast as she could.
There was some chance of escape this way. The monster couldn’t fit in this tunnel. She wondered, for a moment, if she should stop and simply hide in the tunnel, wait him out. But then she remembered what he was capable of doing, how he had turned her entire life into ashes, and she knew she had to keep going. This old tunnel would not serve as protection for long.
He was able to see through trees. He could command beasts of the sky. He could sniff his prey at a thousand paces, and she had no doubt that he would be waiting at the end, a gaping maw, sharp claws, scales which reflected the corona of sunlight left in the destruction he had left behind him.
There was light at the end of the passage. A slim circle of what might be escape. She couldn’t risk hope and she didn’t have time for fear. She moved as fast as she could, knowing that every scuffled motion brought her closer to the end of the chase.
Iris reached the end and burst out the other side. Perhaps she should have hesitated, waited to see if he was there, if she could smell him or hear him or… it didn’t matter, because she didn’t stop. She only knew how to run, and so run she did - right into the grasp of the monster.
His hand wrapped around her wrist and her momentum made her whip around him, a helpless rag doll flailing amid the leaves. The predator kept a firm hold of her, stopping her from flying off into any of the solid trunks which would not doubt crack her skull or break her bones if she were to hit them.
He tossed her down on the ground at his feet, knocking the air out of her, but leaving her physically otherwise intact.
Unable to breathe properly, she covered her face with her arms, wanting to save herself from seeing what would happen next. She couldn’t stop him from hurting her, but she didn’t have to participate in it. She could disengage, disassociate, make it so that what happened to her seemed as though it was happening to somebody else.
“Human, you were slow,” the monster declared, speaking her tongue with a heavily accented voice. “You have no chance of escaping me. Not ever.”
Every second he stood over her and gloated was another second she was able to dedicate to getting her breath back. There was no escaping this incredible creature, who, now that she allowed herself to look at him through her fingers, happened to be handsome.
Very handsome.
He had the facial structure of a warrior, a big square jaw and powerful brow. His eyes, which had taken her attention the very first moment she saw them, captured her more completely than any leather or rope might manage. His cheekbones were high and arrogant, and when he looked down at her she felt judged and terrified all at once. She was weak, and pitiful. She was nothing compared to this broad shouldered monster whose shirtless display of musculature and scale sent a shiver to the very core of her.
Somewhere in the distance, a horn sounded. The monster turned his head in the direction of the noise and Iris was up as quickly as she could, her hands still on the ground as she scrambled for the safety of the small tunnel, the one he couldn’t fit into.
The darkness of the tunnel closer around her, just as that clawed hand found her ankle and hauled her back forcefully, dragging her across the forest floor.
“Bad little human,” the regal creature growled. “I had only just finished t
elling you that you couldn’t run, and look what you tried to do. Are you simple, or so rebellious you cannot obey a single sentence?”
“It wasn’t an order. It was an assumption, and it was wrong.”
She thought better of those words almost immediately, knowing that she was supposed to be begging for her life and cowering before the evil beast who was now stalking her in a slow circle, examining her from every single angle.
“Arrogance,” he murmured. “I will break you of that habit, human.”
He crouched down, running his massive palm over her chest and down between her thighs where he cupped her sex with a possessive touch. It was casual and yet intimate, and it frightened and excited Iris in equal measure. She had never been touched by a man before. None dared make contact of this kind with her.
“I am going to punish you,” the beast told her.
“Why?”
He seemed taken aback by the question, as if he’d never been asked to give a reason for his acts of vile evil. She imagined he hadn’t. He had the appearance of a creature who had been able to rampage across all existence, taking what he wanted and obliterating everything he didn’t. She wondered which category she fell into.
“I am Archon, king of Archeus - and you are my prey, as well as my subject. I am entitled to do with you as I please. I own you. Every part of you.” He emphasized the last part by squeezing with impressive gentleness, making her sex throb in response to the heat and power of his hand.
Everything was chemical. Fear. Lust. Two sides of the same coin, and both driven by similar stimuli.
He was removing her clothing, slashing through it with casual elegance and a blade longer than her entire body, drawn from the scabbard at his waist.
“Lay still,” he said calmly. “I wouldn’t want to bleed you before your time.”
The threat was cool and cruel enough to reach her and make her temporarily obedient. She laid perfectly still as piece by piece, her clothing was removed from her body. First he sliced the seams of her leggings, next the mid-section of her tunic, then with the tip of the blade he began to undress her, peeling the clothing from her body like a fruit.
“You are so small,” he said, his voice heavy with some emotion she couldn’t recognize. Was it pity? Or perhaps disgust?
He had her naked now, her clothing unwrapped so she laid like a present upon the remnants of the leather and furs which had once protected her from the elements.
He stared down at her, examining every part of her with a feral, possessive gaze.
“Beautiful," he murmured. “Every part of you perfectly in proportion, soft and curvy, and utterly without protection. Spread your legs.”
It took her a moment to register the command, coming as it did at the end of a chain of unexpected compliments. The king used his sword to enforce it, pressing the tip of the blade lightly against her inner thigh.
He was evil. He had destroyed all those she loved, razed her home, eradicated every trace of her life from the face of the planet. She had no doubt that he would slay her too. He was taking his time, though, enjoying drawing the moment out.
Iris’ breath came in short panting fearful gasps as the king knelt down on one leg and pressed her thighs even further apart with his massive hands. She could feel the heat of his breath against the most sensitive and private parts of her body as he leaned in and examined her not just with his eyes, but with his hands too, his thick rough fingers stroking her lower lips.
Why was he being so gentle? She knew it could not last, and would not last. Once his curiosity ran out she was sure that he would destroy her as he had destroyed everything else.
A fearful gasp risked turning into a moan as the alien king swiped his fingers down the length of her sex and lifted them to his fanged mouth.
“Wet,” he declared. “Sopping wet. Does this arouse you, human? Has being hunted to the brink of your ability to survive turned your reproductive system into a gushing fountain of desire?”
He was taunting her even as he played with her pussy, using the slick juices of her sex to further rub her toward that satisfaction she’d often taken by herself in the dark, but never with anybody else.
She lay perfectly still, too afraid to move, certainly unwilling to resist, hoping against hope that he would toy with her until he was bored and then he might leave her alive. It was her only hope for survival.
“Now you stay silent when I speak to you human,” he observed, parting her lower lips to allow the dewy wet juices to escape in a trickle of desire.
The only words she had were words which would have gotten her killed if she had dared speak them aloud. She wanted to tell him that she hated and despised him, that he would never get away with what he had done to her and her family, that the entirety of creation would avenge them if he did not let her go.
But another spark of pleasure glowed through her, and she lost the words. She looked into eyes which did not seem as evil as the acts she had seen him commit. The fear which had seen her flee through the woods had turned into dark arousal. It was so very wrong. She knew she should fight it, but she was only an animal like everything else on the planet and she responded to stimuli the same way any animal would.
He started to grunt and growl, reaching for the crotch of his pants. She knew what was going to happen next. It was inevitable, and instinctual and in some natural way, correct.
His uniform parted to allow his cock to surge out, a massive, thick thing which throbbed in time with his pulse. It was an intimidating sight, as thick as her wrist and already dripping with animal need.
“I’ve never fucked a human before,” he informed her with a broad grin. “You will be my first.”
He would also be her first, but she did not tell him that. She doubted he would care.
He loomed over her and put his cock to the tight, wet seam between her thighs. One of his massive hands rested next to her head, the other wrapped lightly around her throat like a collar, keeping her in place.
A whimper emerged from Iris as she felt the massive beast begin to penetrate her, his flesh even hotter than hers, and so much harder. Her pussy began to spread around the insistent pressure, making way for the alien king’s claim. In another breath, her flesh would be his flesh. Her body would belong to him.
She could see all that possessive arrogance in his eyes. He thought he had her. He thought he had already taken her. He thought it was all over bar the orgasm.
But he was wrong.
Iris reached underneath her body, where her belt had been sliced away and found the last chance left to her, a final hope.
The king made a hissing sound as she slipped six inches of her village’s finest steel into his belly, slipping it up between two scales, finding his weakness in the moment of extreme vulnerability where he thought he had already won.
His expression was priceless as he lurched away from her, slumping to the side in the dirt. He stared at her, then at the knife embedded in his royal body, then back at her.
“Well done,” he grunted as golden blood seeped around the wound like slow honey.
There was no time to gloat, and no time to spare. She had to go, and she had to go now. Iris scrambled to her feet and fled, leaving the bleeding king behind incapacitated but in no way destroyed, no doubt vowing his vengeance upon her.
This was not over.
Chapter 2
Days earlier…
Twenty-four bodies swayed through the motions of the mating dance performed before the king.
Lyrical and smooth, then hard and quick, sharp snapping motions followed by fluid undulations, silk and blade whipping through the air. Nubile female dancers spun over one another’s shoulders as the drums slammed deep beats through the bodies of all in attendance, a thrumming resonance so low and intense that the weak could lose control of themselves.
These were the most beautiful women in the kingdom, every one of them nubile, fertile, and willing brides for the king. Their dances had been prepared year
s in advance, practiced for months, all in aid of this display. They presented themselves through the dance, their bodies oiled, their breasts painted, their eyes smudged dark and their faces marked with the distinct tattoos of their tribes.
Some of them had wings upon their backs, others had horns growing from their heads. Each and every one of the females was blessed with a beautiful mutation, one of which would be passed to her offspring if they were fortunate enough to emerge from royal lines. Mating with the king was not just an honor. It did not only represent riches and power and status. It also meant a genetic legacy.
So the young females, those of breeding age, chosen from among their people as the most beautiful of their kind competed against one another in the rhythmic dance. They splayed their wings, tossed their heads to show the beauty of their horns. They batted their lashes and shimmied their hips, they flared their dorsal ridges and displayed bold patterns. It was an unashamedly carnal display which inflamed the desires of all who were present. The courtiers and nobles stared at the beautiful, brilliant display, each and every one of them jealous to the core, hoping that the king would leave them some scraps.
The old king had a habit of taking every female presented and inseminating them all. He was free with his seed, and produced a great many worthy heirs. Then he had died, and those heirs had gone to war with one another. It had been a long, brutal, and bloody battle.
In the end, there could be only one. That one was now sitting on the throne watching the dance: Archon.
The odds that the ignobly born Archon would ever take the throne were so vanishingly small that it was almost impossible - and yet he had been crowned not three months earlier in a ceremony which drew consternation and celebration across the kingdom. There was no doubting his claim to the throne. He bore many of the marks of the Energon across his body. There was also no doubt that the other contenders for the throne were very much dead. There was, however, some doubt as to how long a creature like Archon could stay seated on the throne of Archaeus.