Warrior's Claim: A Sci-Fi Shifter Romance (Warriors of Vor Book 4)

by Tehya Titan

  Warrior’s Claim

  Warriors of Vor

  Tehya Titan

  Warrior’s Claim

  After being blown up and almost dying in a drug raid, Roxanne Arroyo isn’t about to waste a moment of her second chance. Sure, that new beginning happens to be on an alien planet, but there are worse things than being bonded to a gorgeous warrior who is completely devoted to her. As time passes, and no male steps forward to claim her, though, she realizes she can either sit around waiting for her mate to find her, or she can go out and find him instead.

  As chieftain of a remote island clan in the far north, Soujin Mahar lives a simple, peaceful life. His distrust of outsiders has kept his people safe for decades, but when Rox lands on his shores—and is immediately carried away by a giant bird—he doesn’t hesitate to save her. He never thought he’d be blessed with such a lovely mate, and there isn’t anything he won’t do to make her happy. Anything, except let her walk away. She may not fully understand the customs of his people yet, but if she’ll let him, he’ll teach her exactly what it means to be claimed by a warrior.

  WARRIOR’S CLAIM

  Copyright © June 2019 by Tehya Titan

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. It is fiction so facts and events may not be accurate except to the current world the book takes place in.

  PROLOGUE

  Pressed against the side of a rundown, Spanish-style house in one of Los Angeles’ poorest neighborhoods, Roxanne Arroyo squeezed the butt of her 9mm and breathed deeply through her nose. This was such a bad idea, but of course, her team leader didn’t want to hear what she had to say. Hell, he’d have been happy if she wasn’t there at all.

  Sexist bastard.

  He wasn’t just misogynistic, either. He was a fucking moron.

  Conducting a raid on the Cortana Cartel was dangerous at the best of times, but it was suicidal when they were essentially going in blind. There had been reports that one of the cartel’s higher-ups was laying low in the neighborhood, but no one at the LAPD had been able to confirm that he was actually in the house.

  Furthermore, even if he was, her team didn’t know how many of his goons he had with him. Naturally, they’d all be armed, but it was anyone’s guess as to what kind of heat they were packing. Maybe the worst bit of news was that the only information that had on the house itself was over thirty years old, so her team couldn’t be sure how many rooms the place had or what the layout looked like now.

  None of that mattered to Lieutenant Shaw. He’d received a tip from a shady source he wouldn’t name, and that had been good enough for him. He didn’t give a damn about his team, or at the very least, he cared more about his inflated sense of ego than he did the men and women he was supposed to be leading.

  The asshole was going to get someone killed.

  Rox’s earpiece crackled with static, then the barely audible voice of Lieutenant Shaw gave the order to proceed. Adjusting her ballistics vest, she inched closer to the back door as she nodded the go-ahead to her partner. The moment the door crashed open, she was moving, keeping low as she rushed into…complete and utter fucking chaos.

  Gunshots echoed through the house, overlapping each other and mingling with the screams of her team to create a deafening cacophony of noise. The coppery scent of blood made her want to gag, but it was the ammonia that burned her nose and overpowered everything else.

  Panic seized Rox as realization hit. The grimy little house wasn’t a hideout or a waystation for the cartel. It was an operating meth lab. Judging by the intensity of the odor, they’d been cooking up a fresh batch when she and her team had stormed inside.

  Highly combustible ingredients and gunfire—

  The explosion lifted Rox off her feet and flung her backwards as the heat of a thousand suns seared her exposed flesh. Windows shattered. Splintered debris blasted in every direction like a million tiny projectiles. The entire incident lasted only a few seconds, but for Rox, it felt like a lifetime had passed.

  Sprawled on her back, unable to move anything below her waist, she stared up into the thick smoke and struggled to breathe. Jesus, everything hurt. Even blinking caused her pain, and she groaned at the unfairness of it all. She wasn’t ready for it to end. Not like this. She couldn’t die in the rubble of some fucking drug lab because her team leader had more arrogance than sense.

  Sirens wailed in the distance, but she knew they wouldn’t make it in time. She could feel herself slipping, the fight in her slowly draining. It wasn’t like in the movies, either. There was no bright light. She didn’t think back on fond memories or recall the faces of loved ones. There was just…nothing.

  As the last of her strength faded, she swore she saw the very air around her shift and shimmer, bending the smoke and pushing it away from her. Great, she was hallucinating. It was probably from the lack of oxygen reaching her brain, but that was okay. If she had to die, seeing something fanciful was much better than looking at the smoldering wreckage around her.

  Just when she thought things couldn’t get any weirder, the disturbance in the air began to take on a shape, and she felt a cool hand press against her singed flesh. It felt nice, almost like water, but not exactly. Her imagination was clearly working overtime as her conscious mind came to terms with the fact that she was dying. It was the only explanation because she honestly wasn’t creative enough to conjure something so strange.

  Her eyelids grew heavy, yet her body suddenly felt weightless. She struggled to hang on to any semblance of consciousness, but it was useless, a feeble attempt to postpone the inevitable. Death was coming for her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  Eventually, she stopped fighting and drifted, floating into an endless blackness where there was no pain, no fear. As her heart rate slowed, she exhaled shakily and sank into the numbing void that beckoned her.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Rox had been meant to die. She’d know that. She’d accepted it. Waking up in a fucking cage on an alien planet hadn’t been part of the plan. Being transported to Vor by some water…creature…things…wasn’t supposed to happen.

  The entire experience had been surreal at first. Then, when she’d been paraded onto a stage in front of a bunch of massive male warriors all clamoring to own her, her disbelief had turned to pure terror. Once that ordeal had ended, and no one had attacked her, she’d assumed the worst was over, which had been a huge mistake.

  Being trapped in a room—albeit a very nice room—for days on end with no contact from the outside world had cooled her fear and hardened her resolve. So, by the time one of the alien beings had finally released her, she’d been well and truly pissed off. Discovering she’d been brought to the planet for the sole purpose of mating and breeding with one of the male inhabitants certainly hadn’t helped, either.

  When one of her new friends, a petite woman named Grace who had also been kidnapped from Earth, had pointed out how lucky they were to have a second chance, Rox had outwardly scoffed. On the inside, however, the words had resonated into the deepest, darkest parts of herself that she kept walled off and locked away.

  She hadn’t wanted to die. At twenty-six, it certainly hadn’t been her time to go. If the Wraiths hadn’t brought her to Vor—and patched her up along the way—she wouldn’t even have the breath to rant and rave ab
out the injustice of dying or the bizarreness of what was probably the greatest gift she’d ever been given.

  A second chance.

  As the weeks had passed, and she’d watched her new friends find their mates, the storm of emotions she’d been feeling since arriving coalesced into a restlessness she couldn’t shake. At least seven other women had paired off with their warriors, and instead of the nightmare Rox had imagined, they all looked blissfully happy. Like, the kind of happy that only happened in fairy tales and Disney movies.

  It was actually kind of sickening how devoted the couples were to one another. Sure, some of the Vor customs seemed archaic and borderline sexist to a modern woman like herself, but there was no denying how much the males loved their mates.

  And despite every argument to the contrary, Roxanne Arroyo wanted that. She wanted to know what it felt like to be loved like that.

  Growing up with an absentee father and an alcoholic mother, she’d learned early on how to take care of herself. She’d always fought her own battles. Always made her own way in the world. Everything she’d had back on Earth, she’d worked her ass for, including the respect of her peers at the LAPD. She wasn’t sure she even knew how to let someone else take care of her, but she wanted to try.

  When eight weeks had come and gone with her still being unclaimed, that restlessness had only intensified. Wandering around the castle, being waited on hand and foot, wasn’t her idea of a good time. Granted, it had been nice at first, but she resented not having a purpose. Waiting around for something that seemed like it was never going to happen had eaten away at her until the impatience was nearly unbearable.

  The Wraiths had brought her to Vor because she was destined to be with one of the males on the planet. That was what she’d been told, and she believed it. So, if this mysterious warrior hadn’t found her yet, the only logical thing she could think to do was to go out and find him instead.

  Which was how she’d ended up on a trade ship, sailing from shore to shore, meeting clan after clan. For weeks, she’d sailed. She’d interacted with dozens of warriors. Yet, she still hadn’t found what she’d been searching for, still couldn’t shake the unease that plagued her.

  “Where are we again?” Seated at the bow of the smaller transport vessel, she glanced over her shoulder at Daj. “Fever Island?”

  The male snorted at her. “Forhvar Island.”

  Rox shrugged as she turned her gaze back toward the shoreline. “That’s what I said.”

  The fact that females were cherished and protected on the planet was great and all, but she hadn’t been thrilled when the king had insisted that she take a babysitter with her on her travels. Thankfully, Daj Salkor had turned out to be a lot more than just a guard. In fact, she’d even go so far as to call him a friend.

  He was smart, well-spoken, and had a dry sense of humor that matched her own. Better still, he didn’t feel the need to order her around or treat her like some swooning damsel in distress. Maybe he didn’t necessarily see her as an equal, but he didn’t dismiss her wants or opinions, either.

  He’d make a damn good mate to some female one day. That female just wouldn’t be her.

  “And the clan? What are they like?”

  “Wild,” Daj answered, a thread of warning in his tone. “There’s only one clan on Forhvar, and they live in a village they’ve carved from the heart of the forest. They rarely interact with the rest of the planet, and they trust no one outside of their own people.”

  Rox nodded that she’d heard and understood.

  The wind kicked up just as they reached the shore, and the chilled air that blew in from the sea made goosebumps break out over her bare arms. The males who comprised the crew of the trade vessel had initially balked at the idea of her wearing leather vests and matching pants. Eventually, however, they’d realized how impractical some flowing, pretty dress would be on the ship, especially when she worked just as hard as they did most days.

  As they’d traveled farther north, the days had grown shorter and the nights colder. Since none of her crewmates ever wore a shirt, she could only assume temperature didn’t really affect the Vor. Rox, on the other hand, would soon have to find more suitable clothing, something that offered a bit more protection from the elements.

  The transport vessel glided right up onto the sand before coming to an abrupt stop. Hatches in the hull opened with a loud snap, and steel spikes burst from the holes, bolting themselves into the ground and locking the ship in place.

  Rox pushed to her feet, gripped the edge of the bow, and bounded over the side. She landed with a muffled plop, her knee-high boots sinking into the wet sand. Another gust of wind blasted her from the sea at her back, sweeping her hair up and around her face. She grumbled under her breath as she shoved it back, doing her best to secure it behind her ears. Without regular haircuts, the short pixie style she preferred had grown out—quite unevenly—so that the dark locks brush just below her cheeks.

  She absolutely loathed it.

  “How long are we staying?” she called over her shoulder as she trudged up the embankment. “The standard three d—ahh!”

  Rox couldn’t hold back her scream when long toes covered in what looked like emerald leather encircled both her biceps and plucked her right out of the sand. Somehow, she doubted anyone heard her over the ear-shattering caw that reverberated through the forest.

  Glossy, black talons curved from the end of each toe, pressing firmly against her skin without actually piercing it. She was almost afraid to see what the rest of the beast looked like, but she leaned her head back anyway—and immediately wished she hadn’t.

  She couldn’t see much, mostly just the underside of its belly, but the inky feathers meant it was probably some sort of bird. They weren’t regular feathers like the birds on Earth. These were tipped with sharp, red spikes that were a little too close to her face for comfort.

  Rox gritted her teeth. No way in hell was she going down like this.

  Second chances were rare. Third chances didn’t happen. She hadn’t survived being blown up just to become some pigeon’s fucking lunch.

  Shouts from her crewmates emboldened her, gave her a thread of hope, and she used all of her strength to fight against the grip on her arms. Kicking out with her legs, she jerked her upper body, twisting and contorting as she tried to free herself. A fat lot of good it did her. The bird’s hold on her was unshakeable, and all her struggling had accomplished basically squat.

  More shouts carried to her on the wind. Some she recognized. Some were completely unfamiliar. There was a dark, primal quality to the new voices, a savageness that sounded more animal than man. It probably should have terrified her, but at that point, she would take any help she could get. Even if it came from the wild clansman that lived deep in the island’s forests.

  A high-pitched whistle cut through the air near her ear as something whooshed passed her right cheek. Jerking her head to the side, she stared wide-eyed at the primitive-looking spear embedded deep into the bird’s chest. The beast let out an unholy shriek, but otherwise, it seemed the weapon hadn’t gone deep enough to find its mark.

  Even as the thought entered her mind, another spear sailed over her head and between her outstretched arms, lodging itself in the bird’s chest mere inches from the first. There was no shriek this time, no angry caw. Her captor simply shuddered once, listed to the side, then took a nosedive straight toward the ground.

  Fortunately, it released its tight grip on her arms before doing so. Unfortunately, that left her in complete freefall with no way to slow her momentum.

  Jesus, everything on the fucking island was trying to kill her. If she somehow made it out alive, she was never setting foot on its shore again.

  Tumbling head over ass through the air, a loud scream burst from her lips, only to be cut off abruptly when hard, muscled arms wrapped around her, halting her descent. Enormous, black wings blotted out the sun, and relief flooded her when she recognized them as those of a warrior. Ex
pecting to see Daj or one of her other crewmates, she was momentarily stunned speechless when she locked gazes with an unfamiliar male.

  The Vor didn’t have irises, just amber sclera and large, oval-shaped pupils. Currently, this male’s pupils were blown wide. His nostrils flared with every inhalation, making the three ridges across the bridge of his nose ripple like waves.

  Like all the other males on the planet, he was freaking massive with a broad chest and bulging muscles. His skin wasn’t quite as bronzed as the other warriors she’d met, likely from living so far to the north. Like all Vor, onyx markings covered his face, neck, and torso, stretching across his skin like jagged tiger stripes.

  Combined with his mane of tangled ebony hair that flowed down to his hips, he looked just as savage as Daj had described, but in an incredibly sexy kind of way.

  “Nice catch.” She forced the words past numb lips. “Thank you.”

  His only response was a deep, rumbling growl.

  Maybe he didn’t understand her. Even though the Wraiths had more or less uploaded the Vor language into her brain during the journey to the planet, maybe it only applied to some territories and not others. Not everyone on Earth spoke the same language. Maybe the same was true for the Vor, especially if they lived secluded on some remote island.

  “Thank you,” she repeated when they finally touched down on the edge of the forest. She pressed her right hand over her heart and bowed her head a little, just in case that might help get her meaning across. “I’m Roxanne.” She jabbed two fingers against her sternum. “You can call me Rox.”

  “Soujin,” he growled as he placed her on her feet and took a jerky step back. “You can call me Soujin.”

  Rox couldn’t say why, but she felt a pang of disappointment when he sheathed his wings from view. “Okay, so, I guess you understand me. Good to know.” She glanced over her shoulder, frowning at the lifeless body of the bird that was in a crumpled heap several feet away. “What the hell is that thing anyway?”