Table of Contents
Title Page
Real Love
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Story
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Her face more angular than most.
Her lips, full. A constant pout, like she waited to be kissed. When he looked at her big blue eyes and long blue eyelashes, he thought exotic, not alien.
“Monda.” He reached to wipe the tear. No, it was not his place. He shoved his hand into his pocket. “I didn’t mean you. I don’t think of you as alien. I meant other aliens, like the green guys from Salvador. Have you seen them? About a meter high with pointed teeth. You can’t tell the males from the females except when they have their armor off.” He wanted to pull her into a hug. To comfort her and show her how sorry he felt. But she was promised to another, and while he might be an idiot, his mother also raised him as a gentleman. “Really, Monda, I’m sorry.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“What I mean is you’re an alien but not an alien. You don’t look like an alien. Of course any guy would be honored to have a girlfriend like you.”
“Any guy, but you.”
Real Love
by
Charlotte Copper
A Candy Hearts Romance
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Real Love
COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Charlotte Copper
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by RJ Morris
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2016
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0324-6
A Candy Hearts Romance
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To Lauryn, Kathryn, and Victoria…
I wish each of you your own happily ever after.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank my editor, Eilidh MacKenzie, for her help and guidance, and my critique partner, J.C. McKenzie (author of Shift Happens, Beast Coast & Carpe Demon) for her insight, honesty, and patience.
Eyes scrunched tight, Monda fought down the waves of panic. The stomach-churning spin of their spaceship attempted to propel her from her seat. The harness-style constraint and her death-like grip were the only things keeping her from being flung around the cabin. The two pilots yelled instructions back and forth, but the small ship continued its spiraling descent.
Open your eyes! Fear sat heavy in her stomach as she raised one eyelid, then the other. The flashing lights and perpetual motion outside the pilot’s window made the queasiness increase tenfold.
The metallic taste of blood trickled down her throat as she bit back her fear, and she flexed her fingers to keep her nails from cutting into her palms.
Mistress Teevac, the woman who had raised her and educated her, slumped motionless across the small ship. The older lady’s head hung low on her neck. Had her heart given up already? No, she lived. Her lips moved in soundless recitation.
Many years ago, Monda had been placed into the tutelage of Mistress Teevac, to train for the time when she would be sold to a new master. Her parents—she no longer remembered what they looked like—would finally receive a large and fair compensation for their youngest daughter. But Monda did not want to be sold to a new master, to serve him and be his mate. She cared not that she had been raised to fulfill such a destiny.
She had often seen couples walking the streets, hand in hand. Smiling at each other. Laughing. Touching. Tisla and Loka told stories they had heard of love, and she hoped her two childhood friends would find such a bond with their chosen mates.
Monda dreamed of a love of her own choosing. She had gone to the sacred altar and prayed to be saved from her arrangement. She had wished it, over and over. Was this…death…really her only alternative?
****
“Why is he here, DJ?” Lieutenant Patrick Lancaster whispered to his co-pilot. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the doctor hadn’t heard. Dr. Green sprawled at the back of the ship, legs stretched out on the opposite seat. He picked at one of his well-manicured fingernails.
“Malory said she was busy,” replied Lt. Demonna Jansen, her voice barely above a whisper.
Normally the three of them—his co-pilot, DJ; the medic, Malory; and himself—carried out these operations. Everything had changed since the smug doctor’s arrival. Everything.
“Really?” asked Patrick.
“That’s what she said. Although she could just be avoiding you.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“Look, Pat…”
“Never mind, DJ. I get it.”
He glanced at the flashing lights on the control panel. The distress beacon echoed its cry of hope and fear. Outside the window, black ash dotted several of the planet’s low rolling hills while tendrils of smoke spiraled into the purple sky.
“The source of the signal is just ahead,” said DJ.
“Good. Let’s set down here.” The small shuttle, Perseus, descended until it rested in a thick patch of red grass.
Patrick exited the ramp first. He inhaled the strange yet machine-free air. The thrill of the unknown hummed through his body. He held his gun poised and ready, his small team following behind.
DJ stepped down onto the dry red grass. “It looks like a picture of Earth in a coloring book, where some kid got the colors all wrong.” She raised her eyes to the open purple expanse above. “I wonder what color their sky turns at sunset.”
“I don’t know,” said Dr. Trenton Green as he descended from the small ship, “but I hope we aren’t here that long.”
The doctor’s presence blistered like a fire on Patrick’s patience. Would anyone miss the doctor if, by chance, he didn’t return to the ship?
“Hey! Hello!” called Dr. Green waving his arms.
Patrick turned to see a robed shape advancing. He smacked down the doctor’s flapping appendages. “What the hell are you doing? We don’t just go announcing ourselves. We don’t know these people. They could be dangerous.”
“We don’t even know if they’re human,” added DJ.
“First off, if you don’t think our shuttle dropping out of the sky is a big attention getter, then we should talk. Second, I’m pretty sure they’re human.”
Patrick studied the approaching figure. The doctor, he hated to admit it, was right. Although only hands and face were visible, the figure did indeed appear humanoid in form. And female. She bowed her head as she got closer.
“Can we shoot him now?” DJ asked. “The doctor, I mean.”
“Flip you for it,” replied Patrick. If the good doctor left today, he still wouldn’t be off their ship fast enough.
“Greetings,” said Dr. Green. He raised his hand and split his four fingers into the shape of a V.
Patrick sighed. The doctor’s reference to the almost two hundred-year-old television show lacked humor.
“Asshole,” murmured DJ.
The stranger lifted her head and Patrick’s breath caught. Porcelain white skin, unmarred by sun or blemishes framed full red lips.
Larger than normal blue eyes turned to stare into his own, bright blue eyes, surrounded by long blue lashes, and perfectly arched, thin blue eyebrows.
“Greetings,” replied the stranger, her voice soft and song-like. Their portable language translators would be unnecessary.
“You speak English,” said the doctor.
“I speak the language of my people,” she replied matter-of-factly. “My name is Monda.”
“I am Doctor Green, and these are my…associates.”
“I’m Lt. Lancaster.” Patrick swallowed attempting to rid himself of the dryness in his mouth. “And this is Lt. Jansen. We’re here in response to a distress beacon. Is it yours?”
“Yes, our ship malfunctioned,” replied Monda. “We crashed just around the hill.”
“Are you okay?” Patrick nodded to the red streaks of blood that painted the knees of her shapeless tunic. “Perhaps the doctor should take a look.”
“I am fine for now. A small cut to which I have tended. The pilots are both dead. Mistress Teevac, however, is alive, but she is seriously injured.”
“Okay then,” said Dr. Green, “take us to your leader.”
Patrick stared at the doctor. If looks could kill, buddy, I’d leave your corpse here to rot in the grass.
“What? I’m not joking,” said the doctor. “I mean, okay, maybe a little. But isn’t that where we want to go?”
DJ shook her head. “We’ll follow you,” she said to the other female.
“Certainly. Come.” Monda turned and proceeded back the way she came.
No buildings in sight, vegetation grew sparsely except for the dry grass crunching under their boots. As they rounded the hill, the damaged vessel came into view. Sunk deep in the ground, the small door peeked out like a child covering his eyes for a game of hide and seek.
“How many of you were on the ship?” Patrick asked as he kept pace with the exotic outlander.
“At the time of the crash, there were four. There were two others when we left our planet, but they were both joined. I am the last one left.”
“Joined?” whispered DJ, but Patrick shook his head and ignored his co-pilot’s question.
“And where were you headed?” he asked.
“I do not know. Mistress Teevac does not tell us where we are destined. We were on our way to my new master and mate.”
“But you don’t know what planet he is on?” Jansen asked from behind. “Have you ever met this new master?”
“No, I do not and have not,” Monda replied. “I am a sensor. Mistress Teevac is my guardian, and she managed the arrangements.”
“A sensor? Like an empath?” asked DJ.
Monda stopped and turned to the female lieutenant. “I am sorry, I do not know the term. But here, may I?” Monda extended a slender, pale hand and held it inches from Jansen’s face.
Demonna nodded, and Monda took a deep breath.
“You are brave. You would kill me without a second thought if I were to attempt any harm to this man.” She opened her eyes and studied Patrick, then glanced back at DJ. “For the doctor, however…”
“Okay. Enough,” said DJ as she stepped away. “We get it. You’re what we would call an empath.”
“Or a mind-reader,” offered Dr. Green, with a sneer to the female lieutenant.
“No, I cannot read thoughts. Only emotions and intentions.”
“Well, as for Lt. Jansen shooting you”—Patrick aimed a reprimanding look at his co-pilot—“you don’t need to worry. We’re here to help.”
“It is understandable. None of you mean any harm, although some of you feel your need to display aggression more strongly than others.” She glanced from Patrick to Jansen and back.
His pulse raced as her big blue eyes took hold of him. Why did she seem to stare longer at him? Reading his intentions? Perhaps she lied about reading minds. They needed to proceed with caution, just in case.
“We should take a look at this Mistress Teevac,” Dr. Green said.
“Yes, of course.” Patrick turned to the doctor, forcing himself from Monda’s hypnotic gaze.
The group walked in silence, and when Monda stopped outside the small ship, Patrick flicked his head in the direction of the opening. DJ cautiously entered the precarious craft.
“It’s a bit of a disaster in here, sir,” the co-pilot said, sticking her head out the door, “but I think the doctor and I should be able to get…our patient…out.”
“Do you need my help?”
“No, sir, we can manage.”
DJ withdrew into the ship, and the doctor followed.
Twice the size of the Perseus, the small craft’s design suggested farther travel than their shuttle. A long impression carved into the grass identified the angle of the craft’s approach. The pilots were either very lucky or extremely skilled.
“Where will you be taking Mistress Teevac and me?” Monda asked.
“To our ship. We’ll be able to help you and your friend there.”
Monda glanced back in the direction of the small shuttle.
“Not that ship,” he said. “The Perseus is just a shuttle. Our ship, the Zeus, is orbiting above.”
She peered up to the empty sky and back at him. “Will we be returning here?”
She appeared at once as both a strong woman and a frightened child. The instinct to protect her stirred to his core. “No,” he said, “but we will make sure you and Mistress Teevac are taken care of.”
She nodded. Did she sense the truth in his words?
“Would I be allowed to bring my bag with me?” Monda asked.
“DJ said it is a bit of a mess in there. Think you can find it?”
“I do not believe it will be a problem.”
“Okay then, but be careful.” His gaze followed her every movement until she disappeared into the ship. He surveyed the landscape. Black smoke from the ship’s crash continued to spiral to the sky. Neither bird nor creature stirred. If other humanoid life forms lived here, they remained hidden.
A couple of minutes later all three emerged. The doctor and DJ carried the shuttle’s provisional stretcher on which lay a woman Patrick assumed to be Mistress Teevac. Like Monda, the injured female wore a long beige tunic, but unlike Monda’s, brightly colored geometric designs decorated the older woman’s clothing. A makeshift bandage had been wrapped around her head, and a trail of blood disappeared into her collar.
“She’s bleeding internally, and I’m concerned about the cut on her head,” said Dr. Green. “We need to get her back to the Zeus quickly.”
“Let me help,” Patrick said to his co-pilot, and reached a hand toward the stretcher.
“I got it, sir,” she said.
Lt. Demonna Jansen might have been just over five feet tall, but people who knew her seldom underestimated the petite female.
He ignored the doctor and turned instead to Monda and the large hide bag she carried. “May I carry that for you?”
“Thank you.” She held out the satchel, and Patrick found his gaze drawn to her pouting red lips.
“Sir,” said DJ, breaking his trance.
“Right. Let’s go.” He shifted the gun to one hand and took Monda’s bag with the other. Shocked by the weight, he adjusted his grip.
The small party of five slowly made their way back to the Perseus. DJ and the doctor carried the injured woman aboard the waiting shuttle.
“You are uncomfortable about something,” Monda said as Patrick halted at the bottom of the ramp.
You could say that. What would be the best way not to offend their beautiful guest?
“Yeah, well, we need to search your bag and, um…make sure you personally aren’t concealing anything…dangerous…before we let you board the ship.”
Her bright blue eyes studied him. Hopefully she could sense he meant no harm.
“I understand,” she said.
“I’ll do it. I am a physician after all,” Dr. Green offered as he and DJ came back down the little ramp. Patrick wanted to punch t
he man. Doctor or not, he seemed a little too eager for the pat down. No, it would not be that prat!
Patrick pulled him aside. “Look, she seems okay and all, but if she is rigged with explosives or something under her…”
Green held up a hand. “Good point. Say no more. You should do it.”
Patrick clenched his teeth. Selfish prick. He doubted the attractive female posed any threat. “DJ, do you mind?”
“No, sir,” she replied. “No problem.”
“Of course she doesn’t mind,” said Green.
Demonna spun quickly to face the doctor, her gun poised at her hip. Patrick shot her an admonishing look, and she wrinkled her nose back at him.
“Dick,” she whispered to the doctor. She lowered the gun to hang from the strap on her shoulder. “Around here,” she said, and guided Monda behind the small craft as the doctor climbed the ramp back into the shuttle.
Patrick quickly searched the large bag. For someone headed to a new home, it contained very little. A few clothing items, a brush, a couple of toiletry items, and several large books filled the bag. Well, at least he knew what contributed to the bag’s excessive weight. Nothing, however, appeared out of the ordinary or dangerous.
He wiped the sweat from his brow as he waited on Monda and DJ. The heat of the planet reminded him of summers in the south. Standing five minutes in the heat, however, won hands-down over spending a single minute inside the small craft alone with the arrogant doctor.
“She’s clean, sir,” said DJ as the two women came back around.
“Okay then, let’s get aboard.”
He extended an arm, inviting their guest to go first. Monda smiled and his chest constricted again.
Monda froze, the smile sliding from her face.
With lightning speed, he released his gun and caught the beautiful alien as her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted into his waiting arms.
****
Monda woke to a pounding in her head. She surveyed the strange silver and white room. What? Wait! Ahhh, yes. She had been talking to the attractive male—Lt. Lancaster, yes, that was his name.
She reached up to the source of the pounding. “Help! Someone!”
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