Liberation (Alien Attachments Book 3)

by Sabine Priestley

  Balastar oversaw the move of his ship to his rented spot on the tarmac, then headed to the bar. The weather was decent and he’d been inside the hangar all day, so he decided to walk. The sun was setting, and the illuminated sidewalks glowed brighter with every step. A contrast to his mood which grew darker as he headed to their meeting. The town came alive the farther he got from the spaceport. Shops and restaurants lined the streets, and people jostled past in a rush to get to point B.

  When he reached his destination, a tacky neon sign hung over the front windows and flashed Drink Here. Charming. He pushed open the door and waited a few beats for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. A sterile metal bar ran the length of the one-room establishment. Tables were scattered throughout, and to the right was a large gaming space. People clustered around various consoles and tables, cheering on contenders. Loud music beat an annoying pulse in his ears. Definitely not his kind of place. He spotted Kit sitting at a table with a large dark-haired man.

  Balastar’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. Well, that’s fracking cliché. Whatever was left of his mood went up in smoke as he approached the table.

  The man wore a black T-shirt and torn jeans. Black boots and a ponytail completed his ensemble. He took a drag on some kind of pipe and laughed at something Kit said.

  Balastar took an immediate dislike to him. Purely out of spite, he reached out with his psi and enveloped Kit. He grinned when she closed her eyes a long moment before looking up and waving him over with an annoyed expression on her face.

  The man didn’t rise to greet him, so Balastar pulled out a chair, flipped it around, and sat with his elbows on the back. A wait-bot hovered next to him, and he ordered a whiskey.

  “Balastar, this is Corvak.”

  Corvak grunted.

  “Be nice,” Kit said in warning.

  “Why?” Corvak placed his elbows on the wobbly table, nearly toppling the drinks. “Kit tells me you think you can help our people.”

  Kit looked increasingly uncomfortable.

  It was a damn good thing she had her own ship because this crag wasn’t getting near his. “Not me. Some people I know.”

  The wait-bot returned with his drink, and Balastar paid the credits with his com.

  “What makes you think you can do what hasn’t been done in near thirty years?”

  “I told you. It’s not me.” Balastar finished his whisky in one shot and stood. He didn’t need this dick’s approval for anything. “Your ship ready?” he said to Kit.

  “It’s being fueled now,” she said.

  “Good. We leave in an hour. Send me its signature, and I’ll shoot over the jump coordinates.”

  She nodded and signaled to the wait-bot.

  ***

  Kit watched Balastar leave the bar. Standing tall with shoulders back. Something about him out-classed everyone in the place. Including her. She’d never cared about that before, but it bothered her now. And the fact that it bothered her really pissed her off.

  Corvak finished his drink and slammed it down on the table. “Two days running silent. What did you do? How’d you pass the time?”

  “It’s none of your business,” Kit snapped.

  “It’s my business when your pretty boy poses a threat.”

  “What threat? He’s helping us, remember?”

  “We’ll see about that.” Corvak puffed on his pipe.

  “What is your problem?”

  “Do you know who he is?” he said accusingly.

  “No.”

  “So he didn’t tell you.”

  Kit thought back. Aside from the fact he captained his own transport ship, he hadn’t really said much. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your boy toy is Lord Balastar Alder. He was on the Emperor’s Council.”

  “No way.”

  “You don’t believe me?” Corvak activated his com and within seconds a holo popped up.

  Staring her in the face was a picture of Councilman Balastar Alder. Her stomach clenched. There it was. Born into class and privilege. The reason he reeked of sophistication even when he did nothing. He belonged to a world of manners and power. She was a smuggler who didn’t know what to do with more than one fork at a dinner table.

  “He didn’t tell you that, did he?”

  She turned and faced him, anger bubbling over. “We were a little busy. Didn’t talk much.” She stood and headed for the door, leaving Corvak to deal with the bill. First Portal Masters and now the emperor’s council. The more she learned about Balastar Alder, the more impossible their relationship became. Good thing it was nothing more than a fling.

  ***

  Balastar walked back to the spaceport in a foul mood. What the frack was she doing with someone like that? Seriously, if that’s the kind of man she liked, it was a good thing he had called it quits when he did. He disregarded the fact he had plenty of good friends just like Corvak.

  He signaled his ship to lower the ramp and stomped onboard. He sealed the airlock and went to file for a departure. His steps echoed on the walls. For the first time since starting his new life as a captain, his home among the stars felt empty.

  “Music,” he called out.

  The ship’s AI responded instantly. “Mood?”

  “Rock. Hard. Loud.”

  A favorite band from Sandaria blasted from the speakers throughout the ship. He slipped into his chair and connected to Leshan’s control center. It was busier than he’d anticipated. It would be another hour and forty-five minutes before they could queue for the vectors. He contemplated another vectorless exit, but decided against it. No sense putting unnecessary stress on the ship. He leaned back and let the music course through him for a few minutes. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since lunch. He’d grab a bite and get some work done. He had cargo to deliver on Dixometrus and needed to find another load. He’d search the trades for interstellar shipping and see what turned up.

  Kit’s almond brown eyes flashed before him. There was no denying that he missed her. Or at least her body. Come to think of it, he didn’t even know her whole name. He never asked if Kit was short for something. Did she have family back on her home planet? He ran a hand through his hair. Simply thinking about her was enough to make his body ache. Damn it. He poured himself another drink. Was this more than physical attraction? He thought about it for a minute. No. He was perfectly capable of leaving her behind. Yes, she turned him on, and they were a great match in bed, but it wasn’t anything more. If it was, he wouldn’t be able to leave her. He swirled the amber liquid in his tumbler. Kit was amazing, but he wanted more. He wanted a psi-mate, someone to travel the stars at his side.

  One thing was clear. It wasn’t her.

  ***

  Balastar couldn’t shake his foul mood. They were ten minutes from clearance to depart, and Kit still hadn’t sent him her ship’s sig. He was about to ping her com when his own chimed. He opened the link.

  She didn’t wait for a greeting. “You didn’t tell me you were a councilman.”

  Balastar massaged the bridge of his nose. She was bound to find out sooner or later, but he wished they could be face-to-face for the talk. “Was a councilman. The seat inherited from my father who was killed twelve years ago trying to oppose the emperor.”

  Pause. “And you?”

  “I bided my time and forged alliances with the right kind of people. The Cavacent clan for one. A position on the council wasn’t something one could walk away from and expect to live.”

  “Fine.” She disconnected, but a moment later he received her ship’s signature. Presumably that meant she was still willing to come to Earth. He sent the information to his ship’s AI and pulled up her craft’s stats on his holovid.

  A whistle escaped his lips as he instructed the image to rotate three hundred and sixty degrees. No transport ship, this. No, this baby was sleek and sexy, just like its owner. He brought up the specs and interior layout. That beauty would do a quarter again faster than h
is, but he had her outgunned. He’d love to take a closer look. He’d never seen a hull quite like it. He smiled at her call sign of Tiger. It had a small cargo hold and three cramped sleep bays. A note in the ships records showed a modification that joined two of the small bays into one. One she most likely shared with Corvak.

  He slammed his fist down on the console and flicked his wrist, sending the holo away. He resented the fact her absence made this space feel empty. It was home, damn it.

  He opened a data file and added the approach vector to Earth. Next came the codes for the Cavacent’s base station and the GTO battleship. He added a note asking her to keep pace with him so they would arrive together. He shot it over to her, then sent a message to Rucon giving him their ETA. That done, he went over the systems check and repair list—all of which he’d already completed earlier in the day.

  He tweaked the music to an Earth Alt Rock genre and thought about the interstellar portals they would need to traverse to make it back to the blue planet. He could only hope they were active. Leaning back in his chair, he took in his bridge. It was pretty fracking amazing. A year ago he’d been the youngest member of the Sandarian Council. A council that served one of the most corrupt emperors in history. Now, he was the captain of his own ship and couldn’t care less about politics. Or a certain black-haired, rough-edged, beauty. Hopefully the Cavacents would be able to help Kit and her people. And make more portals. Breaking the hold of the Portal Masters had to be a good thing as far as he could tell.

  The ship’s AI displayed his clearance to depart for vector queue one-five alpha.

  About time.

  He sent the message to Kit, who confirmed they’d be right behind him. He didn’t think much of Leshan, but the maintenance crew were top notch. He fired up the engines and did a vertical lift to the appointed altitude before queuing up with the other traffic going off-world. The line itself moved quickly, and they were breaking atmo and passing through the magnetosphere in under fifteen minutes.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The trip to Earth was uneventful, but Balastar had spent a restless night tossing and turning. His body craved Kit’s warm embrace. It left him with an underlying tension. All he needed was distance. He’d get her sorted with Rucon and head out.

  He set up their approach to Earth, making sure he and Kit were in communication with both the GTO’s battleship and the Cavacent’s cloaked space station. Lord Cavacent and his family had been the Earth Protectors, EPs, for a few hundred years before they moved the clan here six months ago. The little blue planet may be ignorant of their alien residents now, but he didn’t see that lasting long. The day was coming when the locals would officially join the new GTO.

  The planet grew in size on approach, and he had to admit it was good to be back. He missed the EP gang. They would be meeting Rucon at Ria Montori’s villa on Lago Como. She was the newest EP, and her villa in Bellagio was the de facto base for the Cavacent clan and would be until the new compound in the hills above the lake was completed. It would be nearly seven a.m. Italy time, but for his body clock, it was late afternoon.

  Balastar received clearance to dock in bay three. Like all things Cavacent, the cloaked station was top of the line. On approach he caught sight of Kit’s ship sliding into bay five. It was a beauty. How did she manage to get her hands on such a ship? He’d have to find out.

  No, he reminded himself, he wouldn’t. Not his business. The anchoring locks engaged, and he shut down the engines. He ran a systems check before heading for the airlock.

  Kit and Corvak waited for him in the center of the station. She wore a red silk shirt and tight black jeans. They’d spent most of their time together barefoot, and the four-inch boots she wore made her nearly as tall as him.

  He kept his psi in tight reign, not wanting to stir the pleasure she caused.

  “Impressive,” Kit said, looking around.

  Corvak remained silent. He’d changed into a black tee that looked like it had seen better days. Scuffed boots and more torn jeans. He was a class act.

  Kit wandered across the lounge area to the view port. “It’s a pretty planet.”

  “It is,” Balastar said. “Although I grew up on Sandaria, and I miss the purples.”

  “Purple?”

  Balastar shrugged. “It’s the predominant color on that world. Green here, purple there.”

  Kit’s hair was doing a strange morph between black and blue. It occurred to Balastar that her streak could have something to do with her emotions, but he had no idea what black and blue meant. Flashing back to an image of them in bed, he figured he knew what red signaled.

  Her psi brushed against his, and he cursed himself for letting down his guard. “You ready?” His voice was curt.

  Kit rubbed her arms. “You promise this is safe?”

  “You have my word.”

  Corvak snorted. “His word. Like that means shit.” He patted a firearm on his outer thigh. Similar to one Balastar himself wore but, of course, was beaten up.

  “No one on Earth is going to hurt either of you, Corvak. Not unless you start waving that thing around.”

  “Oh yeah? Says you, pretty boy.”

  “That’s enough.” Kit pushed Corvak back a step.

  Balastar didn’t respond. The man was a crag. He led the way to the portal. Going through, he felt Corvak’s psi and the inevitable pleasure caused by Kit’s. She kept her gaze averted when they stepped through to Ria’s great room. The portal had originally been anchored in her library, but with her villa acting as the temporary headquarters, people were coming and going all the time.

  “Balastar!” Ria jumped up from the couch and came to greet him.

  The Cavacents and their Earth Protectors were like a second family. He scooped Ria up and swung her around in a circle. She was a tiny spitfire of a woman with blazing red hair. Her mate, Ty, came over to shake hands. He and Ria had recently bonded, and he was in training to become an EP himself. The pair made an attractive couple. Not much taller than Ria, Ty’s jet black hair contrasted with Ria’s red.

  Balastar made the introductions.

  Kit was reserved but gracious enough. Corvak was an ass.

  Lord Rucon and his wife, Mara, arrived shortly after. Rucon’s slightly barreled shape contrasted with his wife’s short, lithe form. He introduced them quickly as Rucon was mid call with someone on his com.

  Ria had two Support Agents that lived with her at the villa—an older Italian couple, Gina and Battista. Gina cooked like a five-star chef, and Battista kept the villa in order. They said their hellos as well, and Gina announced that breakfast was in the kitchen for anyone interested.

  Rucon broke from his call for a moment to say they were waiting for a few others to arrive, and there was time if anyone was hungry.

  “Something other than a food pack.” Kit rubbed her hands together. “I’ll take you up on that. I’m starving.”

  Balastar knew what made Kit hungry. He stifled the anger while hurt flared in equal measure at her words.

  Kit shot him a fleeting glance, her hair now an odd color orange. What was she feeling when she looked at him? Embarrassment? Maybe that’s what orange meant. He couldn’t help but file the piece of information away.

  ***

  Kit was in heaven as she finished off her second helping of Gina’s breakfast skillet. “I don’t know what all is in here, but Gods, it’s good.” While Gina puttered at the stove, she and Corvak stood around a center island in the kitchen. Given the amount of time spent on her ship, she preferred to stand whenever possible.

  Corvak nodded his agreement.

  “Thank you.” Gina beamed. “You help yourself anytime, si?”

  The woman reminded Kit of her grandmother. She hadn’t seen her in nearly a year. Again, a pang to see her family shot through her. What is up with me lately? “I can guarantee I’ll be back for more later.”

  Corvak grunted.

  Kit avoided looking at him. It had been a tense day and a half on Tige
r. Turned out, not sleeping with him while her body yearned for Balastar took up as much energy as just getting it on. She’d blamed the lack of sex on a headache, but he wasn’t buying it. The tight quarters on her ship made the situation messed up.

  She was feeling more comfortable about being here. Lord Cavacent and his wife had the same aura of power and sophistication about them as Balastar, but they also seemed genuine and put her at ease. They finished up, and Corvak followed her back to the great room.

  More people had arrived. Balastar came over, followed by a tall leggy blonde and even taller male. They were both decked out in what she now recognized as EP attire—black button up shirts, black jeans, and sleek black boots. Balastar introduced them as the son of Lord Cavacent, Ian, and his psi-mate, Dani. Kit sensed Vertan psi from Dani, no doubt. Ian was different, though. The Vertan psi was there, but not very strong. Then it dawned on her. He’s a mix. Sandarian and Vertan psi. It was a surprising thought. She didn’t know that was possible. But then, why not?

  Kit studied the woman’s face. She looked familiar. Like, really familiar. And those eyes. She looked back and forth between Dani and Balastar. They had the same eyes.

  “Welcome to Earth,” Dani said with a winning smile.

  “Thanks,” Kit said. “I’m sure you hear this a lot, but you guys have the same eyes.”

  Dani gave Balastar a pat on the shoulder. “Yeah, we’ve heard it before.”

  “I’d be willing to bet you’re related. There’s a region on Vertan where the locals have those eyes.”

  “I’m not Vertan,” Balastar said.

  “I’d be willing to bet that if we dug deep enough we’d find a link,” Kit said.

  Ian snorted. “Well, that could have been awkward.”

  “Shut up,” Dani said, giving him a shove.