by Erin Raegan
PYTHEN
Galactic Order Book One
An Alien War Romance
By Erin Raegan
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
All characters, alien or human, events―on planet Earth or otherwise― in this book are a product of the authors imagination and hours of daydreaming. Any resemblance to actual people, or otherworldly beings, living or dead, actual events, are entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 Erin Raegan
Cover Design by Cortney E Designs
No part of this book may be reproduced, or transmitted, or distributed, in any form, by any means, without explicit written permission from the author. With the exception of brief quotations embodied in reviews or articles. This book is licensed for your enjoyment only. Thank you, a thousand times and all the hugs, for purchasing.
Author’s Note
This book is science fiction romance story with explicit language, sexual situations, dark themes, and possible triggers. It is intended for audiences 18 years and older.
If any of that bothers you―beware or turn back.
If not―enjoy and onward to the fun and sexy times!
Dear Reader,
This page is for you.
Thank you for reading.
Books inspire us. They bring us joy and allow us to escape for a little while.
I hope you find that with mine.
Thank you for taking the time out of your lives to read my hard work.
It means the world,
Erin.
To my people. You know who you are.
“I wish only to be your ear when you need to release your fears and doubts.
Your hand when you need strengthening.
Your guard when you cannot hold on your own.
And your heart when you are too far gone to pull yourself free.
I will always be here, lovely. When you feel all is lost and you are alone, I will be right here.”
-Tahk
Chapter 1
Peyton
I leaned in to take in the pungent smell of my latest project. Clay smelled of aged water, and musk. It reminded me of home. It reminded me of my father’s studio; of our late nights molding and carving together.
The warm clay shifted through my fingers as I molded, gliding across my skin. Heavy vibrations nearly toppled the piece right off my wheel, so I bent and quickly turned it off.
Pausing, I looked at it curiously. The wheel seemed centered on the motor. I wasn’t sure what could have caused the vibrations, but to be safe, I smoothed out my bowl and placed it on my tray. This one would be teal. It was a wedding present for my best friend, Vivian, and her soon-to-be-husband, Hector. I washed the wet clay from my hands and left my studio. The bowl would take a while to dry before I could alter it further.
Leaving the studio, I walked into my kitchen. I had turned my garage into a full functioning pottery studio after my father passed. I had always dreamt of having my own studio separate from home, but I could never find something I could commit to. I missed my father’s place too much, there was no comparison.
For now, I liked the easy access to my clay for late nights when I couldn’t sleep. Three years ago, after he was gone, I had become an insomniac. I couldn’t sleep well anymore knowing he wasn’t here. Knowing I couldn’t call him or see him. Memories kept me up all through the night.
After he passed, my mother put the house and his studio up for sale. I was devastated, I would have taken our home and kept it alive. I would have kept the memories. I was hurt when she did it, and had a hard time looking at her when it was gone. She was not the warmest person growing up, but she was my mother. I understood holding onto his things hurt her, but I felt the opposite. Not having them around pulverized me.
His wheel was the only thing she let me keep, and it was now the only one I used in my studio. A piece of him would always be with me when I worked. I prayed the vibrations were a fluke, I wasn’t ready to part with it.
As a child, I watched my father spend countless hours molding and carving. For my fifth birthday, he made me a princess castle entirely out of clay. He worked on it for months. It was beautiful, and I fell in love with it on sight. The following week I was so enamored I wanted to show it off to my best friend Vivian.
While she was spending the night, we sat in awe of it and imagined ourselves as princesses. We dreamt of handsome princes, and harrowing Knights. We dreamt of dragons, and magic. And before long, our imaginations grew too excited to be satisfied with watching. Our little fingers itched to play with the castle.
It was far heavier than I could have ever imagined when I went to lift it from my dresser. I was devastated when it broke. I cried and cried for hours along with Viv. My little five-year-old heart was shattered. My father never got mad, no matter the time he spent on it. He just kissed away my tears and scooped up the broken pieces.
That summer, for the first time, he took me into his studio and we fixed it together. It never looked as amazing or as beautiful as it had the day he’d given it to me, but it was ours. We made it together, and I loved it even more than I had before.
But as growing teenagers do, I forgot to care about the things of my childhood. I lost it somewhere between my battles with acne and my rebellious party’s. It was gone. I would always regret not taking better care of it.
That summer so long ago, when my father could do no wrong, I fell in love with clay and pottery. Vivian had a hard time pulling me away from my father and his studio after that. I lived and breathed it. No matter the boys or high school drama, that never changed.
Now I was a professional potter myself. Nowhere near as talented as my father, but I loved the art as much as he did, possibly more. I loved it for the both of us now.
I filled a glass to the brim with ice cold water and drank deeply. The clock on the microwave said it was close to four in the morning. I had a meeting with my agent about a new art studio in a few hours. If I wanted the commission I would need to get some sleep. So, with a wistful sigh and longing look at my garage door, I went to my bedroom in the back of my ranch house.
I lived in the middle of nowhere Iowa. I used my half of my father’s fortune to buy land after my mother sold our home. It was beautiful, quiet, and peaceful. My mother lived in Seattle. She left Oregon the moment the sale papers on the house were finalized. All alone, I left for Idaho.
My eyes were his emerald, with long black lashes, and my skin golden just as his. I had his dark brown, wavy hair. It hung past my shoulders. He always teased me that his hair would be prettier than mine if he grew it long. Knowing how much he loved it made getting it cut difficult for me.
My rosy lips were all I had taken of my mother. I missed her, but it was also a relief not having her around. She wallowed in her sorrow, and though I ached for my father, I much rather liked thinking of him and laughing and smiling. She always cried when she saw me. We talked on the phone pretty frequently, but I avoided visiting just as often as she did. She only dragged me down with her. And I knew she had a hard time seeing me because I looked so much like my father.
My chickens in the back of my home were already stirring, so I pulled my drapes down blocking out the rising sun. I had thirty chickens in my flock. I always wanted them, our neighbors had them, and I used to beg my father, but it was one of the very few things he ever denied me. They were my first purchase after I bought my home, and I loved every one of them.
I had a goat. His name was Frederick. Goats were herd animals, but Freddie’s brother Geronimo died recently. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to replace him yet, so Freddie and the chickens were my only comp
anions on my land. I owned thirty acres. My only neighbor was Mr. Lake down the road. He was a lonely old man who ran his pig farm all by himself. I often offered to lend him a hand, but he always refused saying his sons would help him. But, I never saw them, and our small town had talk of his family never visiting. He was a proud man, so I never pushed.
I did drop by once a week with an apple pie, his favorite, and we played chess. It was all the companionship I needed, besides Viv. She lived in Seattle as well. I had to fly out there a few times a month because that was where a little shop sold a lot of my work, and my agent lived there. So, we still saw a lot of each other, and she visited me here as often as she and Hector could.
I used a local pilot for my flights, I had the money, and it was easier for how often I had to fly. I would need to meet him in a few hours, so I changed into sleep shorts and an old top and lay down.
My bedroom was filled with color, just like the rest of my home. My father was the same, we loved color. I grew up in Portland surrounded by it. Staring at my peach walls, it didn’t take long to find sleep. When my eyes closed, I dreamt of hospitals, and antiseptic. I dreamt of car crashes, and goodbyes.
When my alarm beeped, I rolled out of bed with a groan and stumbled to the shower. Thirty minutes later, I was dressed in jeans, chucks, and my favorite, Pot Dealer, t-shirt. My hair was blown and braided in a thick pleat down my back. I grabbed my messenger bag and left out the back door to feed the chickens.
“Hi there, Noodle,” I clucked to my rooster. He was my favorite out of all my chickens. He was pig-headed, and mean, he reminded me of my agent Bryan.
He had a soft spot for all his ladies.
Noodle was crowding Jilly as I unlatched the gate. Jilly was missing an eye, and he was the most protective of her. He never let me get close. I didn’t know how she lost her eye, one night I heard her screaming and came out to the pen and she was running around the fence. Noodle was hysterical and chasing after her. I found blood in her nest, and there was a wood chip sticking out of the floor. It broke my heart to think she could have run into it and lost an eye. I called the vet, but it took some time to get Noodle out of the way, so Mrs. Dibbery could see to her.
Jilly was productive now, and seemed to be living a full chicken life, so I kept her. She just needed a little extra care, and Noodle seemed to do most of that for me.
“Don’t look at me like that Noodle, out of the way,” I told my ornery rooster. Jilly was out, so he didn’t want me anywhere near the pen, but the chickens needed to be fed before I had to leave, so he needed to suck it up. “I’m not gonna touch your favorite lady,” I told him.
He crowded Jilly to the back of the pen as I spread out feed. He would wait until I was done before shoving all the other ladies out of the way to make room for Jilly. It was sweet, so I smiled as I closed the gate and watched him lead her over. I could only hope to find a man half as good as my rooster one day. I snickered to myself and walked to the barn.
Feeding Frederick took a little longer than the chickens, he liked rub downs and kisses. I spent a good twenty minutes brushing him down and singing to him. “Take care of the place, Freddy, I’ll be back tonight,” I told him and climbed into my truck.
The drive to town took about forty minutes, and the flight in Mr. Yert’s plane took another hour and ten minutes. It was nearly ten a.m. by the time I exited the cab and walked into my agent’s office. I was just climbing into the elevator when my phone rang. I pulled it out to see Vivian calling and silenced it with an apologetic look to the other occupants. I took a sip from my water bottle and texted her back.
Me: At the north pole. Call when out.
Viv: K, just meet me at coffee shop. Tell Santa heya.
Me: Yup.
I stuffed my phone away just as the elevator stopped at my floor and climbed off. I could already taste the cappuccino on my tongue and couldn’t wait to get one. I hadn’t seen Viv since last month, and I knew she needed to catch me up on wedding plans, but I just missed her. I didn’t care what we talked about.
“Peyton!” Hallie squealed and hugged me. She was Bryan’s receptionist, and she was the happiest person I had ever met. She needed to be to work for a grump like Bryan.
“Oh honey, did you feel it badly in Idaho?” She asked with a pinched face.
“Feel what?” I looked towards Bryan’s office, was he okay?
“The earthquake!” She cried.
“Earthquake?”
“Yes! You didn’t feel it?”
“Oh, uh yeah, I guess I thought it was my wheel acting up though.”
Her eyes flared so large they engulfed her face. “No! It was a quake along the coast! Just this morning the same happened in the east. It’s all anyone can talk about.”
“It must not have been too bad where I was, I barely felt it. He ready for me?” I asked her.
“You betcha, he’s on the phone but go right on back.” She nodded and looked down at her cell, fingers flying across the screen. It was weird sure, but small quakes weren’t uncommon.
“Thanks.” I waved to her, and dodged men and women in suits as I walked back to his office.
Bryan was still on the phone when I entered, I didn’t bother knocking. It irritated him every time, and I loved to irritate him.
“Yes, I will send you the numbers.” He scowled at me as I slouched in the arm chair opposite his desk. “Have a good day.” He hung up and gave me his full irritated frown. I smiled.
“Peyton, I have asked you repeatedly to knock before entering,” he said to me and stood up, pressing a hand to his tie to flatten it.
“I know.” I smiled some more.
“You never listen.” He sniffed and rounded his desk. He pecked me on the cheek and sat in the chair beside mine.
“You could just get Hallie to page you when I get here.” I winked and laughed as he sniffed some more.
Bryan Bergumont was my father’s agent before he was mine. He was the only thing―other than my wheel―I inherited from my father, and I loved him. He was my second favorite person growing up.
I was three the first time I saw him, and I thought he was Santa Claus in a suit. His beard was snow white, and his glasses were round and silver just like St. Nick. A few minutes after meeting him all those years ago, I felt cheated. “Santa always smiles” I told the scowling man. My father grinned. Santa didn’t smile back, but his eyes did twinkle.
Twenty-years later he hadn’t aged another day, his jolly belly did get rounder though.
“I do not like pages, they interrupt my telephone calls,” he said.
“You could get a cellphone.” I grinned widely as his face turned red.
“You know how I feel about those contraptions,” he grumbled.
“Maybe you need your glasses checked Santa, then you could see the keys on those contraptions.” I looked away before my smile split my face wide open.
“I do not need my eyes checked!” He shouted and stood up, his belly nearly pulling him over. “I have had these frames for thirty years!”
“They’re nearly half your age now,” I choked, my eyes watering from holding back laughter. Age was a sore spot for Bryan.
“Get out of my office, varmint!”
“Oh, come on now Santa, I was only teasing.” I giggled and patted his belly.
“Mary says these frames are very becoming of my masculinity,” he grumbled and shooed me away from him.
I doubled over howling in laughter.
“What is so hilarious?” He shouted, his face brighter than a tomato, probably not as bright as my own.
“Masc-cu-culinity?” I gasped and clutched my stomach.
“Mary thinks I am very masculine, I’ll have you know,” he bellowed over my giggles.
“Yes, your manicures, and eyebrow appointments are very masculine.” I sobered and nodded, sitting back down.
“There is nothing wrong with grooming one’s self. Mary appreciates my efforts,” he sniffed and sat back down beside me.<
br />
“You float Mary’s boat.” I nodded agreeing with him. Mary was his newest “lady friend”, and she adored the surly man.
“Now, no more goofing, we have a conference call in twenty with the buyers,” he checked his watch. “We must discuss your new collection.” I nodded, wiped the moisture from my eyes and grinned at him.
I loved Bryan Burgumont. He was every bit the character my father hired him for. He was fierce and protective of his clients, and I was no different with him. I didn’t have my father with me anymore, but I would always be grateful he left me Bryan.
Chapter 2
Peyton
After a long conference call, it was decided my new collection would ship in two weeks to the buyer’s gallery.
“Stop into the shop before you go back home and tell me how you like the new display,” Bryan told me after a brief hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a push out of his office.
“Gotcha, give Mary a kiss for me,” I sang and waggled my eyebrows.
He scowled. “And call your mother, young lady,” shouting down the hall.
“Call your optometrist, old man!” I shouted back. Hallie snickered as his door slammed shut. I waved at her and darted through the elevators.
Vivian would have been waiting a long time for me now, I jogged through the coffee shop door just as the first drop of rain hit my cheek.
“Girl what took you so long!” She shouted from the back of the shop. I grinned and pushed through the crowd. Vivian was hard to miss, tall and beautiful, a blonde bombshell. Her height never stopped her from wearing heels, which put her nearly as tall as her fiancé. She was curvy and outspoken. I envied everything about her.
“Santa found me some new buyers, they had a lot of demands, I’m sorry,” I told her and pulled off my jacket.