Alien King: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Warlords of Aegir Book 1)

by Luna Hunter

“It’s not taking him down though, boss,” the reptilian whispers. “Should I put a round between his eyes, just to be safe?”

  “Nah, I love watching Aegir suffer. Assholes think they rule the skies. Us Zeila have have a new bag of tricks, boy!”

  Malak reaches for the collar.

  “Not so fast,” the squid says, holding up a device and turning a knob.

  The pain, which was already too great for my nervous system too handle, is turned up to eleven. My vision turns to stars, and I’m pretty sure I can feel my actual insides writhing in agony. Through the pain, I can see Malak’s figure still standing.

  He reaches up and rips the collar off with one hard pull.

  The squid curses.

  Malak rushes forward with large, heavy steps that shake the floor. The next sound that reaches my ears is a gut-wrenching pop.

  That was the squid’s round face exploding all across the ceiling.

  Malak’s claws drip violet blood. His massive chest heaves up and down with heavy breaths.

  The other raiders scatter like roaches, scrambling for the exit. Rather than exact his violent revenge, Malak rushes to my side and snaps the wretched collar in half.

  “Are you okay, my yali?”

  His voice is a low growl I feel reverberate all the way down in my belly.

  “I-I am fine,” I stammer. “Th-thank you.”

  His big, strong arms lift me up and hold me close. Malak brushes my hair out of my face, and his warm breath tickles my still-sensitive skin. I try to sit up straight but another wave of pain shoots right through me. Those shocks fried my whole damn nervous system!

  “Hold still, your body has just endured a whole lot of stress. I’m surprised to still see you breathing. You are stronger than I thought, human.”

  “Yeah, well, so are you. You just… popped that guy’s head like a balloon.”

  “That is what I will to do anyone who even thinks about hurting my yali,” Malak growls possessively.

  “If you hadn’t kidnapped me, then…”

  “If I hadn’t saved you, then yes, those raiders would have taken you prisoner and sold you to the highest bidder. After they had their fun. I couldn’t let that happen.”

  A cold shiver runs down my spine. At least those shocks haven’t fried my nervous system completely.

  More boots sound in the distance, and my heart picks up right where it left off — racing at a thousand miles per minute. “More raiders?!”

  “No, the flock has come. You will see.”

  The pirates walk back into the room — hands raised this time, and right behind them, a procession of Aegir soldiers, with high-tech rifles aimed right at them.

  They’re all various shades of blue, some more indigo, some more azure, but blue all the same. None of the alien warriors are as tall, as broad, or as beautiful as Malak, though.

  “You have a vermin problem,” an Aegir male in lemon-colored armor snarls. “Should I fire them out of the airlock and get it over with?”

  “No, General Lynt. Send them all to Neralatos. They can rot on that prison planet for a few decades, and think about their crimes.”

  “Ah, come on man,” the reptilian pirate snarls. “You know my lifespan is only five years, right?!”

  “You should have thought of that sooner,” Malak says. “Take them away.”

  An older Aegir male dressed in elaborate golden robes pushes his way through the pack of soldiers. There’s streaks of white in his hair, and the lines in his face run deep.

  “Your Highness, you are covered in blood! Are you injured? Did we not arrive on time?!”

  “I am fine, Akil Pay. A few Zeila pirates are nothing to me.”

  “That pleases me, my prince!”

  Malak kicks the broken collar towards the old man.

  “Take this to the lab, see where they got it from. The Zeila’s shouldn’t have such good tech. Someone has been selling our weapons on the black markets.”

  “Yagna Coven, no doubt,” General Lynt growls. He says the words like they are the foulest ever, and he spits on the floor to add even more emphasis.

  “Probably,” Malak says. “But we need concrete proof if we are to take this to the High Council.”

  I’ve been watching the aliens talk with bated breath. Malak wasn’t blowing hot air — he really is a prince. And he commands total loyalty from his crew; I can see it in their eyes.

  The older Aegir now turns to me, an inquisitive look on his lined face. “Pray tell, what is this peculiar creature, Your Highness?”

  “Emma Fairheart of Earth is my yali.”

  All of the oxygen is sucked out of the room in an instant. The entire royal delegation stares at Malak with their eyes widened in shock. I don’t know the intricacies of Aegir culture, but even to me it’s clear he said something shocking.

  “And you will treat her as such, is that understood?” Malak growls.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” the soldiers answer in unison.

  “Akil Pay; she will need some assistants. Gather them for her.”

  “Y-your Highness, this is most unexpected, I do not know if…”

  “Get it done, Pay.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Prepare quarters for her, and make sure she’s comfortable. I will check on her once I’ve attended to my duties. I am trusting you with her, Pay. Don’t disappoint me.”

  Malak gives me one last nod, and before I can stop him, he turns and strides away.

  “Don’t leave me,” I whisper, but it’s too late. I’m alone.

  Alone as one can be in a room full of strange, blue aliens gawking at me like I’m in the zoo.

  I should’ve run when I had the chance.

  4

  Malak

  “Your Highness! If you have a moment!”

  “The fishermen are complaining about cargo disappearing! Should we increase patrols in the dock district?”

  “There are troubling rumors of rebel activity in the Southlands, my prince! As well as rumored sightings of the Sandwyrms! I advice sending more scouts there right now!”

  “It is a bad season for starfruit wine, my lord! We should consider compensating the vintners, or they might go broke!”

  “We should do no such thing! The vintners drown in coin, we should instead divert funds to the War Academy!”

  “You can’t solve every problem with more soldiers, General Lynt!”

  “Silence!” I thunder.

  My staff clamors for my attention. Through the thick throng of advisers I can’t even catch a glimpse of Emma as she’s guided to her quarters by Akil Pay. This is what I feared most: My royal duties interfering with my deepest urges.

  Because right now, all I want to do is peel that dun armor off her well-formed body and massage all her sore muscles.

  And that’s just a starter, of course…

  “No more,” I growl to my staff, raising my hand. “Take your questions to Akil Pay. He’ll take care of it all. I need to shower, and rest. You can all see I’m covered in Zeila blood from head to toe.”

  “B-but your grace,” General Lynt stutters, the desperation tangible in his voice. “With all due respect, these are matters of grave importance, we cannot leave them to Akil Pay!”

  “My brother’s corpse is still fresh, and yet you see fit to badger me with these inane questions?! Pay has served my family for decades, if there’s anyone I trust to do the right thing, it’s him!”

  “With all due respect, my grace, it has been several days, and… My apologies, Your Highness.”

  One devastating look from me and Lynt shuts right up. My head is thumping with rage — but he’s not wrong. The Xeerdom doesn’t stop for me, the drahir don’t stop flowing just because my mind is pre-occupied with grief.

  “Fine. Increase patrols in the docks. The Southlands do not worry me at this time, but keep me updated. If the Sandwyrms are really back, we’ve got a big problem on our hands. Compensate the vintners. Now leave me be.”

  I push
my way through the crowd and retreat to my quarters. These were only a small fraction of the decisions I have to make, but I can only do so much. I close the heavy doors behind me and take a deep breath.

  This is my new home, but it all feels strange to me. These are not my quarters.

  These belong to the Late Xeer of Nyrr. Moric. My older brother.

  He was always born to rule, groomed for it right from birth. I was always more at home in the Pit. I felt at home there, surrounded by my troops, my boots caked with mud. I gladly left all the fancy balls to Moric.

  Then came the call.

  His cruiser had exploded. He and his mate vaporized in an instant.

  An accident.

  The crown — and all the responsibility associated with that — suddenly fell into my lap. Right at a time when the dun mines, the source of our wealth and power, are running empty.

  Nyrr needs stable leadership, now more than ever. I know how to lead a pack of elite warriors, how to drill them and make sure they will follow me through hell and back again. Wrangling with diplomats? Playing the political game?

  That’s not me at all.

  I would like nothing more than to head to the Pit and duke it out with my soldiers, but unfortunately, those days are behind me now.

  I am their leader — I cannot be too close to my people. I’ve got to appear regal now. No doubts there are already whispers that I’m unfit to lead. He’s a Warlord. A scarred veteran. The Butcher of Gillig. Unmated. A loner who lets his claws do the talking.

  The Old Houses are sharpening their knives. The Neighboring Xeerdoms are planning to capitalize on my grief and inexperience.

  I will prove them all wrong. I must. And I will do it with Emma Fairheart of Earth by my side.

  Fuck. I already miss her.

  My dun armor drops to the floor, rolling back into a tiny black pebble. It’s such a tiny object, but it holds so much power. Emma has no idea that the armor I gifted her is worth a small duchy. I stretch my naked body, my hands absentmindedly moving down to my nether regions.

  Okay. That’s a lie. I’ve been hard since I first laid eyes on that human female, and I’ve been looking forward to this moment the entire time.

  I wish it were her hands that were upon me. Soon. Soon I will make her mine, but right now, I crave release.

  I head to the showers, turn on the hot water and wash away all of the Zeila blood. Idiot raiders. Who attacks an Aegir ship and thinks they’ll live? Especially one flying the Nyrr flag.

  It must’ve been because of Emma. She’s a prize, one I must protect with my life. This won’t be the first time someone will try to take her from me. There will be more attempts, guaranteed, and it won’t be the last time I’ll have to crack some skulls either.

  She is MINE.

  And anyone who thinks otherwise will have me to deal with.

  She truly is the perfect specimen. I could stand here under the warm rays and think about her all day.

  I love the way her nostrils flare when she gets mad at me for offending her fragile, human sensibilities. I love the way her eyes light up when she smiles. And, more than anything, I love the way she smells simultaneously like fresh grass and hot, sweaty sex.

  My hand snakes its way around my pulsing member. Fuck. I cannot wait to make her mine, to cup that beautiful, pale flesh of hers in my big, blue claws and just squeeze, spank, pull, bite, mate.

  Her scent makes an animal out of me.

  She’s stirred something inside of me, something real, something raw, something feral. My hand turns into a blur as I jack off, growling her name under my breath.

  My orgasm washes over me hard and fast.

  It hasn’t sated my hunger. If anything, I only want Emma more now. Her round breasts, her stiff nipples, her thighs and ass and lips — I must claim them. Self-pleasure is a weak substitute, for nothing can compare to her.

  I’m toweling off when the door to my quarters opens.

  “Your Highness, if I may interrupt you for a moment,—”

  “You may not,” I growl.

  Judging by the purple pins on his outfit, this servant is a member of the Royal Guard. A group that’s always tried to tell me what to do — and I’ve always ignored them. I must have driven them up the wall as a kid. The sight of my naked body doesn’t deter this servant either from doing his royal duties.

  “But my prince, may I remind you that you need to find a mate if you are to be crowned Xeer of Nyrr. We have offers from many different Xeerdoms, from the Deadsea Sentinels to the Scourge of Egos to the Yagna Coven. It would be most rude to not answer them in a timely matter.”

  “How about telling them all to fuck off? Would that be rude?”

  His face loses all color. “Eh, y-yes,” he stammers.

  “Good. Do that.”

  “B-but y-your h-Higness!”

  “I have already found my new mate. Tell ‘em that.

  “You have?” The servant breathes a sigh of relief. “To what royal house goes the honor?”

  “Earth? I think. I’m hazy on the details,” I say.

  The messenger frowns. “I’m not familiar with that house… and it is my job to know every single aristocrat in the known universe…”

  “Stop sweating, you haven’t failed in your royal duties. You wouldn’t know them. They’re outsiders. Alien.”

  His eyes widen. “An alien mate? You are not conventional in any way, are you?” He slaps his hand in front of his mouth when he realizes he’s just crossed the line and referred to me in an informal matter. Instantly he drops down to his knees and starts apologizing profusely.

  “Get up,” I say as I grab his hand and pull him to his feet. I can see the panic in his eyes; he’s not supposed to touch a royal, and yet, he can’t ignore my help without being rude.

  More royal etiquette that bugs the fuck out of me. If we all stopped with these games, life would be much easier for everyone.

  “You are absolutely right, I am not conventional. Now do me a favor and turn all those other Houses down, in a way that doesn’t offend them deeply. We’ve got enough trouble without me starting a dozen new wars. Understood?”

  “Yes, Your Highness! Understood!”

  “Good. Now leave me be. And never enter again without permission.”

  Now that I’ve washed the blood of my enemies away, and have taken care of the pressing stirring in my loins, I’ve run out of excuses. I slip the dun armor back on, the liquid cradling my naked form, and sit down behind my wooden desk.

  Intricate and ancient blades decorate the walls of this room, interspersed with paintings of all the various aristocrats that have served the Nyrr Xeerdom.

  My ancestors. Please, give me guidance.

  Work awaits. So many decisions to make, and you never know what is the right one.

  Life is much easier on the battlefield. The right decision is the one that keeps you and your pack alive.

  The wrong one gets everyone killed.

  Easy.

  The door swings open again.

  “What did I just say?!” I yell. “No visitors!”

  “Not even an old friend?

  Kozus walks in, and that familiar smirk of his cools my anger immediately.

  He’s my closest friend — or as close to a friend as someone in my position is permitted. We were roommates at the War Academy, and fierce rivals at first.

  Me, born to lead the Xeerdom of Nyrr, him born to lead the Xeerdom of Kar.

  It took us a year to realize that we actually have a lot in common. The future of our people rests on our broad shoulders; no one understands me better than he does.

  It also helps that our two nations don’t vy for the same resources. I could never be friends with the sons of Yagna or Egos. Too dangerous. You let your guard down once and you get a dagger in the back. Luckily for us both, Kar’s on the far side of the Idistric Sea.

  Kozus procures a bottle of starfruit wine from his coat, uncorks it, and pours us both a glass.

&
nbsp; “To Ran!”

  We toast and and take a sip of our wine. I savor the feeling of the warm liquid sliding down my throat. They truly make the best stuff in Kar. Of course, I can never publicly state that…

  “You ducked out of the funeral pretty quickly,” Kozus says. “Want to talk about it, big guy?”

  “No.”

  “Try to do so, anyway.”

  “What’s there to say? My brother’s dead. The funeral isn’t going to change that.”

  “I know that. That’s why it’s called a funeral, not a resurrection ceremony. Would be a cool party trick though. Can you imagine the look on the Grand Archon’s face? He’d be crushed.”

  “That’s exactly the problem,” I growl. “What am I supposed to do? Sit there and just watch the endless parade of sycophants? Do you expect me to listen to endless speeches from people who hated his guts? They all wanted to drink his blood. Egos, Yagna, all of them. I’m sure they toasted his death in private. And I have to nod solemnly and accept their condolences? Get the fuck out of here.”

  Kozus shakes his head. “That’s court politics, my friend. You really don’t want to play the game, huh? Not even after all these years?”

  “I don’t know how you do it, Kozus,” I say. “If I didn’t know you were a good person, I’d have thought you were just like the rest of the nobles. I’m not cut out for this shit. I’m a warrior. A warlord.”

  “I don’t enjoy the game, but I know the rules, Malak. And so do you. You just choose to ignore them.”

  I fidget with my empty glass. “Maybe.”

  “As warlord, you had that luxury. As Xeer, not so much. Speaking of royal duties, are the whispers true? Have you picked your mate?”

  “News travels fast, it seems.”

  “That it does. Is she really an outsider? Are you trying to upset the High Council, or is that just an added bonus?

  “That’s just a bonus,” I smirk.

  A smile comes back to my face instantly when I think back to her. She’s the only light in the darkness that surrounds me.

  “Tell me. How’d you manage to swing that?”

  “I was blowing of some steam, speeding through random clusters just to take my mind off things, pushing my cruiser to its limit, when I picked up a strange, unknown transmission. Unlike anything in the database. So I pulled it on screen, my system bypassing the rudimentary security easily, and that’s when I saw her. And when I did, I was… taken.”