Daegon: Alien Warlord's Conquest (Scifi Alien-Human Military Romance)

by Vi Voxley

  Now she wanted something for herself.

  The kiss was nice, but the bed was soft and comfy too. It had been a long day for Zoey. A sharp spike of sadness went through her when she remembered that it had begun on the ship that was now gone.

  From there to Gaiya to the Wraith and kidnapped by the Yemalan mothership... and back again. It was hard to believe it had all fit in one day.

  She was exhausted.

  The kisses were soft now, gentle and sweet, and she felt utterly at peace in Daegon's firm embrace. Thinking that she was only going to rest for a while, she laid her head against his chest plate. It wasn't the most comfortable place in the world, but Daegon was like a safe haven for her.

  Her drowsy eyes opened once more to see him cradle her into his arms, leaning against the wall behind the bed. Zoey wanted to ask if he had done it on purpose, but the tiredness finally caught up with her.

  In the safety of Daegon's arms, she dared to sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  Daegon

  Leaving Zoey behind to sleep was harder than Daegon had expected.

  She looked so peaceful and sweet as she rested, her long dark hair spread on the pillow like a silky cloud.

  Daegon had been raised as a warrior, his life had always been filled with fighting and hardship. Every day was as tough and unyielding as he was. That was how Corgan warriors lived, clawing their fates out of the paths they were offered.

  The little Terran was bringing out emotions in him that were utterly alien to the warlord. It should have been her that was out of place in his quarters, but it seemed the exact opposite. Daegon felt like his rooms weren't a proper place for this beautiful creature. She deserved light and freshness, and most importantly, a world where her life wasn't in danger.

  He wanted to lie down beside her and bury his face in Zoey's long curls. Nothing more. Simply to be with her. The sensation was utterly unexpected and unique in its intensity.

  The warlord had never felt anything even remotely like that towards any female he'd had. With every second that he spent looking at Zoey's sleeping form, his previous brief companions grew fainter in his mind.

  Eventually Daegon had to reluctantly leave the room, telling himself that everything he was about to do would help keep her safe.

  It was a whole other world out there. As the doors to his quarters closed behind him, Daegon felt like he was stepping back into the life he'd known before he met Zoey.

  Something about it felt off. The warlord struggled to relate the feeling to previous experiences. The closest he could think of was when a warrior picked up a badly made weapon. It did its job, but it was a poor substitute to a real blade that fit naturally in his hand.

  Daegon left guards at the door to make sure Zoey had everything she needed when she woke up. He felt guilty about leaving her out of the preparations, but he didn't want her anywhere near the Yemalan.

  It would have been unfair to say she had nothing to do with what was going on, since Daegon was certain the enemy had timed the attack for her arrival. The idea that they'd laid in wait for her made his blood boil.

  Execute, the word Zoey had used rang in his head. They wanted to kill her, publicly.

  Daegon knew what that looked like. The Yemalan were a vicious species that didn't shrink from any tactic, including trying to intimidate Corgans. It didn't work, but they kept it up in the hopes that it would wear them down and the displays were always gory.

  His own brothers endured that fate with stoic stubbornness befitting a warrior when they were captured. The occasions were rare, but not impossible. Daegon had seen it happen once or twice, being too far to help. He'd refused to turn away, honoring his warriors by witnessing them face death.

  The Yemalan were cruel and precise and even some of the best and battle-hardened warriors had screamed in the end, when there was barely anything left of their bodies and their resolve finally crumbled.

  The Corgan way of building their strength worked against them when faced with an opponent like the Yemalan. They prided themselves in knowing how to keep the warrior alive for hours, days even, while picking him apart the way the priests had put them together.

  Daegon had seen a man live without his primary heart, one of his lungs and most of his intestines. That was to say, the warlord had seen him breathe. He wouldn't call it living, merely existing.

  And that was the fate the traitor had planned for Zoey.

  The rage that gripped his heart was nearly blinding, but Daegon forced it down. He would keep it for later. Recklessness had its place in battle, when it called for leading by courage, but it did not help him plan his revenge. He'd let the anger out when he saw eye to eye with the one who'd betrayed them all.

  Yarl came to report to him and his expression told Daegon everything. The warlord's glare nearly made the other man stop and back away, but he regained his composure.

  Months had passed since Daegon had finally made the ship his, but it was his now. Every breathing soul aboard the Wraith belonged to him, ready to carry out his will. As if he wasn't just one person, as if the entire clan were an extension of his limbs.

  Yarl waited until Daegon nodded for him to begin, already moving to the bridge.

  "It's the Yemalan," the warrior said. "They've repaired the damage faster than we'd predicted, but that's not the main problem."

  "Speak," Daegon said gruffly. "I don't need more delays."

  "They have allies," Yarl said simply. "It is clear they were expecting us to give chase. The Yemalan fleet has been waiting. The mothership slipped into their ranks. The heat signatures, flight patterns and everything else are so similar that..."

  The warrior trailed off, but Daegon already realized.

  "We don't know which ship it was that attacked Gaiya."

  "Yes," Yarl admitted. "The bridge has a few ideas, but none of them are foolproof."

  "That's fine," Daegon growled. "They are all the enemy. And the traitor in their midst can't hide from us."

  "True," Yarl agreed, but he was still frowning. "And this is where it gets worse, lord."

  We lost the ship we were pursuing and it's not even the worst news?

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Daegon felt himself grinning. Right in the middle of the action, that's where he thrived. No second-guessing, no uncomfortable choices. Only the purity of a righteous battle.

  "Isn't it now?" he asked, his tone low and threatening. "What else?"

  "They are all on course to reach Poural in four days."

  Daegon froze, directing such a piercing gaze at Yarl that this time, the warrior truly did take a step back.

  "Are you absolutely sure?" the warlord demanded.

  "Yes, lord," Yarl said.

  "If that is their target... You must be certain of their course."

  "We are."

  Daegon turned on his heels and proceeded to the bridge, marching right past the bridge captain and turning to the communications officer.

  "Contact the chieftain," he ordered. "Now. Tell him it's urgent."

  Behind him, Captain Tuval said nothing, letting Daegon do as he pleased. The warlord usually left the day-to-day organization on the ship to him, only taking personal command of the Wraith in deep space battles. Otherwise, Daegon was the first on the surface, partaking in the real fight.

  Like Brions, the most feared members of the Galactic Union, the Corgans avoided space wars. They showed nothing of the greatness of the men fighting, only the intelligence of their mechanics. Daegon had won several such battles and forgotten them the very next day.

  However, he did remember his greatest duels.

  The officer he'd addressed was working frantically to tune the Wraith to the chieftain's location. Daegon waited, forcing himself to be patient. It wasn't easy to find someone who was more than likely to be in transit as well.

  Then the monitor before him came to life. At first, it showed the crackling interference of other beacons between the two ships, but then a man appeared
on the screen.

  Like Daegon himself, Nadar Brenger was tall and powerful, looking like he'd been carved out of stone instead of having been born. The chieftain's deep blue eyes were darker than ever before. On any other day, Daegon would have thought it was his rocking position that troubled the other warlord.

  Now he knew better. Nadar Brenger looked ready to murder, but it wasn't the disobedient clan lords that were the target of his wrath. He hungered for the blood of the ones who had attacked Gaiya, the world where Mara James and the chieftain's unborn child lived.

  The same enemies that Daegon was chasing.

  "Chieftain," he said. "I have news for you, but I need answers first."

  Many people – his warriors, the other clan lords, Zoey – had recently asked him what he thought of the chieftain; only Nadar Brenger himself had never questioned Daegon.

  As the other warlord gave him a hard look, the glare making Nadar appear older than his years and Daegon think of his loyalties.

  Nadar Brenger was a leader unlike any other before him. No other clan lord would have replied to a demand like that with a snarl, "Insolent brat. Ask what you need."

  That was the reason Daegon liked the chieftain, even if he didn't agree with him on everything (or anything, more often than not). The man didn't think his pride was worth more than the fate of all Corgans.

  Unlike the long row of egocentric, maniacal, self-serving chieftains they'd had, Nadar Brenger truly was a leader of his people. That's why he was so unpopular. Daegon wondered if he knew that.

  "Where are you?" he asked. "And is there any more activity around Gaiya?"

  Mentioning that name made the chieftain's eyes flash, but like Daegon, he suppressed the rage burning within him.

  "En route to Gaiya," Nadar Brenger said. "And no. All the enemies are gone. I assume you're dealing with them."

  "Going to, yes," Daegon replied calmly. "What are the other clans saying?"

  The chieftain smiled. There wasn't an ounce of warmth in the expression, but Daegon wasn't surprised by that. The answer was pretty glaringly obvious.

  "You can imagine," Nadar said with a fierce smirk. "I might as well have bombed the shrine myself for all the difference it seems to make to them."

  "But no rebellion?" Daegon pressed on.

  The chieftain's eyes narrowed and Daegon could feel his defiance resonate even through the monitor before him.

  "No," Nadar hissed. "I will not have Corgans fight among themselves. Not now. We are on the brink of being great again."

  Funny you should say that. The man who is willing to sell our worlds to the enemy thinks the same.

  "I'm afraid it's too late for that," Daegon said, continuing before Nadar could interfere. "It was more than a Yemalan raid meant to discredit you. They are organized this time. One of the clan lords is helping them. He's promised them the world they've always wanted."

  It seemed even Corgans weren't immune to shock. For a long moment, Nadar Brenger said nothing. He didn't even move, although Daegon could see his powerful form shake with barely contained rage. Finally, in a voice broken by fury, the chieftain asked, "Who?"

  "I don't have any proof yet," Daegon said. "But I would bet my life it's Arboc."

  When the chieftain bared his teeth in a feral growl, Daegon knew he agreed. All Corgan clan lords were born killers, with quick tempers and a certainty in themselves you could bounce mountains on. But Arboc matched that with a dark mind. He was the newest of them all, having killed his old lord even after Daegon had taken up his position.

  And Arboc had never made a secret of how deeply he loathed the chieftain.

  Nadar Brenger said what Daegon was thinking, "That spineless coward," he roared. "He doesn't have the strength to face me in a duel and this is what he dares!?"

  The chieftain's reaction was so vivid that several bridge staff edged away from the monitor. Daegon stayed, unflinching.

  "It is even worse, chieftain," he said. "I have been following the Yemalan for almost two days now. The course of their fleet is clear."

  When Nadar didn't reply, Daegon chose to just say it.

  "It seems the world he promised the Yemalan is Poural."

  He had expected the chieftain to explode hearing that, but he barely reacted. This time, his flashing blue eyes suddenly became very sharp. A long silence set, during which the chieftain stared at him.

  "Arboc is a traitorous coward scum," Nadar Brenger said at last. "But I see he is not as stupid as I'd thought."

  Daegon didn't reply.

  "Clever," the chieftain hissed, and the intensity of his gaze was almost searing. "To put my fate in the hands of another."

  The bridge behind Daegon was so quiet he could have heard a feather drop. No one dared to even breathe as the two clan lords contemplated each other.

  When the chieftain spoke, he confirmed the theory that had already formed in Daegon's mind.

  "Gaiya was a distraction," Nadar Brenger said. "Arboc knew I would rush back here. He knew you would be the one chasing him. It makes sense. It would take three days for me to catch up with the Wraith. So he gives you an option. By going after my home world, he forced you to choose. If Poural falls, I doubt I'll be a chieftain much longer. Everything you do from now on is a sign to the others. If I can't protect my own world, if I can't control you... It's over. Even if you try and fail, it ends. The other clans will rise up against me. All of them."

  Daegon still didn't reply. He knew all that as well.

  Instead, he looked at the man who ruled all Corgans. For now. The chieftain was right, after all. If Daegon chose to betray him – and yes, even if he failed him – Nadar Brenger would face the accusations of their entire species. Losing an entire Corgan world? That had never happened, in all their history. No chieftain could survive that. Nadar was one of the most feared warriors, but he wasn't immortal and there was bound to be many challengers. Sooner or later, he would slip and fall and die.

  The traitor had put the destiny of the Corgans in his hands. If Daegon didn't like the way the chieftain was leading them, all he had to do was stand aside.

  Everyone had asked him what he was going to tell the Union's ambassador.

  On the monitor, there was no fear, no regret and no hint of yielding in Nadar Brenger's eyes as he asked, "Will you fight?"

  That was reason enough for Daegon.

  "Yes, chieftain," he replied seriously, as though it wasn't a question at all.

  Of course, it really was not. Two men wanted to lead the Corgans to greatness. One was willing to fight for them until the bitter end at the hands of his subjects. And the other sold them to the enemy.

  To Daegon's eyes, there was no choice in sight.

  Nadar Brenger was still looking at him. The chieftain's gaze didn't betray any of his feelings, nor whether he'd gotten the answer he'd expected.

  "Good," was all he said. "I want the traitor's head mounted on a spike."

  "Yes, chieftain."

  As an afterthought, Nadar asked, "And the Union? Is their representative alive and well?"

  "She is," Daegon said, thinking of Zoey, sleeping peacefully in his bed. "And she will be. I want you to know that this doesn't mean I will agree to her offer."

  The chieftain smiled and already turning away from the monitor, replied, "I gave you the order to hear her out. I didn't give you the answer."

  Chapter Ten

  Zoey

  Zoey was wide awake and mad as hell when Daegon returned.

  She had no idea how long she'd slept, but judging by the surprised look on the warlord's face, not too long.

  "You're already up," he said, disapproval plain in his voice.

  "And you're a bastard," Zoey replied.

  She immediately regretted that. It was, like, rule number one in "Things You Shouldn't Say To Unpredictable, Temperamental Warlords". But Daegon laughed and his amazing blue eyes shone with amusement.

  "You needed rest," he said, walking past her and starting to remove his armo
r and weapons.

  Zoey stared. Not only because she most assuredly wanted to see more of him, but also since the action was so out of place in the world she knew. Corgan warriors and their armors went together. It was like a snake shedding its skin in front of her, but that comparison quickly vanished from her mind when more of Daegon's body was exposed to her hungry gaze.

  She had clearly been able to see his powerful form before, but it was somehow even more impressive without the armor. As if the heavy metal plates didn't boost Daegon's considerable bulk but contained it in a hard metal cage. Freed from the unnatural shapes, Zoey was finally able to see what the warlord really looked like.

  Forgetting to look away, she stood, ogling shamelessly.

  Daegon was wearing a black shirt underneath the armor plates, coupled with trousers of a matching shade. While the pants were loosely fitting, the shirt was pointedly not. Zoey spent a good several seconds trying to figure out how the seams didn't just rip. The cloth was tight over his broad chest and even more so around his biceps, bulging under the shirt.

  Zoey's eyes rested on that avatar of manhood until her gaze reached his deep amber eyes and she realized that her interest had been noted.

  With a stubbornness to match the Corgans’, she refused to look away. There was nothing wrong with looking. If he was suddenly all modest, he shouldn't have undressed in front of her.

  She had completely forgotten what they’d been talking about.

  Daegon reminded her, helpfully, "You can go back to sleep," he offered. "The Yemalan mothership seems to have slipped away from us, but we know where it's going. As for now, there is no danger to you. I suggest you rest up before we get to our destination."

  That did sound good, but Zoey wasn't done with him yet.

  "You practically sang me to sleep," she said accusingly. "As far as methods of getting rid of me go, I suppose it was kind of nice. At least you didn't whack me over the head with something. But I want to know what's been going on."