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

by Vi Voxley

  Daegon laughed, looking at her.

  "I assure you, I can't sing," the warlord said, bringing a smile to Zoey's lips. "As for you, not much happened during the hour you managed to sleep."

  An hour, Zoey thought, instantly growing more tired. Damn it, he's right. I could use a good night's sleep. I don't even know how long I was aboard the Yemalan ship. It feels like I haven't rested in days.

  "Are you sure nothing will happen while I sleep?" she heard herself ask.

  The look in Daegon's eyes changed immediately. Instead of twinkling with glee, he seemed to grow deeply concerned for her.

  "Nothing will hurt you," he promised, the deep voice laden with emotion. "I am here. I will not leave."

  "Alright," Zoey said, yawning and climbing back on the bed that felt like the softest thing she'd ever seen. "Can you sit with me? I think that's what woke me up, that you were gone."

  Without a word, Daegon joined her. He sat against the wall again, cradling her into his arms once more. Snuggling against his body, Zoey pulled the blanket on top of her and nuzzled closer. Without the hard surface under her head and the smell of metal, it felt even nicer than before. She breathed in his strong, musky scent.

  Yes. This is good. I can deal with the rest later.

  In her drowsy state, Zoey let her fingers brush over his flat, hard stomach.

  Out of the armor now, but damn, I would probably hurt myself more if I tried to punch him.

  It was her last conscious thought before sliding into a dream about the warlord.

  * * *

  She woke up for the second time in Daegon's bed, dedicating a quick thought to how inappropriate it was and then discarding it in a hurry. It seemed she had more pressing issues.

  For example, being very, very close to the warlord. Not just cuddled up against him, but a little more. One mortified glance showed that apparently her dreams about him had somewhat carried into reality. Zoey jumped away from him, snatching her hand back from where it had been busy between Daegon's legs.

  Looking at the warlord, she saw a wide grin on his face. And a deep, fiery lust burning in his eyes – one that she wanted to see more of.

  Cheeky bastard, she thought.

  "Sorry," she muttered. "That was so... I didn't do it on purpose."

  "I know," the warlord said and Zoey could hear the tense edge in his voice. "But I can't say I'm complaining."

  "You could have moved, you know," she pointed out, but Daegon's grin only got wider.

  "Yes," the warlord said, and the timbre of his deep voice sent a pleasant tingling through Zoey's body. "You will forgive me. I found your touch much harder to fight off than any enemy I've ever faced. As you can see, I ultimately failed."

  Zoey's heart was pounding fast, listening to his words. Things that were most definitely not going to make it into her official report of the negotiation kept piling up.

  She tried very hard not to look at his erection, nor think about how hard and long his cock had felt under her palm. If her quick mental calculations were correct, Daegon was nothing short of huge, in the best way possible. She nearly licked her lips, thinking of how it would feel to be fucked by him. She backed away from him even more when her pussy became wet from the images that were freely flooding her mind's eye.

  Zoey hoped to all the gods in the galaxy that the Corgans didn't have an instinct to alert them about a woman's arousal. The ones who called them gene stealers had many interesting theories about what they could do.

  Mara James had sent a long letter to the Union about the matter, asking if their mothers never taught them not to believe everything they were told. Zoey hoped she was right about that.

  Daegon watched her go with the same devilishly sexy grin as before. He shrugged, standing up with a theatrical sigh.

  "Don't worry," he said. "I will not lay a hand upon you against your wish. But I will go and take a very cold shower now."

  Zoey smiled a little, watching him walk away. When he ripped off his shirt and she was graced with the sight of his broad, muscled back, Zoey had to fight herself to not follow him. The dark lines of ink were twisting and turning like snakes on Daegon's tanned skin and she wanted nothing more than to touch them.

  When he got back, his hair still wet and messy from the shower, Zoey welcomed him with an idea she'd had while he was gone.

  "Can you teach me to fight?" she asked.

  The smile that appeared on Daegon's face made her glare.

  "I'm not that hopeless," she protested in advance.

  "You have spirit, I'll give you that," the warlord said, still grinning. "But I've been trained in the ways of a warrior. I'm not trying to insult you, but you couldn't do half the things I know, physically."

  Zoey didn't let that get her down.

  "So teach me things I could do," she shot back. "You said we were going after the enemy. Once we get there, it would be better if I knew how to defend myself, at least."

  As soon as she mentioned the fact that she'd be in danger, Daegon's features darkened. He gave her a judging look but nodded finally.

  "I guess you're right," he said, reluctantly, as if it pained him to admit that even with his protection, her safety wasn't a guarantee. "But I won't promise this will do you any good. You should rely on your gun and the glove. You've been taught how to use it, right?"

  "Yes," Zoey said cheerfully, standing up. "Of course I'll shoot first, but just in case I don't get to, I should know self-defense."

  Daegon grinned again, motioning for her to follow. They stepped out of the bedroom and walked through a small hall, finding a little practice arena on their left. Zoey waited until Daegon typed something into a console and watched in amazement as the flooring changed.

  Panels rose and switched, and when she hesitantly stepped on the new ground, Zoey found it to be softer than before. She figured it was for safety. Corgan warriors would shrug off an impact with stone floors, but she'd be sore for weeks.

  "Tell me," Daegon said, coming to stand opposite her. "What do you already know?"

  It was hard to concentrate on training when the warlord hadn't put his shirt back on after the shower. Zoey couldn't tear her eyes away from his perfect body, sculpted like a statue of an ideal warrior. She could imagine the Corgan priests showing Daegon off as an example of what they wanted.

  Seeing the knowing smirk on his lips, Zoey took a hold of her mind, refusing to embarrass herself in front of him.

  "All Union officials have been trained in basic self-defense," she said. "Don't laugh, I know it doesn't compare to what you've learned."

  Daegon simply gave her a slight nod, not even a hint of condescension on his face.

  "I wasn't going to," he said. "Just because I'm a warrior, doesn't mean I look down upon others who haven't had my training. Trust me when I say I wouldn't want you to experience what I have."

  Zoey didn't reply at once. Over and over again, she was struck by the idea that Daegon wasn't anything close to the image the Union had painted for her. He was neither coarse nor stupid, and the famed Corgan pride she'd expected to fight every step of the way was nowhere in sight when it came to her.

  Maybe it was just her, but Zoey was intent on finding out more. Even if she failed at her task, she could help Mara James convince the galaxy that Corgans weren't all bad.

  "I think it would be best if you taught me how to fight the Yemalan, specifically," Zoey said. "After all, they're the ones who want me dead."

  A dark look flashed behind Daegon's shining blue eyes.

  "I agree," the warlord said quietly. "I will teach you how to handle them. How to use the gun and your glove for maximum effect. But Zoey... I need you to promise me something."

  He was so serious that Zoey found herself nodding at once.

  "Of course," she said. "Anything."

  "Everything I'm about to show you, it's all for the Yemalan only. I urge you to hide rather than fight. Stay close to my warriors and me. And even if you happen to be alone, I don't w
ant you to assume you can take any of them on."

  "I understand," Zoey said, glaring. "I wouldn't go looking for trouble."

  "Good," Daegon went on, his eyes still filled with passion. "That takes care of the Yemalan. None of that, do you hear me? None of that applies to Corgan warriors. You know there is a traitor in our midst. You saw him. If you see a Corgan that isn't mine, run and hide. Promise me that."

  Zoey nodded.

  "Yes," she said. "I promise."

  It looked like a weight had been lifted from Daegon's shoulders. The smile was back on his face and he stood straighter, beckoning her closer.

  "Show me what you've got," he said.

  Immediately forgetting the dark subject, Zoey charged him as she'd been taught. She mimicked having the glove in her hand, trying to press it against Daegon's bare skin. Of course, the warlord caught her easily and she found herself lying on the mattress in the next second.

  The bastard hadn't just "disarmed" her, he'd had enough time to lower her onto the ground gently. Zoey didn't know whether to be thankful or insulted, but she did know she was having fun.

  "Again," Daegon called, backing away. "First I'll get a picture of what you've been taught. And then I'll tell you how the Union got everything wrong, as usual."

  Zoey laughed.

  She had to honestly admit that her life was still in terrible danger. Her superiors would have been horrified to hear what kind of a mess she'd gotten herself into. They'd sent her to negotiate with a Corgan warlord, thinking that even talking posed a considerable risk.

  Now she faced outright war.

  And still, despite all that – or maybe because of it – Zoey had never felt happier. Being with Daegon brought such simplicity into her life, and drove away all the concerns that should have been plaguing her. The Corgan way of taking everything one problem at a time was contagious. At that moment, she needed to learn how to fight Yemalan, so she was.

  Her fighting instructor had told them all that there was plenty to learn in their defeats. Zoey didn't fool herself into thinking that she'd be able to win even a single round against Daegon. In fact, as minutes went by, it was pretty obvious that she couldn't even lay a hand on him if the warlord didn't allow it.

  All that was natural and fine, but when Daegon smiled to her, true pride shining in his eyes, Zoey felt her heart leap.

  "Good," the warlord praised her. "Very good. You're learning, not repeating the mistakes you made before."

  Zoey loved it. She had never had such a rigorous training before in her life. Every inch of her body seemed to hurt when an hour had passed – although Daegon was clearly taking it easy with her. But every time she tried to go in for the deadly strike, he grappled her, and for a moment, they stayed locked together.

  Zoey could feel his twin hearts beat, her back pressed against his chiseled chest. It took a lot longer for him to release her than it should have, but Zoey didn't protest one bit.

  Her life had been thrown upside down, and Zoey had no idea what she was going to tell the Union officials if she made it through the next weeks alive. All she was aware of was Daegon, there, with her, always.

  She never wanted it to end.

  Chapter Eleven

  Zoey

  The next few days flew by like in a dream.

  At one point, Zoey had asked if the Wraith really didn't need Daegon to show up, at all. It was a fair question, since he barely ever left her side. The warlord left her alone only once a day, when he went to the bridge to consult with his officers and hear about the preparations being made.

  "No," he assured her. "The ship can fly fine on its own. It doesn't crash into an asteroid if I'm not watching. Yarl and the others can handle the hunt. They only need me to lead when the true battle begins."

  Zoey had quickly learned that Daegon didn't like talking about the coming conflict. Not because he was afraid – he never was – but since her safety wasn't a certainty.

  Every day they woke up together, side by side on the warlord's bed. As he'd promised, Daegon never laid a finger on her, in that way, but as the days went by, Zoey found the reason for her refusal slipping away from her.

  She actively avoided bursting the happy bubble around them. They didn't speak much of the world they were flying to – other than the time Daegon gave in to her pestering and revealed to her what was happening. After that, Zoey left him alone, deep in thought.

  It seemed it wasn't the right time to discuss joining the Union if the Corgans clearly had no idea what they wanted as a species. Depending on how it all went, when the dust settled, Zoey might be talking to someone else entirely.

  She didn't want that. She wanted Daegon.

  Day after day, they both avoided the initial reason they'd been brought together. Instead, Daegon kept training her and they spent the free moments talking about other things, trivial matters, as if there was no war on the horizon.

  It happened on the eve of battle, when Daegon told her that they were closing in on Poural. The fear that Zoey hadn't sensed before returned tenfold, but it wasn't a fear for her life alone.

  She had never been happier, and it was very possible that it was going to end in a day. One or both of them could die.

  * * *

  "You're forgetting your gun hand," Daegon was saying as Zoey attacked him, trying to land a blow with the imaginary glove in her hand.

  She knew that. The truth was, Zoey was more distracted than ever before. She had still not gotten used to seeing Daegon's flawless, sculpted body, but this was different. When the warlord moved around her, catching her in his firm grip without any effort, she knew that she'd disappointed him.

  Zoey had barely slept the night before. When Daegon told her that they were approaching the planet the Yemalan had targeted, it had suddenly made everything very real. She'd always known it would end that way, naturally, but in transit it had been hard to believe that there was anything wrong in the galaxy.

  The warlord didn't seem to have that problem. While Zoey tossed and turned, he slept by her side. She had been very tempted to wake him and ask him to turn the ship around, but didn't. The fear for his life didn't outweigh the unthinkable – that Daegon would hate her. And he surely would if she proposed that he ran like a coward.

  No, Zoey didn't want that. She was as prepared for the war as he was, but it didn't help against the uncertainty.

  "Is everything alright?" Daegon asked, releasing her.

  "Yeah," Zoey said, shaking her head to clear it, "yeah. Let's go again."

  The warlord gave her an odd look but pulled back. He stopped a few feet from her, taking a battle stance that Zoey had learned to recognize. It was the crouch of the Yemalan soldiers, although he was considerably taller – nothing they could do about that. She gave him an appreciative look, trying to remember everything he'd taught her about the way the enemy fought.

  Then she dashed at him. Zoey hadn't even taken one step when she dropped her guard. She saw Daegon's eyes flash and the warlord caught her smoothly in his arms.

  Zoey took a deep breath, searching for words, but he understood her without.

  The kiss was hot and desperate and passionate – so hard it hurt. Zoey moaned against Daegon's lips when the warlord pulled her up into his lap. She wrapped her hands around his neck, bringing them even closer together.

  Distantly, she was aware of her body, rubbing itself shamelessly against his. She could feel Daegon's chuckle resonate through his powerful body as he deepened the kiss even further, his tongue slipping into her mouth. Zoey whined at the back of her throat, wanting more of him, always more.

  She had never regretted anything as much as the days when she hadn't kissed him.

  All the more reason to make up for it now.

  Living in the world of denial and the happy bubble, some of the reasons had still made sense to Zoey. She'd only just met him. He was, technically, the enemy of the Union. Or not a friend, at least. It was the worst timing to start a relationship and she didn't eve
n know if that was what Daegon wanted.

  Maybe he'd simply fuck her and be done with it.

  Would that be the worst thing that could happen?

  All of that melted away like ice in the sun when she caught the gaze of his deep blue eyes. They shone like stars, looking at her, waiting for the words she had to give.

  The man who brought worlds to their knees was waiting for her to say yes.

  "Take me," she whispered.

  That might not have been the most elegant way to phrase it, but it encompassed all that she wanted to say. It wasn't merely the fuck that she wanted, although her body was singing at the slightest of his touches. Zoey needed all of him and offered all of herself.

  Daegon didn't waste any more time. The warlord carried her to the bed they'd already shared for long, peaceful nights, leaving the training area. That was all nice and sweet, but now Zoey ached for thunder and stars. She wanted Daegon to break her with his passion, to unleash all the cooped up desire between them.

  She wondered how to put all of that into words, but once again it seemed like the warlord was reading her mind.

  He had given her one of his shirts to wear. What fit skintight on him was practically a robe on Zoey, with a belt tied around her waist.

  Daegon ripped through her clothes within seconds. All Zoey could hear was the tear of fabric, and then she stood naked under his burning gaze. For a moment, the storm that he was stopped, simply staring at her like Zoey had done to him countless times. The look in the blue amber eyes was indescribable. The shiver that went through Zoey's body had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

  And then the storm struck.

  She cried out in surprise when Daegon grabbed her and pushed her on her back on the bed. The warlord climbed on top of her, his strong body grinding against hers. Zoey could feel his cock grow harder with every motion of his hips against her naked skin. His next kiss robbed her of breath, with Daegon's hands in her hair, pulling at it to bring her up to meet his lips. She spread her legs, sobbing when he rubbed his hardness against her pussy.