Cowgirls vs Aliens

by Grace Goodwin

  But something must have happened to my ancestors, for there was no technology here, no knowledge of any life forms beyond their small, blue world. The people of Earth had no space travel. Hell, there was no air travel within the planet’s atmosphere. They still used simple beasts of burden for their transportation. Life was simple, primitive and yet the marked were here. Descendants.

  Mates.

  The Sevens would have to be notified immediately. Earth would need to be included in our next Reaping ceremony. For now, I would hunt the woman who haunted my dreams. Hunt her. Find her. Claim her.

  Chapter Two

  Maddox

  Using a cloth, I wiped off the spent seed, tucked my cock back in my pants. I had to find her, for she was not only my greatest joy, but my greatest weakness. The mark would only awaken if I was close enough to her, alerted by her proximity. I was close enough to dream of her. I was close enough for my mark to heat and pulse.

  That also meant if Neron were close enough to her, as an unmated male of our species, he would sense her presence, know that an unclaimed, marked female was nearby. He wouldn’t dream of her, his own mark wouldn’t flare to life, wouldn’t even ache for her as I did, for she wasn’t his true mate. But he’d know there was a descendant of Everis here on Earth. Odds were, he’d want her for himself. He would hunt for her, and may the Divine prevent him finding her, else she’d end up… just like my sister.

  I knew now why I had never found my mate on Everis, had never felt more than simple arousal at the sight of a woman. My mark had never heated, never burned as it did now.

  But my mission was to track Neron, find him and bring him to justice. The ruling Sevens wanted me to capture him and return him to prison. I was more inclined to end him for what he’d done to my twin sister, Maddilline. My Maddie. I was more than willing to end his life. Eager to do so. But the burning sting of my mark demanded I take a new direction.

  I had to find my marked mate. I had no choice. My body would offer me none. It would become painful for me to remain separated from her, my arousal becoming more intense until I became crazed with it. Need for her would drive my every thought. Every moment I would wonder where she was, what she was doing, if she was safe. I would become a slave to my cock, to the seed my body demanded I plant in her womb. I would become obsessed with the need to mark her, protect her, fuck her, claim her as our palms touched, as our true marks connected us as mates. Permanently.

  She would be mine.

  No, she was already mine; I simply needed to find her.

  I could not delay.

  Lifting my hand to the back of my ear, I activated the communication system imbedded in my skull, the OsteoCon, or O-C. “Commander.”

  “Go.” Our leader, Thorn, came through clearly, his deep voice out of place in my head amidst the swaying tall grass of the prairie and the occasional bird singing to the dawn. We’d followed a geographical tracker on Neron’s ship to this planet, four hunters each assigned different prey.

  As Neron’s crime had been against my family, he was mine. Thorn hunted for our ruling elite, the Sevens, his target an assassin who murdered one of our top military generals in the Coalition Fleet. Jace and his brother, Flynn, were pure mercenaries, interested only in the bounty bringing back their man would fetch. The brothers were fierce warriors, savage and unruly as they grew up on the secretive Ryntor continent. I didn’t know much about them, but knew they were low-ranking members of their family, with several older brothers. They were unlikely to inherit great wealth or lands and had decided to make their own way in the universe. They claimed they were after the bounty, but I suspected the two brothers hunted for amusement.

  Truly there was no way to know for certain, as the bounty on each of our targets’ heads was more than enough to ensure none of us ever need hunt again.

  The use of the Sevens’ elite, long-range Warden vessel was another boon I’d never expected. The ship was larger than we needed, designed for a crew of up to twenty. We four had felt like ghosts on a deserted ship as we made the six-day trip through the Coalition’s maze of ship transport stations to Earth. Now our ship was safely hidden in the mountains behind me. The Aurora had shields and advanced weaponry that would ensure my mate’s safety, if I could just get her off this primitive planet and back to the ship.

  “This is Maddox.” I sighed, knowing Thorn would not be pleased with my next words. “There’s a problem.”

  A pause. I watched the sky turn to gray in the east. Earth’s one star would soon rise.

  “Explain.” Thorn was not one for many words when only a few would get the job done.

  “I just woke from my fourth dream-share. My mark is on fire, Thorn. My mate is here.”

  Another pause. “Your mate is here?” His surprise came through the unit as clearly as if he were sitting beside me. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” I imagined the soft feel of the inside of her thigh, the tight fist of her wet core around my cock. Yes, I had dreamed of her. “I can’t take the chance that Neron will find her. I can’t leave her unprotected. I must secure her on board our ship before I can complete this hunt.” But once my mate was safe I would hunt Neron in earnest.

  “I have not sensed her,” he responded. He, too, had yet to find his marked mate. In fact, none of us on the ship had, for we would not have left her behind on Everis for such a mission if we had.

  “She’s mine.” I nearly snarled at my commander, but his response was laughter.

  His next words soothed something dark and possessive that rose within me, growing stronger by the moment. “I must be outside her area of proximity.”

  “Good. Stay there.”

  He laughed. “Calm yourself, Maddox. I have no wish to be lusting after an unmated female, especially if she is truly yours.” The idea that the big man with his warrior’s strength and fierce features would be attracted to her, solely because she was an unmated female and nearby, made my fists clench. Many women from Everis lusted after Thorn, begging to fill his bed. I did not normally think about him and wonder why the women desired him. He was big, like me, but where my hair was dark, my eyes blue as a glacier, he was the opposite with hair like gold and eyes so dark they seemed to blend into the darkness of space.

  “She is mine,” I repeated, driven by mating lust.

  “Obviously.” His response was given with a cool head. “You’ve already lost all common sense. Don’t worry. I have my own hunt to keep me busy. Neron isn’t the only fucker to have escaped. Go get your mate and report back once she is secure.”

  Relief flooded me. Had Thorn decided to call in Jace and Flynn to help me, I would have been constantly on edge, ready to fight them off to protect her. I was confident in my ability to handle Neron. I knew him. Knew his ways. Unless I found myself in dire need, I preferred to keep my mate away from all other men of Everis. Even Thorn. If I needed their help, they would come immediately, I had no doubt. I simply hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.

  “Good. Stay far, far away from her unless I call you,” I replied. It was the only time I would be disrespectful to my commanding officer.

  “Understood.” I could hear the amusement in Thorn’s voice, but it turned serious with the next words. “Neron will not be so understanding. Find her quickly, Mad. I don’t have to tell you what he will do if he finds her first.”

  My nostrils flared in anger. “No, you do not.” If Neron discovered that the Earth female was my true marked mate, he would hurt her to destroy me, as he had attempted to destroy my family. “He does not know what she is to me.”

  “That won’t matter. He’s scum. He’ll hurt her just to hear her scream. Find her and get her back to the ship where we can protect her.”

  “I will.” Knowing she was my mate set me at a disadvantage, my mind now hazed with hunger, driven by the need to fuck. If Neron were aware of her, he would search for her with a clear mind and calculating precision. At best, curiosity would drive him. At worst—I couldn’t think about that.
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  I shared her dreams, her presence a tug on my senses more accurate than the most advanced ship’s navigation system in the universe. She’d be in my arms by nightfall.

  I had no idea who she was, but I knew enough. I knew her taste. I knew I needed to feel her beneath me, my cock in her pussy, my seed filling her, marking her and mating her to me forever. She would not be safe until she had been claimed and settled safely aboard our ship.

  I’d forgotten Thorn until he spoke. “I will tell Jace and Flynn, but we won’t get near unless you summon us. At least, not until you are mated.”

  “I will keep you updated, but I do not believe I will have to chase Neron. Once he feels my mate’s presence, he will come to me.” We all hunted men who were intelligent and cunning, men who had engineered a prison break from the inescapable mines of Everis’s moon. They were the first in three hundred years to escape Incar’s mines, and the ruling Sevens wanted to know how they’d done it. We all suspected they’d had help from the inside, from a traitor, but we needed to catch the prisoners before we would discover the truth.

  That was Thorn’s problem, not mine. I just wanted my mate safe and Neron dead, in that order. Apparently, Thorn agreed.

  “Just make sure you get to her first. Claim her. Mate her and keep her safe.”

  I nodded, although he couldn’t see me. “I intend to. Maddox out.”

  Ending communication, I watched the sky turn to pink, the stars of my galaxy disappearing with the colors of Earth’s dawn. The spectacle was beautiful, and not completely unlike a sunrise on Everis, although our sky was a slightly different shade with a bit more purple hue.

  I tossed the saddle over the back of my stolen horse, took my time to affix it properly, a task new to me. The horse stepped sideways, annoyed at my bumbling.

  “Hush, horse. I’ll be done soon.” Patting the large, intelligent animal on the neck until it settled, I finished securing the saddle and quickly loaded the small amount of gear into the saddlebags and ignored the fact that my hands were shaking.

  I had to find her. The dream would return tonight, every night, until we touched marks, until we mated. But I no longer wanted the dream, I wanted her.

  Putting my foot in the stirrup and settling onto the animal, I turned it in the direction of my mate and kicked the horse to a gallop with one word running like a chant in my mind.

  Mine.

  * * *

  Cassie

  “Mr. Bernot is asking for more coffee,” Mr. Anderson told me, using a cloth to lift the pot from the stove.

  “I bet he is,” I whispered to myself.

  It was dinnertime and the boarders were finishing off their baked chicken and the string beans I’d picked from the garden. I was whipping the cream for tonight’s dessert of huckleberry pie. With my free hand, I wiped my brow, the heat from the oven and stove made the kitchen warm, even with the back door ajar.

  The bell by the front door chimed. He sighed and settled the pot back onto the stove. “So much for trying to help.”

  I offered him a small smile, but when he left the room to answer the door, my false gaiety fell away. Mr. Bernot was a problem and had a habit of placing a very unwanted hand on my bottom when I served him at the table.

  None of the other guests noticed, for he was very sly. Either that or the other men traveling simply didn’t care. When I gave Mr. Bernot a narrowed look, he only grinned. He was handsome enough with brown hair and a mustache, but the looks he gave me made my skin crawl. Until he left, I planned to spend more time in the kitchens than usual—and sleep with my bedroom door locked. Even sleeping in the attic I had to be cautious.

  But I had to go and offer the man some coffee or Mr. Anderson would think me neglectful.

  Putting down the whisk and bowl, I wiped my hands on a cloth and retrieved the coffeepot. There were two boarders at present, Mr. Bernot and an older gentleman, a recent widower planning to stay with his sister through the winter.

  I’d been widowed at twenty-one, and although I missed the company, my life wasn’t much different now than when my husband, Charles, had been alive. But our guest had lived more than forty years with his wife before her passing and he seemed sad and truly lost without her.

  Making my way to the table in the dining room, I filled the older man’s cup first as was polite. While I wished I could lean across the table to reach Mr. Bernot’s cup, he held it out where I would be forced to come around the table to serve him.

  Bastard.

  Forcing a smile I was quite sure did not reach my eyes, I skirted the table and poured his beverage. Of course, he put his hand on me. I stiffened and shifted back, but he pressed his palm to my bottom, halting my retreat. The old man made no notice, too lost in pouring sugar into his steaming cup.

  “Mr. Bernot—” I hissed, ready to tell the man to go straight to hell, but Mr. Anderson came into the room and I held my tongue out of respect, not wanting to make a scene in front of a potential boarder, for Mr. Anderson was not alone.

  “And you can see, we eat our meals together. Breakfast is at seven, lunch at noon and dinner at five.”

  Mr. Bernot took advantage of my situation; as Mr. Anderson was escorting a handsome gentleman into the dining room, he actually pinched my bottom. I would have slapped him across the face, but the birthmark on my palm, which had only pulsed and emitted a slight warmth before, flared with enough heat to feel as if I held my palm over a candle’s flame. The pain blazed for several seconds before quickly fading, but I could not hold back a gasp of shock at the sharp sting.

  Mr. Bernot’s mouth tipped up at the corner and I recognized the look in his eye. He’d taken the sound as approval for his action, which was completely incorrect.

  “It smells delicious. I am sorry to be tardy for this evening’s meal.”

  Whipping my head up, I was sure I’d heard the deep voice before. I ignored Mr. Bernot to inspect the man standing beside Mr. Anderson at the entry to the dining room. Next to my employer’s short stature and round figure, the newcomer was a giant. He held his hat in his hand, but his head was close to the top of the doorway. He was bulky, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest; however, he held no fat. Only hard, lean muscle. Everywhere.

  I took notice of his dark hair, creased by his hat yet the ends held a slight curl I wished to rub between my fingertips. His jaw was square and covered by the early stages of a beard. I had the absurd urge to rub my lips along his jaw and test the texture. It was his eyes, strikingly blue, that held my attention, drew me in, especially since they were sharply focused on me. Not me, specifically, but Mr. Bernot’s hand on my bottom.

  My cheeks heated and I forced myself away from Mr. Bernot. Spinning on my heel, I dashed into the kitchen and put the pot back on the stove. Standing there, I rubbed my thumb over the birthmark, which no longer burned, but pulsed at the same frantic pace as my heart.

  That man. It was him.

  The man from my dreams.

  Chapter Three

  Cassie

  In my dreams, my lover’s face had never been revealed, but I knew that voice. The deep timbre, the rough edge to it. He spoke of dinner, but it was the words, “I will find you,” that I’d never forget.

  Leaning against the worktable, I rubbed my palm in an effort to make the tingling stop. Surely, dreams did not become reality. I was hearing things. His voice was similar, but not the same. It couldn’t be the same man. That was simply impossible. No one dreamed of those they hadn’t met.

  Then why did my body react to him so viscerally? My breathing was ragged, my skin flushed and heated. It wasn’t from the stove. No, this heat came from within, a warming of my body as if I were readying myself for him, eager for his touch. Beneath my corset, my nipples were hard and sensitive against the unforgiving fabric. And lower, lower I ached.

  I didn’t know what to do. I felt… on edge, unsettled. I paced across the small kitchen. Back and forth, rubbing my thumb over my birthmark. The coffee had been served and there was no
reason for my return to the dining room. Restless, I picked up the bowl of cream and began to whisk again. I had more energy, more fervor to release and I took it out on the pie topping. Mr. Anderson came through the door then, talking to himself, as he was inclined to do. I did not stop my work, for it easily disguised my agitation.

  “The nice young man will be staying three days,” he said, busy filling a plate to the brim with the leftover dinner offerings.

  Nice was not the word I’d use to describe the man. Powerful, brooding, intense. And his cock. I knew what it felt like, the thickness of it stretching my pussy wide, the length of it filling me completely. I knew what he smelled like, how he tasted. I knew the power of his thrusting hips, the intensity of his kiss.

  “I will fix a plate for him to eat while the others have their pie,” he added, taking a minute to do so. “Well, Cassie, that cream is perfect.”

  I looked down, seeing the white topping was thick and stiff. I’d been staring out the back window, lost in my fervent thoughts and hadn’t even realized it. As I helped Mr. Anderson plate several slices of pie with a dollop of the cream on top, I thought more about him. His pale blue shirt fit him snugly. His pants rode low on his narrow hips and could not disguise solid thighs. The dream—no, dreams, for they’d happened four nights in a row—came to me then, the feel of the man on top of me. I envisioned this stranger touching me, nudging his knee between my thighs, sliding in deep, tilting my head for a kiss.

  And now I knew his face.

  “Does he—” I licked my dry lips, tried to keep the curiosity from my voice, “—have a name, our newcomer?”

  Mr. Anderson placed the readied pie plates on a tray. “Mr. Maddox.”

  He lifted the tray and walked to the door, nudged it open with his hip and entered the dining room.

  Mr. Maddox.

  I put my hand on my stomach. It felt like butterflies, bees—no, hornets were swarming inside. I’d only caught a glimpse of him for a few seconds and was able to absorb so many details of him. My hand went to the back of a chair, tucked neatly beneath the table, as I tried to imagine what he’d thought of me. He’d taken in the room at large, the boarders, then me. He’d focused on me, pale eyes assessing and observant. Oh, dear Lord.