Alien Warlord's Passion (Warlord Brides Index Book 2)

by Nancey Cummings

  “Uncle Mene is my horse,” he announced.

  “And how does Uncle Mene feel about that?”

  “It is tolerable,” he said gruffly.

  Michael pointed to a destination in the distance, and they were off again.

  “Um, baby.” Hazel tugged on Seeran’s sleeve. “I am getting a bit tired. I’d like to go back to the house and take a nap.”

  Rosemary remembered her pregnancy and the constant exhaustion that accompanied it. Plus the morning sickness. “You get the barfs yet?”

  “Happens in the afternoon,” her sister admitted.

  “I think I’d like to stay and keep an eye on Michael.” And make sure he didn’t annoy Mene too much.

  “I will remain and guard you,” Lorran said. He accepted the rifle from Seeran.

  Seriously, what creatures lived in the hills that they had to be armed to the teeth?

  Away from the house, Rosemary could see that the property sat in a large valley. Gray and white with snow covered the distant hills. “I bet this is lovely in the spring,” she said.

  “You’re lovely—”

  She held up a hand. “Stop. Just stop. I’m not interested.”

  He sighed with relief. “Thank the stars for that.”

  “Don’t sound so relieved, mister.” Dang. A girl had her pride, after all.

  “My mother is playing matchmaker.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Siblings are often genetically compatible, so it follows that you would be a good match for me or Mene.” He shrugged. “You smell nice but not the greatest thing in the universe.”

  Ouch. Her pride continued to take a beating.

  “Well, I’m not that keen on you, either. You’re not exactly my type.” He was handsome but didn’t do it for her. Unaware, her gaze drifted to Mene tramping through the snow with Michael on his shoulders.

  Lorran followed her gaze. “And that is your type?”

  “Shut up.” Her cheeks grew warm with a blush.

  “Or what? You going to make me, tiny human?” He nudged her with his shoulder.

  “I’ll grab your horns and make you scream like a baby.”

  His lips quirked.

  “I said something dirty, didn’t I?”

  “Our horns are sensitive.” He emphasized the last word.

  “But your brother grabbed them last night.” And Michael had his hands wrapped around Mene’s horns. If that big purple meanie was perving on her boy, she didn’t care how big he was. She’d kill him.

  “I believe the equivalent is your ears. Painful when your mother grabs them to get your attention. Enjoyable with a lover’s touch.”

  “So that is innocent?” She pointed to Michael and Mene.

  “Yes. However, if you wished to mount me in such a fashion, I would not protest. I’d let you lead me all over creation.”

  Rosemary frowned and stuck her tongue out. “Are you even capable of not flirting?”

  Lorran shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve never really tried.”

  “You feel more like a friend than a lover. Can we leave it at that?”

  “I believe I will enjoy having you as a friend. I especially enjoy the way my brother gets huffy when you talk to me.”

  Fantastic. Her new friend was a giant child. “Just watch your mouth when you’re around my kid, or I’ll make you pay the Swear Jar for every innuendo and dirty thought.”

  “How can you ascertain the cleanliness of my thoughts?” His eyes shone bright.

  Rosemary extended her hand, palm open. “That thought right there cost you one credit. Pay up, chump.”

  Chapter Five

  Rosemary

  “So what’s this kid of yours going to look like?” Rosemary slumped down onto the sofa next to Hazel. A Sangrin soap opera played on the screen embedded in the wall while Hazel knitted.

  “Watch it. Don’t bump my skein or it’ll get tangled.”

  Rosemary adjusted the skein of cornflower blue yarn and admired the softness. “What are you making?”

  “Well, this was going to be a baby blanket, but now it’s an apology scarf for my sister. Think she’ll like it?”

  “She likes how soft it is. Thank you.”

  Hazel nodded. The fabric draped across her lap. “Are stupidly long scarves still in fashion?”

  “Yes, and wide enough to fold over your head like a shawl.”

  “I might as well knit you a blanket, then, and I don’t know what he’ll look like. Mostly human.”

  “Mostly?”

  “They tell me that the Mahdfel tend to look like their mothers and some human women on the ship have already had their babies. One lady, Carrie, has the sweetest baby boy. He’s all smiles and looks a lot like her, right down to the red hair and freckles. He smells so good.” Hazel paused, the knitting needles slipping from her hands. “I got baby fever pretty bad, huh?”

  “The worst case I’ve ever seen,” Rosemary confirmed. When Michael was born, Hazel had obviously fallen in love with her nephew, but she never gushed about how good he smelled. For the record, as a baby, he smelled amazing.

  “Then there’s the warlord’s wife, Mercy. She’s nice, but the warlord is a bit scary.”

  Rosemary nodded. She found all the Mahdfel a bit scary. A week of close contact had softened the edge of that fear, but just the title warlord sounded frightening. The Mahdfel leader wasn’t a general or a president or minister, but a lord of war.

  Lorran, with his jokes and easygoing nature, didn’t correspond with that idea, nor did Seeran and the devotion he lavished on Hazel. Supposedly, the Mahdfel were cruel, short-tempered, prone to violent outbursts, unreasonable, and more brawn than brains. At least, so the anti-alien folks back on Earth would have her believe.

  She had always believed it, a tiny bit. She never met a Mahdfel before so it was easy to believe all the bad press and let those ideas fester in an ugly part of her heart.

  Yet she liked the Rhew family, even Mene. She felt safe and comfortable with them.

  This vacation had changed her preconceived notions of the Mahdfel.

  “They have twins. Very sweet. Almost a year old. They look human, but they have these itty-bitty horns.”

  “And how do they smell?”

  “Amazing.” Hazel sighed deeply. “Don’t laugh at me.”

  “I’m not,” she said, barely keeping a straight face.

  “Do you ever think about having another?”

  “Nope.” Being a single mom was tough enough; she didn’t need to add a baby to the mix. Michael was the love of her life. No questions about it. She knew she could love another kid as fiercely and completely. Her love was not a limited resource, after all. But exhaustion overwhelmed her just at the thought of midnight feedings and diaper changes. The first time around, all she had was basically a sperm donor with zero interest in his kid. At least she had Hazel to help. She couldn’t do all that on her own. “Maybe if I find the right guy. Someday.”

  Hazel patted her belly. “The baby fever is contagious you know. Watch out.”

  She’d need a partner first next time, not just someone to knock her up. An actual partner to be a parent. She hadn’t found that person yet.

  Briefly, her mind slipped back to Lorran explaining that compatibility often ran in families. She wasn’t his mate, but she might be Mene’s. The purple meanie wouldn’t be the worst choice in the world. Universe. Whatever.

  It didn’t matter. She wasn’t in the market for a boyfriend.

  A shirtless horned purple man flashed on the screen, grabbing her attention. “What are you even watching?”

  “Endless Hope and Suffering. I love it.”

  Rosemary followed the action for a few minutes. Basically, it was people giving dramatic looks into a camera while being very, very attractive. “So this is some sort of soap opera?”

  “Yes. That’s Doctor Ro—”

  “Shirtless dude is a doctor?”

  “He’s having a secret affair with that nurse, but
she’s from the past. He doesn’t know that yet, but the other doctor, the one with the scar, he suspects that she’s the nurse who went missing twenty years ago. They used to be married. Or they were, before she traveled through time.”

  “That’s stupid. Of course, they’re still married.”

  “Well, he thought she died, so he remarried,” Hazel said.

  “Wait, the guy with the scar used to be married to the time traveling nurse? And he hasn’t said anything?”

  “No, shirtless guy used to be married to the time-traveling nurse. He thought she died. He remarried. Now he’s cheating on his second wife with his not-dead-time-traveling first wife.” Hazel hummed, clearly enthralled with the convoluted story.

  “But he doesn’t know she’s the first wife?”

  “Not yet. She keeps trying to tell him, but they get interrupted.”

  “That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Now stop talking, I want to watch this.”

  Mene

  Shouts of distress drew Mene outside into the cold. Fresh snow had fallen overnight, blanketing the ground in a plush layer.

  Michael, the small Terran child, crouched behind a poorly constructed wall of snow. His nose was bright red and dripping. Lorran crouched next to him. They clutched crudely made weapons, snow packed tightly into a sphere, and whispered.

  Seeran came up the walkway, unaware of the ambush.

  Michael tittered with excitement.

  Seeran paused, head cocked as he listened. He scooped up a handful of snow, but the cautious warrior was too late.

  Lorran and Michael sprang up from behind their barricade, flinging their readymade supply of missiles. Seeran ducked and rolled to the ground, snowballs pelting his back. The battle was short but fierce. Outnumbered, the lone male admitted defeat and surrendered.

  "Join us, brother," Lorran called from behind his barricade.

  "I will not." Mene had outgrown snowball fights several years ago.

  "Is the big, bad Enforcer afraid of getting his horns wet?"

  "He does not wish to look foolish," Seeran added.

  Lorran shoved a handful of snow into the back of his brother's head. "That is your smack talk? Your mate claimed that you have been practicing."

  "I have."

  "Practice more." Lorran turned his attention to the young Terran. "Convince Mene to play with us, Michael."

  Michael stood, his blond head barely cresting the barricade. He wiped his dripping nose on a coat sleeve. "We have cookies."

  Mene sniffed the air. He detected many things, but he did not detect cookies. "I fear my brothers have corrupted you, young warrior. There are no cookies."

  "I'm not lying." He snickered. "Honest."

  He moved toward the barricade, sensing a trap. "Present the cookie's credentials."

  Michael sprang up and tossed a snowball. It hit Mene square in the chest and exploded in a brief flurry.

  "Do you require another cookie?" Lorran asked sweetly, preparing a second missile.

  "Fresh baked, just for you!" Michael tossed another snowball, hitting his mark.

  "The cold is affecting your translator,” Mene said. “Those were not cookies."

  "Well tough cookies!" The youth doubled over with laughter. When the other three Mahdfel stood perfectly still, watching him, he paused. "That's a really funny joke in my language."

  Seeran nodded. "Idioms," he said in a knowing voice.

  Rosemary rounded the corner, dragging behind her a wooden sled. The metal tracks cut a groove through the snow. "Guys, look what Oran found. I haven't been sledding since I was your age, Michael."

  Michael abandoned the snow fort and ran to his mother. "Awesome! Can we go for a ride down the hill?"

  Rosemary nodded, but Mene loudly said, "No."

  She dropped the rope handle, and the sled fell to the ground. "Excuse me? We're going sledding."

  "It is too cold," he said.

  "It's supposed to be cold. Too warm and the snow melts."

  "You are ill-suited for the cold. The layer of fat at your hips and midsection will provide some insulation, but is not enough."

  Her mouth fell open. Lorran patted poor, simple-minded Mene on the back as he walked by to retrieve the sled. It was not a reassuring pat, but one given to a comrade about to face an impossible foe. Seeran mumbled that he would miss his eldest brother.

  Perhaps he miscalculated.

  "Did you just call me fat?"

  "I referred to the layer of—"

  "I heard you the first time!"

  "Your nose is pink, and your lips have begun to discolor. You should return inside immediately until your core body temperature is at acceptable levels." He touched the tip of her nose to demonstrate. The flesh was cold.

  Her eyes grew wide, and she took a step forward, right into his reach. With her head craned back, her gaze narrowed with displeasure. She did not fear him. "First, don't touch me. Ever. Second, you are not the boss of me."

  "Clearly, you require supervision." He folded his arms over his chest. She mirrored his moves.

  "And you're just the person to give it to me, I assume."

  Heat inexplicably kindled in his gut at her words. Yes, he would give it to her. He frowned and increased the intensity of his stare. "If I must."

  She held his gaze. "And what makes you so qualified?"

  "I am an accomplished warrior. My deeds are known to many throughout the system."

  "Well, sugar plum, I don't need your permission or supervision. Now get out of my way."

  He widened his stance.

  "How are you even serious right now?"

  "I question your judgment, female. It is too cold for your soft form and too cold for your son. His nose is red and dripping." Alarmingly so.

  "So now fat and a bad mom?"

  "Those were not my words."

  "Right, a bad, fat mom who requires supervision. I believe those were your words."

  "You are being irrational."

  "Because I'm talking to a great lavender wall of jackasses."

  Michael ran up and tugged on her coat sleeve. "That's a credit for the Swear Jar, Mom. I heard you."

  "Go with Lorran. I'll be there soon," she said. She zipped his coat closed and adjusted the knit cap on his head. Satisfied, she patted him on the back, and he took off at a breakneck pace.

  When Michael reached Lorran, the older man clamped his hands over the boy’s ears. "Are you two done flirting? You can give it to each other all you want, later.” He uncovered Michael’s ears. “My balls are freezing over here."

  "Swear jar!" Michael shouted.

  Mene turned to point to his younger brother, currently making a fool of himself with exaggerated shivering. "See, it is too cold even for a warrior."

  "I don't have balls," Rosemary said.

  No, her form was entirely feminine.

  Mene turned back around to say something to that effect when a snowball hit him in the center of his face.

  She laughed and danced away, out of his reach.

  Utterly fearless. His admiration increased.

  Rosemary

  Her vacation flew by. She would be returning to Earth, and by extension real life, the next day. She had to find a new job, a new car, and figure out a way to deal with Vince once and for all.

  That sounded a lot more ominous than she intended. She just needed him to sign the custody agreement, like he said he would.

  Threatening him or calling his bluff would mean he’d drag his family and all their money and reputation into it. They’d spend a fortune to protect the family name. Rosemary was tempted to skip the courts altogether and just go directly to his family. Granted, the last time they spoke, they flatly said they were not interested in whatever piece of garbage Vince knocked up or his illegitimate bastard.

  Their words still stung.

  They’d be interested if she threatened to sell the story to the media. Vince’s parents could force him to sign over custody, and the situation would be o
ver.

  Or they could drag her to court, bury her hopes with the best legal team money could buy. They’d take Michael, not because they cared but because they could.

  Nope. There had to be a better solution. She just needed to think. Tomorrow’s marathon shuttle journey would give her plenty of time to think and peruse job listings.

  She pushed tomorrow’s worries out of her mind. She still had one more evening with her sister and one more evening to enjoy herself.

  Tonight was the last night of Golau. The Rhew family, with human guests, gathered on the back patio. Lanterns illuminated the dark, casting a warm glow. Shadows played across the Mahdfel men’s features. With their horns, they appeared as fierce creatures out of a nightmare. She knew better. She noticed the way Seeran cocked his head as he listened to Hazel. She noticed the way Oran, ever silent and filled with dignity, reached out to his mate of many decades to share quick touches. She noticed the way Lorran went out of his way to make others comfortable, even at his own expense. She even noticed the way Mene patiently endured Michael’s endless questions and demands for piggyback rides.

  Hazel found herself a proper family, and jealousy tugged at Rosemary.

  Tani settled next to Rosemary on the bench. “Are you cold? You Terrans look like you should always be cold.”

  “Sorry,” Rosemary said, half paying attention.

  “It’s the thin skin. How can you keep the warmth in?”

  “We manage just fine.” She had plenty of insulation, apparently. Her gaze narrowed on Mene.

  Tani chuckled softly. She followed Rosemary’s gaze but said nothing.

  “What is it like?” Rosemary finally asked.

  Tani didn’t ask for clarification. “Mostly good. I have a good mate.”

  “But you had to leave everything behind?”

  “Do I look like I’ve left anything behind? I’m celebrating Golau in my family’s ancestral home with the male I love and the strong sons we’ve made. Our family grows every year.” She patted Rosemary’s hand. “The Mahdfel have been on Sangrin for three generations now. Being claimed as a bride was not such a strange, new idea for me.”