Claimed by the Alien Mercenary_A Sci-Fi Alien Romance

by Viki Storm

  I realize now that my plan hinges on Noxu being able to be taunted into walking over here. He needs to stand in the right spot for any of this to work.

  But he’s a prideful male—telling him ‘no’ is as good a way of any as making sure he does.

  He strides towards me, outstretching his hand towards Xorba. It deflects the green beam from Xorba’s weapon. Good, Xorba—take time to aim. Get him back for that.

  “My setting foot inside a mine shall be the least of your worries,” Noxu says. He approaches the opening and stands right where I wanted him.

  Problem is, I’m standing in front of the mine too. My feet are frozen and I can’t move.

  Xorba turns, that odd new weapon pointed right at Noxu. He deploys a charge and I watch as the green beam goes right where I wanted it.

  Not at Noxu—not really. I only needed the charge from his weapon to detonate the explosives I staked at the opening of the mine.

  When the sensors detect the weapon charge, the algorithm I wrote will set off a chain reaction. The sensors will harness and redirect the energy to the explosives, setting them off.

  Noxu deflects the green beam and I watch in horror as it bounces and comes straight for my feet.

  And like a warm bath, I can feel again. I can wiggle my toes and bend my ankles—but I don’t have time to relish the feeling. I run. I grab Xorba by the collar of the gauzy robe he wears and take him with me. We run down the twisty, rocky pass. I jump over some bodies, step right on top of others.

  When the explosion goes off, all I can feel is a rumble in my chest. Luck of the void, I think. The sensors didn’t trigger all the blasts. The number of explosive pellets I planted, it should feel like the planet is cracking like an egg.

  But I was just impatient.

  When the rest of the explosive charges go off, it does feel like the planet is an eggshell, and we’re all in the jaws of a hungry beast.

  - - -

  I wake—or perhaps I never slept. There’s chaos as the remaining Kraxx rush to the opening of the mines. They’re not mindful of any of the remaining Fendans or even their fabled Green Ghost Army. They’re all working with one purpose now: to free Noxu from the pile of boulders that has crushed him.

  I planted the explosive pellets in what looked to be key areas of the rocks, and the results far exceeded my wildest expectations. It was a cascading avalanche of boulders that fell for what felt like hours. It triggered more collapses, and the entire mineshaft caved in like a waterskin on a hot day. The heat of the explosion, combined with the inherent energy properties of the qizo, caused the rocks to melt, to bind, and to reform as a solid stone wall that is likely miles deep.

  The mine is sealed. Permanently.

  No number of Kraxx, no amount of machinery—nothing is reopening those mines.

  “Help,” I hear. “Ayvinx! Help!” It’s Jula’s Snarlaq maid, Loh’ree—the one who Vhorwig was groping what felt like seventeen years ago. Could that really have been only earlier this day?

  “Please! You have to get Jula!”

  “What’s this?” Xorba says. He has the commanding voice of a king—but what’s more is that he’s got the haunted eyes of a man half-mad with pursuit. I ignore him. We are not on Zalaryx and he is not my King. We launched his capsule—empty though it was—into orbit. He is an un-man—a ghost.

  “Where is she?” I demand.

  “Don’t listen to this creature,” Xorba says. “The Snarlaqs are the ones who have been cooperating with Noxu, you fool.”

  “Not me!” the maid insists. “I never knew until today! Most of us did not know. It was only a few who conspired—those who resent the Fendan wealth.”

  “Silence, wretch,” Xorba says.

  “What happened to Jula?” I demand. She was Jula’s maid. She’d be the one to know if something happened to her.

  I know, too, that this maid would also be the perfect one to lure me into a trap—she knew me, knew the strength of my bond. But I don’t care. Even if Loh’ree is part of the conspiracy and is luring me to my demise, I can’t do anything about it—because if there’s a shred of a possibility that the maid i’s telling the truth, then I must go. I have no choice.

  “Fool,” Xorba says. “She lies.”

  “Where is she!” I’m losing what little sanity I have left after this entire ordeal.

  The maid opens her mouth to speak, but in the space of half a heartbeat, Xorba puts a knife into her heart.

  “Now I know that the stunt with the explosive was the act of pure stupidity, and not the stroke of desperate genius I first took it to be. She was lying—and I can only guess that Jula is some female. Why are the most stouthearted males turned to fools by the promise of a wet hole?”

  I have nothing left. Not my weapon, not my able-body—not even my sanity. Jula is the only thing I have, and this bastard just took away any chance I had at finding out where she was.

  He takes me by the shoulder and I rebel. I swing my arm and my fist connects with his face. But I don’t even care about vengeance. Vengeance is like the qizo. It is the past. It is a step backwards.

  I move forwards. Towards the palace. Towards Jula.

  I must be dead. I hear his voice, urging me to come to him. Ayvinx. Does that mean he’s dead too? Can we be together in the afterlife? Maybe this will have a happy ending after all. Maybe our bond will persist to unite us even in death.

  On Earth, there’s a saying that Heaven is a fairytale, and Hell is all around us. But I think we’re a jaded race. There is an afterlife. I’m overtaken by a feeling of comfort. Warmth. Peace. And isn’t that what all the disciples talk about when they preach on the street corners? The peace of pure and unconditional love?

  My eyes blink open and I see a bright light. Then, slowly, my eyes focus, and his face comes into view. It looked so strange at first—his dark red skin, the raised bumps on his head, the extra set of canine teeth. But now it’s familiar as my own in the mirror. And isn’t it? My other half—my bonded mate, who followed me into the afterlife.

  He exhales loudly and I see one tear tracking down his face. He lifts me to his face and kisses me. His arms are grasping me desperately, pulling me tight into his chest, like he’s afraid I’m going to get up and run away. Where would I run?

  Then I see where we are. That dank room with the thick metal door. I break away from his kiss and look behind me. There are ragged ends of severed rope hanging from brackets on the wall. There’s blood on the floor. My blood. I hold my arm in front of my face and see the sucker-wound on the inside of my wrist.

  Alive? Could I really be alive?

  “What happened here?” he says, examining the wound.

  “Something…” I say. But my thoughts are still disorganized. I don’t want to think right now. I hug him tightly and rest my head on his shoulder. I feel a healing energy—a bright, glowing heat inside my chest. And I know I’m safe.

  Everything is over.

  “The Queen?” I ask. “The girls?”

  “I found them,” he says. “The Queen was roaming the corridor looking for you. She pointed me in the direction she last saw you and then I found you here.”

  “The Kraxx?” I ask.

  “You were on the ground,” he says. “They were trying to revive you so that they could…”

  “I know what they were trying to do.” I know that the Kraxx did not succeed—I knew that right away. I would have felt their egg sacs festering inside me.

  “I eliminated them,” he says. I scan the room and see the two corpses, synchronized even in death. “You’re safe,” he says. “We’re all safe. The Kraxx have been defeated. Lord Noxu is dead.”

  “You did it,” I say. I never doubted his ability to defend the mines.

  “Barely,” he says, “and we had reinforcements from Zalaryx. I’ll tell you about it later. Right now, though, I need to tell you how much you mean to me. I was out on the battlefield and the only thing that I could think about was getting back to you. Anger at my
self for leaving you unprotected. Despair at the idea that I might not ever see you again. We came so close…” he trails off, unable to voice his deepest fear. “And now, it’s like we have a second chance.”

  “Yes,” I say. He’s right—and if this is true, if we are together now, I’ll have no secrets between me and my mate. “But there’s something I need to confess to you. I’m not the woman you think me to be.”

  “No?” he smiles playfully, as if there’s nothing I can say that will change his opinion of me.

  How wrong he is.

  “Remember Tarlou’s ship?” I ask. I release him and sit on my own. This is my story to tell and I must do it unaided—uncomforted by his strength. “He said I was a murderer and deserved to rot in an Earth jail cell.”

  “Oh yes,” he says, still smiling. I see the light of pride in his eyes. He fancies me to be like him—a warrior. A fighter. When in truth, I’m neither of those things. “I believed it then, and I definitely believe it now.”

  “No,” I say, firmly enough to make the corners of his mouth turn down. “It’s nothing like that. I was arrested for murder—once. I was twelve.”

  “Twelve!” he says, his pride restored. “Our own lads usually don’t get their first kill until years later.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” I say, the painful memories flooding my eyes with tears. “My mother died and I was alone. A man found me rummaging in a trashcan. He took me in. He was nice. He lived with his children. But he didn’t have a wife. She died, I think. So, it wasn’t long before…”

  “Stop,” he says. “You don’t need to speak of it.”

  “But I lived it!” I scream, my voice a dangerous knife-edge. He pulls me to his chest and I relent, taking his strength despite myself. Because, damn it, I need it. I’ve had to live on my own strength my whole life and it feels so good to unshoulder some of that load.

  “Then the least I can do is listen,” he says gravely. He doesn’t rush me, doesn’t presume to know what happened. I’m grateful for that.

  “The man started by complimenting me—how mature I was. How beautiful. How he appreciated all the help I did around the house, taking care of his children. I felt so proud. I felt like I had a home. Then, one night, he came to my bedroll. You can assume what he wanted.”

  “Of course,” Ayvinx says. His voice cracks, and I expect to see another tear coursing down his face, but his eyes are dry—reflecting nothing but murderous rage. I feel relief knowing that he’ll do anything to protect me—and our children, should we have any. Except, that’s part of what I must confess.

  “I refused him and he said it was okay,” I say. “But he kept coming to my bedroll every night, asking if that night would be the night. I kept refusing, and he stopped being so understanding about it. He started making me feel guilty. He said things like: ‘Don’t you realize all I’ve done for you? All I sacrificed for you? You’d be a common whore on the streets if not for me.’ One night, he was quite violent. He pinned me down and started to hurt me. So, I finally relented.”

  “You relented?” Ayvinx asks. “But you said you had never been to bed with a male.”

  “I relented, but he didn’t take me that night. I promised him that I’d do it the next night,” I say. “But before I could, I needed to secure some herbs that would ensure a child wouldn’t take root inside me. He was satisfied with that and returned to his bed. I waited a long time for the sound of his regular, deep breathing to give way to snores. Then I crept from my bedroll with my shears in hand. I put the point to his neck. I held them there a long time, trying to summon the strength in my arms. Then I pushed them through. He barely made a sound—just choked and bled out. I left in the night. I left those children to wake up and find their father dead and bloody in bed. I left them orphaned—to the same fate that befell me. Unprotected, vulnerable.”

  “You were right to do it,” Ayvinx says, surprising me. “He was an abomination. On my planet, males who prey upon children like that are regarded as the most evil of creatures—unworthy of anything that isn’t a blade in the neck.”

  “On Earth too,” I say. “I don’t feel bad about him. But his children! To wake up and see their father like that. Who knows what became of them? They probably fell victim to the same sort of monster that their father was. I took away their only protection. I could have just packed my bag and left. But I killed him. I didn’t have to do that. He wasn’t an immediate threat. I killed a sleeping man like a coward.”

  “You were in danger.” Ayvinx says. “He terrified you. You weren’t in your right mind and I don’t blame you. Living like that—in constant threat, under his emotional manipulation—that was a natural reaction.”

  “Perhaps,” I say. I feel that knot of guilt that I’ve carried in my guts start to loosen. A little. “But I acted coldly. This was not in the heat of an attack, in self-defense. I thought about it. I wanted to do it. So, I got up and did it. And I left the kids alone to find him in the morning.”

  “Kids?” he asks. “Wait, were his children daughters?”

  “Yes,” I said, “Two little girls.”

  “Don’t you see,” he says. “You saved them. Someone like that—who preys upon children—has a sickness of the mind that cannot be cured. If you’d just left, he would have turned to his own daughters to fulfill his vile urges. You protected them. Whatever hardships they faced, at least those girls will never know the perversion of having to lie with their own father.”

  I take a moment to consider this. I never thought about it like that. But Ayvinx is absolutely correct. Those girls would have been his next target if I’d just left that night.

  “Thank you,” I say. “You don’t know what this feels like.”

  “Thank me for nothing,” he says. “You do have the spirit of a Zalaryn warrior. You are resourceful. You act when others would be paralyzed with fear. You saved yourself all those years ago. You saved the Queen and the princesses.”

  “But you had to save me… Twice,” I say. “On Tarlou’s ship, and then again just now.”

  “The best part of being a Zalaryn warrior is that you are a part of a brotherhood. You have allies to help you when you need it—because no one can do everything.”

  “You did,” I say. “You saved the planet. You saved the universe.”

  “I did not,” he says. “High King Xorba helped me—and I know someone must have helped him, because he has some weaponry that was straight out of the nightmares of the void. It’s not shameful to need help. I love you Jula, helping you is my pleasure.”

  “Thank you,” I say again. “I love you too.”

  “Stop thanking me,” he says. He stands and before I can act, he whisks me into his arms. The tatters of my dress are enough to cover me, but plenty of my bare skin presses against his. It’s not enough. I suddenly need every inch of my skin to be pressed against every inch of his. I’m aware that’s a physical impossibility—unless we were flayed somehow—but I crave it nevertheless. “Let’s get out of here. I’m so exhausted, I think I’m going to stay in bed for a week straight.”

  “You better not be that tired,” I say. He takes me into the hallway and to the stairway. He climbs the stairs two at a time and I marvel at his strength. He pulls back the flaps of my frayed dress to reveal my breasts. They bounce as he climbs the stairs and he smiles broadly. Ayvinx repositions his arms so that his hand is free to fondle my nipples. First one, then the other, until they are wrinkled into two stiff bundles of nerves. When we get to the top of the stairs, he covers me back up, but my nipples are still hard underneath and the fabric scrapes achingly against them.

  “I need to sleep,” he says, when we finally get to my tower bedroom, “and I will—but first I need to make sure I’m really still alive.”

  He puts me on the bed and tears the dress off of my body in great sweeping handfuls. There’s no tenderness, but that doesn’t mean there’s no affection.

  That suits me just fine.

  I’m not in the mood
for tenderness. I feel the need just as keenly as he does—the need for raw and animal rutting. Our minds have been through so much that they need to shut down for a little while—while our bodies respond to the physical stress of near-death.

  The tenderness can come afterward. Now, there’s only lust and the need to spread wide and let him inside me.

  Ayvinx takes down his breeches and stands between my legs. I pull my knees together, pressing them against the sides of his muscular torso. “Spread for me,” he commands. “Show me your cunt. Present yourself to your mate.”

  I let out a low moan and feel the blood rush to my clit, making it swell and throb with the pure need for him. I spread my legs apart, and then I reach down and pull apart my lips, exposing my opening for him.

  He growls in approval and I see that he’s fisting his cock, aiming it between my legs. I’m already dripping with anticipation as he plunges into me, all the way. I scream out, relishing the feeling of his girth as it pulls me open. I’m exposed. I’m spread. I’m at his mercy. He owns me in this moment—in every moment. Because we’re bonded mates, there’ll be no I anymore. Only we.

  He pounds into me, utterly savage and unrestrained.

  I scream as he satisfies my visceral need for connection.

  And together, we come back into the world of the living.

  He puts his fingers over my clit and rubs back and forth. Even after all this frantic thrusting, I’m still wet and his fingers glide over my swollen clit, strumming me to orgasm almost instantly. His rhythm changes. He’s moving inside me in the same rhythmic pulses of my orgasm and I feel a new sensation overtake me. Just when I expect my orgasm to plateau and fade, it rises higher, climbing to the next level—where I explode from the center of my core. Ayvinx puts his hands on my breasts and squeezes, claiming me, taking me, making me completely and totally his.

  I buck my hips, pushing myself against him, using his length to satisfy the deep craving inside me. I scream out as waves of pleasure overtake me, coming again and again, until they finally start to subside.