Prison Moon - Ice Heart: An Alien abduction Sci Fi Romance

by Alexandra Marell

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Prison Moon - Ice Heart

  A Prison Moon Series Romance Novel

  Alexandra Marell

  Contents

  Copyright

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Other Books by Alexandra Marell

  Author Bio

  Copyright

  Copyright first edition © 2018 Alexandra Marell

  All rights reserved, all copyrights and registered trademarks acknowledged

  Full copyright notice at end of book

  Edited by Judicious Revisions LLC http://judiciousrevisionsllc.weebly.com/

  Cover art by http://www.ctcovercreations.com/

  To find out about new releases join my mailing list at www.candyandalexandra.com

  About This Book

  Welcome to Prison Moon One, where cameras follow your every move and call it entertainment for decadent viewers sector wide. Where the innocent and guilty alike fight for survival. And where only one thing is certain.

  Once here, you never get to leave.

  Kidnapped by aliens, now her best hope is the very man who betrayed her. It was bad enough losing her tearoom in Devon, England to her thieving partner who took everything, but now Janie Roberts has been kidnapped by aliens who call her by a name she doesn’t know and say she’s been convicted of murder.

  Now she’s in a cage and en route to Prison Moon One, home to some of the worst scum in the galaxy, with the very man who betrayed her. If you can call the mountain of muscle with a chip in his head and armour welded to his body a man. Janie knows she won’t survive alone. She needs to trust this man who might be her enemy, but seems so determined to protect her.

  He’s big, he’s scary looking, but right now he’s her only hope of survival.

  He helped betray an innocent woman, but now his obedience chip is failing and he’ll do anything to keep her safe.

  His name is Gladiator Kelskar Vespasian, chipped to obey, to kill without question and with a past he can’t remember. But with his obedience chip failing, memories of a more noble man in a past life are returning. The beast they made him into betrayed an innocent woman. The man he was before wants to right that wrong and save her, even at the cost of his own freedom.

  ICE HEART is a Prison Moon Series Romance Novel

  Please note I use UK English spelling.

  Chapter One

  Her life was a mess and yet the stars kept right on shining.

  Shivering in her skimpy nightshirt, Janie Roberts closed the lace window blind on the Pink Cupcake Tea Room for the last time, blotting out the spectacular night sky. She shook her head, still reeling from the speed of her partner’s betrayal. He’d taken everything.

  Justin, how could you do this to us?

  One minute the toast of the village, the next a nightmare of accountants and a suitcase of broken dreams. The tea room, their smart apartment upstairs, it all belonged to the bank now.

  She raged, she cried and now it was time to move on. No self pity allowed. Next time she’d go it alone and be more careful who she trusted with those dreams. Damn you, Justin, I... Hell what was that?

  Janie froze, staring at the closed kitchen door.

  Footsteps.

  And she was home alone.

  A silent beat. Heavy thumping treads on the other side of the door. Bloody hell, someone or something was in the kitchen.

  A low growl sent prickling goosebumps racing over her arms and thighs.

  “Justin?” He wouldn’t have the nerve to come back, would he? Not now.

  A thread of flashing light tracked across the leaded window glass, a blinding violet, pulsing to an invisible beat. No police car lights flashed like that.

  Reaching out, she curled her fingers around a bronze statue of a sleeping cat, the only weapon within reach. So sick of Justin and his games. In no mood to be ladylike.

  “Justin, is that you?”

  No answer. Didn’t he fly to Mexico yesterday? He couldn’t be back already.

  “Whoever you are, I’m armed and the police are on their way.” The statue shook in her hand. Could she drive this into an assailant’s skull to save her life? A woman who baked cupcakes and painted watercolours for a living—beautiful things that made the world a nicer place?

  The thumping stopped, replaced by low murmurs in words that made no sense. No, not words, more a series of guttural growls.

  Oh shit.

  Alone and fresh from the shower, waving a bronze cat at what? A mad dog? The infamous Bodmin panther?

  “Lakmi Sadiri!”

  Bloody hell. Every muscle in her body locked tight. That was unmistakably a question, a command from someone she didn’t want to meet.

  Mobile phone in the office upstairs. Landline at the front desk. The police would be here in minutes. Rational thoughts raced through her mind. Calm down, where were the front door keys? She could get out that way.

  A blur. A splintering crack of wood clipping her chin, spinning her around in a dizzy circle of pain. The kitchen door crashed back into the serving counter sending spoons, sugar sachets and napkins tumbling to the floor. The words that made no sense echoed like a nightmare in her head.

  Bastards wrecked the place, she would have to pay the new owners. A sob of despair caught in her throat. Janie’s fingers slackened and the heavy metal cat made a slow downward spiral into the Italian tile floor. Two leering masks loomed over her. Hideous masks with glittering eyes and slits for mouths, almost cutting the faces in two. Mouths covered by grids, like a batsman’s helmet.

  Two of them. Too big. Too many. Her mind raced on in disabling panic. The room lurched and tilted and then she was falling like a crumpled puppet, the tiles rushing towards her. Another crash and cupcakes tumbled around her like falling dreams.

  “The till’s empty. What do you want?” Where were they? Lancing pain sliced through her head. Her rational mind battled the creeping fog threatening to send her to oblivion. Don’t pass out. Keep thinking. Keep talking.

  A dark shape hunkered beside her. A meaty hand grasped her chin, twisting and pulling her face to his.

  “You’re hurting me.” Should she beg? Brazen it out? The intruder squeezed, cutting off screams, jamming the words in her throat.

  “Lakmi Sadiri.” A face from her nightmares, words she didn’t understand. Hysteria washed over her like an engulfing wave.

  She was going to die here, surrounded by trampled cupcakes as her epitaph. Rest in
peace, the Cupcake Queen. So funny, a laugh bubbled in her throat.

  “Arisit.”

  Shit, concentrate. Give them the jewellery, her purse, anything to make them go away.

  What jewellery? Hadn’t she sold the few pieces, the two signed paintings inherited from her mother to finance this dream? The rest to dig herself out of this hole? An empty till and she hadn’t dared visit an ATM before the bank meeting. Nothing of value to offer. To make them leave.

  A painful twist. An arm too strong to fight hooked her waist, squeezing the air from her lungs. Cool air wafted her bare buttocks as she hoisted her over his high shoulder. Sharp nails stabbed her back. Her head swung around, unbound hair sweeping the floor.

  Too stunned to scream, Janie scrabbled to hold on, fingers slipping on her captor’s slick tunic.

  What the hell did they want from her?

  The second assailant lifted her dangling head. A cold metal box dug into her temple.

  “Lakmi Sadiri.”

  Janie gagged on his sour breath. Don’t throw up. Not now. “Janie Roberts,” she croaked. “Whoever you’re after, I’m not her.”

  “You have her face.” Suddenly he, it, was speaking English. Mistaken identity then. A student prank gone wrong. A thud of hope beat in Janie’s chest.

  “My name is Janie Roberts. Whatever you’re after, you have the wrong woman.”

  “You have her face.” The thing shook its head. “It is enough.”

  “What am I supposed to have done?” Reason with them. Weren’t you supposed to reason with hideous monsters who appeared in the night claiming you were some woman you never met?

  “You stand condemned in your absence of murder. Marked as a runaway. Reward for retrieval and removal to Prison Moon One, quai quou tekshi. You have her face. You scan as the condemned. It is enough.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Arching her back Janie strained to lift her head. Where was the camera, the laughing students hidden behind the door? This had to be a stunt. It had to be. By tomorrow her bare butt would be paraded on YouTube for all to see.

  They hurt her. This was no joke. The thing holding her stank like a cesspool. Every bouncing stride made her want to throw up.

  What in God’s name was Prison Moon One?

  “I’m not her.” The metallic gleam of stainless steel kitchen counters flashed by. A brush of cold air lifted her nightshirt and then they were outside in the tiny back yard washed in pulsing violet light, muted now and coming from somewhere above.

  The kidnapper’s breath rasped through the grid like a man fighting to take in air, whistling on every exhale. A small detail to give to the police when she escaped this ordeal.

  If she ever escaped.

  They’d let her go. Too bizarre to be anything but a joke.

  “Okay guys. You’ve had your fun. Got your Facebook video or whatever you’re after. Put me down or I swear I’ll throw up all over you.”

  Go with the flow. Dignity and a dented forehead were the only casualties so far.

  “Guasha!” The kidnapper whacked her butt with his gloved hand. The studs cut into her bare flesh, too hard for it to be anything but real. Janie’s brain cycled back to fear and the real possibility that Justin needed a more permanent solution to his partner problems.

  Bastard. Metal garden tables and chairs clattered and tumbled in their wake. From somewhere she found the energy to lift her aching head one last time.

  Oh thank God. The shadow of a man by the gazebo. He would help her. Hope flared and then the flashing light lit him with a violet glow. Another big man in a strange costume of a long leather coat and dull metal plates stuck to his face and head. Oh hell.

  Nothing good came dressed like that.

  Too stunned to be surprised. Some drunks on their way home from a fancy dress party? Her confused brain struggled to make sense of it all.

  “Help me.” She could barely lift her arm to plead for help. Flashing circles of light, illuminated the man’s face. He must be able to see her, yet he stood impassive, like a rock, unmoving. Nothing in his scarily blank stare.

  Why wasn’t he helping? The studded glove clamping her to the thing’s shoulder gripped tighter. The two assailants squared their feet, eyes raised to the light. And the watcher in the shadows saw it all. The bastard hadn’t even tried to help her.

  “Please,” she whispered. The watcher might as well be stone.

  Why would he help, if he was one of them?

  Everything faded. The tea room, the seashore, the village fanning out beneath, like a map coming to life.

  Floating. How could she be?

  Below her the watcher moved from the shadows and tilted his face to the pulsing light.

  But he was too late. He could have saved her, but he was too late.

  Four Earth months earlier

  Kelskar – Imperial gladiator, Feramani Capital, Sector Five

  Madame Lakmi Sadiri, concubine to the great Pakma of Feremani would tonight commit a murder. And Earth woman Janie Roberts, an alien dwelling five systems hence, had been chosen to carry the blame.

  And it was Gladiator Kelskar Vespasian’s task to aid in this innocent female’s betrayal.

  Two faces merged on the image maker. Madame Lakmi tapped her metallic fingernails on the glow-screen.

  “A good enough likeness,” she said and flipped the screen closed. “I paid a lot of coin to find this woman. Not as beautiful as me of course, but then who is?”

  She turned her dark gaze to him, one perfect eyebrow raised.

  “Not one,” he replied, the image of this Earth woman Janie Roberts haunting his mind in an unfamiliar attack of conscience. The flash of emotion gave him pause.

  Not paid to think. Not paid at all. His master took everything and in return he fought, coupled, and obeyed. In return he lived to witness a new dawn.

  For Gladiator Kelskar Vespasian, this was his life.

  “Let’s get this done then before the guard finishes his sweep.” Madame Lakmi smoothed a small roller over her perfect lips, sealing the tissue from poison. She drew a curved phial from her boot and held it to the amber glow of the wall sconce. It gleamed with malevolent intent. Kelskar watched her pull the stopper and paint the liquid on her full lips. Satisfied, she closed the phial and tucked it into his shoulder pouch, pausing to draw an elegant finger over the bulges in his arms patterned with swirling artwork, the silver bracelets marking him as imperial gladiator.

  “I wish we had more time,” she purred low in her throat. “Is it true what the drugs do to those huge gladiator cocks?”

  “Yes, Madame. It is truth, though I myself have no need of artificial enhancement.” He stood rigid allowing her greedy fingers to slip beneath the codpiece of his leathern leggings, squeezing his cock with her expert grip.

  “Hmm, yes, I can feel that Gladiator Kelskar. That is your name? Seems you certainly have no need of enhancements.”

  Feeling no longer had meaning for him. The pleasure these days was all theirs. The women who paid his master to moan beneath him and boast they took inside of them the best endowed gladiator and lived to tell the tale. Some demanded he came freshly blooded from the arena to add spice to the coupling. To him, it meant nothing. He stood naught but a cipher, the perfect blend of machine and living flesh with memories of a past life, lurking and taunting, unreachable at the corners of his mind.

  A past life best forgotten. Remembering was insanity.

  “Yes, that is my name.”

  Lakmi’s second hand ran flat over the metal plating covering his chest, implanted to the bone to become a second skin. A necessary protection for a killer without conscience.

  Then why did he waste precious thought on the Earth woman who would be taken for this crime? He no longer knew emotion. No longer felt remorse. The drugs and programming that stopped thought and brought forth rage, the implants of plated armour welded to his skin and bone, saw to that. His master took coin from this murderess and he must now lead the
bounty hunters and soldiers of the royal guard across the sector to this other woman who would carry her blame. They would not heed the Earth woman’s feeble protests when she cried foul.

  Janie Roberts would go like all the rest, dragged in chains screaming her innocence. And he would have led them to her.

  The great concubine huffed at his lack of response. Her red lips lifted at the corners.

  “I should thank my human, slave mother for this face and DNA. She was distant kin to this Janie Roberts, so the matching service assures me. Who cares what their connection as long as this Earth woman scans as me when taken. Lakmi laughed softly.

  The scent of heremone and exotic bralily filled the chamber. A fresh breeze wafted through the filters. Costly cloth, woven by the delicate fingers of younglings, coloured with the rarest of dyes, draped the sleeping platform where reclined the ruler of this land. The Great Pakma lifted a languid swollen hand to beckon them forth.

  As ordered, Kelskar played the part of bodyguard, deliberately turning his face to the view monitors recording his image as part of this crime. Too far from his own province for immediate recognition. An image they would follow to Planet Earth.

  Madame Lakmi wasted no time in small talk.

  “So, my lord, I am now fallen in rank to concubine number three it seems?” Hands on hips, she stood proud in challenge.

  “Dearest.” The Great Pakma exuded an air of studied boredom. His many chins wobbled in an effort to hold up his oversized head. “It was a spot of politics, nothing more. In my heart you are still my number one.”

  Lakmi slithered onto the bed, curved fingers cupping the small bulge in the man’s straining pants, sliding upward over his paunches and finally to his throat. She planted her lips to his in a lingering kiss of betrayal. First a condescending smile then his eyes widened in disbelief. A brief tremble and carefully she rested his unresisting body onto the covers, half-hidden by the bed canopy. She stood, lips parted, disdain dripping from her gaze.