“Let us rejoice this time, and witness the Falling Star with not just joy in our hearts, but with a steady reminder,”
…But gaining a new love and a new happiness was sure to overcome all pains.
“That we are but stardust in this great universe… and with every fall there is a rise.”
You are my beloved.
And You are my own.
“Rusneon Rises!”
And the cries of the people were many and the unity of these two lovers, brought from different parts of the universe, was stronger than anything before.
***
Claimed By The Alien Alpha
Ashley Hunter
Copyright 2016 by Ashley Hunter
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced
in any way whatsoever, without written permission
from the author, except in case of brief
quotations embodied in critical reviews
and articles.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any
character, person, living or dead, events, place or
organizations is purely coincidental. The author does not
have any control over and does not assume any responsibility
for third party websites or their content.
First edition, 2016
CHAPTER ONE
The hunt was on, and Cynthia was the prey.
She stumbled through the woods, her breath a brutal rasp in her throat. Every step was a hammer-blow through her body – a cruel reminder of her failed promise to eat less and exercise more.
But she kept running all the same, even though her bare feet slipped and skidded every time she took another step. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
Right on cue, a guttural grunt of men’s voices arose from behind Cynthia – and somewhere off to her left as well. They were gaining on her – worse, they were starting to surround her!
“Hey darling, don’t you want your shoes back?”
“What about your shirt?”
There was a burst of laughter like a pack of jackals cackling as they closed in on their prey. With a gulping sob, Cynthia veered off to her right and kept running.
They weren’t going to catch her! The jibe about the clothing renewed her determination to escape. The shoes, she’d taken off to make it easier to drive. Heels looked good, sure, but they were useless for maintaining control of a car.
The shirt, on the other hand, they’d torn from her back when she’d pushed through the ugly circle of leering men surrounding her and the broken-down car beside the road.
So now here she was, running barefoot and topless through the woods, alone and afraid and approaching exhaustion.
They’d even ruined her favourite bra, the bastards. One of them had grabbed her shoulder when fighting for her shirt, and now that bra strap kept slipping down. Cynthia shoved it back into place without breaking stride, and wondered just how much worse her night could get.
Right on cue, as if someone had been waiting for her to think that very thought, the ground under her left foot gave way. She tumbled down an embankment and landed with a splash in a freezing cold stream. It was only about knee deep, but that didn’t really make things better considering she’d landed on all fours.
Cynthia pulled herself to her feet and moved to the far shore. No matter what, she had to keep moving. Forward, and away from the jackals nipping at her heels.
Someone called out behind her. Close – far too close. With a gasp, Cynthia hurled herself through the underbrush clustered along the far side of the stream and threw herself flat to the ground.
Another jackal’s voice rang out, and Cynthia held her breath in her throat. What if they heard her breathing?
“You see her?”
Someone replied – a sound of disappointment and anger, bereft of words. There was a discussion, and then the voices faded away.
Cynthia rose slowly to her feet and peered up at the embankment. Had they really given up?
She waited a moment, unsure what to do now, and then became aware of the night air on her skin. It had been quite a splash when she’d landed in the stream, and now she was soaked through. She was cold – freezing, in fact – and if she stayed out here she was going to get hypothermia. She needed to find some shelter, she needed to –
She looked down at herself; at her beautiful broken bra, at her bare feet caked in mud, at the ridiculously short skirt that had hiked up to dangerous levels when she’d tumbled down the embankment –
She needed a change of clothes.
But shelter was the first order of business.
Cynthia moved away from the stream and then turned slowly in place as she tried to decide what to do next. Maybe if she waited awhile, she could go back to the car –
Except it would still be broken down, wouldn’t it? And it was still by the bar where all those jackals had coming pouring out of as well.
Cynthia ran a hand through her hair and let out a long, shaky sigh. She needed to find some shelter. Even a shack in the woods would be enough – just somewhere to get out of the cold air.
And that was when she saw the light.
It was faint, and far-off, and it flickered between the trees. It was clearly unnatural, which meant – to Cynthia’s exhausted mind, at least – an escape from the ugly, unfriendly woods all about her.
She took a deep breath, and set off.
It wasn’t as far off as she had first thought – merely a lot smaller than she had first imagined. She hadn’t really thought about it that much, but she’d imagined the light coming through a window or something like that.
But now, here she was, standing in a small clearing staring at the source of the light, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
It was a dome – a very small one. Cynthia had already walked around it, and it was barely big enough for a single person. There was a door in it, or at least an opening. The light Cynthia had seen was spilling from that opening, a soft and gentle blue in colour.
Beyond the door was a corridor sloping downward. Warmth spilled out with the light, welcoming and comforting after the panic of the night behind her.
It was the strangest little house she had ever seen.
Cynthia stood in front of the opening, her arms wrapped around her waist as she chewed on her lip. Her hand fell on her hip, and she twisted her nose in a moment of self-loathing. There was far too much meat there, she thought –
She was procrastinating. It was warm and light in there. She took a deep breath, took one last look at the cold and dark forest around her, and stepped over the threshold.
The light changed as she stepped into the corridor, flicking from pale blue to a warm orange. Cynthia imagined it as a kind of welcome, as if the – house, dome, whatever it was – was happy to see her. Her exhausted mind didn’t take it any further than that. At least, not right away.
Cynthia trailed her hand along the wall, and let out a gasp as a piece of it suddenly slid back into a hidden recess. The door had been all-but invisible a moment before, and now she had opened it with nothing more than a soft caress.
She was starting to wonder just what kind of house this was.
Cynthia stepped through the doorway and peered cautiously about her. It was a small room, with a low, long shelf in one corner and that was about it.
“H-hello?” Cynthia said. Her voice cracked, and she licked her lips and tried again. “Is anyone there?”
There was movement from behind her. She turned, and came face-to-face with a god.
That was how Cynthia’s mind read it at first. The man’s frame filled the doorway she’d just come through; he was tall and broad and oh god he was glaring at her.
“Who are you, and what are you doing on my ship?” he demanded. Cynthia could only blink at him, taken aback by the perfect structure of his cheekbones and jaw. It was as if he’d been carved from stone and brushed with paint –
he was perfect!
And she was half-naked and soaked through. She glanced down at herself, gasped, and gave a futile effort to cover herself up – one hand across her breasts, the other tugging at the hem of her skirt. She was a mess, she was indecently dressed –
“I asked you a question,” the man said. “Are you incapable of speech?”
He was looking her up and down, and Cynthia couldn’t read what was in his eyes. Whatever it was, they were lingering on her chest.
She blushed and ducked her head. It helped, a little, to not look directly at him.
“I – I’m – my name is Cynthia. Cynthia Withers,” she said. And then the second part of his question caught up to her shattered, frightened, and exhausted mind. Her head snapped up and she found herself staring into his eyes – dark brown, and widened in surprise at the sudden re-contact with her gaze.
“What do you mean ‘ship’?” she asked.
The man sighed.
“It is traditional among my people to give a name when one is received,” he said. “I am Archon Rushael of the House of Weyferi.”
He stepped into the room, and Cynthia drew back a step – then wished she’d simply held her ground. There was something about this man – Rushael – that sent little electric shocks down her spine all the way to her knees, and then back up the inside of her thighs.
She found herself wishing that there was a different reason for her being half-dressed.
He was looking at her again – not her face, but where her hands were. Cynthia drew back her shoulders and let out a cough. He raised his eyes to her face, and she felt herself blush. He was thinking similar thoughts, it seemed.
“You are on my ship,” Rushael said. “It travels between stars, and we are going home.”
Cynthia let out a laugh. That sounded more than a little ridiculous, and she almost dropped her hands to express her surprise.
Almost. His eyes were still on her, and now she was keenly aware of how tight-fitting his uniform was. She could make out the shape of his chest and stomach muscles, and even –
She blushed, then raised her gaze. She was getting distracted again.
“I live on Greenwood Terrace, just north of Culverton,” she said.
Rushael stared at her, and then threw back his head and let out a laugh – rich, deep, and full of all kinds of promises. Cynthia was glad he wasn’t looking at her, because that sound sent a delicious shiver through her entire body and she almost forgot how to breathe.
“I think you missed an important piece of information there,” Rushael said. “This is a starship.”
He walked over to the wall above the low shelf and made a sweeping gesture with his hand – almost as if wiping something away. The wall dissolved at his touch, going from opaque to translucent with a smooth movement. Cynthia found herself looking out a window, and what she saw made her gasp.
In the brief moment before the relevance of the view sunk in, she’d expected to see the woods where she’d found this strange place.
What she saw instead were stars.
“We are in space,” Rushael said, “And we are returning to my home planet.” He turned his dark eyes toward her, and Cynthia looked up at his chiseled, perfect face and found herself fighting to breathe evenly.
“We are going to Rusneon,” he said.
Cynthia laughed. “No,” she said, and he frowned at her. She fell back a step, then raised her chin and repeated herself.
“Take me back home. You have no right to kidnap me like this!”
Rushael laughed.
“It takes an incredible amount of energy to leave your planet,” he said. “If we were to return now, I would never be able to get home.”
His voice was deep and resonant and hypnotic, and Cynthia found herself unable – unwilling – to interrupt as he continued.
“No. You will not be returning home. We will travel to Rusneon, and your fate will be decided there.”
Cynthia was still caught in the haze of his voice and the warm, tingling buzz that was spreading through her body and focusing, yes, alright, between her thighs because of it. It took a moment for his words to sink in, but when they did the warmth was slapped away with the cold shock of horror.
“What – what do you mean?” she demanded.
But she knew exactly what he meant, even as he turned his gaze away from her for a moment and stared out the window. His jaw clenched, and then he turned his gaze back toward her.
“You are my prisoner, Cynthia Withers,” he said.
She let out a cry and flew toward the door, but he stepped easily past her and blocked her escape.
“This will be your room,” he said. “The journey will not take long.”
And with that, he stepped over the threshold and the door slid silently shut behind him.
Cynthia turned, and looked over her prison cell. Despair fell on her like heavy stones, and she fell to her knees even as her body pulsed with something else.
What was she going to do now?
CHAPTER TWO
Cynthia slept.
She didn’t even recall how, but at some point she must have just laid down on the low shelf and closed her eyes – caked in mud, clothing torn, exhausted and turned on and utterly incapable of any kind of reasoned thought.
And yet, she still managed to fall asleep. And while she slept, she dreamed.
She didn’t remember the dreams – not in any great detail. When she awoke, all she could recall was a confusion of images and sensations, explosions of heat and shivers of terror.
But she was rested, at least. Still caked in mud, still wearing torn-up clothing – and barely any, at that – but now her head was a little bit clearer.
Cynthia sat on the edge of the low shelf and tried to think. There was a faint vibration coming up through the floor into her feet – the ship’s engine, she supposed. It was crazy to think she was in space; in fact, she doubted she was even travelling at all. The man – Archon Rushael – had probably just built an elaborate prison to …
To wait for her to stumble across in the woods.
Cynthia bit the inside of her cheek and let out a long sigh. That sounded even less likely, to be honest.
The door slid open, and Cynthia leapt to her feet just as she remembered the state of her clothing. Her bra-strap fell down, and she only just barely managed to cover herself up in time – not that a single hand was enough to cover the curves of her chest.
The Archon stood in the doorway. His eyes flicked downward, and for the smallest of moments Cynthia thought, my eyes are up here, pal – and then he met her gaze and she felt herself blushing.
He wanted her. There was no hiding that look. Cynthia took a deep breath and drew her shoulders back, then realised she was basically thrusting her breasts out at him. Her hands tightened on her bra reflexively, and she willed herself into keeping the stance.
Rushael was holding something in his hand – a package of some kind. He stepped into the room and held it out to Cynthia. When she didn’t take it from him immediately, a frown creased his face. She felt a tremor run through her body, and as the heat began to rise between her thighs she took the package from him.
He watched her for a moment, and then spun away and waved his hand at one of the walls. Another door appeared, and he turned back to her as she unfolded the package to reveal a long spill of cloth.
“I thought you might appreciate some alternative clothing,” Rushael said, and Cynthia looked up to see his eyes flick away from her chest again. She clutched the dress to her chest and forced a smile upon her face.
“Thank you,” she said. He gave a curt nod, and then gestured through the new doorway.
“Cleaning facilities are through here. You are familiar with the concept of a shower?”
Cynthia’s jaw dropped. How dare he –
It was a genuine question, she realised. He stood awaiting her answer, and after a moment she nodded.
“Yes. We – we have those on Earth.”<
br />
He nodded, and looked just a little bit surprised.
“There is a shower, and an air-dry station. When you are done, put on the dress and I will meet you in the –”
He hesitated, and Cynthia had the feeling he was searching for a different set of words.
“In the dining facilities of my ship.”
Cynthia nodded again, then frowned at herself. She wasn’t really contributing much to this conversation.
“Thank you,” she said.
He was about to turn away from her, but at those words he paused and turned back. His eyes held hers, and his face – his perfect, flawless face, Cynthia thought – did not move at all. It was as though he was willing it to stillness.
“You are welcome,” Rushael said. “I will await you in the – I will await you.”
And then he turned and was away.
The shower was an absolute luxury. It was a cylindrical chamber in the middle of a room about the same size as Cynthia’s – well. It was her bedroom now, wasn’t it? A portion of the cylinder slid down as Cynthia approached, and once she’d undressed completely and stepped inside it slid seamlessly back up behind her.
And then the water started pouring down on her from above and from all around. It was gentle, and warm, and as it ran over her body she followed its path with her hands. She bit her lip as she thought of the Archon’s eyes, and imagined it was his hands on her body. A warmth rose from within, and she began to breathe just a little heavier.
She was about to have breakfast with him. This probably wasn’t the best time to be thinking those kind of thoughts.
Cynthia blushed, and returned to just washing herself. At any rate, it wasn’t right. He’d kidnapped her, and the way he looked at her –
She frowned. There was something in his eyes, something in the way he looked at her that stirred a response, but it wasn’t …
It wasn’t enough, she thought. All he wanted was her body.
She looked down at herself – at her wide hips, at the curves against which she fought a constant battle, at the thighs that could kick her through water like a bullet.
Alien Romance: Rusneon Mates Boxed Set: A Scifi Alien Abduction Romance (Alien Romance, Alien Invasion Romance, BBW) Page 16