Claimed by the Alien Mercenary: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Zalaryn Raiders Book 3)

by Viki Storm

  “Not the attack?” he says, his forehead wrinkling in honest confusion. “What do you call this?” He gestures at the carnage.

  “It was an attack,” I say. “Not the attack.”

  “Bah,” he says, waving his arm. “We have vanquished our foes! It is time to celebrate!”

  The Fendans are so proud, they can’t even conceive of failure.

  “Imperator,” I say. “There are two Kraxx who are unaccounted for. This was just a diversion. A big distraction so that two rogue agents could sneak into the capitol.”

  “Two rogue agents?” the Imperator asks. “And what might they hope to accomplish? Don’t you think they would stand out just the slightest bit? Unless the Kraxx have shape-shifting abilities?”

  “They do not,” I say.

  “Then they wouldn’t hope to simply walk away, hiding in the dark. That’s foolishness.”

  “They could,” I hesitate. I am not sure how he will take this: “If they had help.”

  “Help?” he says, his forehead wrinkling along well-worn creases. “I thought you said that they couldn’t shape-shift. Do they possess cloaking vestments? I have heard of such things.”

  “No,” I interrupt. “I mean help from a Fendan.” I can’t bring myself to use the true word: traitor.

  “Nonsense,” he says. “No Fendan would do such a thing. Utter nonsense. Did you get hit on the head? Are you feeling alright?” He peers into my face, grabbing my head in his warm hand and peeling up one of my eyelids, as if examining my pupils for signs of head trauma.

  “Anything is possible,” I say. “Everything should be considered until the two missing Kraxxoid bodies are recovered.”

  “Not this,” he says—and for the first time, I hear a little bit of the iron in his voice that he must use in his royal decrees. It’s not a petulant declaration of a spoiled child, who’ll brook no argument. His voice is that of the King who has spoken and will not suffer a dissident.

  “We should still look for the bodies,” I say.

  “Of course,” he says. “The lads will find them. Now is the time to celebrate. We have such a victory to sing about. I have hired a minstrel to commemorate the occasion.”

  “The soldiers will enjoy a feast,” I say. I will not—not when I know that the worst is still to come, and that no one will believe me. They will want to drink and gorge themselves, pinch any nearby female on the rump, tell lies about their exploits and sing bawdy songs.

  “Come then,” the Imperator says, and puts his arm around my shoulder, leading me back to the capitol—away from the carnage, away from the two missing Kraxx. “You have the most to celebrate, after all.”

  “Why is that,” I say. I have to step over a severed Fendan arm. It doesn’t seem like anyone should be celebrating right now.

  “Because you won, dear Ayvinx.”

  “Won?” I ask stupidly. Then I remember—I’ve won the most coveted prize on the planet.

  “The girl,” he says. “You get to spend tonight with the human female.”

  The battle isn’t anything like watching the soldiers in the training yard. Nothing like that at all. The training yard is organized. The bouts are orderly, the moves are well-rehearsed, the routine is ironclad. During battle, it’s not. It’s like when you accidentally step on an anthill. During the battle, the warriors scatter, running this way and that. They bump into each other. They swing their swords like they’re trying to swat a fly.

  But for all the haphazard and uncoordinated movements, there’s blood. There are kills.

  It is not hard to see Ayvinx, the lone Zalaryn down there. He moves like a dancer, graceful, each movement full of purpose. Watching him is like watching an artist at the easel.

  I can’t watch for long. It’s too intense. Seeing countless Fendans being cut-down, their lives ending in the blink of an eye. Each soldier down there is the end result of an unbroken line of generations upon generations for thousands and thousands of years—gone. The casual disregard of life is very disturbing to me. On Earth, survival is so hard, you have to scrape until your fingers are bloody. Yet you endure—you do it because to die is unthinkable, no matter how miserable you are alive. Because living is the strongest impulse. Because life is the strongest impulse.

  Well, maybe not the strongest impulse. The impulse to create life is even stronger.

  Probably because so many people die in such pointless, stupid ways. The rest of us have to repopulate. Repopulate despite our better judgment to not bring offspring into this tough, violent world. Because the desire is too strong. The need to find a mate and lie together.

  Ayvinx is the one I think about, when I think about any of that. He’s not like any male I’ve ever met—which makes sense, since he’s an alien. I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately—and not just in conjunction with his offer to help me get off this planet.

  Mostly, it’s in conjunction with the Imperator’s offer—the night when the fiercest warrior will claim my virginity.

  Because it’s obvious who’s the fiercest warrior.

  It’s been obvious this entire time. What my fate is going to be.

  Ayvinx will undress me and put me on the bed. He’ll gaze upon my nude body, run his hands all over me, grabbing and squeezing anywhere he wants. Will he make me lie on my back? Will he bend me over so he can take me from behind? Or will he want me to straddle him? These are the questions that have been plaguing my mind the last few days—plaguing my mind and causing disturbing waves of heat between my legs.

  I take up my sewing, laying out the cut pieces and setting to pinning them in place. But my hands are trembling and I keep poking my fingers.

  I hear pounding footsteps in the corridor. My heart races—did some of those Kraxx get to the palace?

  Have they managed to storm the gates? I haven’t seen the bastards up close, but I have heard the tales. I don’t wish to see how the tales compare to reality. I have my trusty, lucky pair of scissors on the table. I tuck them underneath my dress, into the waistband of the panties I made earlier this morning. It feels nice to wear underwear again—but I sort of got used to going bare underneath my dress. I enjoyed the free feeling between my legs—especially when I’d see Ayvinx. It was exciting to think that he could just run his hand up my leg and feel my sex unimpeded.

  I’m not sure what’s wrong with me. I know that I can’t count on him to get me out of here. I can’t trust anyone but myself. I’ve known that hard fact of life since I was twelve years old and stupid enough to think that a man who offered me protection wouldn’t want something in return.

  But when I’m around Ayvinx my body seems to forget that fact—it betrays my head and sends lightning bolts between my legs, where I don’t seem to have any common sense.

  The door bursts open and it’s Ayvinx. My face reddens instantly. Could he possibly know what I was just thinking about? His hand trailing up my legs to feel my bare sex underneath my dress? Then I remember I do have on my homemade underwear right now—and all of a sudden it feels too tight, too constricting. Like I shouldn’t have any barrier between us.

  “You shall knock before you enter my chambers,” I say, trying to emulate the confident, regal tone of voice I hear from the Queen. I try to forget that just a few days ago, I was sitting up here alone, my fingers stroking my clit as I imagined what it would be like to have Ayvinx up here with me—if he threw me on the bed, and parted my legs, and thrust into me with the reckless abandon of an animal.

  “And you shall speak to me with more respect,” he says, but his eyes gleam with mischief. “I am, after all, the male who owns you for this night.”

  “What are you talking about?” I say. But there’s an instant rush of tingling heat between my legs—so intense it causes my head to reel. I’m more aware of my clit—such a small and often forgotten part of my anatomy—than I’ve ever been in my life. It feels like it’s twice its normal size, and emits a constant thrumming heat that demands instant and insistent attention.

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nbsp; “Don’t play dumb,” he says, taking a step towards me. I take an instinctive step backwards, but not because I fear he’ll hurt me. He is the only person on this entire planet that I don’t fear.

  Actually, he might be the first person that I don’t instinctively fear since… Since as long as I can remember.

  “Isn’t there a battle raging around the capitol?” I say. “More Kraxx for you to slay?”

  “Not now,” he says. “I killed them all—and now I’ve come to claim my prize.” He takes two more steps forward, but I don’t shrink away. I’m against the bed and if I back up any further, I’ll have to lie down.

  “Your prize?” I say. I know what he’s talking about. My virginity. The ability to penetrate me for the first time—to be the first male who enters me, who feels me from the inside. The prize that was offered to every able-bodied soldier on the planet.

  “Oh yes,” he says, that mischievous look still lighting up his whole face. It’s a very intriguing face—dare I say… Handsome? His features are pleasant enough, but it’s his attitude, his strength, his confidence that is so alluring… So tempting. If I could only allow myself to surrender to him. To trust him. “I’ve known all along I’d be up here,” he says, “but I swear I didn’t plan it.”

  He’s right in front of me and he reaches out, grabbing my wrists. Ayvinx pulls me forward, so our hips press flat together. My breasts are pressed against his chest and my nipples stiffen in response to his heat. He runs a hand through my hair, grabbing a handful of it, but not pulling. Instead, he puts his mouth to my ear and I can feel his breath tickle the tiny hairs on the side of my face. “It’s the thing I’ve wanted ever since I saw you nude, strapped to the table, your legs spread wide.”

  A sigh escapes my lips before I can stop myself. He’s so close, so strong. I can smell the sweat from the battle on his skin. It’s doing something to me, making me crave him. This is finally going to happen—the night that I’ve dreaded since we landed on this planet.

  But I was stupid to dread it. Of course it would be Ayvinx up here, holding me tight. About to claim his prize.

  And I don’t dread him—not at all.

  “Holy void,” he says. “I want you so bad.” His voice is deep and sends a ripple of gooseflesh over my entire body.

  “I know,” I say. “I hoped it would be you.” I press against him tighter. My legs squeeze together and put more pressure against my clit. I thought I couldn’t restrain myself the other day, when I had to stop my sewing to touch myself. If Ayvinx doesn’t attend to the throbbing sensation between my legs soon, I’m going to lose my mind. I can’t think straight with the incessant urge welling up, getting stronger with each passing moment that it’s left ignored.

  “Of course it would be me,” he says. He moves his face in front of mine. I close my eyes and feel his lips brush against my own. He kisses me, slowly, but I can feel that he’s holding back. I possess no such willpower. I part my lips and try to join our mouths. I’ve never kissed anyone like this before—I’m not sure what to do. But I don’t feel a shred of awkwardness. Whatever this is, it’s right and true.

  He tightens his grip in my hair and begins to kiss me earnestly, like he’s been in the desert and is finally allowed to drink. After a long moment, our tongues dancing an inelegant, frantic dance, I break away, panting. “This is what you wanted to do?” I say. “This is what you’ve been thinking about?” I stop myself before I can spill out my next thought, which is: It’s what I’ve been thinking about too.

  “No,” he says. “Although I won’t lie and say I don’t want it.”

  “Then what?” I ask. I’m thoroughly confused now.

  “I’ve wanted to get you safe,” he says. “You wouldn’t have been safe on Zalaryx. Not with your… disposition. I thought you might have a chance of being safe here, but you’re not. Not after the Imperator offered your body to half the males on the planet.”

  “You just wanted him to offer my body to you, the supreme warrior?” I say. And somehow, saying these words arouses me in a way I can’t explain. When we first got here, it angered me to be used as a diplomatic pawn.

  But now that I’m in the clutches of my supreme warrior? I realize that I sort of like the idea of being gifted. Well, just to Ayvinx. I don’t mind being gifted to him at all.

  “Yes,” he says, “because this way it’s me up here right now, and I can get you out of here. I’ve already programmed flight coordinates on my ship. There’s a planet a few days travel from here with a pretty big human settlement. I have provisions already on board.”

  “You’re actually going to keep your promise?” I say. “What about the other one?” I surprise myself by putting my hand on his arm. It’s thick with hard muscle and radiating heat. How would it feel to grab onto his arms as he holds himself up on top of me? To feel his muscles contracting as he thrusts?

  “What other one?” he says.

  “In the great hall the other day, during the feast. I seem to remember hearing you swear that you’d be the one to claim me,” I say. My face burns so hot I can’t stand it. I don’t know how I got so brazen. My loins are on fire and causing me to say crazy things. “My virginity,” I say. “It’s yours to take.”

  “No,” he says firmly, and the steel in his voice surprises me. “This is not a business transaction. I won’t take that sacred rite as payment for anything.”

  “I do it freely,” I say. I reach behind my back and unhook the buttons I sewed into my dress. I reach inside and take out the pair of scissors I hid in my waistband. He sees me do it and laughs.

  “Please don’t say you were waiting to put those in the side of my neck,” he says.

  “Just a security precaution,” I say. I set the scissors on the nearest table. “But I don’t need them anymore, now that you’re here with me.” I take a step closer to him. I can’t seem to help myself. I don’t know why, but I’m overcome with pure desire. I’ve never felt like this at all—not even close. No male has made me feel anything besides polite scorn before.

  I shrug my shoulders and the dress falls to my feet. I’m still wearing the pair of underwear that I stitched earlier, but my breasts are free. He takes them into his hands and kneads gently. I moan, unable to help it.

  “Freely?” he asks. “You’d give your body to me? The gift of your virginity? Zalaryns take this matter seriously, the deflowering of a female.”

  “Yes,” I pant. He’s thumbing my nipples into tight beads. “I want it to be you.” And I do. I’ve been denying it since he first took me from Tarlou’s ship. But since I’ve been with Ayvinx, I’ve felt protected—safe. I’ve been thinking of reasons not to trust him—but my body knew instinctively that he was the one. This overwhelming desire has clarified my thinking. Simplified things.

  “I’ve wanted you,” he says. He puts his mouth on my breasts, kissing and sucking. His tongue swirls around my nipple and I gasp loudly. This is driving me crazy. I need him right now.

  “Please,” I pant. He puts his arms around me and lifts me on the bed.

  He covers my body with his, kissing my neck, my chest, my breasts. He’s working his way downward. He stops at my stomach, right at the waistband of my underwear. He rubs his finger over my clit, pushing the fabric against me. The fabric slides back and forth so easily that I can feel my lubrication coating my lips, coating my underwear.

  “You’re already so wet,” he says. He plays with the edge of my underwear, sliding one finger in slowly. He runs it down my clit so lightly that he’s barely even touching me. I moan and push my hips against his hand, but he moves his hand accordingly, keeping his touch exceedingly light. “And this little thing is nice and hard.” He flicks his finger over my clit and I let out a little squeal. “Hold your panties off to the side for me,” he says. “Show me how wet you got thinking about me.”

  I close my eyes and put my hands down. I do what he says, moving my underwear over, revealing my dripping wet lips for him. “That’s good,” he says. “
Now take your finger and rub your clit.” I don’t even hesitate. I need release so bad. I can’t believe I’m doing this—that I’ve got my legs spread, that I’m playing with myself, all while a Zalaryn alien is watching me.

  I start to feel my pleasure build up. I’m moaning softly, unable to keep quiet.

  I feel him take hold of my wrist and pull my hand away. I gasp, but before I can protest, I feel his mouth cover my sex, sucking and licking. He pulls my clit into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. I can feel every raised bump on his tongue as he passes it over my sensitive nub. His mouth is hot and he’s devouring me, tasting me. I push into him, not caring that I’m grinding against his face. My pleasure starts to well up and he senses it too. He grips my hips and holds me still. I cry out and move my hips wildly as the waves overtake me. I come harder than I ever have in my life—but that’s no surprise. I’ve never had anyone do this to me before. Never had a male that could inspire these feelings of desire.

  He takes his mouth away and pulls back a little. He puts his finger at my opening, probing gently. There’s a little bit of resistance as he feels me. He’s going to have to tear through, I think—and he’s going to do it with his hard cock. The idea both frightens and excites me.

  He positions himself on top of me, just like I imagined. I open my eyes and look up at him. He’s unlacing his breeches, sliding them down his hips.

  But his chest—it’s turned an odd, dark shade of purple.

  “What’s that?” I say, pointing at his chest. He looks down.

  “Void,” he says. “No, no, no, no.”

  “What?” I ask again.

  “It’s…” he trails off. “Not now.”

  “Are you okay?” I ask. “Is it an injury from the battle?” It looks like a bruise.

  “I’m fine,” he says. “It’s not an injury. But we’re not doing this. I can’t let myself bond with you.”

  “Bond?” I ask. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

  “My species,” he says. “We sometimes bond with our mates. It’s on a chemical level. Hormones. Males will flush from the chemical change. Females will undergo the change as well, though it’s not visible.”