by Luna Hunter
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from sneering.
“I understand, Captain,” I grit through my teeth.
I don’t do protocol very well. For someone who majored in Alien Studies you’d think I could grasp human rules of conduct, but you’d be surprised.
“Good,” he says, rapping his fingers on his leather armrest. “Good good good.”
“May I ask why you called me here?” I ask. “…Sir,” I add after he frowns at me.
“Just trying to get to know my crew, that’s all,” he says. “We’ll be forced to rely on each other for months.”
I plan to stay as far away from Ferguson as possible, but seeing as he’s the captain, that might prove difficult. I don’t rely on anyone but myself. Then again, simply by being on this spaceship I’m putting my life in the hands of an army of engineers and mechanics. One simple mistake or miscalculation might prove fatal to us all… but that’s something I try not to think about.
“So… can I go?”
“Hm? Oh, yes, yes.”
I turn around, which is quite difficult with Ferguson’s desk taking up three quarters of the room, and stride out of his office. I’m still simmering with anger over the captain’s arrogance, so I don’t notice the giant blue Zoran until my nose is pressed right into his broad, naked chest.
My heart skips a beat as my eyes slowly scan up his towering frame.
This man is big.
His naked chest, the color of the ocean, is covered in tattoos and scars. He’s only wearing a pair of shorts, and I notice his knuckles are bloody.
Why is there a half-naked Zoran warrior in the hallway?!
Two violet eyes stare at me. His eyebrows are furrowed, as if he can’t comprehend why I’m in his way. Heat rises to my cheeks instantly.
I want to move out of the way, but the hallway is simply too small for the both of us. All I can do is backtrack into the captain’s office, and every step back I take, the Zoran takes one forward, his imposingly tall frame towering over me the entire time.
I’ve never felt so small, so cornered, so trapped before. My heart is racing like mad, and for reasons unexplained, my stomach is fluttering.
His scent, so manly, so strong, completely surrounds me.
“W-what’s this?” Ferguson stammers when the seven foot tall Zoran warrior steps into his office. “W-who are you?”
“Kazim,” he growls, his voice low and animalistic.
He doesn’t even look up at the captain. His eyes, the color of lavender, are focused on me and me alone.
“What in the blazes are you doing here?!”
A second tall Zoran follows Kazim into the captain’s office. Judging by his obsidian armor, and his chest full of medals, he’s a bonafide Zoran General.
Ferguson snaps to attention instantly, saluting the general.
“I’m adding Kazim to your roster,” the general says matter of factly.
“T-this is not according to protocol,” the captain protests.
The general’s eyes flicker in anger.
“You’ll take him,” he growls, his voice low, a threat lingering underneath the surface.
Ferguson swallows the lump in his throat.
I don’t have enough eyes for this conversation. I want to stare at the Zoran General, who is flexing his muscles, and at Captain Ferguson, who is trembling in the presence of two powerful aliens, and at Kazim, the barely dressed blue warrior, at his broad shoulders, his sculpted abs, his shorts which can barely contain his greatness… but I can’t see any of those things because his radiant eyes, as purple as amethysts, demand my attention.
“W-why is he not in uniform?” Ferguson says, trying to sound authoritative.
“There was no time,” the general answers. “Find a use for him.”
“How am I supposed to do that?!”
“You’ll think of something, Captain,” the general says. He nods and strides out the office, leaving us three alone.
Ferguson looks at me, a mixture of fear, humiliation and anger in his crystal blue eyes. Then, I see them light up, as if a lightbulb has gone off in his head.
“Kazim?”
“Hm?” the alien warrior growls.
“From now on you’re Dr. Graham’s personal bodyguard. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
The blue, half-naked warrior smirks and I feel my heart sink.
Oh please no.
Click here to continue reading The Zoran’s Bride!
Preview of Alien General’s Baby
Can their intergalactic romance save two planets?
Dating … an alien concept
Jillian Archer has devoted her life to science, and it doesn’t leave much time for anything else. She’s orbiting Earth on the space station Vonnegut when her life is turned upside down by the Zoran.
You want to show me what?
The silver-skinned alien warriors send a delegation to the space station, and Jillian soon finds herself on an intergalactic science exchange with growly General Vinz — but it’s not research the tall, sexy alpha male wants to share with her.
The General can’t resist the curvy, feisty human woman with thick brown curls and hazelnut eyes, so different from the females on his home planet. He just has to convince her to give him a chance.
A DNA dilemma
When Jillian gets pregnant, she and Vinz discover the Zoran High Command’s sinister plot. On top of that, Jillian learns that her niece is ill. Can she and her alien lover act in time to rescue the Zoran people, the Earth, and their own little family?
1. Jillian
Oh boy.
I’ve heard only rumors about the ruthless Zoran. Some say they are seven feet tall and all bulging muscle, with sharp fangs and devilish horns, and eyes as red as fire. All I know for sure is that they are the most powerful force in the galaxy, and we humans have stayed clear of them.
Until now.
I have no idea how to act around such infamous intergalactic killers. I am a geneticist, not a psychologist or a sociologist. I prefer to spend my time in the lab rather than mingling with people, and the intricacies of interspecies etiquette are absolutely lost on me.
At the moment, however, I’m concerned with more pressing matters.
What the hell am I going to wear?!
The Vonnegut glides its plotted course around Earth, the silence of space a stark contrast to the pandemonium inside my quarters as I desperately search my closet for appropriate attire. I had thought picking an outfit for my brother’s wedding was hard. What are you supposed to wear to an interspecies first contact?
“Try the black dress,” my assistant Kelly shouts. “I got the perfect heels to match it.”
I roll my eyes. I’m a woman of science, more at ease in a lab coat than a little black dress, and I am not about to go down in history as the klutz who tripped on her heels and spilled hot coffee on a Zoran General and accidentally incited an intergalactic war, thank you very much.
“What about my lab coat?” I ask Kelly. “I could just wear that. It’s distinguished and lends me an air of credibility… right?”
“Pff,” Kelly blows me off. “Who cares about any of that? You should look hot,” she says gleefully. “It’s your special night! Your first gala as head of the Bioscience program! Don’t you want to impress those Zoran warriors? I’ve heard they’re huge, with hands twice as big as our own… and you know what they say about aliens with big hands…”
“Is alien junk all you can think about?” I ask.
Kelly grins mischievously. “Don’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind.”
“Never,” I lie.
Kelly is my best friend, and has been with me throughout my entire career. Wherever I go, she goes. We couldn’t be more different, but it works for us: I’m curvy with an unruly bush of brown curls, while Kelly has a slim figure and straight, golden-blonde hair. Furthermore, I’m perpetually single, while Kelly somehow manages to combine our grueling hours in the lab with an active
dating life. How she juggles all her responsibilities is absolutely beyond me, but she pulls it off.
Together we lead a team with an intimidating but extremely important goal: to cure the black cough. Our planet is buckling under its own weight, and the uncontrolled polluting of the environment throughout the 21st century is now causing massive illnesses all around the globe. Those unfortunate souls who can’t afford to live in the luxury high-rises with their own filtered air systems are exposed to contaminated air on a daily basis.
I’m fortunate enough to live up here on the Vonnegut now, but my brother Michael still lives on the outskirts of New Atlanta, working in a plant to support his family. I raised him, and my desire to provide a better life for him is what gave me the drive to get where I am today.
Of course, I’ve had to make quite a few sacrifices to get where I am. I’ve missed more birthdays than I’m willing to count, and worst of all, the birth of my niece, Claire. She’s four years old now, but I haven’t been back to Earth since she was a baby. I tell myself I’m helping them with my research… but at times, that feels hollow.
The Zoran might be the answer. They’re superior to us in every way — physically and technologically — but they’re not known for their helpfulness. I have no idea why they’re even coming here or what they want from us. We are just a blip on the intergalactic radar, after all, but I fear the worst.
But before I can cure all of Earth’s problems, I still need to settle on a dress.
“What about this one?” I hold out something a little conservative: a drab, gray dress that would attract zero attention. Kelly instantly wrinkles her nose at me.
“What are you, eighty?” Kelly says. “The invitation clearly says black-tie, honey. The black dress it is!”
I sigh deeply. “Do I have to? I don’t think I’ve ever worn heels.”
“Then start practicing,” Kelly says. “I don’t see why you’re complaining. You get to witness history! I’d love to meet a Zoran General. I’ve heard they’re absolutely dreamy…”
“I’ve heard they drink the blood of their enemies,” I throw back at her, “so excuse me for not being too happy about it!”
“Ooh, primal,” Kelly laughs. “Me likey.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You know it. Now get in that dress!”
I yield to her demands and shimmy my way into the black garment. I smooth it with my hands as I look at myself in the mirror, and I have to admit it looks good on me. And that is not something I admit lightly. The midnight black fabric accentuates my chestnut brown eyes and autumn leaf colored hair, and it hugs my curves in all the right places. In fact I don’t think a dress has ever fit me better.
“See,” Kelly says as she stands next to me, completing my look with a golden necklace. “You look stunning. Ready to snatch yourself a Senator… or perhaps a Zoran general?” She teases.
I shiver at the thought. From a scientific point of view, we can learn so much from the Zoran, but that is not what Kelly is hinting at.
She wants me to acquaint myself with their physiology.
Intimately.
I laugh it off, but thoughts fill my head. She’s planted a seed of curiosity in my mind with all this talk, and now it’s going to be tough to shake the thought.
2. Vinz
I effortlessly glide my warship, class-A cruiser The Pathfinder, through human space and start up the docking procedure. My ship, one of the smallest and most agile in our fleet, is still several times the size of their paltry space station, the pinnacle of human development.
This is what we are here to do: Waste our time with this lesser species.
I command all troops in the Western Quadrant, and I could delegate this task to any of the hundreds of elite forces under my command, but I enjoy being at the helm, right in the thick of the action.
Unfortunately, there will be no action on this dreadful diplomatic mission. I run my hand over my smooth scalp, mentally preparing myself for the bullshit politics to come.
“Take the helm, Koryn,” I tell the soldier at my side. “Prepare for immediate evacuation if I give you the signal. I don’t know enough about these humans to trust them yet.”
“Yes sir,” he answers, taking my place behind the multitude of screens.
The large black doors of the elevator whiz open as I approach, automatically reacting to my DNA. Waiting for me inside is the man I loathe the most in the entire known universe: Senator Dimtri.
“General,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain. “Not opting for the proper garment, I see?”
His yellow garment clashes with his lizard-like light-green skin, painting an especially unpalatable picture. I refuse to endorse such trivialities as ceremonial garb, opting for my all-black military uniform, the obsidian armor a tight fit, providing me with maximum flexibility.
It’s all the High Command seems to care about nowadays. They’re preoccupied with ceremonial garbs and having gluttonous feasts, while our sworn enemies raid our borders unpunished.
This mission only proves my point. My fleet should be in the Eastern Quadrant, supporting General Tyr in his fight against the insectoid, infernal Ygg. We went through training together, and there’s no place I’d rather be than at his side, riding into battle together. Instead, I am forced to escort Senator Dimtri because the High Command has developed a taste for one of their sickly sweet treats called chocolate. It’s a hot commodity on the intergalactic black market, and now the High Command wants it straight from the source.
It’s idiotic.
In the last few cycles, the High Command has grown feeble and weak. They have plucked the fruits of the labor of countless Zoran warriors, and have forsaken our origins.
“Remind me again why we’re here,” I growl as the elevator glides down. “There’s been another Ygg attack on Haven-5. We should be in the East.”
“Watch your tone, Vinz,” Dimtri says. “Remember your station. The Emperor wants to open relations with the humans, and that is what we shall do.”
I bite down on my bottom lip, tasting blood. Control is the most important thing in the life of a warrior: Physical as well as emotional. Day by day it becomes harder and harder to control my urges. I can only sit by and watch the High Command run our species into the ground for so long… but this was not the time to strike.
Soon.
“My my, what’s gotten you so worked up, Vinz? Afraid of a few humans now, are we? Or has it been too long without a mate?” Dimtri goaded me.
He senses my rage — us Zoran have very perceptible senses, and the slightest change in mood gives off a particular scent, which makes complete emotional control all the more important in our culture. Even a weakling such as Dimtri has a rudimentary control of these powers, though of course his grasp pales in comparison to a tried and true warrior. I silently admonish myself for letting this pompous aristocrat successfully rile me up.
“Feel free to take one of the humans, if that’s what you prefer,” Dimtri hisses.
I ignore his blithe statement. He wants nothing more than for me to strike him down in anger so he can get me court-martialed and relieved of duty. My animosity for the High Command is well-known, but my prowess is so renowned that they couldn’t get rid of me without inciting a rebellion.
A human for a mate? I can’t even imagine it. Interspecies mingling is not exactly unheard of. After the inexplicable decline in birth rates, which has of course remained a closely guarded secret, Zoran women have remained exceedingly rare. Unfortunately, no interspecies coupling has ever produced offspring. I don’t see humans — so soft and fragile — being the missing link.
“Welcome, General… Uhm..”
A small, frail human male quivers in front of me, his head barely reaching up to my chest. The human is half the width of me and his gut is round where mine is taut. His pupils are dilated, fear escaping from every pore in his feeble body. He offers me a limp hand that I crush. I’ve done my homework and recognize the ge
sture as a human greeting.
“Vinz,” I answer briskly in Universal. “General Vinz.”
The weak human introduces himself as Tobias, their leader. I don’t understand why the humans have made such a small and pudgy man their leader.
The reception takes place on an observation deck on the top floor of their space station. The spherical glass provides us with a perfect view of Earth, their home planet a blue marble floating in the vast emptiness of space.
I imagine humans consider this a breathtaking sight. I see a glaring security flaw.
I am disappointed to see that the humans share the High Command’s preference for fashion over function. The men are all dressed in strange, dark-colored suits that provide no visible protection. I could easily rip out their throats if I wanted to.
A human female catches my attention. I smell her before I see her — an alluring, warm, pleasant scent that reminds me of the Kyhiss flower that grew in my father’s garden, where I spent my childhood looking up at the stars. On those warm summer nights I’d imagine myself riding into battle headfirst, dropping into the atmosphere from thousands of miles up, cutting through steel and flesh to singlehandedly destroy a Ygg enforcer.
I’ve since then made that dream a reality. What is my reward for my service to the glorious Zoran Empire? I get to be Dimtri’s bodyguard.
I turn on my heels — and the mysterious woman bumps right into my chest, spilling her drink all over me.
“Sorry,” she fusses, her pale cheeks turning pink as she tries to wipe the fluid off my broad chest. My obsidian nano-suit is made to withstand a Ygg’s corrosive acid, so a small beverage is of no concern to me.
To my own surprise I find myself captivated by her beauty. A midnight-black garment hugs her curvy, soft body in all the right places. A thick bush of brown curls frame her gorgeous face. I wonder what her full lips taste like. My cock throbs at the invasive thought of sweeping her off her feet and carrying her back to my quarters.
Get it together, Vinz! A human?!
I shake the strange thought. It must be the bright lights and plethora of peculiar scents overloading my senses. Yes, that’s it.