Saved by the Alien Warrior: A Sci Fi Alien Romance (Warriors of Agron Book 3)

by Hope Hart

  We’re silent for a long moment, panting and shaking. Then Zarix rolls off me, hauling me close to him, and I stare at the ceiling of the tent, stunned.

  So that’s what great sex is like.

  I’ve had mediocre sex before. I’ve even had good sex. But Zarix puts the same dedication and focus into lovemaking as he puts into everything else. And the results? Amazing.

  We lie silent for a long time, and my eyes are heavy when Zarix stirs and runs his hand over my hair. I crack open my eyes and find him staring down at me.

  Often when Zarix looks at me, it’s as if he’s slightly confused. As if he doesn’t quite know what to do with me. I smile at him, and his frown deepens.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “I don’t fully understand how this happened,” he says, and I feel my smile widen.

  “If you need me to explain the birds and the bees, I can,” I murmur.

  “The birds and the bees?” The confusion on his face is somehow ridiculously cute, and I crawl my way up his body and nibble at his lips.

  “Here’s a hint,” I say, running my hand down his chest. “You’re tab A, and I’m slot B.”

  Zarix stares up at me for a moment, and then my heart stops as a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face.

  “Oh God,” I groan, burying my head in his chest. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  I peek up at him, and thankfully his smile is gone. His eyes are still lit with amusement though, and I feel my heart give one hard thump. The relaxed, slightly bewildered yet delighted expression is one I want to see from him every day.

  “I thought you wanted me to smile,” he says. He wraps his hand in my hair and guides my face back up to his for another kiss.

  I grin against his lips. “Caveman.”

  Zarix looks at me for a few more seconds, and I see the moment he shuts down. His face goes blank again, and he releases his hold on my hair, shifting his gaze to the roof of the tent.

  The sudden change stings, and I pull back.

  “Will you tell me about it?” I ask softly, and his gaze whips to mine.

  “What do you know?” he demands, and I blow out a breath, choosing to ignore his tone.

  “I know that whoever made you avoid people the way you do, whoever made you so afraid of caring about anyone, must have been an incredible person.”

  He nods, looking away, but his arm shifts down to pull me close again. “She was. Hana was light and laughter. She never met anyone she couldn’t make smile. She would do anything to cheer someone up if they weren’t happy. It was what she lived for.”

  I ignore the stab of jealousy that jolts through my chest. I refuse to feel envious of a dead woman. And she must be dead because I can’t imagine anything else causing the complete shutdown of a man as virile as Zarix.

  “She was Tazo’s sister,” he says softly.

  Wow. That explains some of the history those two must have.

  “What happened?”

  “She believed we would one day be mates. I told her many times that this wasn’t the case. We were friends. From the moment she could walk, she had followed Tazo and me from place to place. I saw her almost as a sister myself.”

  I wince. “You told her that?”

  He gives me an affronted look. “Of course not. But I made it clear that I had no intention of being her mate. I would have been her friend until the end of my days,” he says softly, pain stark in his voice, and I reach up to run my fingers through his hair.

  “She didn’t like hearing that,” I guess.

  He shakes his head, shifting so I can reach more of his hair.

  “She was young, beautiful, and kind in a tribe that was becoming almost desperate for females. She could have chosen any male she liked.”

  “But she wanted you,” I say, and he nods, his brow lowering and confusion clear on his face.

  “On that last day, I snapped at her. I told her it would never happen and to go and play with a male who had time for her.” Self-loathing is clear in his voice, and I reach down to stroke my finger along his clenched fist.

  “She knew you didn’t mean it,” I say. “The woman you’re describing would have forgiven you. You know that, right?”

  He shrugs. “I left on a hunting trip. I hadn’t known, but she decided to follow me. I had already been gone for many hours and never knew. She was found by the Voildi. They left only her head behind.”

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Zarix.”

  He nods, his gaze still on the roof. “It was my job to protect her that day. Tazo put his trust in me, and I failed.”

  I sigh. “She was responsible for her own decisions. You know that, right?”

  He’s silent, and I study the stubborn line of his jaw. To a man like Zarix, who is obviously the protective type, her death would have proved that he was incapable of looking after the people he cared about.

  I get it now. Why he didn’t want to take me with him, why he was so mad when Javir appeared, and why he’s constantly so snarly. He doesn’t want to be responsible for our safety.

  And then I went and ran after him when he tried to leave—the same way Hana did on that terrible day.

  I lay my head back on Zarix’s chest, and he moves his hand to my hair, stroking it.

  “So soft,” he rumbles, and I smile.

  Somehow I’ve managed to catch feelings for this bad-tempered, overprotective male. Feelings that I’m damn sure he has no intention of ever returning.

  I wish I could talk to my mom. She’d tell me exactly what I need to hear in this situation. For a moment, I miss my parents so much that I could curl up and cry. Nothing was ever the same after they were killed by a drunk driver a few years ago.

  Zarix sighs. “I must go.”

  I lift my head, narrowing my eyes at him. “We must go. Don’t think you’re leaving me behind, buster. I promise I won’t get in the way…more than absolutely necessary,” I finish as he gives me a look.

  He heaves a sigh but sits up, and I study the way his abs flex and roll, attempting to ignore the bandage at his side.

  “Fine, female,” he growls, and I grin. “I am obviously helpless to your…charms.”

  I laugh, ridiculously pleased at his teasing. The rough, surly warrior is sexy as hell, but the open, relaxed male is the one who intrigues me the most.

  I pull on my clothes, and Zarix scowls as I reach for my pants, leaning down so he can put them on me himself.

  “How is your leg?” he asks, voice gentle.

  “It’s getting better,” I say. “I’m glad for the crutches.”

  He nods and hands them to me, and then we make our way out of the kradi. The sun has now risen, and I follow Zarix back to his mishua.

  Javir waits for us, my crossbow swinging from one hand, his knife clutched in the other.

  Zarix curses in Braxian, my translator not quite picking it up. I only know it’s a bad word because Javir’s eyes widen before a grin crosses his face.

  I glance at Zarix. “We should probably try not to swear in front of the kid,” I mutter, and Javir rolls his eyes, giving us a look that says we’re the two dumbest people he knows.

  “You were going to leave without me,” he says, his blue face scrunched up in indignation.

  Zarix studies him, and I can practically see him calling the kid a pain in the ass in his head.

  I nudge him in the ribs with my elbow, and he meets my gaze.

  “Are we going anywhere near his mom’s house?” I ask. “She must be worried sick.”

  Zarix’s expression looks like he swallowed something nasty, but he finally nods, gesturing for the mishua.

  Javir scrambles up on it, and I study the other mishua in the pen, who are currently being fed by one of the warriors.

  “Beth.”

  I turn at Alexis’s voice and raise my eyebrow. In this camp of warriors, she sticks out like a sore thumb. Her white-blonde hair hangs down her back like a silk sheet, and she’s dressed in a long, gauzy blue
gown that matches her eyes.

  “Oh, hey,” I say.

  Alexis runs her eyes over my hair and grins at me. From the look on her face, I have sex hair. I blush, and she laughs while Zarix turns, deftly grabbing the knife out of Javir’s hand.

  Tuning them out as they begin to bicker, I move closer to Alexis as she hands me a large canvas bag.

  “I thought you could use some more clothes,” she says. “I packed some more food in there as well.”

  “That’s so thoughtful. Thanks.”

  She just bites her lip, her face suddenly serious. “I wish I could come help.”

  I glance behind her to where Dexar stands, his face blank as he watches us.

  “You’ve got your work cut out for you here,” I tease, and she glances at Dexar and then gives me a look.

  “Travel safe,” she says, throwing her arms around me, squeezing tight.

  “We will. Thanks.” I hug her back and then turn to Zarix, who takes my crutches, handing them to Javir. Then he lifts me onto the mishua and hauls himself up behind me, and we plod away from the camp.

  Chapter Eleven

  Zarix

  The day is long, but I pass the time by enjoying the sweet smell of Beth’s hair. She laughs at something Javir says, and I feel my mouth twitch at the musical sound.

  We camp on the outskirts of the Seinex Forest, and I cook the udazin I hunted on our way. I hand Beth one of the choicest parts, and she takes a bite.

  “Mmm,” she says. “Tastes like chicken.”

  I don’t know what chicken is, but this is obviously a good thing given Beth’s enjoyment of the meat.

  Javir grins at me from across the fire. We will need to put out the flames soon. Otherwise, we risk drawing predators.

  The thought of Beth in danger makes my heart race, and I glance at the boy. He is young, with his whole life ahead of him. His mother would never forgive me if I let him die.

  “What are you thinking?” Beth asks.

  I hand her another piece of meat, and she chews with obvious relish.

  “I’m thinking that you need to eat more,” I say, and she gives me a look.

  “That’s not what you were thinking,” she mutters but glances away, effectively ending our conversation.

  I jump to my feet, drawing my sword, and Beth pales, the meat falling from her hand.

  “Someone comes,” I murmur, glancing at Javir. He pulls his knife, and I narrow my eyes at him. The boy has skills. Once again, I did not feel him take it from me.

  Javir moves in front of Beth, and she heaves an exasperated sigh. I ignore them and move from the fire, eyes focused, body ready.

  “Relax, Zarix,” a deep voice says, and I curse as Tazo steps out from behind a tree.

  “What are you doing here?” I growl.

  Tazo’s gaze flicks behind me, and I turn, watching as Beth lets out a sigh of relief, sitting back on the overturned tree and resuming her meal.

  “Dexar sent me with you. You left earlier than I had anticipated.”

  “I don’t need your help,” I growl.

  He laughs, although his eyes are hard. “Regardless, you have it.” He gestures, and Dekir and Perik join him.

  I curse and turn back to the fire. Beth sends me a sympathetic look while Javir moves to the warriors, immediately chatting about the journey.

  I ignore them as they join us, cooking their own beast. Tazo offers Beth a piece of meat, and I tamp down my jealousy when she takes it, giving him one of her sweet smiles in return.

  I work best alone. But once I process the fact that Dexar chose not to tell me he was sending these warriors with me, I will likely feel gratitude for their presence. The more warriors with us, the more swords between any Voildi and the female and child.

  Perik puts out the fire, and I move to my furs. Beth picks up her own furs, dragging them close to mine, and I avoid Tazo’s gaze as I lie down, hauling her close to me.

  I should tell Beth to move her furs away, but I can’t control my instinct to keep her near me.

  She lets out a pleased hum, and I grit my teeth as I instantly harden. Out the corner of my eye, I can see the other warriors setting up camp in various locations around the small clearing, closer to the trees.

  Beth instantly falls asleep with her head on my shoulder, and I stroke her hair as I stare up at the stars. It’s strange to imagine how different the night sky must look on her planet.

  Truthfully, everything about this delicate female is different. But despite our differences, we fit. Beth’s voice echoes in my head, teasing me about tab A and slot B, and in spite of my mood, I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

  Beth

  I wake gasping, and a hard mouth slams down on mine, swallowing my moan.

  “Shh,” Zarix says, and I gulp down air as his clever fingers stroke and play. I twist my head, but the others are still snoring, spaced out around the clearing, and the sun hasn’t yet risen.

  Zarix’s other hand is almost desperate. I slept in one of his shirts last night, and he pushes it up over my thighs, undoing the front tie with his mouth.

  He uses his chin to push open the shirt until my breasts are bared. Then the calloused skin of his palm scratches across my nipple, and I gasp again as I lift my hips, urging him on. His fingers slide through the slippery heat of me, and then he lowers his mouth again, capturing my moan as I arch against him, shaking with pleasure.

  I gulp at the air as he releases my mouth, and the rest of the world falls away as he thrusts inside me. Nothing else matters except the thick heat of him as he moves smoothly into a hard rhythm, his hands sliding under my hips.

  He shifts his angle, letting out a low, strained laugh as he grinds against my clit, and I slap my own hand over my mouth. His eyes light, shining with both lust and amusement, and my legs shake before everything breaks apart, pleasure ripping through my body with the force of a tsunami. Zarix shudders, an almost noiseless growl leaving his throat.

  We stay like this for a long moment, both of us panting. Then Zarix pulls me close until I’m lying slumped on his chest. He strokes my back as my breathing slows. He’s out of breath too, still shuddering as we both come down. I don’t know what his orgasm was like, but if it was anything like mine…

  He slides his hand over my butt, and I lift my head, grinning at him.

  “I’m surprised you want me this way,” I joke, but a tiny, insecure part of me is all too serious. “I’m too thin, remember?”

  Zarix frowns. “I didn't mean to insult you, Beth. From the moment I saw you lying in that trap, I wanted you. And the thought of you not having enough food…it made me crazed.”

  I tilt my head. “Is that why you’re constantly feeding me?”

  At every turn, he’s attempting to shove food in my mouth.

  He nods. “You are beautiful, and I would not change one thing about you. But on this planet, we eat well during the good times so that we are prepared for lean times.”

  I nod. I guess I get it. Braxians are much larger than humans, so most of us must seem puny in comparison, and given that I’ve been watching what I put in my mouth since I was a teenager, it makes sense that he would worry.

  We lie in silence for a long moment, and I practically purr as he strokes my hair.

  “Tell me about your dance,” he says.

  I smile up at him. “It’s okay,” I say. “We can talk about something else.”

  He frowns. “I want to understand you.”

  I don’t even know where to start, but I take a deep breath.

  “From the moment I saw a performance of The Nutcracker on TV, I knew I wanted to be a ballerina. When it turned out I had some natural talent, I convinced my parents to let me homeschool so I could have more lessons. And when I got the chance to go away to a dance-focused boarding school, I did that too.”

  “What is a boarding school?”

  “Um. You know how the children in your tribe have lessons?”

  He nods, and I realize this idea
must seem crazy to a tribe that, while huge, seems to be a tight-knit community.

  “Well,” I continue, “this is kind of like that, only my boarding school was days and days of travel away if you were to be traveling by mishua. I saw my parents a couple of times a month.”

  “You must have missed them,” Zarix says.

  I nod. “Yeah. But I wanted to be the best. My dream was to be a prima ballerina. I danced in the corps for three years before I got my chance. The day after we were kidnapped by the Grivath was the day I was supposed to dance as the Swan Queen in Swan Lake. I’ve danced the role before, but every time is different. Every time is a new challenge.” I let my voice trail off, and then I say it. The sentence I haven’t let myself think, even in my head.

  “This might have been my last season with the New York City Ballet,” I say quietly. “It’s not uncommon for injuries to force us into retirement.” I let my voice trail off and lay my head back on his chest, soaking in the reality of my life.

  When a dancer retires from ballet, they’re usually less than thirty years old, without any savings, often injured, and with no college degree because they ignored school in favor of dancing. I have more savings than most because I was lucky enough to teach in the off season when I was in the corps. But retiring means coming up with a whole new life. A life I was never prepared for.

  And the injury? I look down at my bandaged left leg, and a bitter laugh escapes me.

  “You know, this leg has been plaguing me for years. I snapped a tendon when I was in the corps, and a year ago, I ruptured my Achilles.”

  My stomach clenches, and I feel a cool sweat break out on the back of my neck at the memory of the pop that sounded like a gunshot as I fell on stage. After surgery and almost a year of grueling physical therapy, I was finally ready to return to the stage.

  I sigh. “I guess I should be thankful it’s the same leg, huh?”

  Zarix is silent for a moment, and I smile sadly. I know he doesn’t understand most of what I’m talking about, but it helps to say what I’ve lost out loud.