Alien Lords' Captive (Celestial Mates Book 6)

by Marla Therron

  Still too much red…Someone really bought into the red equals luxury idea.

  The room looked as if it belonged to the infamous Countess Elizabeth Báthory. What wasn’t blood-red was either gilt or polished ebony. Matrise reclined on draped bed of mirror polished black. The spearing posts glinted in the diluted red light and were trimmed with gilt edging. There was a heavy spread ruched at the foot on the bed and over it lay an unidentifiable fur.

  Too hot!

  Matrise finally focused on the sheets – they were velvet. Not a slinky, supple silk or satin; no they were velvet.

  Have I ever lain upon more impractical bedclothes? Nope, these win. They’re hot, and heaven forbid you do anything on them…I shudder to think of the stains. I could go for a velvet spread or comforter, but the sheets? I don’t think so.

  Matrise shifted and struggled against the sheets where they had been tucked around her. Something was making it impossible to get loose – at least until it also shifted. Until he shifted.

  Definitely he! The man who shifted, finally releasing an edge of the swath of velvet causing Matrise to overheat while tethering her to the bed, looked as if he should be shooting calendar spreads or soft-core desktop wallpaper shots.

  Suddenly something moved on Matrise’s other side. Another man – and she was seeing double. The man on her left was the spitting image of the man on her right. Twins? In that moment Matrise realized that something was very wrong.

  This wasn’t one of her indecent fantasies as she recovered in a highly medicated state in a hospital. No, Menage Trois had never been one of her fantasies. Men could get weird about the risks of coming in contact with one another. And twins who might not be squeamish that way: that was just too strange.

  Matrise stared at the identical faces looking down at her. They were long rectangular faces with broad foreheads and dark straight brows over deep-set, hooded eyes. Those eyes were the first clue that something was in fact very wrong with the situation.

  Their scleras were as black as the polished ebony of the bed posts, instead of white. And set in those black depths the twin sets of irises were a cloudy red that matched the rest of the room. Long, straight noses slashed down the identical golden faces.

  Each man had been blessed with a poet’s mouth – a mouth at a woman would fantasize kissing and nibbling on. The twins kept closely cropped honey-brown beards that had been ruthlessly tamed and groomed to form matching zigzags as they swiped over the men’s respective jaws and continued to zag as sideburns until the beard met the shortly cropped sides of hair.

  That hair was bronze at the roots and shorn short on the sides of their heads. On top a moderate length had been kept to fall to one side or the other in a roguish tumble of bright gilt curls.

  Matrise realized that the room had been decorated to match the men. They were more gold themselves with hints of black and red and seemed to glow in the red depths of the room.

  “Nikana, it seems the other-worlder is awake.” The twin on the right commented.

  “Ye – Ediskrad, I have to agree with you,” the one called Nikana murmured. “Look at the eyes, even without the other differences; no one would mistake her for R'kowe.”

  “No, no they wouldn’t,” Ediskrad returned.

  R’kowe? What the fuck is R’kowe? Where am I? What are they…other than potential sex gods? And why am I dealing with them? I don’t do threesomes!

  “The men mentioned her arms…” Nikana (the one of the Left to Matrise’s way of thinking) mentioned.

  My arms? What is wrong with my arms?

  Curious and concerned, Matrise yanked the limbs in question from beneath the smothering sheet. Her hands cleared the confines of the velvet and she stared. Matrise just stared, as did the golden twins. The pure white of the markings stood out against her already pale skin. The marks slashed and connected erratically over her skin.

  She had seen that type of burn pattern before – in on of Juno’s reference books – but it was normally red and faded within hours if the cause was survived.

  It looked as if a massive explosion of lightning had surged through her fingertips to zing up her forearms. The pattern was as beautiful as the flashes of lightning in a night sky – and as terrifying as being stuck out in such a storm without shelter.

  The veins of white were raised – scars – and therefore permanent. As she stared at her hands, an unsettling idea occurred to Matrise. The longer she considered the idea, the more likely it seemed to become. The Splicer had worked. She had been jetted through space.

  But where is the rest of the crew? Where is the ship? Why am I being leered at by these guys? And holy shit! why can I understand what they are saying? Matrise considered the burns for a moment.

  Maybe being electrically fried has something to do with that. I am not going to think about it – it’ll just give me a head ache. I will ask Juno when I find her.

  Matrise cleared her throat as one of the men – Ediskrad, I think – reached out to trace the lightning shaped ridges on one of her arms. He caught her by the wrist when she went to move her arm out of his reach. As she considered struggling with what appeared to be an alien male, his copy set a hand to her plump breast. He palmed the weight before plucking at her nipple.

  Matrise twisted against Ediskrad’s hold on her as she snapped at Nikana, “What do you think you are doing?” Neither man responded, instead they shared a look. “Excuse me! Let me go and do not touch me again.”

  “She is quite impertinent, Ediskrad.”

  “Quite,” Ediskrad confirmed. “Nikana, normally women are honored to be mounted by kings. How strange – do you think, perhaps her race is unfamiliar with social power?”

  “Kings?” Matrise demanded. “Where am I? What world?” The twins looked down at her – still touching her, fondling her. That touching was starting to piss Matrise off.

  Lefty – Nikana – answered, “Ye – kings. We are the supreme rulers of this world Rodnekow'E. You should be honored to have captured our interest.”

  “That isn’t how things work where I come from,” Matrise sneered.

  “But you are not there,” Ediskrad rejoined, his voice was just a touch lower than his brother’s smooth tenor, but infinitely more threatening.

  Great – they’re hot, but that hotness is mitigated by the fact that they are obviously irreverent, egotistical jerks.

  As Ediskrad continued to rub a finger over the raised white lightning that marked her skin his copy glanced at the focus of his twin’s attention. “Her race must be quite powerful to survive a sky spark strike,” Nikana considered aloud.

  “Ye –” Ediskrad glanced surreptitiously at Nikana over Matrise, as if she wouldn’t notice the sly glance. “It is only right that the King would get to claim a superior female to bond.”

  “Exactly,” Nikana excitedly crowed. Then he paused, a puzzled expression twisting his handsome face.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Matrise demanded as she struggled once more. The efforts were futile as the two men has he successfully trapped between them and acted as if she had never spoken.

  Fuck! Bastards! Creeps – utter creeps. Why do the pretty ones so often have to be miserable assholes?

  “But two cannot take the same woman in bonding…”Nikana murmured. “So…Who?” he asked as he stared at his copy.

  “The superior one of course,” Ediskrad declared.

  “We are the same – such is why we have ruled as a pair during this eon,” Nikana argued.

  “No, we have ruled as a pair, because it made sense at the time.”

  “What! And things have changed?” Nikana’s large hand gripped tight on her tender flesh like an angry child’s would on a stuffed animal.

  “Oww! Get your damn hands off me!” Matrise shouted. Again she was ignored – much more and she was going to start kicking.

  “It is only sensible that things have changed,” Ediskrad snarled back at Nikana. “We look the same, we are not the same.” />
  “And you are suggesting that you are better – more worthy to rule than me?” Nikana demanded as he reached out to shove against his carbon copy. Matrise didn’t care to be stuck in the middle of a brawl, but she was glad that the seemingly dumber King had released his hold on her breast to attempt to batter his sibling.

  Another shove and the men tumbled to the floor. Matrise had been worried that Ediskrad wouldn’t release his hold on her wrist and drag her to the floor as well. She was grateful when he released her. Matrise scooted back against the headboards on the far side of the bed from the fight. She grabbed a large pillow to preserve her modesty and watched the twins duke it out.

  They shouted as they struggled. Insults, insistences from one or the other claiming to be the rightful king and “possessor of the off-world woman” were flung in between shoves and punches.

  How nice to be thought of as a thing to be owned – Fuckers. Try me and I’ll stab you while you sleep. Matrise thought menacingly of the various manners in which she could disabuse the royal assholes of their notion that they could control her.

  It seemed Ediskrad and Nikana reached the sane thought at the same time – twins for you…well ones who act like despots together, at least. The men both shouted.

  “I demand an officiated duel!” Nikana cried out as he managed to push Ediskrad back a few feet.

  “No, I demand an officiated and witnessed duel!” Ediskrad insisted.

  Good grief. Seriously? They are like bickering tweens threatening to tell mom on the other.

  Nikana opened his mouth, possibly to dispute which of them demanded their little duking match, but appeared to reconsider and instead qualified his demand of when the thing would take place, “Tonight! Just after the sun has set.”

  “Fine!”

  “Fine! And the winner will be high ruler and will bond with the spark-marked off-worlder. The bonding will take place after the duel.” Nikana insisted – apparently he didn’t want to risk Ediskrad bonding with her behind his back, if Nikana won.

  “Ye, I agree.” Nikana stormed through one of the large double doors – throwing it wide and stomping out into the hall. Matrise wondered if the man realized he was naked.

  God, I hope they aren’t nudists here… Matrise’s consideration of that unpleasant thought was interrupted as she noticed Ediskrad’s expression as he followed his twin to the pair of doors. If Ediskrad won their duel, Nikana wouldn’t survive the night.

  Shit! I hope the dumb one wins…

  Instead of exiting through the same door panes as his twin, Ediskrad threw the door’s mate open and stormed out. Yet, before he disappeared down whatever hall was outside the gaudy bed chamber, Ediskrad flung both doors closed with a crashing bang. The soft click that then echoed through the room told Matrise the man had snubbed a lock home.

  Tossing aside the pillow onto the impractical velvet sheets of the bed Matrise rushed over to doors. She pushed against them, jiggled the handles and found them to be locked as she feared. Matrise then hurried to the windows, hoping that she would be able to escape through one of them. She shoved aside the heavy red curtain and just stared.

  There was a solid pane of what might have been glass filling the void of the window frame. But it wasn’t the glass that gave Matrise pause, no it was that the room was in some sort of tower set into a cliff side. There was no way she would be able to climb down from the room.

  After accepting that architecture had crushed her hopes of escape, Matrise surveyed the world outside her tower window. Habögad 4 – no, Rodnekow'E was not what they had been expecting as telescope shots and scans had been studied from the lab on Earth.

  Rodnekow'E was much more raw and primal. The landscape made Matrise think of artistic renderings of the Cretaceous Period – all that was missing was a couple of long-necked dinosaurs…what are those things called again? I thought a brachiosaurus was technically from the Jurassic period.

  Matrise shook her head as the sky outside that window caught her attention. It was red – the color of blood smeared across light skin.

  *

  Halden had just arrived at a training session for budding young warriors. He was always being requested to make an appearance. Halden suspected the requests were as much on behalf of the boys, growing into warriors, as for their mothers who would doubtless try to foist their daughters into his path.

  They never seemed to give up the hope that their offspring would garner his interest; that he might suddenly feel the mating urge for one of them and be driven to finally take a woman (or girl) in bonding.

  Halden shook his head as he stood in the safety of the antechamber off the courtyard in which the weapons training would be taking place. He didn’t mind coming and helping the boys with their sword form or hand to hand tactics, but he was loath of the distraction the females unquestionably caused. When would they understand that he hadn’t felt the mating urges, in anything more than a recreational sense, in the last half of this eon.

  Some would say that three-hundred cycles was a long time to hold to sentiment. He didn’t bother to explain that he was not still mourning Ranat’s decision to serve as concubine to the Kings, instead of accepting him in bonding. He wasn’t.

  The reality was that Ranat, though she had been beautiful had not stirred the bonding need within him. She had known it and had made the decision to advance herself as the bedmate of the Twin Kings.

  Taking a bolstering breath, Halden shoved through the doors, and counted down the seconds before pandemonium broke out. However, the feminine squeal and normally inevitable female shoving match never came to fruition. There were a number of the Royal Guard loitering in the courtyard, apparently guarding the King’s favored messenger, Baltra.

  The attendees of the training and their female escorts loitered under the broad awning around the perimeter of the courtyard. Halden ignored them and strode toward the group that had been awaiting his arrival.

  “War Lord,” Baltra addressed him by his title, indicating he was there officially if the Royal Guard escort hadn’t indicated that to Halden. “You have been summoned to the palace. The Kings, in wake of recent developments have insisted that you – and you alone – take this edict, as it is of the highest importance. Please, we will convey you to the palace.”

  Halden didn’t comment, nor did Baltra expect him to. Instead the man turned and led the way out of the courtyard through the main gate. With another sigh, Halden hefted the extra equipment he had brought with him and followed Baltra from the training grounds. The Royal Guards, in respect of their highest officer under the Kings, waited until Halden preceded them before falling into step behind him.

  “Mishtal,” Halden murmured to one of the men over his shoulder as they approached the waiting messenger. “What is this about?”

  “I am not sure, Lord Halden. But my twin, Mishtlan, was on the gates yesterday evening. He told me this morning that the hunting pair had brought in something else with the malhūt they had been sent after.”

  Did he say what? Halden wanted to ask, but both he and Mishtal locked their mouths as they came within range of Baltra

  *

  Baltra was initially silent as the Rahūt-led bus conveyed them through the carved out streets, even though he and Halden were settled in the private cab. The palace occupied the pivot corner of the cliff face. The sprawling city was carved into the stone of the sloping side, but the palace wrapped around the edge with the high towers spearing up along the shear face of the Mount.

  Finally, as the bus approached the last turn before the gates of the palace, Baltra spoke. “As you had the youth training, you have not been to the palace yet today. Last night something was found in the upper jungle. When the Kings surveyed the find after it was brought to them there was an incident that has changed things.”

  “What was found?”

  “That is unimportant.” Baltra tried to insist.

  “No – as I am being summoned for guard duty, the what is quite important.”r />
  Baltra opened his mouth to argue and shut it again, when he opened his mouth he erred on the side of caution with Halden – as it was well known, Halden was not a warrior one wanted to cross. “An woman.”

  “A woman? What woman would go alone into the jungles?” Halden demanded.

  Baltra shifted in his seat before clearing his throat, “It is a woman not of Rodnekow'E.” Before Halden could demand, the messenger rushed to fill in details. “She apparently doesn’t look like R'kowe, and her body bears makes of sky sparks – or so I have been told.” Baltra took a deep breath before continuing, “This woman has stirred something within the Kings. They decided to bond with her.”

  “Two men cannot bond the same female,” Halden interjected.

  “No and that is the incident of today. The Kings fought among themselves. They have challenged each other to an official duel to determine the high ruler of Rodnekow'E and who will therefore claim the woman in bonding.” Baltra literally wrung his hands together as he delivered that last bit of news.

  Halden sat back against the seat, it has finally happened. It only took 600 cycles for the balance to finally return to the Power. Pity that neither is the King their predecessor, their uncle, was. Things will either be about the same as they are under Nikana or they will be worse – Ediskrad. Halden sincerely hoped that Nikana would vanquish his twin, but knew that was practically impossible. Barring an extraordinary act of fate, Ediskrad would be the exclusive ruler of Rodnekow'E before high moon.

  Chapter 4

  No matter what she did the doors didn’t budge. Matrise had briefly considered making an attempt at the descent of doom that waited outside the window, but passed when she remembered her dismal failure on the rock-wall at the gym that one time. She had spun in a circle, miserably considering her options when she had spotted a trunk in the corner of the room.

  Is it too much to hope for a nice trunk-full of rope. If there is enough I can make my own harness. And pants. For the love of all – please let there be pants. The idea of rope-burn on my ass is enough to make me consider just flinging myself bodily into oblivion.