The Alien Bounty Hunters Complete Series: Books 1-8

by Mills, Michele

  She lifted her chin and met his gaze through the screen. “I want you to be happy. The only way for this to happen is for you to find your Bride. I will fight for your happiness until my last breath.”

  He jerked open the Cabul, the tall cabinet all Xylans used to hold their most precious ceremonial tools and weapons. He pulled out his personal blade for closer-quarter fighting and slipped it into the holster at his hip. “You continue this because you want second-generation offspring to nurture.”

  She smiled. “That too.”

  He glanced again at her image but did not return her smile. Melachine’s biological children and mate were lost to her. Joyzal had assumed responsibility as her champion rotations ago and had gladly taken on the role of her adopted son. They’d grown close. But by the gods, she knew he’d long ago given up the idea that he would find his mate. He was finished with this idiocy. Let young men continue to play this game. He was done. “I am forty rotations, a Margol, and a Bounty Hunter,” he growled. “What line of good standing on Chronos would offer their daughter for consideration to an older, lighter-skinned warrior who does not live on Chronos?” He slammed the Cabul cabinet door closed. “You know there has to be something wrong with her for her family to offer her to someone of my standing. She must be an embarrassment to them and they’re trying to pawn her off on us. It isn’t worth trying. At my age the chances of finding a Bride are now slim to none. You know I have formally taken my name out of the mating database. It’s over.”

  “I know, but Joyzal, this is diff—”

  “No, Melachine,” he cut her off. “No,” he emphasized, and took a deep breath. “It is not different. This is the same as all the other times.” All the times he’d let a ray of hope creep into his heart only to have it torn away. Hope that possibly the female standing before him would be the one who was his life mate, his Bride, the female who would bear his offspring and start his line. He palmed the door to his room and strode down the hall to the cargo bay. He opened the side portal he’d already aligned to the other ship’s emergency escape hatch. The door slid open, creating a small space, exposing the portal to the pirate ship, which was locked. Joyzal began planting short range detonators on the other door.

  The vid screen popped up again near his head. “Joyzal, please try one more time. What if this girl is your Bride?” Melachine urged.

  He sighed. “I will not debate this with you. I am in the middle of a mission, and I won’t be returning for a minimum of two moon cycles.”

  “Two moon cycles?” she exclaimed. “They won’t wait that long.”

  He went around the corner to take cover.

  “Joyzal? Joyzal, can you hear me? You must listen to me. The line of Claxa is strong. Their older daughters are already mated to high-ranking warriors. Their place in society is secure, and their youngest daughter has sufficient pigment. They won’t mind about your lack of—”

  A blast thundered in the compartment.

  “What was that?” Melachine gasped. “Are you all right? Joyzal?”

  Joyzal eyed the hole he’d created in the side of the other ship, pleased with his work. This, he was good at. Being a Bounty Hunter, chasing down the scum of the universe and taking them in for extradition came naturally to him. He was number one in the Leaderboards, the best Bounty Hunter in the four sectors. The designation at times almost made up for his classification as Margol and his life-long treatment from other Xylan as a lower-status warrior lacking color, and a warrior without a Bride or a line.

  Almost.

  He turned and met Melachine’s gaze through the vid screen. Her eyes were wide and worried. He paused. “I am unhurt,” he reassured her.

  “Joyzal.” The way she croaked his name…breaking with anguish, emotions, and conversations they had no time for at the moment.

  “Melachine.” He tried to help her understand. “My life is not lost. I follow the true path of a Xylan warrior. I am a Bounty Hunter who has his claws full with many missions. I am number one on the Leaderboards. I take care of the manager of my line, I work hard, I—”

  “But you are not happy,” she gritted, her face hard.

  Her words hit him like a spear to the chest. Sometimes she seemed to enjoy sifting and poking at his most vulnerable parts. Why, he never understood. He slammed his palm on the console. “We will continue this conversation when I return,” he clipped. “Computer, discontinue vid.” She opened her mouth to speak, and the screen blacked out, effectively cutting her off.

  He stood up and forced his mind back to the mission ahead, strapping on his black Hunter armor and his weapons. He grabbed an extra bag of smoking detonators to toss in the halls once he was inside the other ship. He would deal with his mother later. Finally, he strode around the corner and stepped through the demolished portal to capture the captain of the slave ship, his target, THX309.

  2

  Jacole leaned forward and glanced through the bars of her cage. The second shift of asshole guards clustered near the entrance to the cargo bay, talking and gesturing. Her heart rate skyrocketed. Her palms were sweaty. Lizard Lady paced the cell, speaking in hissed phrases, her clawed hands clenching and unclenching, eyes blazing.

  It was strange, but waiting to be attacked by evil space pirates bent on gang rape seemed to take an eternity. She felt like shouting at them, “Get the fuck over here! Let’s get this party started already!”

  Jacole and her cellmate were as ready as they were going to be. Lizard Lady had hissed a message to Bird Lady. The other women in the cargo bay were poised for action. These assholes weren’t going to know what hit them.

  Finally, the guards strutted over to their cage, evil intent gleaming in their alien eyes.

  Oh shit.

  Lizard Lady met her gaze and gestured. Jacole nodded and assumed her position, the shank she’d created hidden in her hand. Lizard Lady took the opposite side of the cage. They were as ready as they were ever going to be. The lock clicked open. Up close, the guards were even more ferocious than she’d thought. Most were purple aliens, and they were all at least six feet five with wiry muscles that strengthened their thin forms. Their heads were large and hairless. Their round eyes glowed a demonic silver. Her heart beat in her ears like a drum. She licked her lips. This was it. Now or never.

  A thundering blast rocked the ship.

  The deck tilted. Jacole shrieked and fell against the bars of the cage. Shit, that hurt. She looked around and saw the guards were mobilized, snarling at each other, weapons out.

  What the hell had happened?

  The door to her cage was left wide open. Jacole stumbled out. She coughed through the haze. It was hard to see; there was smoke everywhere. But there was one guard, already down and sprawled on the floor. The mechanism for unlocking the doors to the cages, a metal “key” that beeped the lock open when tapped against the door, was next to the guard’s open hand. She bent down and picked it up. Lizard Lady hissed and gestured with an open claw. Jacole tossed her the key, and her new friend got to work. She watched Lizard Lady’s green form blink in and out of the fog quickly unlocking the cages, freeing the other prisoners.

  Jacole paused. She was about to grab the guard’s weapon when she heard something. The distinct, heavy pounding of a single set of footsteps. Despite the sirens blaring, the screaming, the shouting—somehow she heard those footsteps. Or possibly it was a premonition.

  Who was that? More space pirates? She glanced around. She needed to hurry and help get weapons and free the females while the guards were distracted… But she took a few steps forward and turned toward the entrance to the cargo bay again. She couldn’t stop staring and waiting.

  Couldn’t stop.

  Her eyes fixated on the doorway.

  And her jaw dropped.

  The smoke, which held a hint of flashing purple, haloed the entrance of a man’s sleek, black form—like a rockstar making an entrance on stage. He was amazingly tall, easily seven feet, and grim as hell. His skin was a golden brown and hi
s hair long and caught in dreads that were tied back from his face. From the neck down he was covered in black, shiny armor, and he held a big, futuristic-looking gun in each clawed hand.

  Yes, clawed hands.

  Jacole sucked in a breath. Dear God. Who was that? He was fantastic. Right out of a movie. And he had streaks of gray at his temples. Oh wow, she was a sucker for a grown-ass man. She was so done with boys. Men who knew what they wanted and had the experience and balls to back up their decisions… Hot…damn hot.

  The rockstar stepped over the debris and strode in like he owned the place. He lifted his weapons and fired at the guards. It was fucking epic.

  The crowd of stunned females grouped behind the cages for cover during the gun fight. Jacole continued to stare at Rockstar, who was still returning fire and shooting down guards. She turned and grabbed Lizard Lady by the arm. “Who is that?” she shouted over the firefight and gestured to the enormous guy in black armor. Lizard Lady looked where she pointed, and her eyes widened. She hissed words Jacole couldn’t understand. Lizard Lady leaned over and hissed to Bird Lady, who could apparently understand her, and pointed to the new alien in black. Bird Lady looked over, her eyes round. Jacole noticed other women also stood there in shock, staring at the new alien.

  Wow. Who was this guy?

  One last guard was holed up behind a row of metal crates. It didn’t take long for Rockstar to dispatch him, too. Now that he’d killed all the guards, he looked around, scanning the area. Jacole held her breath. His eyes skimmed over her and the other females, barely noticing them. They seemed to be as important to him as the cages or the metal crates. Part of the scenery. Apparently satisfied there was no one left to return fire, Rockstar turned on a swift heel and strode out, his blaster pointed up.

  When he left, Jacole felt a strange sense of loss. Which was silly, right?

  By now the women were forming groups, speaking to each other in murmured tones. Jacole felt a stab of jealousy, wishing she could understand them. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to figure out what to do next. They’d been freed, which was terrific. But who was this new guy who’d come in and annihilated the bad guys? Was this an out-of-the-frying-pan-and-into-the-fire situation? So far the new alien appeared to be ignoring them—he’d swept in, killed the guards, and stormed back on out without a word to any of them. Where was he now? In the bridge? What was he going to do? Did he think he was in charge? Bird Lady and Lizard Lady were talking to each other. Jacole exhaled. Fuck, if only she could talk to them and get some answers.

  Because she had so many questions. So. Many.

  Jacole made eye contact with Lizard Lady and gestured to the door. Lizard Lady nodded back in agreement. Jacole turned and started out of the cargo bay. Might as well go and figure out what was happening. Standing around here, not being able to talk to anyone wasn’t going to get her anywhere or get any of those women any closer to returning home. She decided to follow Rockstar. He seemed to be where the action was happening.

  In the hallway she could hear blaster fire again. She froze and noticed Lizard Lady was behind her, as was Bird Lady. She jerked her chin up at them. The three of them paused, and when she didn’t hear more sounds of battle, Jacole cautiously continued forward, her hand on the blaster she’d snagged from a dead guard on her way out. The other women had weapons now, too. The three of them went down one hallway and turned left, stepping over the bodies of a few more pirates. They reached what must be the bridge. The entrance was wide open. She peeked in. Rockstar was in there, standing over the inert form of the captain of the ship. All seven feet of him in glorious technicolor. Holy shit. Her heart beat furiously, and she swallowed hard. She had no idea what to do or say or if they would even be able to understand one another, but she pulled on the big-girl panties and started to step forward. A hand fell on her shoulder. She jumped and turned. Lizard Lady hissed at her and gestured for her to step back.

  Oh, well…okay, then.

  So Jacole stepped back.

  Bird Lady nodded as she passed by and pointed for her to stay put. She went in first, then Lizard Lady. Jacole stayed behind, deciding to keep an eye on the corridor in case any of the space pirates weren’t actually dead.

  Joyzal had the fucker laid out on the floor and tranquilized. He was here to extract the captain of this ship, a notorious slaver who’d killed and/or enslaved so many women and children across the four sectors he now had an exorbitant bounty on his head. Wealthy inhabitants of a variety of planets and species whose wives, sisters, and daughters had disappeared and later turned up dead at the hands of these slavers had banded together to contact the Bounty Hunter Guild. They’d offered to increase the size of the reward due to the fact these pirates slipped between many different sectors and there was no one military that could bring them to justice.

  Rayzor of Twelve, Joyzal’s number one rival in the Bounty Hunter Leaderboards, had recently been forced into retirement, so Joyzal was offered this mission. And it was the biggest mission of his career, with the highest payout ever offered in Bounty Hunter history. This was the catch that would solidify forever his standing among Hunters and make his future one of choices rather than need.

  He needed to drag the target over to his ship and get him into lockdown stasis for transport. He’d killed all of the subordinates on the ship because they interfered with the extraction of their captain, plus they were lazhul—beings without honor. These pirates, and their captain, were slavers who routinely stole and sold women and children to the highest bidders for sexual depravities. They deserved death as punishment. This assignment had no mission parameters—he could mete out punishment as he saw fit. He chose to not kill the target, who was wanted dead or alive. This particular lazhul needed to face punishment. Death was too easy.

  Joyzal heard a noise and whipped his blaster around and aimed it at the doorway. He expected to find another pirate to kill. What he saw was worse. Far worse.

  Women.

  Females who looked like they’d been to hell and back at the hands of the slavers. He lowered his weapon. By the gods, what a mess.

  He took a deep breath.

  Yes, he’d known the chances were great that these slavers would be carrying women and children, but this wasn’t part of his mission. He wasn’t a peace or rescue organization. He was a Bounty Hunter. He hunted and extradited criminals law enforcement was unable to apprehend. That was where his job ended.

  He’d seen them clustered out of the corner of his eye as he’d cleared the cargo bay and ignored their existence in the midst of battle, registering them as a non-threat, and moved on. But now two of the females were at the entrance to the bridge, and he could see a faint outline of a third behind them.

  The females before him were of Maltovan and Creekan species. Both Xylan allies. They approached with heads bowed in respect, avoiding eye contact. Joyzal grunted, pleased with the proper formality of their deference, and decided to give them a moment of his time.

  The Maltovan spoke first in formal Xylan, its feathers in smooth repose. “Warrior, we thank you for killing the pirates who kidnapped us. I can see by the insignia on your armor that you are a Bounty Hunter. We request assistance in returning to our home worlds.”

  He clenched his jaw. “How many of you are there?”

  “Forty,” the Creekan answered. “Forty females of varying species. There is even a human among us, an Earthling from the edge of the universe.”

  Joyzal was surprised. In all his travels, he’d only met one other human. They were normally off-limits to citizens of the four sectors because their planet was protected under the Rare Indigenous Species Act.

  He rolled his right shoulder, leveraging the bag of equipment into a better position. THX309 was restrained. He was ready to depart. “Remain on this ship,” he told the females. “The Bounty Hunter Guild has been watching this extraction on live feed. It was understood there might be civilians of high value. They will have already contacted the Xylan Imperial Fleet. I will re
turn to my ship and remain close until help arrives.”

  He picked up his target by the back of the neck brace he’d tied and dragged him past the two females and into the hallway, eager to put THX309 in lockdown stasis. Time to tie this mission up with a bow.

  He passed by the third female in the corridor. He glanced at her and stopped. Stilled like a Rapior in the forest. He couldn’t believe the beauty before his eyes. He dropped his bag and his target and looked her up and down, taking in every amazing curve and soft angle. She was human, this much was obvious; she had the same extra appendage on her clawless hands and the lack of ridges on the forehead that Rayzor of Twelve’s human Bride had. But unlike Rayzor’s colorless human Bride, this female was dark as ancient night; she had the royal pigment that designated her as a Xylan of the highest order. He paused, unsure of the etiquette.

  A human with royal pigment? He hadn’t known such a thing was possible.

  She stood quietly, staring at him with the same wonder on her face he was sure was reflected on his own features. Her lack of ridges showed her emotions more clearly than a typical female’s. Her eyes were wide, her nose perfectly formed. Her skin glowed with vibrant color. He’d never been so close to a female of such high standing before. He decided to err on this side of the Scales of Xylan Law. Warriors were required to provide immediate assistance to females of royal pigment. It was the law.

  Jacole bit her lip and devoured Rockstar with wide eyes, remaining silent as she pressed back against the wall and let him pass. Christ, he was handsome. She glanced down nervously at her clothes that smelled to high heaven and were stained with who knew what. She was a filthy, sweaty, disgusting mess and needed a shower, new clothes, and a toothbrush. In that order.

  Please, God, don’t let him catch a whiff.

  He started to pass her, dragging the tied-up space pirate captain behind him, and then he saw her. Rockstar met her eyes, and she felt a pleasant swooping in the bottom of her belly.