Kenan's Mate: A Dark Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Kleaxian Warriors Book 1)

by Sue Lyndon

“Kenan, what happened to Ellonia isn’t your fault. It was an accident. You tried your best to save her.”

  He stiffens and glares down at me. “If I’d given her a severe flogging the first time she went for a walk in the woods alone, instead of spanking her, perhaps she would still be alive.” He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, his pupils have dilated almost completely, a sight I haven’t beheld since the night he claimed me. “The human in me caused me to be too lenient with her. Though I’ve no specific ancestral memories from my human forefathers, I have a sense of what it is to be human. Humans are so much weaker and softer than Kleaxians. Compassion is a human weakness.”

  “Kenan, you must remember that while you’re half-human, I’m all human. The thought of a spanking unnerves me, let alone a flogging so harsh it draws blood. Please understand I’m not Kleaxian. I know I’ll never see Earth again and I must strive to make the best of my life on Tallia, but I can’t flip a switch in my head and accept you have the right to beat me bloody, even if I gravely disobey you in some manner. I’ll never accept that, Kenan, and I won’t apologize for it.”

  Backing away from him, I turn and slowly amble to the window. Like the wind, the drizzle permeates the force field. The cool, tiny droplets enter to caress my face and mingle with the wet warmth of my tears. I run a hand through my damp hair and turn to meet Kenan’s stone cold gaze.

  “Do you know why I took you from the Stargazer, Laylah? Why I took you instead of another female?”

  I give a small shake of my head. Anxiety quickens my pulse. We’re having a hell of a conversation, and I fear the outcome. What if he decides to demonstrate his seriousness and whips me until he draws blood? I shudder at the prospect and wrap my arms around my center.

  Kenan crooks a finger at me, gesturing for me to come closer. Leaving the window, I return to stand in front of him. “Why did you take me?” My question escapes as the faintest whisper, barely audible over the breeze.

  “When I looked upon you lying on the floor, the noise of the battle faded and I only saw you, something deep and primal inside me calling out to approach your petite form. Even before I turned you over and glimpsed your beauty, I felt tight in my chest thinking you might perish if I didn’t get you medical help soon.”

  He grasps my hands and holds them to his chest. The coldness is long gone from his eyes. Instead, his gaze vibrates warmth, and the tension from moments ago is already melting away.

  “I sensed you were meant to be my mate, Laylah. I raged inside at the thought of another male claiming you, and when I picked you up in my arms, so small and light, yet clinging to life like the stubborn girl you are, my heart felt full for the first time since…since Ellonia’s passing.”

  My pulse quickens and I swallow hard, so overwhelmed by his confession that I can’t form a single word. Relief swarms my heart. He could’ve kept his reasons for taking me a secret, even Heggal couldn’t have shown me such a vision. But he’s professed and painted an intimate moment I had no hope of discovering on my own.

  He has literally laid his heart bare before mine.

  When he leans down to capture my lips, I don’t resist. His tongue delves into my mouth and he kisses me hard, possessively. I clutch onto him and kiss him back with the same sweeping force. I need him now, desperately crave a physical connection to seal the remaining fissures between us.

  Pulling at his waistband, I try to remove his pants. When I fail to work the clasp open, I settle for pushing his shirt off. His muscles ripple with the movements of undressing, and he breaks the kiss long enough to strip his pants, boots, and tight underwear off.

  I ache to feel his hugeness inside me, claiming me, making me his.

  He doesn’t make me wait long. After carrying me to the bed, he spreads my legs and sinks deep into my pussy. I cry out in ecstasy when he starts thrusting in and out, holding my hips as he fucks me fast and hard. The sounds of primal mating fill the room, along with the scent of my growing arousal.

  Part of me wants to believe Kenan will never truly hurt me. Part of me thinks he’ll never give me anything worse than a belt whipping, despite his threats otherwise. I sense the goodness in him and the turmoil of having the full ancestral memory of one race battling against the faint senses of another. It must be hell for him at times, and maybe I have a full-blown case of Stockholm Syndrome, but I’m so thankful he’s the male who carried me off the Stargazer, rather than a full blooded Kleaxian.

  He claims me in a rough frenzy.

  He’s never pounded into me so hard, but I welcome each quick thrust because it’s him—the very alien who threatened to kill a doctor if he didn’t save my life—and in this moment of dark truths, we need each other.

  We climax at the same time, our lust detonating like a supernova on the edge of the galaxy. I moan as the wave of pleasure lifts me higher and higher, beyond the stars, and he emits his loud, Kleaxian growl that makes the air vibrate around us as his seed fills me up. He pulls out slowly and gathers me in his arms, and his gentle embrace calms the what ifs from racing through my mind.

  Right now, in this endless moment, I’m safe in his arms.

  His eyes glow with affection. I love it when he stares at me in this fashion, with pure tenderness in his otherworldly gaze. In times like this, I can pretend he’ll never hurt me.

  Someone knocks, probably Heggal trying to deliver our breakfast, but Kenan orders him away.

  I relish the blissful aftermath of our joining, but, as my strength returns, so do my worries about Kenan’s threats of severe punishment. He basically professed his love for me, but how can I ever love him in return when I must also fear his wrath?

  The images of the beaten Kleaxian females haunt me when I close my eyes, and I still can’t fathom how they willingly display their markings in public.

  Kenan sits up and urges me to get dressed again. I select a new, dry dress and meet him at the door. He’s wearing his trademark black pants and black shirt with cut-off sleeves. He told me once that’s how his soldiers dress, and those in the town wearing all black were his warriors, trained and ready to fight or keep order should the need arise, though he claimed there would be no fighting or trouble in the foreseeable future, now that the human males have been vanquished. Heggal had basically told me the same thing, on my first morning on Tallia.

  We venture to the dining room, where a small spread awaits us on the table. The servants are nowhere to be seen, and we help ourselves to the prepared breakfast dishes. Kenan even allows me to take a sip from his steaming mug. Though it smells a bit like coffee, it’s a thousand times more bitter and doesn’t taste like anything I care to put in my mouth again.

  He laughs as I gulp down two glasses of water to abate the awful taste. “Perhaps, the next time you’re naughty, I’ll make you drink a mug of ghea.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “I think I’d prefer a spanking.” The moment I admit it, my face heats. The last time he threatened to spank me, when I’d been about to hurl water in his face, the warning had made everything below my waist achy and hot. But I know the curious excitement from a threat is likely different from actually enduring a spanking.

  The rest of the day passes pleasantly enough. Kenan takes a hovercraft to a town in the foothills for several hours, and, in his absence, I walk the wide perimeter of his estate, within the barriers of the force field on the stone paths that connect the various patios, of course, and have a few interesting conversations with Heggal.

  I decide he must be the bravest of the servants because none of the others attempt to speak with me through their telepathic touch, and most won’t even look me in the eye. By now, I’ve said hello and told them all my name, several times, but none have dared to respond.

  Though I’m glad for Heggal’s company, I worry what will happen if Kenan discovers we’ve spoken. Heggal remains adamant I never tell my mate of our conversations, but what if he walks into a room when the servant is touching my arm and surmises what we’re about?


  It’s a risk Heggal’s willing to take, or he wouldn’t have touched me in the first place, but I hope if Kenan ever discovers us talking, he won’t actually send Heggal away to work on another mountain. Just as I would be devastated if Joanna stopped visiting every other morning, as she has taken to habit, I would be heartbroken if I never saw Heggal again.

  When Kenan returns from town, he carries a huge box off the hovercraft. I meet him on the patio and greet him with a kiss after he places the box down. He gathers me in his arms and kisses my forehead. A soft sigh leaves me and I breathe against his chest.

  “What’s in the box?”

  “A present for you, little human.”

  I step back and eye the massive box, excitement building in my chest.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Go ahead and open it.”

  Grinning shyly, I crouch down and flip the lid open. Thick white papers in a variety of sizes rest in a pile. Tucked beside them are several small canvases. There are paints, brushes, and long colorful sticks resembling chalks. Delight fills me as I rummage through the box of treasures.

  I will be able to create artwork, for the first time in years. Utterly astonished, I smile up at Kenan through tears of joy.

  “This is wonderful! Thank you, Kenan! How did you know?”

  He pats the top of my head. Relief spreads over his face, as if he’d been fretting over whether or not I would like the present. “You spend a great deal of time looking at the artwork in our house, Laylah, and once you talked in your sleep and I clearly heard you say, ‘How can you do this to me? I love painting and creating things. It makes me happy.’”

  I rise up and throw my arms around him, hugging him tight as a giggle erupts from my throat. “Funny. I didn’t know I talk in my sleep. Oh, thank you. This means the world, Kenan.”

  Though he’d brought me books once, it had never occurred to me to request art supplies, or any other items from town, and I’m in absolute awe Kenan has surprised me with such a thoughtful gift.

  “Were you an artist on Earth?”

  “Well, I wanted to be, but it didn’t quite work out.” In the weeks that we’ve been together, we’ve shared tidbits from each other’s cultures, but I’d been rather vague about my parents and never told him of the brother and grandmother I lost under tragic circumstances. Or about my desire to attend a high school for the arts, only for my parents to insist I not change schools and instead start taking more science and math classes. Perhaps I ought to open up to him more.

  Kenan carries the huge box effortlessly into the house and upstairs, but we don’t enter our bedroom. Instead, he ventures down the long hallway to a virtually empty room with three large windows and two wide skylights. Lots of natural light and perfect for creating artwork.

  As he sets the box down, I start jabbering about all the things I’ve never told him, and the whole time, it feels like I’m unburdening my soul.

  The rain has stopped, and the sun is already peeking through the lingering clouds. We sit in the middle of the empty floor and talk as if we’re long lost friends. I speak of the little town in Florida where I grew up, and of my brother’s and grandmother’s untimely deaths, and of my hardworking parents whose greatest fear was I would become my brother. As I tell him everything, he hangs on my every word, hardly blinking as he stares at me with apt interest.

  Kenan’s face lights up when I mention the moons of Tallia and how, as a child, my love of painting and drawing began because I was intrigued by the beautiful images of this strange new world and reveled in recreating them with my own artistic flare. When I speak of giving up on pursuing a career in art, he caresses my hand and nods solemnly in understanding.

  Once I finish, I urge him to describe his life after leaving the research facility his father raised him in.

  “My mother returned to her mate, the Kleaxian who should have been my father. I was sent to be fostered here, in my uncle’s residence on Dennian Mountain. My uncle, Prince Diazan, saw past my human tendencies and raised me like a true Kleaxian. He taught me how to fight and embrace my full Kleaxian ancestral memories. Once he passed away, I became the protector of this mountain.”

  “Who is the Kleaxian king? Your grandfather?”

  “Yes, my grandfather, whom I’ve never met, is the King of Tallia. When he dies, my mother’s oldest brother is next in line. I’ll never be king, Laylah, because of my tainted blood. But I consider myself fortunate to have a place in this world, despite the sins of my biological father.”

  “How often do you see your mother now?”

  His face darkens. “I don’t see my mother. The last time I saw her was the day we were freed from the facility. Her mate has forbidden her to see me, as is his right as a Kleaxian male.”

  “But that’s so sad.” I squeeze his hand. “I’m sure she probably longs to see you, Kenan. Have you tried contacting her?”

  “It’s not that simple.” He smiles, though the grin doesn’t reach his eyes, then he stands up. He offers me his hand. By now, it’s dark outside, and only the sconces illuminate the room. “Come. Let us enjoy dinner on the patio. The sky always sparkles after a rainfall.”

  Kenan’s right. The stars are brighter and the moons a magnificent shade of orange. He explains it has to do with the pressure change in the atmosphere after a precipitation, but I only half listen because I’m in awe of the beautiful night. Above the treetops in the distance, flashes of white and pink indicate the watchers of the night are out and about, come out of their hiding spots after the rain.

  Heggal and another servant attend us, bringing forth seafood dishes and even a dessert that reminds me of chocolate cheesecake. Kenan allows me to partake in two glasses of wine but again shakes his head when I request a third. I don’t have much of a buzz from the two glasses I’ve already partaken, and I’m a tad annoyed by his refusal, and even a little suspicious my wine might have been watered down. The servants had poured my wine from a different pitcher than his.

  “I’m not a child, you know,” I say, crossing my arms.

  He raises an eyebrow at me. “Are you finished with your dessert?”

  “Yes, sir.” I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I’m totally sassing him. He’s revealed so much more of himself today, the darkness and the light, than he has during the last few weeks, that I’ve dropped my guard.

  His eyes glimmer dark, and he shifts in his seat. I would bet a trip to Earth he has a raging hard on. We rise from our seats and, sure enough, there’s a huge bulge at the front of his pants. I pretend not to notice, though I sway my hips as I move toward him, ever aware and rather excited by the effect I have on him. As he turns, obviously expecting me to follow him into the house and upstairs, a naughty impulse strikes me and I snatch up his half-full glass of wine.

  “Don’t you dare, Laylah.” His voice comes out as a deep growl.

  He doesn’t turn around, but he must have heard me pick up the glass. More than once, he’s told me Kleaxians possess senses superior to a human’s.

  I lift the glass to my lips and start tilting it back.

  “If you drink a single drop of that wine, little human, I will make you sorely regret it.”

  I hesitate, though I don’t put the glass down. I’m almost certain he’s teasing, but then perhaps I shouldn’t risk inviting his wrath. Don’t be stupid, Laylah. Put the glass down. But my hand starts shaking and the wine tips across my tongue before I have a chance to obey.

  Oh my God.

  He turns and strides toward me. He takes the glass and sets it on the table then touches a finger to my lips. When he brings his hand away, his finger is stained red with the wine. He lifts an eyebrow at me in censure, his mouth pressing in a firm line as his jaw tightens.

  My stomach drops to the floor. Somewhere, in the midst of all our cheerful banter during dinner, I’d forgotten how large he is compared to me. And how absolutely terrifying he is when tested. On Earth, had I committed a transgression as minor as drinking a few drops of
wine when I’m not supposed to, no one would particularly care.

  I study Kenan’s dark expression, trying to determine whether he’s truly angry. Even when he’s in a good mood, he doesn’t always appear happy. He presses himself against me, and I gasp as the hardness of his erection touches my stomach. Through the layers of our clothing, heat emanates from his huge manhood.

  He sighs and twists his fingers in my hair, but he doesn’t pull hard. “Go upstairs and take your dress off, Laylah. You’ve been a naughty girl, and you’re going to go over my knee for a long, hard spanking on your bare bottom.”

  Still holding me, he smacks me lightly across the face.

  I gasp and our eyes meet.

  He still hasn’t released me, and, for a reason I can’t fathom, that light slap on my cheek felt…like some kind of shared intimacy. Maybe because he could hit me so much harder, but he only gave me that light, very careful slap. All while he’s holding me close and his erection is pressed to my stomach. He smacks my cheek a second time, then a third time, barely hard enough for the impact of flesh hitting flesh to resound in the night, before he releases me entirely.

  I rush upstairs, rubbing the faint sting from my cheek as my heart rises in my throat. I don’t know if I’m really in trouble, or if this is some kind of Kleaxian sex play. He’s always been rough taking me in bed, and once he promised to hurt me sometimes simply because it pleases him to redden my bottom and watch me squirm. I hope that’s the scenario about to happen, because the thought of ending what has become a beautiful day with a real punishment brings tears to my eyes.

  I berate myself for the silly stunt with the wine. What the fuck had I been thinking to even play at disobeying him? I hope he does nothing more than slap my thighs a little, as he’d done several weeks ago while forcing me to stand still in the center of the room while he tormented me in the most delicious and devious of ways. But then he’s promised to turn me over his knee, and my tummy flips over and over again, because deep down I know I’ll be getting worse than a few lightly stinging slaps to my thighs, or my ass for that matter.