Alien Alphas: Twenty-Three Naughty Sci-Fi Romance Novellas

by Grace Goodwin

  He slid a gentle hand along the small of my back and gave me an awkward side-hug. “Good,” he murmured. “Almost there. Just do not move your leg when I release you, okay?”

  I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat and allowing the tears to flow unchecked as the ring slid along the cuffs and my ankles were freed. The pain was nearly unbearable, my vision blurred from it as he gently probed.

  “Broken,” he said. “And several gashes that need suturing.”

  I nodded, still not moving, until he very gently picked me up.

  “Lean against me, Sitra. I want to assess you.”

  “Assess me? You’re worse off than I am,” I protested but he put a finger to his lips to shush me.

  How would we get out of here?

  “Is there a way out?” I asked, and he shook his head.

  “Not an easy one. The building itself is destroyed. The only thing that saved us from a similar fate was that we were in the mirage.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We were in the part of the building made invisible from the outside. Superior detection devices would have noted energy or movement on the outskirts of the building, but this must not have been a planned attack. They bombed what they saw. So the central part of the building, visible to anyone from the outside, was demolished.”

  I shook my head. I had friends in other parts of the building. Even Madam Nella was one. She’d used me to suit her purposes. I was under no delusion about that. But, at the same time, she was also the one who’d brought me in when I had nowhere to go. I could only hang my head as I processed all of this.

  “How did you get in here, then?” I asked.

  “Had to get on the roof and find it pretty much blindly. It still is mostly invisible.”

  I nodded, my mind a haze of confusion and fear. It was kind of nice just to let him make the decisions, just to listen to him.

  And then an idea dawned on me. “Cy! The dragon’s nettle!”

  His lips thinned and his eyes narrowed on me as he stood, holding my injured leg in his hand. “For Christ’s sake, Sitra. You know how I feel about that. This is hardly the time or the place to be bringing up—”

  “No! Listen!”

  He watched me curiously, clearly not happy that I’d interrupted him, but this was important.

  “I studied it in school. It’s mostly well known for its hallucinogenic properties, but that’s the beauty of it. Ingested in concentrated doses, it makes the partaker lose self-control. But a lesser known attribute is that when it’s applied topically, it has an amazingly medicinal effect.”

  He raised a skeptical brow at me. “And why, as a sergeant of arms, would I not be aware of this?”

  I scoffed. “Because you’re a rule follower. You guys don’t touch the stuff because all you think about is getting high. You have no use for old school topical medicines when you have state-of-the-art laser techniques instead. We, however, have no medicinal lasers. Unless you carry one in your pocket?”

  He smirked. “We survive all this, Sitra? If you and I get away? And I take you back with me like I said I would?” His voice dropped. “I’ll make a rule follower out of you.”

  I shivered and shook my head, but didn’t respond.

  I supposed I could live with that.

  “Get the damn nettle, and stop lecturing me,” I said, relying on my impatience to cover my pleasure.

  He grunted. “Good thing you’re banged up good,” he said. “Or I’d spank your ass for the way you talk to me. I’d give you another good round for the nettle use to begin with.”

  He shook his head, and I flushed. Though I’d never admit it, my ass still stung from the spanking he’d given me earlier.

  “Say please, Sitra,” he ordered.

  I sighed. “Oh, please, your highness. Get me the nettle!”

  My stomach twisted as he stood, fresh blood staining his shirt, both mine and his.

  “Over by my vanity. If you can reach it, there’s a case with a passcode to access the nettle. I was only supposed to have two grams, but there’s at least a dozen kilos in there.”

  “What?” He turned to me, mouth open in shock. I shook my head. He didn’t need to know how I got it. I knew he wouldn’t approve.

  He shook his head. “What’s the passcode?”

  “Swipe the ring and enter 34437. Can you reach it?”

  He grunted with the exertion of moving more glass and metal, shoving them to the side. I winced, watching as the blood continued to spurt. He’d lost a lot, and I wasn’t sure at what point he’d grow weak from it. He probably already had, but was pushing through to do what needed to be done. I watched in awe as he lifted one blockage after the other, the room growing darker and darker.

  “Can’t see a damn thing,” he muttered.

  “You can light nettle as well,” I offered helpfully. “Dry nettle will act like an old-fashioned torch.”

  “Seems you’re best friends with dragon’s nettle?”

  I looked away and mumbled something about a grad school project and pharmaceuticals, but he wasn’t buying it.

  There was no hiding the fact I was an addict. I’d taken a hit after my brother and parents were killed, and it’d been the only thing to bring me relief. Night after night I sought the same relief, and now I relied on it. Loved it. Knew its properties and how to make it work.

  As a sergeant determined to follow the rules, he would not approve, so there was no point in even attempting to explain.

  And as a dominant man who’d been perfectly content whipping my ass, he was better off ignorant.

  “Lighting nettle to help us find the nettle isn’t very useful,” he said.

  “True.” I wished I could help, but every time I moved, my ankle screamed in pain. “Feel for the smooth door. It’s to the right of the vanity.”

  “You mean the firewood,” he quipped. “The pile of matchsticks that used to be your vanity?”

  I laughed out loud. We needed this, to see us through. “Yes, exactly. Hey, we can build a bonfire like in the old days, when we used to go camping with Mom and Dad.” That was one of the few fond memories I held onto.

  “Sounds perfect,” he said. “I was hoping we could attract our enemies, tell them we were still here, so I could kill them myself,” he said nonchalantly.

  “Okay, okay. Bad idea.”

  He worked in silence for a moment, the only sounds in the room his grunts and my heavy breathing. My ankle throbbed, and my hands shook for the nettle, until finally, finally, he made it through.

  “Green, iridescent safe?” he asked. “Classy.”

  “Yes. Oh, thank God.”

  He entered the passcode and swung the door open. When he saw the contents within the safe, he whistled to himself. “Sitra. God. There’s enough in here to open a fucking trade route.”

  I hung my head, not wanting to look at him. He was right. But I used it constantly. I was almost more ashamed of the nettle abuse than the fact I’d offered my body to him in prostitution.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Just get it, Cy.” The snark evaporated and my shoulders slumped. I was so tired and in so much pain.

  “Got it.”

  I heard a rustling as he made his way over to me, and I instantly scanned him for the vape pipe. “Where’s—how are we going to use it without the pipe?”

  His stern eyes focused on mine as he knelt before me. “Not vape it,” he said. “You were clear that concentrated amounts applied topically would help, correct?”

  With a sigh, I nodded and bit my lip, my hands already shaking from withdrawal.

  “Good, then. Let’s do what we need to. Give me the stalk.”

  He shot me a look.

  “Please,” I tacked on. I took the dark green stalks in my hand. I kept a supply of fresh, dried, and liquefied nettle. Was this fresh, green, dried? I scraped the liquid off the length of the root, my fingers tingling when the sticky fluid easily beaded up on the surface.

  He gave me a wary look, b
ut I could tell the pain wore on him, as his face looked pinched, his breath coming in shorter pants. “What are you actually going to do with that?” he asked.

  “You don’t know? Fucking insane they didn’t teach you this.” I held his injured arm. “Stay still,” I said. The effects of my vaping earlier had worn off considerably, my own pain now intensified. He looked at me, his jaw set, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of the situation. “Take off your shirt,” I ordered.

  He grumbled but did what I said, his fingers clumsily unfastening the buttons on his shirt. I caught a glimpse of his bare chest and I looked away. It would not do to fawn over him like a lovesick teen. I swallowed hard and glanced casually at the tight muscles in his abdomen, speckled with light brown hair. His waist tapered, and as he pulled the tail of his shirt out of his uniform pants, I couldn’t help but stare. He’d toned quite a bit since he’d enlisted, his chest muscles widening to broad shoulders, rippling as he undressed.

  I swallowed hard. I had to keep my head about me, even if he was the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes upon. It sucked that I’d fallen in love with him so long ago. Anonymity or ambivalence would’ve helped me at this juncture rather than the fluttering in my tummy, and breathlessness I had to swallow as I looked at the wound that needed dressing.

  “You’ve got a gash here,” I said.

  His lips tipped up at the edges, though his eyes remained hard. “That so?” he asked.

  I shook my head, needing to clean the wound before I did anything else, but I didn’t have many options. I had no idea how we’d get to the bathroom, and definitely no water where we could reach. I had to do the best I could.

  Scraping the droplets of moisture with my fingernail, I gingerly held the salve over one open wound on his side, my hand shaking a bit. “This will sting,” I said to him quietly. “Just do your best to deal, okay?”

  He didn’t reply, but tightened his jaw.

  I let the droplets fall, ignoring how he winced from the pain. I knew that he would get a lot better a lot quicker with this remedy, and that it was important we find a way out. Within seconds the nettle cauterized the gaping wound, and it no longer bled. Though the indigo blood still stained him, he was no longer at risk. I applied the nettle droplets all over his injuries until finally none remained. He flexed his own arm, and I tried to look away before I saw the muscles rippling again, but it was too late.

  I swallowed hard and his eyes met mine. Knowing eyes. It was then that I felt the heat emanating him from me, and I became aware of the fact that I wasn’t the only one aroused.

  But I was still injured.

  “Your turn,” he said. “We need to get you healed. Tell me how to do it, and I’ll get you taken care of.” He smirked. “Might as well take your clothes off, too.”

  “What? No!” I protested, but he only shook his head, and the heat in the room increased.

  “I need to get to your hip. The ankle I could handle with you fully clothed, but blood is seeping right through your hip. So you might as well let me do that first, and stop being such a prude about it, okay?”

  I frowned at him. “Scrape the droplets of moisture from the stalk of nettle, and place it along the deepest part of the injury,” I said, holding my ankle up to him. “Doesn’t have to be an open wound. A broken bone or bruise will heal as well.” I looked away, bracing myself as he fixed his gaze on the nettle, his jaw set, scraping a finger along the edge until the droplets beaded up, imitating my technique. He took my ankle in his large hands, cradling it, but it still hurt when he touched me. Tears pricked my eyes as he gently smoothed the droplets over my ankle.

  “Easy, Sitra,” he said. “You’ve been brave. Continue to be brave.”

  I swallowed hard, my hands fisted on the bed, but within seconds the pain subsided and I could rotate my ankle fully. I exhaled, so relieved I felt almost happy for a moment.

  He sat back on his haunches, crouched down so he could help me, and we were practically eyeball to eyeball. “Now let me look at your hip,” he said.

  I would have been okay if he hadn’t swallowed so damn hard at the request, if I hadn’t seen him shift below me, if I didn’t feel his heat like a thousand suns on my naked legs.

  “I can do it myself,” I whispered. His eyes met mine and he did not speak, but he slowly shook his head from side to side.

  I wanted a hit of nettle vape so bad my hands shook. My eyes not leaving his, I slowly unzipped the side zipper of my skirt, sliding it down my hips. Beneath my skirt I wore a black lace thong that didn’t cover a damn thing. I wished I’d gone for something less dramatic, but I always did like to please my customers, and they were fans of the thong.

  On his knees now, he sidled up close to me, his large hand on the opposite side of my waist as he looked at my wound. “Cut from shrapnel?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yes,” I whispered, looking away. The blood had seeped straight through the thin skirt, painting my side an ugly mottled burgundy. Human blood, unlike Sargothian, still ran red. I shivered, my stomach flipping with nausea.

  His hands didn’t shake like mine had. With deliberate strokes, he stripped the nettle juice and smoothed it over my injured hip. I cried out from the pain, but just as soon as the piercing ache shot through me, a sort of calm descended. The pain was gone. A small, dry sob escaped me, I was so filled with relief.

  “Good girl,” he said. He still knelt in front of me, and now I had hardly anything on. His breath grazed my bare skin, so warm, so close that my nipples furled. Now that I was no longer in pain, it seemed my body had a mind of its own. We were trapped, and for all we knew we were the only survivors in the entire planet. All I could think about was how close I wanted to be to him.

  He got to his feet just as I decided to look away. I needed to not look at him.

  “We have to get out of here,” I said. “We need to figure out what the hell happened. If you can get to the drawer just next to where the nettle is kept, my phone is there. I may be able to reach someone, though I’d be surprised if the system wasn’t down.”

  He nodded, seemingly grateful for the excuse to leave my near vicinity. I heard a loud crash, then him swearing under his breath. “I’m alright,” he muttered, returning a moment later. “Damn, we need to get out of here.” He rubbed the top of his head and handed me my phone.

  I swiped the screen and looked to see if it had a clear signal.

  “A miracle,” I muttered. “A serious goddamned miracle. I have service. Let me try.” I tapped several outports but nothing would connect. A sick feeling settled in my stomach.

  This was not good.

  “I can’t reach anyone,” I whispered.

  “Give me your phone,” he ordered, holding his palm out to me. With a sigh, I slid it into his palm. “I’m going to tap into headquarters and try to reach my superior. He is assigned outside of Sargotha, but will likely have the most updated information and can advise us.”

  A few moments later, after a series of clicks and clacks came the distinct sound of a deep voice on the other end of the phone.

  “Sergeant Cy Brak reporting.” He nodded his head and repeated, “Yes, sir,” numerous times, then he asked a few questions and nodded his head. “For God’s sake. Yes. Yes, I understand, sir. I’m not able to reach our ship, so please contact me at this device if necessary.” He said his goodbye, ended his call, and handed me the phone. But he didn’t speak at first.

  “Cy,” I asked, needing to know the worst of it, needing to hear him say it in his own words. “Where is everyone? What happened?”

  He shook his head, running a hand over the smoothly shaved skin. “As I suspected, it was Tyrova.”

  My breath froze. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move. Tyrova was the single most powerful military force in all of the galaxies combined. “Intelligence seems to think this was not an act of war meant for Sargotha. They intended on retaliating against Physden for the attack last lunar cycle, but they attacked here instead. The attack s
et off a chain of natural reactions, though, namely an earthquake exactly where we are, and a monsoon in the south. There are survivors, but they are on the other side of the planet, several days’ journey away. My commander will come for us. He’s already commissioned a rescue squad. We were told to stay put, as we don’t know if another attack or after shock is imminent. He asked if we had supplies, and I told him we would make do.”

  “We would... make do,” I repeated.

  He nodded.

  “So even though we aren’t under attack any longer, another aftershock could reach us still?”

  He nodded again.

  I blew out a breath and looked away before I responded. “Well. I suppose it could’ve been a lot worse. You could’ve died and I’d have been all alone, still cuffed to the goddamned bed.” I shook my head. “Seriously, that would have been the worst, as I’d have probably died of thirst or something.”

  He raised a brow at me, his lips twitching before he shrugged a shoulder. “Perhaps.”

  “Or,” I said, “we could’ve been left without a room of nettle, and you would’ve bled that horrid indigo blood all over the place and then died.”

  His chest jerked. Was he laughing? “Horrible... indigo... blood,” he repeated.

  I nodded soberly. “Could’ve also been stuck with a truly ugly son of a bitch who wanted to shove his tongue down my throat.” I shook my head. “I’d have either learned how to deal, so I wouldn’t be alone the rest of my life, or maybe I’d have to kill him or something.”

  “Or something.”

  “So instead, I’m stuck. Stranded here with you.” I looked away, muttering under my breath. “Maybe we can find an old-fashioned deck of cards or something.”

  His shoulders shook with laughter now. “Right,” he agreed. “Exactly what I was thinking. Deck of cards. I could try the tongue-down-your-throat thing if you’d like, though.”

  “Jesus,” I whispered.

  He grinned. “I’m teasing, Sitra. Come on. Let’s find something to eat, and then figure out what the hell we’re going to do for the next few days.”