“Of course. I only wanted to spare you,” she said, casually cupping her breasts. Tweaking her nipples. “I’ve grown quite accustomed to being naked. It’s quite liberating. What’s Lennox 5?”
His tail twitched, golden eyes following her hands as he shifted his seat and adjusted that impressive bulge. “Outlaw planets. You have a tracker embedded in your brain stem. If anyone can remove it, they’ll be lurking on Lennox 5 hiding from Naja’s reach.”
“Space pirates. Cool,” she breathed, tapping the spider and its sinister white glow.
He snorted. “For now, little genius, we’re safe on this ship. Cloaked from the Empire.”
“Seems like a shitty tracker if that’s all it takes to override it.”
“Oh, as far as technology goes, it’s unsurpassed. And there’s no other cloaking device in the known universe that could mask your signal. Aside from the one on this ship.”
“What’s so special about this ship?”
Her Felidae grinned, baring pointed fangs. “It’s Naja’s private cruiser.”
“You know,” she said, standing, moving to his chair, “you’re not half bad. Pretty brilliant, actually. But you never did get me that drink and I’m starving because you ate my perfectly balanced dinner. So!” She clapped her hands, putting a ton of unnecessary pep in her step, thrilled by the danger glittering in those golden depths. “You go do that, while I go freshen up. Prison has been an absolute nightmare on my skincare routine.”
A low, thrumming growl crackled in the air, his tail beating a song of irate fury on his boot. “You won’t enjoy pushing me, woman.”
She traced his bite on her shoulder, raising a single brow, vindicated when a light kiss of pink rose to his cheeks. “Oh,” she added. “Super important question before I go.”
“What?”
Tracing his lower lip with the pad of her thumb, she smiled that soft smile she could only remember doing one other time. “You got a name, handsome?”
The End
About Myra Danvers
Raised by her awesome parents in Canada’s snowy north, Myra learned perseverance from an early age. She learned to speak in third person, via extensive reading as a child, because... well... Northern Canada gets a LOT of snow. And when one isn’t snowboarding, building quinzees, or waking up to teddy bears frozen to the floor, one tends to read about places that are warm—even if being cold is preferable to being hot, every-damn-time.
All that reading gave Myra the gypsy bug. So, after college, (where she majored in professional gypsying) she moved to a ski resort in British Colombia to be a ski bum and chase the winter, because the cold was in her bones and it never bothered her anyway. (Points because Elsa of Frozen is her spirit animal?)
But then life caught up with her, as it does, and now she’s stuffed full of enough life experience to write until transcendence (where she will be first in line to get a sweet android body and travel the universe until the end of time). So that’s what she does, when she’s not listening to the voices or taking apart the electronics just to see their insides.
I have it on good authority that she loves to hear from her readers, (because I’m sitting beside her right now), so you can follow Myra on Twitter (@myradanvers), Instagram (@myradanvers), Facebook (@myradanvers), or visit her website at www.myradanvers.com, and don’t hesitate to say hello, if you feel so inclined!
At least one of us will get back to you.
The Ghost in the Stars by Sophie Kisker
Chapter One
Siridin Sens had had more than his share of trouble lately. Enough that a dead alien and a naked, chained, semi-conscious human female didn’t even rank at the top of the list.
Shit. Abandoned lifeboats floating in space were supposed to be, well, abandoned.
The tentacled alien within his flashlight beam was most certainly dead, the green bloodstain on the wall matching the dent in his head.
He turned his flashlight back to the female, drifting on the invisible currents of weightlessness. The shackles around her wrists wrapped through the frame of the bed above her meant she wasn’t going to wander too far.
He wasn’t supposed to be in here, yet. The Dstorians were not due up here to investigate the debris floating through their territory for another eighteen hours. He should have sat on his hands, not touching anything, waiting patiently for the clearance to salvage whatever he could. But patience had never been his strong point, and here he was. And now, she was his problem.
Her eyes were glassy. She attempted to speak, but couldn’t form words. She watched as he pulled out his Solaflare and stuck it to a wall. When he turned back, she’d screwed her eyes shut at the sudden brightness, so he took a moment to study her.
Immediately he knew who—or what—she was.
Salvaging would have to wait. He pulled out his pulsar saw and split the chain in half with a small burst of sparks. When she didn’t jerk away, he realized she didn’t just have her eyes closed—she’d fallen unconscious. He gathered her unresisting form in his arms and pushed off the wall, floating back to the front of the small craft.
A small jump up in the weightlessness of the lifeboat propelled him through the hole in its ceiling, into the airlock on his ship. He hit the controls to seal it and to turn the gravity back on slowly while he twisted around to land on his feet. As he waited for his weight to come back to normal he took a look at the human in his arms. Her skin was smooth, her features fine, and her breasts small but plump. Each had a silver ring dangling from it; one of the rings had a tag attached. Her hips curved out most pleasingly from her waist, leading to a bottom that felt soft and round in his large hands. Her copper-colored hair, almost the same color as his own skin, cascaded in waves over his arm and down.
With great care he placed her on the floor. He stripped his suit off, and as soon as he removed the faceplate, he could smell her.
Yep. She was a nectar slave.
Great.
The universe was certainly having a joke at his expense today. He sighed and gathered her up. Human females were much smaller than Anterrin women, and she looked lost in his giant arms. It took only a moment to walk the dozen steps down the hall to the two crew cabins.
He hesitated at the door to the first one. He hadn’t come in here since leaving Anteros. The future that had been ripped away from him was vivid in the starkness of this room.
But it was the only option. He certainly couldn’t put her in his bed, though his cock twitched at the idea. He flashed an annoyed thought in its general direction. Once he’d placed her on top of the covers in the empty room he went to the first aid cabinet.
The hand-held Diagnoster told him she was dehydrated; no surprise there. He set up a hydrator unit and got it running, and within minutes she looked better. He stood and stretched. He’d been sweating in the biosuit for hours, and his smell was offensive to even him. He headed to the ‘fresher for a shower.
* * *
Keelie reluctantly let go of the dream she was having, the one she’d been having for weeks, and which was the only bright spot in her depressing life. She couldn’t believe she was alive—she’d resigned herself to death while floating in the darkness with no way to get out of the shackles.
But who was this Anterrin? And how had he found her?
And what was he going to do with her?
She was not going back with those tentacled monsters. She’d find a way to kill herself first. It seemed the only other option was going back to Anteros, which was not quite as bad as dying, but close.
She pushed herself up, frowning at the cuff attached to a machine circling her right elbow. She yanked it off and swung her legs around to the floor.
They seemed shaky but ok as she looked around the room. Everything was oversized for her small form, but she was used to that. The shelves were bare, the floor spotless, the covers tightly tucked at the bottom—clearly the room was not being used, but there was something more. She had an eerie sense that whoever had been here w
as gone now. As in gone. It was spooky.
The door was heavy but pulled open with ease. Directly across the short hall was another door, half opened to reveal a surprisingly messy cabin. To her right, the hall opened up into a small galley area, with counters and a table. She peered further around the corner to her right and saw a smaller door. The sound of a shower made it clear it was the bathroom. Except on a spaceship, it was usually called a ‘fresher.
To her left, at the end of the short hall, was a cockpit. The star field out the front viewport sparkled and shimmered with lights, and she found herself drawn toward it without thinking. Never in her life had she seen this many stars. The night sky on Earth had been dimmed by too much light, and on Anteros it was dangerous for a nectar slave to be out at night.
“What in Blessed Arwin’s name are you doing up here?”
She whipped around at the angry voice at the other end of the hall. It only took three strides until the large Anterrin was towering over her. He grabbed her arm and hauled her back down the hall, pushing her into the cabin.
Her instincts went on automatic and she dropped to a kneel, her hands out in front. “Sir, I was looking at the stars!” she wailed, terrified of his wrath. “I’ve never seen so many and I was just looking!”
“Who are you?”
She looked up in confusion, not sure of the best way to identify herself.
“Look, I don’t have time for games. The Dstorians will be up here in a few hours to investigate, and if they find out you’re a slave—a nectar slave—they’ll confiscate you and turn you over to the authorities on whatever planet you were headed for.”
“No, please, god, don’t let them do that! My name is Keelie, and yes, I’m a nectar slave.” Her cheeks burned at the admission.
“I smelled you the moment I took my faceplate off.”
She was surprised at the disgust in his voice. Anterrin men usually fell all over themselves to grab and ‘sip’ human women, which was why she was almost never allowed outside.
“Why the fuck were you out here in space?”
“I’m out here because my master illegally sold me to those tentacle things,” she said with disgust.
“The whole fucking universe is falling apart.” He swept his fingers through his dark hair. “All right. The least you can do is shower and maybe you’ll smell a little less like a pitir fruit gone bad.”
She bit her tongue. He was right, even if he was rude. She waited for the order to get up, but he stomped off. She rose uncertainly. He turned and looked back. “Are you waiting for an escort? Get your damn ass into the ‘fresher! And don’t use all the water!”
She squeezed past his bulk. As the door of the ‘fresher closed behind her, she collapsed against it and closed her eyes, wondering what the hell she’d landed in.
* * *
Ten minutes later she was clean and dry and peeking out the door, into the main cabin area. He was sitting by a table, turned to the side, and absorbed in his own thoughts. She took the chance to study him for the first time.
Anterrins were tall and broad, and their size helped enforce their dominance over the smaller human females. They had copper-colored skin, ranging from a light brown-red to almost black. When they felt strong emotions, their skin became darker. It happened mostly when they were angry, though she’d heard that intense love could bring out the deepest, most glowing copper color ever seen.
Since their natural pigment varied, it was hard to tell at first in an individual which shade meant calm, and which meant angry. But it didn’t take long for every slave to know every nuance of her master’s color.
This man was a statue. His skin tone resembled a new copper roof back on Earth. He was broad and muscled from his neck to his toes, and there wasn’t a single ounce of fat anywhere she could see. Like all Anterrins, his hair was deep black.
He swung around to look at her and she fought the urge to duck back into the bathroom.
“Come here.” It was not a request.
She emerged from the bathroom, still naked, her damp curls hanging down her back. She stopped a few feet away from him. He raised an eyebrow and pointed to the area immediately in front of his knees. She stepped forward and knelt as ordered, waiting obediently.
“What the fu—Get up.”
Confused, she stood. His height meant that when he was sitting they were almost eye to eye. Close up, she saw the now-familiar vertical pupils in his eyes, like a cat’s, and his startlingly blue irises. Her gaze dropped down to his lap and she noticed with dread the bulge in his pants. Anterrins were also much thicker than human men down there, and it could cause problems for the smaller, human women. He wasn’t any different. She gulped and hoped he’d only demand nectar, not sex.
He reached out to cup a breast and play with the piercing. She didn’t move or resist; being fondled by strangers was nothing new. She knew her nipple piercings had given away her identity as much as her smell had. The thick rings were set much further back into her areolas than decorative ones. They were sturdy enough to be used to pull, or tug, or connect to a chain. They could also deliver an excruciating shock if she tried to run. One attempt, and one shock, was all it took before most women would know to never try again.
From one ring dangled a copper tag. It was engraved with a picture of an open flower—or the widespread legs of a woman, depending on the observer’s point of view. Her former master’s name and location were printed on the back. He finished his silent examination and let her breast go, then reached behind his back to the table to thrust something into her hands. With surprise she saw it was a large shirt. She slipped the garment on and the hem went to her knees. It was the most clothing she’d worn in a long time and she was grateful, but she still wished she knew what was next.
She knew eventually he’d order her to lie down and spread her legs. He’d settle himself in between them to lick and suck, and bring her to an orgasm, and then he’d lick and suck again until there was nothing left, because that’s what Anterrin men did to human women. She’d yet to meet an Anterrin male who could resist the calm euphoria they received from tasting nectar.
And while he did that, she’d distract herself by thinking about her old life at home, before the lightning bolt hit the ground next to her, before a thick copper arm reached through a rip in the air and yanked her to an alien planet somewhere in the future.
“You smell better.”
The words startled her out of her thoughts.
“Not like a spoiled pitir fruit anymore?” She couldn’t resist the sarcastic question.
He scowled. “No. Just like any other nectar slave. But I can live with it for now.” He pointed to a chair. “Sit.”
She perched on the edge, resisting the urge to chew on her lip as she waited to hear what he said.
“I’m Siridin Sens. While you are on this ship, you can call me ‘sir.’ So, what species was that alien?”
“I don’t know.” She couldn’t face the intensity of his stare, so she looked at the floor instead. “My master never said, and they never gave me a translator chip, so all I knew was, where he pointed, there I went. The ship we were on was small and full of others like him, and after three days of keeping them away from me, I think he brought me into the lifeboat to get some privacy to... you know. Anyhow, he locked me up on the bed, and a few minutes later there was an explosion. The whole lifeboat lurched horribly, and he hit the wall, slid down, and never got back up. I have no idea how long ago it happened.”
“Only Anterrins are allowed to buy or own nectar slaves. Why would he want one, anyway?”
She closed her eyes, trying to push away the memory of the horror of finding out she’d been sold. “I guess there’s a couple other species who get the same effects from nectar as Anterrins do. It might be illegal, but we’ve been seeing more aliens around Eidumea City lately and rumors have been flying about illegal purchases. We were all terrified we might be sent away from Anteros. And then I was.” She squeezed her eyes sh
ut, but the tears welled up and spilled out anyway. Anteros was where the slaves arrived when they came through the paraths, the openings, from Earth of the past. No slave had ever been able to go back, but leaving the planet they’d arrived on would destroy any hope they might cling to.
“How long have you been here?”
“Almost three Anterrin years. Are you going to hand me over to them?”
“Depends on which them you mean.”
She looked up at him. “Anterrins. Please don’t let those other things have me! Please take me back to Anteros!”
“I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet.”
He stood up and opened a drawer. Heat and steam rose out of it, and a few seconds later she had a plate of blue vegetables and fake meat in front of her. She dove into it before she remembered her manners.
“I’m sorry, sir!” She picked up her plate and started to slide to the floor, where she always ate.
“Sit back in the chair. No one eats on the floor here.” His voice was clipped and cold.
She resumed her seat and ate in silence. The quiet proved to be too much.
“Is your brother here, too, sir?” She blurted out the question before she thought about the wisdom of asking. Anterrin males were almost always born as twins, and shared a mental bond that could be felt lightyears away. They often lived together their whole lives, taking one wife between them, and raising the children jointly. Females were not born as twins, so the balance of two men to one woman worked.
He stared at her without blinking, and to her dismay, his skin got visibly darker. “Don’t ask questions about things that are none of your business.” His voice was hard.
A chirp in the direction of the cockpit caught his attention. “You’re done eating.” He hauled her to her feet and pulled her over to the cabin. “In.” He pulled the heavy door shut behind her and she heard the scraping of the lock.
From one prison to another. At least this one had clean sheets.
Alien Alphas: Twenty-Three Naughty Sci-Fi Romance Novellas Page 115