Zivan (Scifi Alien Romance) (Galactic Mates)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Newsletter
Also by Luna Hunter
Mia
Zivan
Afterword
Preview of Alien General’s Baby
1. Jillian
2. Vinz
About the Author
Zivan
Galactic Mates
Luna Hunter
Contents
Newsletter
Also by Luna Hunter
1. Mia
2. Zivan
3. Mia
4. Zivan
5. Mia
6. Zivan
7. Mia
8. Zivan
9. Mia
10. Zivan
11. Mia
12. Zivan
13. Mia
14. Zivan
15. Mia
16. Zivan
17. Mia
18. Zivan
19. Mia
20. Zivan
21. Mia
22. Zivan
Afterword
Preview of Alien General’s Baby
1. Jillian
2. Vinz
Also by Luna Hunter
About the Author
Copyright 2017 Luna Hunter.
Published by Luna Hunter at Amazon.
This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All characters represented within are eighteen years of age or older and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This work is property of Luna Hunter, please do not reproduce illegally.
Created with Vellum
Thanks for picking up Zivan!
This book is an entry in the Galactic Mates series, but each book can be read as a standalone.
However, if you want the full Zoran experience I recommend starting with the Zoran Warrior series. You can find the links on the next page.
If you sign up for my newsletter, you’ll get Zoran Wedding for free! It’s a short story that takes place between the events of the Zoran Warriors and Galactic Mates series.
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Happy reading!
Also by Luna Hunter
Zoran Warriors
Alien General’s Baby - Jillian’s Story
Alien Warrior’s Baby - Kaitlyn’s Story
Alien Soldier’s Baby - Kelly’s Story
Alien Guardian’s Baby - Isabella’s Story
Galactic Mates
Thabo - Riley’s Story
Fenrir - Abigail’s Story
Bojan - Zoey’s Story
Novak - Michelle’s Story
Dusan - Cindy’s Story
1
Mia
“Freeze! New Atlanta Police Department, you’re under arrest!”
The Prymeta in front of me stops dead in his tracks. His brown eyes stare at me from under his big, sloping brow, sizing me up.
I am neither tall nor imposing, but the hand-cannon I’ve got pointed straight at the beast tells a different story.
“Don’t make any sudden moves, now,” I tell him. “Hands where I can see ‘em.”
The rain pours down on us both, soaking me to the bone, and the Terulian takeout I’ve got sitting in my hover-car is getting cold. I just got done working a twelve hour shift down at the station and was on my way home to binge-watch The Zoran & The Beautiful (it’s my guilty pleasure, I admit) when I saw this Prymeta snatch a com straight out of someone’s hands.
I couldn’t let that slide. I know some of my colleagues would’ve turned a blind eye, saying it’s just another com, but I don’t agree. We’re public servants, and protecting the public is our number one priority.
Besides, it’s not like there’s anyone waiting for me at home.
The Prymeta raises his paws. I can see the corners of his mouth curling up, showing off his giant fangs.
“You don’t scare me, big guy. You can come quietly, or I can put the stun collar on you. It’s your choice.”
“I’m not going back,” he growls.
“I’m afraid you are, sir. Turn around.”
The big, man-like ape roars and jumps up, pushing himself off the wall of the tight alley we’re in, trying to make his way up to the roof.
Why do they always run?
I set my blaster to stun and, with a well-timed shot, fell the hairy beast. He falls to the ground with a thud. I quickly slip a stun collar around his neck. He won’t be running anywhere.
“This is detective Frost, calling in a forty-five on Peach Street. I have a Prymeta in custody with a shock collar, need someone to pick him up, over.”
A few second later, my com crackles with static.
“Frost, aren’t you supposed to be home by now?”
That’s Captain Logan, my hard-ass boss.
“Couldn’t let this one walk, sir.”
“You could, but you won’t. Back-up will be right there.”
The thick raindrops slide down my neck and drench my undershirt. I pull my coat shut, shivering in the cold. It’s nearly midnight and I’m standing in another alley of this town with a petty thief mumbling at my feet. A regular Tuesday for me.
A police hover-car comes speeding towards me, lights flashing. Judging by the reckless driving, it must be Officer Wilco Jackson.
Two heavy, black boots come swinging out the driver’s side door.
“Now, this ain’t no place for a pretty lady such as yourself,” Officer Jackson says. He’s six feet tall and all muscle, looking at me through his big, reflective sunglasses. Yes, he wears them even at night.
I roll my eyes. I still haven’t figured out if Jackson is trying to sweet-talk me or put me down, but his corny come-ons are driving me nuts. I’m one of the only women on the force, and I’m technically his superior, at that. Something a lot of guys find hard to swallow.
“Officer Jackson,” I say. “So glad you could join us.”
“What ya got there, Frost? A forty-five?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Nabbed a com. Doesn’t have it on him, he must have ditched it while he ran.”
Jackson scratches his head, pushing his old-timey cowboy hat back.
“How’d you outrun a Prymeta anyway? Those buggers can scamper across walls and climb rooftops like it ain’t no thing.”
“You don’t have to be fast when you’re smart, Jackson,” I say as I hoist the suspect back to his feet. “Something to keep in mind when you’re speeding again.”
With the help of my fellow officer we manage to get the subdued Prymeta into the back of the police cruiser.
“I’ll take it from here,” Jackson says. “Don’t want to keep you from your soap-operas a moment longer.”
“No, I’ll come down to the station,” I say. “You need my testimony to hold him for longer than a few hours.”
“You sure? I could say I saw the crime.”
“And that would be fraud,” I sigh. “See you at the station.”
The Zoran & the Beautiful will have to wait.
My hover-car smells like Terulian food, and my stomach grumbles loudly, upset with me for not treating it right. I set a course back to the station and let the autopilot handle it as I scarf down the lukewarm meal.
Back at the station I do the necessary paperwork to process the Prymeta. He had a warrant out for his arrest for smuggling neuroyn, a strictly forbidden and highly addictive alien crystal that’s used for recreational purposes — and more nefariously, subduing unsuspecting victims. Very dangerous stuff. A few drops in your drink when you’re not looking is all it takes for you to black out. Stopping the d
istribution of this narcotic is one of our top priorities, but it seems that for every peddler we arrest, three more pop up.
I just do my best.
“Frost,” Jackson says, rousing me from my thoughts.
I brace myself for another weak pun or cheesy pick-up line, already mentally preparing a scorching comeback that will hopefully shut his admittedly well-sculpted ass down.
“Captain wants to see you.”
“No, you… wait, what? Logan?” I say.
“Yeah,” Jackson shrugs. “Who else? Captain America?”
“Didn’t take you for a fan of classic fiction there, Jackson.”
“This well runs deeper than you think, detective,” the officer smirks.
Damn. I feel like I lost that battle of words again.
I tie my still-damp hair into a ponytail before I enter my Captain’s office.
“Frost. Sit down.”
Captain Logan is all business. His voice has a natural authority. He’s a tall, stern man, his skin the same color as his dark-brown eyes. I can’t picture him in anything other than his crisp uniform — it’s like he was born with it on.
I follow his command. “Am I in trouble, sir?”
He removes his reading glasses and glances at the analog clock on the wall. A relic from days long past.
“It’s nearly 2am. Your next shift starts in six hours. What are you still doing here, detective?”
“I had a perp to take in, sir. I just got done processing him.”
“Couldn’t have let Jackson handle it?”
“No, sir.”
He rubs his temples.
“You work the most hours of anyone in this entire precinct, Frost.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Not a compliment, detective. You need to take some time off as well, from time to time. Blow off some steam. You can’t live your life behind the desk.”
The station is all I have. All that is waiting for me at home is an empty bed. I can’t stand the silence, the stillness… I prefer the bustle and energy of the police station. Ever since my little sister disappeared I can’t stand being alone.
“With all due respect, sir, I love my job, and I love being here.”
“I know, Frost, and you’re good at what you do. That is a compliment. The whole truth is that you’re racking up too many hours. The precinct can’t afford to pay out all that overtime. We’re stretched thin as it is, unfortunately. The major is more concerned with slashing budgets than fighting crime.”
“I don’t care about the money, Captain.”
“I know you don’t, but unfortunately, I have to.”
“If you want me to leave this station you’re going to have to drag me out. Sir.”
Logan leans back in his chair and sighs.
“I didn’t want to do this, but… I got a request for a personal investigation. From someone close to the mayor.”
“Sir?” I ask, not understanding.
“The Forrester Family. Their little girl, Emily, has gone missing. The mayor wants us to look into it.”
“Then they can file a missing persons report,” I answer. “I’m not a private dick.”
“That’s the problem — she’s sent a video message saying she’s fine, but the parents don’t believe it’s really her. However, she’s over 18, and that video message means we can’t really open a case on her. It’s not a crime to not want to see your parents.”
“So, you’re asking me to kidnap this girl and bring her back to her rich parents?” I ask incredulously.
“I’m asking you nothing of the sort. Just take a week off and work this case, see if you find any leads. Just one week. The mayor will be happy and you won’t run up more hours for the precinct. Don’t worry, you’ll still get paid — I’ll bill the mayor a nice hourly.”
“Sir,” I say. “I’m a detective. I can’t take on a private job. That’s against the law.”
“Unfortunately, the mayor makes the laws in this town. Do me a favor and look into it, will you, Frost?”
He hands me the case file. I leaf through it, and my finger stops on the page with Emily Forrester’s photo. Her autumn-red hair, the freckles on her nose.
She looks exactly like my long-lost little sister.
“I’ll look into it,” I say, doing my best to keep my voice from shaking. “But you’ll owe me one, Captain.”
2
Zivan
“I want these back on my desk by five.”
My boss, an elderly Terulian named Forlyn, drops a stack of papers the size of Olympus Mons on my desk.
Why this damn office still works with papers in this day and age is beyond me, but efficiency is not the name of the game here at Observer Security.
I stare at my boss. Even while I’m sitting down I’m still as tall as he is, and my golden eyes look right into his.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Do I look like I’m joking to you, young man? And watch your language. The Zoran Force might have stood for it, but I won’t have it in my station, I won’t!”
I leaf through the files. The contents are even more boring than I had feared.
“Are you kidding me?” I ask. “These are all cargo reports about Zalurian butter!”
“Yes,” my boss says, pushing his glasses back up his crooked nose. “And according to article 142.586, section B, paragraph 42—”
“Spare me the details,” I say. “Or I’ll jump out the nearest airlock.”
Forlyn sighs. “I need you to find out if this so-called Zalurian butter is actually butter. Food safety is very important, you know! One of the many, many pillars on which the whole Observer stands!”
“I’m not a customs officer. I do not work in shipping and receiving. I’m not a health and safety inspector. With all due respect, Forlyn, what the fuck do I know about Zalurian butter? Or normal butter, for that matter? I’m a Zoran Forces officer. I should be working the streets. You know that neuroyn use is on the rise, right? Let me use my expertise. I can sniff that shit a mile away.”
“You’re not a Zoran Forces officer anymore, young man. You’re an Observer Security deputy now. You need to earn your stripes first, the old fashioned way — doing your job. Now get to it.”
The reptilian man shuffles away, his tail dragging behind him.
I crack my knuckles and bite my bottom lip to stop myself from lashing out. Working as a desk jockey here on the Observer is the most humiliating experience of my life.
If I had kept my mouth shut and just followed my captain’s orders, I never would have been kicked off the Zoran Force. I’d still be out patrolling Zoran space in my very own cruiser, intercepting neuroyn shipments, occasionally fighting off space pirates who came from the outer planets searching for easy prey.
Those were the days. Action. Excitement. Danger. Explosions.
Until I learned my own captain was in on it — he’d let a few shipments of neuroyn through in exchange for kickbacks. I confronted him, and he let me know in no uncertain terms that if I took it up with command, it would only bite me in the ass later.
I knocked him out cold and went straight to the chief. I was lauded at first, but several weeks later I was suddenly re-assigned to the Observer: the giant Intergalactic Alliance space station that houses millions of aliens.
Demoted for my efforts.
Now I’m stuck on desk duty, doing nothing but paperwork. I haven’t seen a real criminal or had to use any of my bulging muscles in weeks.
My com peeps. A call from Earth.
More work.
“Officer Zivan,” I say briskly.
“Hello, this is detective Frost, from the New Atlanta Police Department.”
The voice on the other line is distinctly female. It has a musical quality, pleasant, warm. Not what I expected from a human cop. A female in law enforcement… just when I thought this job couldn’t get any stranger.
I wait in silence for her to continue as I arrange the files on my de
sk.
“H-hello?”
“Yes, I heard you. What do you want?”
“I’m looking into the disappearance of Emily Forrester. Well, supposed disappearance, anyway.”
“Supposed? Is she missing or not?”
“That depends on who you ask,” she says hesitantly.
“I’m asking you.”
“Well, I’m not sure yet. Could you run her name through your database, see if anything pops up?”
“No.”
“…why not?”
“Why would I?”
“Because… I… asked you to?”
“And who are you again?”
“Mia Frost, New Atlanta Police Department. Who are you anyway?”
“Zivan.”
“Zivan?”
“Zivan.”
“Look, Zivan… we’re colleagues. Help me out here. My boss dumped this file on me. This girl, Emily, her parents are worried about her, and my last records say she’s on the Observer. Just run her name real quick.”
“No.”
“What’s your problem?” the female detective says, her tone betraying her agitation.
“You are,” I answer. I can’t resist.
“What?!”
I can’t suppress a smirk. Riling this human female up has been the highlight of my day so far. This conversation has already taken me longer than it would to fulfill her request… but this is just too good an opportunity to pass up.
“You heard me,” I say.
“Don’t make me come up there,” she says.
Oh, feisty.
“And then what?”
“I’ll make you eat those words.”
“With your puny human fists?”
“My fists won’t feel so puny when they’re lodged up your ass.”
I can’t help but grin. The spunky detective has humor.
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Name a time and a place then,” she says, heated.