Alien Romance Box Set: Romantic Suspense: Alien Destiny: Scifi Alien Romance Adventure Romantic Suspence Trilogy (Complete Series Box Set Books 1-3)

by Ashley L. Hunt

  “So this place exists even when I’m awake?”

  “Of course,” Barbas answered, sitting down on the edge of the bed, unlacing his boots. “And how, for that matter, do you know that you’re asleep now, and awake there on Chalice? What if this is real, and that frozen hell is the dream?”

  I grinned and threw a pillow at him. He dodged with the barest of movements. “Quit trying to give me a headache, ‘Bas.” He smiled and kicked off the left boot, then started to unlace the other. I cocked my head the other way and asked, “Is it nice here? When I’m awake, I mean? Does it look the same without my needs and desires making it this way?” I gestured to the cabin around me. “After all, this is my relaxing dream, my ‘R and R’. What does your dream look like?”

  Barbas gave me a crooked smile. “My dream looks a lot like this. A nice garden, a sunny day, a beautiful woman in my bed.”

  “Your bed,” I responded, lifting an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure it’s my bed. After all, I’m the one lying on it right now.”

  Barbas kicked off the other boot and then turned, rolling onto his belly and slithering towards me. He moved smooth and predatory, like a prowling cat. “Yes, you are,” he said, his voice low, amused, practically a purr. “But this is my dream, like I said, and that makes this bed mine.”

  “And me?” I whispered as he crept forward, ceasing his progress only once he was leaning over me. His arms braced on either side of my head like oaken pillars. “If this is your dream, what does that make me?”

  Barbas bent and kissed me softly, on the lips, and I felt my heart skip a beat in my chest. I could feel a gathering cluster of sparks kindling to life somewhere between my legs. Little lines of glowing excitement began to wriggle up along the nerves in my belly. He began to plant a line of kisses on me, first on my lips, then the edge of my jaw, the side of my neck, my throat, downward, ever downward in a line that left my skin tingling. With one hand he casually tore open my blouse, exposing the white lace bra beneath, and he continued the line of kisses, lingering a little at the edges of the lace. My nipples were hard, and each one of his kisses on the slope of my breasts, sent out little ripples of electric sensation. The pulses of pleasure cascading out to meet the growing fire coming to life down before. My breath was coming faster and faster, my chest rising and falling sharply with each gasp, each sigh.

  Barbas drew the line of kisses down over my ribs and along my abdomen, and knowing where he was going didn’t make the anticipation any less torturous. Each kiss brought me closer to the wet heart of the growing fire in me, making this torture absolutely delightful. He deftly opened the buttons of my jeans with one hand, opening them one at a time, while steadily descending with kisses in a slow agonizing rhythm. His free hand crawled its way lazily up along my side, and I moaned as he slipped his hand inside one cup of my bra and circled my nipple with his gentle fingertip The very edge of his fingernail dragged a little coil of glowing pleasure out of me and sent it rippling away with the sensation he was coaxing from my breast. My jeans began to slip down my hips as he tugged them away with one hand. I wriggled in his grip, as he set me free of the suddenly restrictive pants. He pushed them all the way to my ankles and I kicked them off my bare feet.

  I could feel his warm breath on me; I knew what was coming, and still the sudden spike of sensation as his tongue flicked out to taste me, wiped my mind clear like a beach before the slow, steady advance of the rising tide. My lips parted of their own accord, and the next stroke of his tongue dragged a long, low moan out of me. My hips rocked hard against the bed, and each lapping pulse of Barbas’ tongue sent another vibration up along my spine, arching my back up away from the bed. Barbas’ other hand joined his first one teasing my nipples for a moment and then both of them traveled down to grip my hips as he put his tongue ever deeper inside me. I felt the waves of a growing vibration tide coming on ever stronger. I gripped my own breasts, needing to grab something before I was swept away completely by the crashing waves of pleasure rolling over my body.

  Barbas was relentless. He didn’t speed up to match the urgent circles I made with my hips, but he didn’t slow down either. He continued his merciless torture on my body with his lustful, expert mouth, and I seemed to hover on the edge for eternity, holding on before the unstoppable rising wave of ecstasy. I came all of a sudden, in an abrupt rush, feeling the orgasm blasting through my whole body and wracking me with uncontrollable spasms of pleasure. I cried out, arching my back and grasping the bed sheets in tight fists. My toes curled and my legs tightened against Barbas’ shoulders, while my heels dag into his back. “More, ‘Bas,” I moaned. “More…”

  Barbas lifted his face off me and ran his arm across his wet mouth while he smiled wickedly. “Then take it,” he purred.

  I growled, low in my throat, and seized him by his forearms. I pulled him up and over me and then twisted and rolled over so that I came up on top of him. I pushed him down onto the bed and straddled him. I sank down onto the warm hardness of his manhood, gasping and arching again while he slid inside me. I began to rock my hips while I pressed my hands against his chest. Each motion a fresh twist of pleasure, a new flare of sensation, not better, not worse, but completely different from the feeling of his mouth on me. It was amazing, the feeling of him inside me, the feeling of riding the strength of his body. I rocked faster and faster, the fire inside me growing again higher and higher. His hands slid up my back and unhooked my bra, slid it free along my arms, and I threw the lacy thing away from me. It was only getting in the way. We hadn't done this before- the time hadn't been right, until now. Sure, we had spent some time kissing and fooling around, but this was another level entirely. And the wait was absolutely worth it. Now was the right time and my God it was exactly what I needed.

  Barbas gripped my back and pulled me forward to lean over him with my breasts just above his face. He stretched his neck and lifted his chin. He closed his lips over my nipple, running his tongue around it in a circle, barely scoring the sensitive skin of my breast with his teeth. Already riding high on the aftershocks of the first orgasm, I climaxed again, abruptly and with little warning. This one even stronger inside me. Unable to control my voice inform the sudden orgasm, I screamed, high and loud, over and over, as each pulse clenched me tighter around him in a frenetic rhythm. In that moment I must have pushed him over the edge, because he groaned and tensed, gripping my waist and throwing back his head, shooting his hot sperm deep inside me. He held the tension for a moment and his body bowed. Then all at once he relaxed, letting out a great sigh of relief. My hips continued their rocking for a few, reflexive thrusts, and then I managed to lift myself off of him, letting out a last moan as he left my body. I couldn’t hold myself up anymore, and I tumbled down to the tangled sheets to curl beside him, my whole body tingling with afterglow.

  Barbas snaked one arm out to my back and hips, and dragged me close to curl against him. My head rest in the hollow of his broad shoulder and my hair splayed across him. We lay there for a moment, panting and happy. Barbas turned his head to kiss me on the forehead and said. “To answer your question, my angel, if this is my dream, then that means that you are mine.” I chuckled a little and sighed. I closed my eyes and relaxed against his strength and warmth. Maybe it was alright to be his, even if it was only in my dreams. Maybe this was real, and Chalice was the dream. Maybe that was alright too. I drifted away on tides of lazy pleasure and simply enjoyed feeling good. It had been a very long time since I had been really happy. As the sweet oblivion of true sleep drew ever closer, I thought I heard someone speaking. In a voice unfathomably vast, and deep as thunder. I tried to work out what it was saying, but just as I grasped the edge of those words, I fell asleep.

  ...

  Chapter Four: The Face of a God

  Volistad

  A day spent in the prison pit was not physically trying- not particularly at least. The pit was large enough for me to lie down comfortably, and the floor had been lined with pelts and hides, making i
t easy to sleep. The walls of the pit were sheer and smooth, shaped from stone by Deepseeker's magick, and the string of amulets hung at its mouth and out of my reach, kept the air warm by. I was in no danger of physical extremis in my prison, but the boredom was probably going to drive me crazy. I stared at the walls, I slept and I did as many exercises as I could manage. I had identified all of the pelts in the layer of furs on the floor of the pit, first by species, then by gender, and then by the method of death. I was so very bored. By the end of the first day, I was sure that Vassa would have them leave me down there indefinitely- if he thought about it at all.

  Shortly after breakfast on the third day, a face appeared over the lip of the pit- one I knew very well. She was strange, in the way of all Stormcallers. Her dimpled, pale cheeks were covered with fresh blue paints, in a pattern that I didn't recognize. Her hair dyed in a similar hue and her eyes were black and huge in their sockets. Through it all, I knew my sister's face well. Shaman or no, Nissikul would always be the baby of my family, and as I narrowed my eyes in a smile back up at her, I recognized the omnipresent twinkle of mischief in her gaze. "Nissi!" I called up, not moving from my reclining position against a mound of furs. "What are you doing here?"

  Nissikul disappeared for a moment, and then, just when I thought she had gone, a coil of spun vulyak hair rope came, flying over the edge. The end of the wound rope fell to the hides right beside my head. Nissi’s face reappeared at the edge of the pit. “I’m getting you out, obviously. Climb the rope you silly ranger.”

  “Vassa put me in here,” I answered. “There might be trouble if I just leave; especially if anyone saw you come in already.” I tapped the rope with the back of one hand, making it sway. “Some of us aren’t actually above the law, mageling.”

  Nissikul giggled at this. “Well I would have broken you out the second day, but Master Lot caught me putting the guards to sleep and told me to wait. He wants to talk to you today, so he ordered you released. Vassa is off visiting the Perimeter, so the old goat couldn’t interfere.” She pulled at the rope, coaxing a ripple into it so that the end near me flicked over and tapped me on the side of my head. “So climb the rope, ranger boy.”

  I snorted and flipped up to my feet with one move. Then I narrowed my eyes to gauge the distance, took a deep breath, and stepped to the wall furthest from the rope. Before Nissikul could ask what I was doing, I took two quick, sprinting steps and jumped. Pushed off the wall at the apex of my leap, twisting and spinning so that I soared across the pit and caught the stone edge. As I rolled myself over the lip of the pit and then got to my feet, Nissi came over to me, doing some subtle maneuver with her left hand and causing the rope to coil itself about her arm like a deep-viper. “If you could do that the whole time,” she said, not in the least bit put out, that I’d refused her rescue. “Why did you stay in the pit?”

  “Because unlike you,” I said, gripping her shoulder and giving her a hard squeeze of affection. “I am not above the law, little sister.”

  “Well,” said Nissikul brightly, “I’m not really above the law either. I just don’t obey the commands of you puny mortals, ‘big brother’.” She lifted her chin towards me in mocking amusement. “Now come along, my master wishes to see you.”

  I grimaced in protest, but not wide enough to show her my fangs. Our people viewed such a display as something of a threat, and though she was my sister, it was never wise to openly trifle with a Stormcaller. Though she might not be at her full strength here, touching the stone of the buried mountain, Nissikul, the least of her sisters in strength, could tear me to shreds. I might be able to stop her, physically, but unless her attention was fully focused elsewhere, I would have little chance of ever laying a hand on her. She was my baby sister, and I loved her, but Stormcallers were very, very strange- and twice as dangerous.

  We made our way from the prison out onto the main surface of the mountain. It was a great stone peak, stretching up from unknown depths, utterly entombed within Ravanur’s icy skin except for the icy cavern that surrounded the peak. It wasn’t a very large world, but it was the center of mine, the home of my people, the Erin-Vulur. I blinked a little at the comparative brightness of the great cavern. It was lit by tangles of glowing moss that grew from the ceiling of the cavern, unharmed by the cold of the ice. The temperature within the cavern was comfortable enough for me and most of my people and barely cold enough to freeze water. If anything, the Stormcallers, like my sister, actually found the place too hot. But then again they were the lunatics who would wander the Outer Skin of Ravanur utterly naked. So perhaps they weren’t the best judges as far as temperature was concerned. Thank Palamun and Ravanur both, that Nissi was too young to go on walkabout. I was not looking forward to the day when the other rangers would start whispering about my sister, wandering about skyclad when they thought I wasn’t listening. Several of my brethren had expressed interest, and my threats of extreme and merciless violence wouldn’t hold them back forever. Nissi was objectively pretty, witty, and funny. Stormcallers weren’t always single, take our mother for example. But they were always crazy. I shuddered thinking of what would happen the first time that one of those luckless rangers would wound Nissi’s heart.

  Nissi led me around the terraces and farms that surrounded the prison tunnels. Through the fields of giant fungi and lichen grown to feed our livestock, past the dukkar seals in their wallows, and the small herd of Vulyak goats that we maintained to harvest their valuable hair. We skirted the village properly, avoiding its cluster of stone, chitin, and hide huts- as well as the inevitable presence of one of Vassa’s priests. I raised an eyebrow, but I did not comment. Perhaps Elder Lot’s summons was not entirely ratified by the other members of the council. Neither he nor the Deepseeker was especially liked, since their powers and knowledge were uncomfortably similar to dark alchemies of the enemy Beneath.

  I quickly turned my thoughts away from what lay Beneath the skin of Ravanur. That way lay madness, and worse. Additionally, even thinking about it sometimes made it stronger, according to the old stories. There was nothing good Beneath the ice. Mother Ravanur had been frozen for a reason.

  We cleared the edge of the village and passed through another expanse of fungal fields Each of them was covered in a wide array of mushroom caps, with rows from every variety I could possibly name. Past them lay the glowstone pools, and beyond those- the ancient, solitary hut of the Elder Stormcaller. Lot had been alive for as long as anyone could remember, and seemed to have stopped aging sometime in his seventieth decade. Palamun alone knew how long ago that decade was. As such, his hut was a patchwork of never-ending repairs and patch-jobs, some done by the old man himself, some by his first-year acolytes as part of their training in humility. He had always lived in the old hut, and he probably always would. He only left to attend council meetings or to train his small army of shamans. He was as crazy as all of his kind, made strange by the depths of his power- but amongst all of them, he was certainly the strangest.

  Nissikul came to a halt beside the hanging fur flaps that served as a door to the short, squat building. I frowned. “Aren’t you going in?” She smirked and shook her head. Right. Elder Lot had called for me, not my sister. She was just a messenger in this. I placed an affectionate hand on her shoulder, then slipped past her and pushed the furs aside, ducking the low doorway and standing within the musty dimness of the shaman’s hut.

  Elder Lot was sitting in the center of the room, surrounded by scrolls made of precious mushroom-cap parchment, evidently lost in his studies. He didn't even look up as I entered, merely gesturing with one gnarled, nearly skeletal finger to the pile of furs opposite where he sat. "Sit down, ranger. I'll be with you in a moment." His eyes, black as fresh pitch, seemed overlarge in his gaunt face. They were identical to Nissikul's, except for their emptiness. Those midnight orbs carried none of the warmth of my sister's gaze- instead, they were endless pits in which a man or woman might be lost, swallowed up and digested in a single glance. I chose to e
xamine the room rather than risk some kind of obscure madness, so I glanced all around me and noted the ritual tools and totems that the old master of the Stormcallers had amassed for himself. Several staves leaned here and there about the small space, fashioned from some kind of long, narrow bone, each length a little longer than I was tall. Each staff was covered by an intricate pattern of sigils and runes, and where each one touched the floor of the hut, it was surrounded with its own circle of burug fat candles. Scrolls of parchment were piled everywhere, with seemingly little regard for the burning candles. Indeed as I glanced around, I saw that some of the scrolls bore telltale spots of char where corners or edges had gotten a little too friendly with flame.

  When I looked back up at the master, it took every bit of my will to restrain myself from flinching. Elder Lot was staring right at me, his pitiless blank eyes boring into mine. I felt myself drawn forward, felt myself leaning toward him, as a sensation I could not quite describe, scrabbled at the edges of my mind. Like the insectile legs of some kind of spider. All at once, the sensation vanished, as quickly as it had come. "Your mind has not been altered, Ranger Volisssssstad. Do you know what that means?"

  What was going on here? I wasn’t sure what the correct answer was, and I was suddenly acutely aware that if the master argued with me, he could kill where I sat, most likely without lifting a finger. “No, Elder. I suppose it means that I’m lucky to have escaped the false god’s notice.”