Ranger Knox (Shifter Nation: Werebears Of Acadia Book 1)

by Meg Ripley

  "We have to kill it."

  "You don't have any weapons," Alexis said, pointing out that Tyrok had run from the house in only his pants and shoes.

  "I don't need weapons. When I said that without the stars everything in the universe would die, that wasn't completely correct. Everything but those creatures. They detest sunlight and will die if exposed to it for more than a few seconds. To them, even the tiniest of stars is just a sun waiting to happen."

  Alexis suddenly remembered the tentacle slithering out of the wrecked ship and then recoiling quickly into the darkness.

  "How are we going to get it outside?" she asked.

  "I'm going to lure it."

  "No!" she protested, "It has already had control over you before. I'm not going to let that happen again. I'm going in."

  "No, you aren't," he said, trying to pull her back.

  "It is my sworn duty as the medic of this mission to protect everyone within the colony, and for the last week and a half now, that includes you."

  "You would protect anyone in the colony this way?" he asked uncertainly.

  Alexis stood on her toes to kiss him.

  "Absolutely not." She took a breath and started for the repair ship door, pausing most of the way there to toss the messenger pad from her wrist back to Tyrok, "If anything happens, call my father. His name is James."

  She turned back to the ship and approached the door. Her hand trembled as she rested it on the lever to the door and pushed it open. The door slid toward her a few inches and Alexis leaned forward to check inside. Everything was calm and quiet so she took a step forward. Suddenly she heard a screeching sound from within the ship and felt something thick and strong wrap around her waist. She screamed as the black tentacle dragged her inside. Behind her, Tyrok was shouting her name.

  Alexis thrashed against the tentacle, pushing down on it as hard as she could, trying to free herself from its grasp. It dragged her down the main hallway, slamming her against the walls as it slithered across the floor. She managed to catch herself on a metal guide bar on one wall, slowing the tentacle enough that she could hear the faint sound of her father's voice coming into the ship.

  A moment later the tentacle yanked her forward again, painfully pulling her away from the bar. It was dragging her toward the emergency control room where she found Tyrok and she felt terror building in her stomach as she thought of what it may have planned for her. Suddenly she saw a flash of movement beside her and heard a screech as the tentacle tightened around her to the point that she couldn't breathe.

  Darkness was building around her and she turned her head to see Tyrok digging a large spade into the tentacle. A look of fury on his face, he withdrew the tool and slammed it back down into the creature. Alexis could hear James shouting in the background and just as everything went completely dark, her body slipped from the tentacle's grip and crumpled to the cold metal floor.

  ****

  "Come on, Alexis. Open your eyes."

  She heard Tyrok's voice whispering to her as if it was coming through water toward her. It waivered slightly and she felt the soft, soothing touch of his hand brushing her cheek. She wanted to respond to him but it felt like her own voice was out of her reach.

  "Listen to me," he whispered again, "Focus on my voice and come back to me."

  Alexis fought against the sinking feeling that kept her away from Tyrok and felt the fog lifting. She turned her head slowly from side to side and heard a murmur escape her lips.

  "Tyrok," she whispered, finally able to find her voice.

  Her eyes fluttered open and Tyrok's beautiful face, worry etched into the gorgeous features, came gradually into focus. He leaned down and kissed her gently. The touch of his lips broke through the fog and she lifted her head to press harder into his kiss. Tyrok tucked his hand beneath her head to support it and deepened the kiss, opening his mouth over hers and dipping his tongue inside.

  Alexis welcomed the kiss, looping her arm around his neck to give herself leverage so she could crush her body against his. He groaned into her mouth and pulled her up further. She complied with his strength, allowing him to lead her so that she knelt in the middle of the bed, him mirroring her position in front of her so that their bodies touched from their knees to their chests.

  Not breaking their kiss, Alexis smoothed her hands down over Tyrok's shoulders. She reveled in the feeling of his warm skin and strong, hard muscles beneath her palms. He returned her touch, slipping his hands beneath her shirt and pulling it up, taking his mouth from hers only long enough to remove it and toss it aside. She hadn't put her bra back on before they returned to the ship and when she tucked back into his arms her nipples grazed his chest.

  Alexis whimpered at the sensation that shot through her stomach and into the apex of her thighs. Seeming to take her sound as an invitation, Tyrok steadied himself with his hands on her hips and ducked his head down to capture one of her hard peaks between his teeth. He bit just hard enough to create a tiny, pleasurable shock of pain, then followed the bite with the soothing coil of his tongue around her nipple.

  Her hand came to the back of his head to hold him in place, but Tyrok seemed to have other plans. He pulled his mouth away from her breast, moved it to the other one to flick his tongue quickly across that nipple, and then touched it to her stomach. Alexis arched back to offer him better access to her skin and closed her eyes to savor the delicious feeling of him kissing and licking his way slowly toward the button on the front of her pants.

  By the time the tip of his tongue slipped beneath her waistband to tease the curve of her hipbone, Alexis was panting and gripping his shoulders for stability. Tyrok straightened back up on his knees and pulled her closer. She felt the pressure of his erection pushing into her belly and bit her lip, her hips making tiny, involuntary movements against his. He kissed her deeply, drawing her bottom lip into his mouth and sucking on it softly. Finally, he brought his mouth to her ear.

  "Now?" he whispered and Alexis remembered how she had stopped him the last time they were in her bed together.

  Unable to speak over her labored breath, Alexis nodded. Tyrok wrapped an arm around her hips and swept her off her knees, lowering her down onto her back on the mattress. He stretched his body along hers and she parted her thighs, drawing her knees up beside his hips so he could settle closer against her. Slowing their pace, he rocked his hips against hers and kissed her languidly. She tilted her face up to him to offer her mouth completely and felt his hand slip between them again to release the button on her pants and draw the zipper down.

  A moment later she was naked before him again, but this time her shyness was overshadowed by her intense desire for him. Sitting back on his knees, Tyrok unfastened his own pants and pushed them off so that they finally had nothing between them. Still moving slowly, he slid back on the bed so he could lower his mouth between her legs.

  Alexis cried out as his tongue swept across her, focusing in on the taut, swollen spot he had teased with his fingers before. He paused briefly as if to let her calm down, then continued, using just the tip of his tongue to trace circles through her folds and coax her toward the edge. His hands went beneath her hips, filling with her flesh as he tilted her pelvis up against his mouth. She writhed on the bed, mewling sounds tumbling from between her lips as he continued his blissful torment.

  His masterful licks had brought her right to the edge and when his tongue delved inside her, the sensations crashed together in a dizzying, all-consuming climax. She was still riding the waves of tremors that rippled through her body when he moved up and the hard, thick length of his shaft replaced his tongue. He entered her in one smooth movement and her hips lifted to meet him.

  Tyrok groaned as he filled her and began moving his hips in long, deep strokes. Alexis gasped at the feeling of him gliding against her and lifted her head to catch his mouth in a kiss. His pace quickened and his thrusts became more urgent. Each hard, intense stroke brought a cry from her lips and Alexis parted her thigh
s further to accept more of the sensation. Deep, animal grunts poured from his throat as he drove himself into her again and again, his eyes staring into hers. As she gazed at him she realized that what she thought were shimmering blue streaks were actually shooting stars suspended across the honey-colored background.

  Her body contracted around him again, the rapid spasms of her muscles milking him until his head fell back and he roared. She could feel him spilling into her, pulsing in time with her tremors. As his muscles relaxed, Tyrok lowered himself down onto her, tucking his sweaty head into the dip between her shoulder and neck. He kissed her gently, his panting breaths rippling across her skin as they both cooled and calmed.

  Alexis smiled and let her eyes drift closed. She would ask about the ship tomorrow. For now, all that mattered was the stunning man in her arms and his heartbeat against her chest. She knew that from that moment on she had one less thing to miss about home.

  THE END

  Forbidden Alien Warlord

  Jenna is the most skilled warrior Earth has in the fight against Yazul, a planet known for its rich soils and simple people. It’s been one hundred years since the first weapon was fired, and the war has moved past their own planets since then, allowing them to use Earth’s moon as a neutral territory in the constant push for peace.

  But one sleepy afternoon following a routine mission, Jenna’s world is rocked: a confrontation gets tense, and she’s forced into close quarters with a Yazulian warrior who seems too wise and deadly to be real. Leo is as intrigued by her as she is by him; worse, he hints that he knows something about the war that she doesn’t.

  Just when she’s starting to get answers from him, they’re both forced to make a decision that may alter the course of countless lives forever—and start a new history in the wake of their forbidden love.

  “Jenna, how close are you to a 100% success rate?”

  Jenna looked up from her nutrient smoothie and paused, pretending to think through her battle scores as if she didn’t already know them by heart. Her best friend was sitting across from her at the gleaming silver table, his gravelly voice booming over the constant hum of humans and aliens chattering in the background. “Six percent away,” she said causally, and Victor whistled, impressed.

  “I’m only at eighty-five,” he said, scratching his tattooed chin thoughtfully. “I think it has something to do with my reaction time—I keep trying to train it and it never gets any better. I thought Luna would be a better place to practice, since we have other species here to help us train, but Lizzie warned me that neutral territory isn’t always indicative of a neutral atmosphere.” His thick fingers moved over the thorns inked on his cleft chin frantically, a nervous tic the big man couldn’t shake. No one but Jenna ever called him on it because they respected him too much.

  Jenna was surprised he was showing his nerves at all. In the years she’d known him, he’d been the one to shove his fears down deeper than anyone else. Most people assumed he had no flaws; A-Level warriors like him loved to strut around as though they were gods among men, but Victor was caring, not cocky. His straight spine was strictly for show, a pillar of discipline and patience that set the bar for nearly every warrior there, even some of the older ones. Jenna was the most technically skilled, but she’d seen Victor walk out of a burning ship carrying two people and then resuscitate them both. Jenna didn’t have that kind of nerve or boldness; she preferred to be sure of her success, and that meant she relied on machines.

  “My light cannon seized up during the last skirmish on Mars II,” she mentioned, brushing a stray onyx curl away from her face. “Almost got fried by some piece of Yazulian trash, but then my cannon unfroze and I shot a double-pulse at him. Knocked his bot out of the sky in under a second. I love our new fighting pods, they’re so much faster.” She smiled, remembering the fierce sense of satisfaction that shot through her muscles as she watched the Yazulian’s spherical black pod start to smoke and fall toward the soil, sending up an orange mushroom cloud of debris as he slammed into the ground. No one died during the skirmish, human or otherwise, but they’d destroyed every weapon the rebels were attempting to carry past the peace border. It seemed like no matter how many of the Yazulians they got to join the struggle for peace, half as many rebels violently rose up to squash the attempt. After a hundred years, the war’s front had been pushed back past Earth, Yazul, and even Luna, Earth’s moon; Yazul’s forces were finally diminished enough to contain the fighting and start working toward a tangible, significant peace. Truthfully, Jenna loved her job; ever since she’d been a little girl, she dreamed of defending her planet from the humanoid beasts that tried so hard to claim Earth for themselves. She kept hearing that peace would be achieved in the next five years, but she wasn’t ready for peace. She was still getting her taste of war.

  “I’m gonna go do some research,” Victor said suddenly. He picked up his lunch tray and rose from the table. “Luna’s library is way better than Earth’s. Wanna come with?”

  Something in his tone made Jenna look up, and she noticed his tattooed fingers were tapping against the tray like they were keeping time in a tempo only he could hear. His eyes were darting from side to side as though he were trying not to look at something in the wide cafeteria, and Jenna turned to try to find out what had made him so antsy.

  Her gray eyes scanned the rows of tables, split by species for the most part, but she didn’t see anything out of sorts. Toward the middle of the cafeteria, the more peaceful humans mingled with the friendlier Yazulians, creating fifteen or twenty tables of mixed company. The cafeteria’s eighty-five humans in their varied tones—from soft white to deep chestnut brown—looked dull compared to the Yazulians, whose skin came in every imaginable shade, but who all shone softly like they held some secret flame inside. Nothing out of the ordinary struck her eye, still, so she gave up the search.

  Jenna started to ask Victor what was wrong—and tease him for his jumpiness— when her gaze was pulled toward the center of the room.

  A Yazulian was standing motionless near a table of humans who were trying hard to avoid catching him in their line of sight. He had shining copper skin like a brushed penny, and his bulging arms were crossed with boxy black letters that Jenna knew were prayers and incantations in a lilting language she’d never been able to fully grasp, even though it had been taught to her in the years since her enlistment. His face was astoundingly symmetrical and smooth, unmarred by burns and cuts, meaning he was likely a younger warrior. His short-sleeved shirt had gleaming square gems in deep purple at the shoulders; she knew they were power sources, but couldn’t recall exactly what weapon they powered. It wasn’t on him, she reminded herself, so it didn’t matter anyway. The Yazulian was looking directly at their table—more accurately, directly at her; Jenna felt a river of tension start trickling into her stomach as she realized it was the Yazulian from the skirmish earlier that day on Mars II. As soon as she thought it, the warrior smiled.

  “You go ahead,” Jenna said to Victor, keeping her eyes on the Yazulian. “I’ll catch up later. Besides, I’m sure Lizzie’s missing you.” She kept her voice light at the mention of her old commander, but she felt a ghostly tug of pain at her heart as she spoke. It’s been six months, she thought. Move on.

  Victor seemed to notice too, and he hesitated, sadness etched into his features. “Jenna—”

  “Go.” She tried to smile, hoping it was warm enough to make up for her lingering bitterness. Victor was still her best friend, and he deserved happiness. What did Lizzie used to say? The heart wants what the heart wants.

  Victor was strong, but Jenna could be forceful, too. He turned on his heel and marched away, shooting her one last glance as the doors opened for him and he disappeared out onto Luna’s surface. She pushed her emotions down and turned her eyes forward, her nerves brittle and her blood roaring in her head.

  The Yazulian started to move toward her as if he’d been given a cue. Jenna hadn’t known he’d been waiting for Victor to leave,
but she could see it in his eyes as he approached the table. He was wearing casual clothes, a slim black top and pants made of a strengthened hybrid material that protected his skin from the elements. Fear rose to the surface of her mind, but anger soon followed, creating a toxic cocktail of emotions that colored all her panicked thoughts as she watched the alien approach. Maybe it was being reminded of her unrequited love, but she was itching for a tussle. This is it; one of these fuckers want revenge, and I’m gonna let him have one swing before I take him out. I’ve been waiting for an excuse to wail on someone.

  The Yazulian stopped in front of her table and planted his hands on his hips. Up close, he looked less threatening, but that put her even more on edge. He was a head shorter than she was, and his pupils were dark brown and flecked with a luminous golden tone, close to the shade of his own skin. His nametag had his name and rank in blocky Yazulian script, and underneath it was its English translation: Leo 17. His eyes flickered to her name tag and read Jenna A. Horizon on the silver rectangle.

  “A-Level,” he said, and his voice snaked across her skin and made her shiver; it sounded like something she heard in all those examples of cheesy radio dramas from Earth’s early twentieth century: pompous, velvety and dark, seductively sinister but utterly commanding. It was the voice of a villain or an anti-hero you were inexplicably drawn to. She hated it.

  “Yeah, I’m A-Level. What’s it to you?” Jenna shot back. “You’re a level 17. Want to keep stating the obvious?”

  The Yazulian smiled, and his teeth were too white. “Sure, why not? You’re eating a shake. Everyone else has solid food of some kind.”

  “And?” Jenna spat, curling her hands into fists. “You’re about to be eating my boot if you don’t cut the crap. Or maybe crapping my boot if you’re not careful.”