by Erin Tate
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Find the Author
Copyright
Chapter One
Joyce really hoped she still had an asshole when the day was through. Late as hell, she raced down the concrete sidewalk with her bag in one hand and high heels in the other. While no one could really think, Gee, my asshole is awesome, she still didn’t want to lose it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t likely it’d still be around when all was said and done.
Still running, and jiggling everywhere, she flicked her gaze to her watch and winced.
Director Wardsen was so going to tear her a new one. The man acted like he was the god of Norbeach base, and lorded his position over everyone. Then again, he kinda was the god of Norbeach and had every right to do the lording thing. They all just hated him for it.
Her toe slammed into a raised piece of concrete. She groaned, but kept going. Shit, shit, shit. She ignored the pain, intent on getting to the meeting. She’d show up panting and a hint sweaty, but at least she’d be there. If her toe was broken, well, it’d heal eventually. It’d heal faster if she had health insurance and was able to go to med and spend a few minutes in the biobed, but nooo the budget was “tight” and the base couldn’t afford to hire her permanently.
Temps didn’t get benefits. Cheapskates.
No one mentioned that the director just purchased his fourth house for his fourth girlfriend. The man couldn’t keep it in his pants and apparently each trophy chick needed her own place.
Joyce wasn’t bitter. Much.
Her only hope was that the director wouldn’t fire her for being late until after she’d taken and then transcribed the meeting notes. Maybe he wouldn’t remember to send her packing once all was said and done.
Yeah, she’d keep that unlikely hope clutched to her chest. Along with her shoes.
She was thankful he wouldn’t dress her down in front of the Doshan representatives. A continued, amicable relationship between Earth—Terra as the aliens called it—and the Doshan was vital to the planet. The Doshans were Earth’s connection to the Planetary Collective, and the Planetary Collective was their safety net as they delved deeper into space.
So, yeah, there was no chance of her getting yelled at because the Doshan weren’t keen on women working, let alone being screamed at. It was probably too much to ask to have a Doshan at her side twenty-four seven.
Despite the pain in her foot and the ache in her side, Joyce smiled. One of her favorite events of all time involved a massive Doshan warrior glaring at the director when he’d snarled at her about spelling Doshan with an e instead of an a.
In her defense, it’d been her first day.
Now he only yelled at her in private.
Huffing, she pushed harder and fought to go faster. She just had to make it around two more corners, through three sets of doors, a quick security check and then she was there. She could totally do it before she died of a heart attack. She hoped. Maybe. She really should have listened to her doctor. Despite being one of the healthiest fluffy chicks ever, she had crappy stamina. Cardio might be in her future.
Dammit.
Joyce found another crack in the sidewalk with her right foot again and she was fairly certain she cut herself. Lovely. Broken and bleeding. Awesome.
It was like the sidewalk was working against her. It probably had some weird grudge because so many women click-clacked over the surface day in and day out. She was sure it was possessed and was currently releasing its pent-up hatefire on her. An exorcism was called for.
Limping now, she half-hopped, half-stumbled around the next corner and right into… a brick wall. She did not get a memo about new construction. It was true she still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of the base communications system, but the stupid governmental paper pushers who couldn’t even… She refused to acknowledge she was a stupid governmental paper pusher.
“What the hell?” She collided with the solid surface, sending a new round of pain through her. What did she break now? She bounced off the barrier and staggered backward, losing her balance in the process.
Yup, she was going down. Timber, fore, and any other saying that meant she was falling on her cushioned ass. Good thing she didn’t take up cardio. Otherwise there’d be less padding. Her arms waved like a pinwheel, spinning as if that’d slow her descent. Instead, she was sure it just made her look like an ass.
The ass she was gonna lose if she didn’t quit dicking around.
Thankfully her fall wasn’t deadly so she didn’t see her life flashing before her eyes. She did, however, see the most gorgeous man she’d ever encountered. With short dark hair, deeply tanned skin, more muscles than any man should ever possess, and a gorgeous set of eyes.
Eyes… that didn’t match and didn’t resemble anything that naturally occurred on Earth.
The reason they didn’t match each other, nor anything on Earth, was because he wasn’t from Earth. He was a Doshan.
“Fuck me.” It was supposed to be a soft whisper as she fell, but instead it was kinda loud. Loud enough for the male to wince.
The wince didn’t stop him from catching her though. He swept toward her, his arms encircling her waist and bringing her upright in less than a blink. Dang, she’d heard they were fast. When he easily swung her into his arms, cradling her against his chest, she realized they were strong as well.
There were several facts about Joyce: she lived in a small apartment, had few friends, had a temporary dead-end job, her boss was an asshole, and she was anything but light.
The Doshan held her as if she weighed no more than a feather.
His mismatched eyes flared brightly, practically glowing, the right shined a bright blue while the left blazed a deep purple. She knew they represented his abilities, the “magic” that came with being Doshan. Each color signified something or other, and now she realized she should have paid more attention when reading through the tome-o-Doshan when she was hired.
“Yes,” his deep, rough voice should have grated her nerves; instead it felt as if he stroked her, his hands skimming her from head to toe.
Joyce shook her head, trying to clear it of the spell he’d cast. There had to be some mojo going on because the pain in her feet meant nothing against the desire for him. Her body was on fire for the male, skin screaming for his physical touch.
That right there, was not like Joyce Enner.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I shall fuck you.”
“Wait, what?” She reared back. “There is no f-f-fuckage.”
“You asked.” He shrugged and she remembered that the Doshan were a very literal species. A person said what they meant. They had no concept of subterfuge. The words were spoken and a male had better have the muscle to back them up.
Muscle. Mmm…
The male holding her had plenty of that.
No. No getting turn
ed on by the alien.
“Look,” she wiggled, half-heartedly fighting his hold. “It wasn’t a request. It was more of an expression.”
He cocked his head to the side and she refused to compare him to a super-hot puppy. “Yes, you expressed the desire to be fucked. I know of fucking. Though the act is not described in that way by the Doshan. It is a crude term, however understandable by the Dosha.”
She shook her head. “No, look. I wasn’t asking. It was a curse. I’m late and I was running and I tripped on the stupid concrete—twice really—and then you were there and then…”
He wasn’t paying attention to her. The moment she got to the word “tripped” his focus was on her body.
Crap. Not only were they literal, they were protective as hell when it came to women.
“Where are you injured?” His chest expanded, nostrils flaring as he drew in the air surrounding him.
And he would smell her blood in three… two…
A growl escaped him, vibrating through her. “We must care for you.”
“Look, I’m fine. The infirmary is—”
“Joyce!”
The alien wasn’t listening to her any longer. Nope, big, bad, hot and not-human was now growling at the man approaching her. The human man also known as Director Wardsen, and inconveniently, her boss.
She groaned and buried her face against the alien’s chest. “I’m so screwed.”
“No, you are not. You have already offered yourself to me. This male cannot have you.” The alien’s stilted Terran really turned her on.
She sighed and pretended his scent didn’t make her pink bits flare to life. “That’s not what I meant.”
The click of the director’s shoes against the evil concrete-o-death announced his approach. “Joyce! You’re late,” her boss snapped at her. Then his tone became the standard politician smarmy that she hated. “Commander Tria, I apologize for Miss Enner’s intrusion. If you’ll release her, I’ll have her removed immediately. I’m sorry for any discomfort her presence has caused.” Ugh. Super smarmy. “If she hasn’t disrupted the proceedings, and you are still amenable, I’m more than happy to lead you to the meeting area to begin the Choosing.”
Commander. Great.
Both the Earth and Doshan gods hated her. They had this whole collusion thing going on. They’d tag-teamed her with a great big middle finger to her life.
The Doshan merely grunted. No, she needed to think of him as Commander Tria. Not calling the Doshans by their titles and true names annoyed her when she spoke with others. Some simply referred to them as the aliens while others said Doshan as if it were a disease. It didn’t cost anything to be respectful.
Some of the worst were the chicks who were on base until they were assigned to the Doshan for ambassador duties. They wanted to become Terran ambassadors so they could see the stars and surround themselves with hot men. Even if the idea of casually coming into contact with one turned their stomachs.
Joyce was touching one and it didn’t seem half bad. In fact…
Okay, this was getting out of hand. She wiggled in Commander Tria’s arms, drawing his attention back to her.
“If you’ll just put me down, I’ll—”
“No.” He didn’t say anything else. Just the single word.
Okay then.
The commander turned his attention to Director Wardsen. “Miss means unattached, correct?”
The director sputtered, but answered, “Yes.”
“Good.” Another one-word answer.
The commander stepped off the sidewalk and around the director, leaving the stuttering man in their wake. “Sir, Commander, can I ask what you’re doing with Miss Enner? I assure you, she’ll be reprimanded as soon as possible. Terra apologizes for any insult…”
Joyce swallowed her groan. She was so fired. Not only was she late, she also touched one of the Doshan without clear invitation. They had their own rules and regulations including no touching. Period. She broke one of the top ten rules of protocol. She wasn’t sure exactly where it fell in the spectrum of “do not ever, ever do,” but its presence on the list was enough.
The thump of more feet signified someone else’s approach. She lifted her head from Commander Tria’s shoulder and looked toward the source of the sounds. Three more Doshan approached, the insignia on their uniforms identifying them as Doshan representatives and Planetary Collective appointed ambassadors.
Lovely, just lovely. This would soon be known as the Intergalactic Enner Incident.
“Commander Tria?” The largest of the three, the male leading the small group, spoke first. He raised an eyebrow in a move so similar to humans that she almost forgot he… wasn’t. Regardless of genetic and physical similarities, they were another species. That whole human-alien difference meant no fun with the commander.
“Commander Tria, is there a problem?”
She stared up at the man holding her and noted his frown. “She has been injured.”
The director filled the ensuing silence. “The infirmary is two buildings down. I’m sure she can walk there and we can begin our meeting.”
Wardsen’s tone indicated that she better walk her happy ass there or else.
“No.” The commander really was the king of one-word answers. Paired with his tone, she feared for the director’s life.
“Commander?” the ambassador spoke again.
Silence descended and she kept her gaze trained on Commander Tria, not shifting even a tiny bit. She didn’t want to distract him. Or be put down. She kinda liked being in his arms even if he was a Doshan instead of Terran.
“I must choose?” Commander Tria’s voice pulsed through her.
“Yes, you must,” the ambassador confirmed. “However, she is not a volun—”
Choose what? That’s what she wanted to know.
“Then I have chosen.”
The director went back to sputtering and Joyce realized there was something she was definitely missing. “Commander Tria, Ambassador Haspava, Joyce hasn’t been through any training.”
The one who’d been speaking, Ambassador Haspava, shrugged. Another entirely human movement. Unless human movements were really Doshan.
“I am required to choose and I have chosen.”
Wait. She missed something ginormous, she could feel it in her bones. Even the little broken one in her big toe. “Training? Chosen? What’s happening here?”
She really hoped it wasn’t what she thought was happening because as far as she knew, there was only one kinda choosing and she wasn’t part of that pool-o-hopefuls.
“Miss Enner?” The commander said her name in a gentle purr and she found her pink bits liked that entirely too much.
“Yes?” She focused on him.
“Press the insignia on my chest.”
“Now, wait a minute.” More sputtering from the director. She’d never heard him so tongue-tied. It was kinda fun.
He was asking her to violate protocol—again—with the whole touching thing, but he asked so it couldn’t be totally wrong, right?
“This one?” She ran her fingers over the small, metal disk attached to his uniform shirt.
It had the Planetary Collective emblem engraved on the surface—three flames twined together. It meant to show that even if an enemy destroyed a single tendril of the collective, there would always be another to take its place. It represented safety and support.
Even aliens wanted to be safe.
“Yes.” His tone was deeper, filled with something very, very sexual. At least she thought so. For all she knew, he could be getting tired of carrying her. Besides, the Doshan and Terran didn’t play that way. Long hard Doshan bits and pink wet squishy Terran bits did not have play dates.
Her sexy parts did not get that memo.
“Joyce, don’t you dare. I will not have an inter-planetary incident because of your incompetence!” She hoped the director didn’t have a stroke.
Joyce wasn’t listening any longer. Not when those glowing
eyes met hers and seemed to look into her soul. Some push, some hidden desire, urged her to press the small button.
So, she did.
And then, when the two of them materialized on what could only be the command deck of a Doshan space ship, she really wished she hadn’t.
“Fuck. Me.”
At least twenty pairs of eyes focused on her, every set of orbs suddenly glowing.
“That was not an invitation!”
* * *
The small Terran in his arms roared louder than a full-grown futhide. When they began their initial scans of Terra, Commander Kede Tria had searched for such a beast and only found references to an animal that rivaled the great beast. The Terrans called it a T-Rex. Unfortunately it was long extinct. He’d been hoping for good hunting, but had discovered nothing fiercer than himself on the planet. There was no joy in the hunt if the fear of death didn’t hang over his head.
Focusing on his males, he found them all staring at the female in his arms. Their gazes were too intent, too predatory. They looked like they hunted her like a futhide.
He leveled a glare on his warriors, moving from one officer to the next. They would stay away from the beautiful Terran or they would answer to him.
Beautiful?
He looked to the woman, taking note of her full lips, gently rounded face and even rounder figure. She was soft in his arms. Where Doshan females appeared solid and strong, she was gentle and weak.
“What are you looking at?” She glared at Kede.
Gentle until she spoke and she screeched like the Doshan ptolen as it flew through the air, promising death with its cries. “You.”
That made her angrier for some reason.
“Commander?” His second commander, Suthta, drew his attention.
“What?” he snapped.
“The Terran is leaking.”
“What’s he saying?” She poked him. Him, the most feared commander, warrior, in the Doshan military and Holder of his House.
Her question also reminded him that she must not have the implant that allowed her to understand Doshan. Because Terra was a new addition to the Planetary Coalition, every Terran ambassador was injected with a small device which allowed them to speak the languages of all coalition races.