Alien's Runaway Mate (SciFi Paranormal Alien Romance) (Vistran Love Book 2)

by April Osirus

  Alien’s Runaway Mate

  April Osirus

  Copyright 2015 April Osirus

  All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. The characters and stories are all fictional and any resemblance to real life individuals is purely coincidental. In addition, this is a story of adult content. Inside, this story is filled with steamy, forbidden acts between consenting, legal aged adults.

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  About:

  After her father’s sudden death, Sarah Peyton is sold off as a debtor’s slave to a settlement on Europa. It takes three years of suffering and planning before she finally gets her chance at escape.

  Sneaking onto a cargo ship, she flies off Europa and hopefully towards a new future. Only she finds out the ship is bound for the warrior planet of Vistra, full of seven foot warriors, muscular and defined for battle.

  Has she just traded one hell for another?

  Vitstran Brax is determined to make sure that isn’t the case. He is ready to protect her with his body and name but can he protect her from his heart—which has already claimed her as his forever mate?

  “When’s the ship from Europa coming?” Brax asked as he watched his men unloading the recent shipment from the Saturn settlement.

  “Later today,” his foreman replied. He looked down at the tablet in front of him, swiping through the order file. “They’re also sending about a dozen earthlings to help unload and plant.” The foreman snorted.

  Brax shook his head. Compared to a Vistran, earthlings were tiny. Puny, really. The average Vistran, women included, stood at about seven feet. Brax himself stood at an impressive seven and a half. And with their incredible height, Vistrans were muscular in their physique. They were a warrior race that had been built upon battle. It was in their genes.

  A shipment that would take a dozen earthlings to unload would probably only need three or four Vistran men. But Brax knew that by sending a dozen men, he would be charged for their labor as well, increasing the price of the shipment. He took note to rethink a partnership with this company. He did not appreciate such sneaky underhanded business dealings.

  Brax looked out onto the unloading dock. Normally, there would be women and men working on the dock together. But ever since Vistra had opened its doors to the wider galactic community, there had been a running shortage of females on the planet.

  Vistran females, unlike the males, did not have the gene for eternal bonding when mated. This was at first thought advantageous for all because many Vistran males often died in battle. Not being eternally bonded allowed for the females to re-mate and procreate.

  But once Vistra had opened itself to the outside universe, Vistran females became curious about the idea of quick mating or multiple partners while mating. They traveled to distant worlds and began exploring the many options they now had in partners.

  This left Vistra with a nearly all-male planet. The only women present were those who had already mated and created children or a few single women who were no longer interested in mating. Ah, except, Brax thought with a wry grin. He looked up in the distance to see the outline of the palace.

  There was now a human female to be counted as well. The King had taken an earthling to be his mate only a few months ago. Although it had caused quite a ripple of shock, since many Vistran females were willing to come back home to win a shot at the King’s hand, it also made some sense. Anatomically, humans were nearly identical to Vistrans—the main source of difference being their sizes.

  Brax remembered seeing the King and Queen strolling near the palace gate one time. He had watched as the large King tucked his delicate Queen safely and securely by his side. The warm look of tender love written all over the King’s face showed Brax that there could have been no other woman for his ruler.

  But seeing the tenderness and bond had struck Brax deep in his chest. Many Vistran men had gone many years passed their mating age because of the lack of women. Some had gone off-planet to find mates. Some had convinced the remaining the females to reconsider mating. But Brax wanted that true calling of mating. He wanted love.

  But looking out at the sea of giant, muscular workers who also all wanted the same thing, Brax knew his chances of finding love were next to impossible.

  ***

  Sarah Peyton kept her cap pulled low as the cargo ship orbited around its destination, waiting for clearance to land. She could feel the heat and stench of the men around her. Sarah would be offended if she didn’t also know that she was contributing just as much of her own heat and stink to the ship.

  Her heart raced as she waited for the ship to finally begin its descent. She wouldn’t let her believe that she had actually gotten away. Without thinking, Sarah rubbed her arms. Underneath her stolen shipping uniform, she knew her arms were mottled black and blue. She pulled at her cap again to make sure her healing black eye was covered. Before take off, she had rubbed a fair amount of dirt onto her face to help her blend in and she was sure no one could differentiate between the dirt and blackish green ring around her eye.

  Sarah took in a quiet deep breath. It had been three years. It had been three years since she had been sold into slavery.

  Three years ago, her father, Sarah’s only connection in the world, had died suddenly. She was heartbroken and bereft, knowing that she was all alone in the world. But while in the week of mourning that was traditional in Europa, a knock had come to her door.

  Two large men had stood in her doorway demanding payment. They had claimed that her father had borrowed a huge sum of money over the last five years to subsidize his business. They said that now was the time he finally paid them back.

  Sarah had shaken her head in confusion. “But I don’t know what you are talking about,” she cried, feeling overwhelmed. “My father just passed a few days ago—”

  “He’s dead?” one of the burly men interrupted.

  Sarah nodded vigorously, hoping they would understand and show her leniency. “Yes,” she said fervently, trying not to cry. “He was all I had and I am still in mourning. If you could please give me some time so I could go through his papers, I’m sure I could figure out—”

  Sarah stopped herself short as she watched the two men suddenly change. Their expressions took on a leering, calculating gaze and their stances changed from a demanding pose to one that looked about to pounce.

  One of the men smiled, showing some missing teeth. “Well then, sweetums, we know just how your old man will be paying back his debts,” he said, his voice gravelly and deep.

  Before Sarah could scream for help, the men had struck her across her head and had dragged her limp body out of her childhood home and away from her only link to family.

  She had woken up on the other side of Europa, in the settlement of Khil. She had heard of such places but had never thought she would ever see it. When Sarah had finally regained consciousness, she had tried to slowly sit up. But a weight was pressing her back down. Hands flew to her neck where a thick heavy metal collar had been locked on. A chain connected to the collar roped down a
round her and was nailed to the stone wall.

  “Wha—” Sarah whispered hoarsely as she felt panic rise up in her stomach.

  A door opened and an old man, large and fat, appeared. “Ahh, so it looks like the lazy little beggar has finally awaken,” he said, his beady eyes glaring at her.

  Sarah tried to stand up but found the chain length too short to do so. “Please, sir,” Sarah started. “I think there’s been a mistake. My name is Sarah Peyton and—”

  “Peyton?” the man echoed. “Then there’s no mistake. Old man Peyton thought he could borrow my money and then die without paying me back, eh?” The man stepped into the dim room. “Well, nobody cheats Garrig Swigton!” The man stood right in front of Sarah, his huge belly nearly touching her nose. “Nobody!” he said as he let loose his hand, striking her right across her cheek.

  Sarah was sure her cheekbones had been broken. Stars flew across her vision as pain cracked against her face.

  Garrig grabbed a handful of her long honey colored hair, yanking her head back. Sarah cried out, trying to reach out and stop his hand.

  “You’ll pay for your father’s debts, sweetums,” Garrig whispered in her ear, his breath foul with the type of tobacco that Europa was gaining fame for. “You’ll pay for them dearly.”

  He had tossed her aside and had walked back through the door, leaving her alone that night without food or comfort.

  From that night on and for the next three years, Sarah was a slave to Swigton Corporation. Most debtor slaves ended up doing the hard manual work that small colonies like Europa had plenty of. But Garrig had taken a liking to Sarah and enjoyed personally finding new ways to torment her.

  Sarah worked mostly in Garrig’s home and personal property. She cooked his meals, washed his clothes, and cleaned his home. Other debtor slaves thought her lucky to end up in such a prime spot rather than outside sweating in labor.

  But they had no idea.

  Sarah remembered the first time she had cooked him a meal. She had made a simple soup for lunch. But after placing it in front of Garrig, he immediately complained that it was too cold.

  “But you haven’t even tasted—” Sarah barely got to finish her thought before Garrig’s hand swung across her face, leaving her tasting blood.

  “I say it’s too cold,” he answered slowly. “Heat it up.”

  Sarah meekly took back the bowl and heated up the pot of soup. She brought back a new bowl of steaming soup, hoping this was hot enough so she could leave the room.

  But again, without even tasting the soup, Garrig slapped Sarah again. “I want hot soup, you idiot. Can’t you even do that right?”

  Sarah fought back tears as she went back into the kitchen and heated up the pot. By the time she carried the third bowl back, the soup was still bubbling in the bowl. It was so hot, she had to carry it in on a tray.

  Garrig stared at the third bowl. “With all this heating and cooling and heating that you’ve done with this soup,” he said calmly, “I’m afraid the flavor will be off. Taste it.”

  Sarah could see the small bubbles still roiling in the soup. She would most certainly burn herself. “Sir, the soup will taste the same. It is just very, very hot,” she pleaded.

  Garrig’s jowly face began to redden in anger. “Are you contradicting your master?”

  Sarah shook her head.

  “Then taste the soup,” Garrig said, gesturing to the steaming, bubbling bowl.

  Sarah gulped, “Sir—”

  Garrig’s large face flushed a blotchy red. “Ingratitude!” he cried, slamming a fist down on the table, sloshing the hot soup in the bowl. “You of all the debtor slaves have the easiest job on all of Europa and yet you continue to plague me with your disobedience and ingratitude!”

  Sarah wondered how badly she would burn her mouth on the soup. She’d rather burn her mouth than let Garrig really work himself up into a storm. The last time that happened, she had been starved for three days while chained in the cellar.

  “Please, sir,” she started. “I’m sorry. I’ll—”

  But it was too late. Garrig’s small eyes had darkened into black beads. His face was murderous.

  “Ingratitude,” he repeated, his voice lower and more menacing. “I’ll not have it!” With that, he grasped the hot bowl and threw the steaming soup at Sarah.

  Garrig yelped and dropped the hot bowl, his fingers blistering with the heat.

  Sarah screamed as the scalding soup soaked her clothes and burned her neck. She could feel the searing pain as the skin around her neck immediately began to redden and blister.

  But before Sarah could limp off to her cot to tend to her wounds, Garrig had made her first salve and bandage his own blistered hand.

  “I hope you have learned your lesson,” he said smugly as he watched her bandage his fingers.

  Sarah could only nod silently as she felt hot tears burn tracks down her cheeks.

  It wasn’t until she was a year and a half into her servitude when she first found out about Garrig’s contract with the distant planet Vistra. With Vistra’s interest in products and technology from other planets, people were clamoring for shipping contracts with the mysterious nation.

  It was a competitive environment and many people began bribing and conning their way into getting a contract. Sarah was positive that was what Garrig had done to earn his.

  It would take another year and a half to fill the order and ship. Sarah watched carefully as huge shipments of Europa tobacco and wine were packaged.

  Garrig, loving a good gouging, rounded up a dozen slave men to be added to the shipment. “For unloading,” he wrote on the order, adding another thousand to the bill. He could care less what happened to the slaves. Vistra was a warrior planet, he had heard. The men could either sink or swim there. He had countless more at his beck and call anyway.

  The night of take off had finally arrived. Sarah had made sure to slip in some tacky weed into Garrig’s dinner. Tacky weed was known for its incredible laxative capabilities. She had found some weeks ago and had carefully dried it and hidden it on her person.

  Immediately after dinner, Garrig had been too distressed to manage the shipment take off or to call on Sarah too much. From underneath her cot, she pulled out the shipping uniform she had stolen and had carefully dressed herself. She had coiled her long hair under the cap and had smeared dirt across her cheeks to hide the latest collection of bruises she had incurred.

  Small and petite as she was, she had slipped in with the group of downtrodden slave men as they boarded the ship. No one seemed to notice that the dozen slave men had thirteen bodies.

  And with bated breath, Sarah had watched as the ship quickly launched itself away from the only home she had ever known.

  Bye, Daddy, she had whispered in her head. Wish me luck.

  ***

  During the ride over, the men slowly began discussing where they were going. As debtor slaves, they had no say on whether they had wanted to go to Vistra or not. They were slaves.

  But even as slaves, they had heard about Vistra.

  “They call it a warrior planet, don’t they?” one of the men asked.

  “I heard they fought against all the other planets in their star system,” said another. “And won.”

  A nervous titter rose amongst the men. Sarah kept her cap and head low, not wanting to raise any suspicions about her presence.

  “I heard all the women left their planet,” another man piped up. “Too afraid of them warrior Vistran men.”

  Sarah gulped, hearing that.

  “Yeah, yeah,” a fourth man whispered fervently. “I hear they’re even abducting women from other planets. The King even took a human for his mate!”

  “With how big they are, it’s no mystery how he caught her,” another man said cynically.

  The men continued their whispered conversations.

  Giant. Huge. Over seven feet tall!

  Brutes, they are. Aggressive and cruel.

  Do they kill slaves
that are shipped to them?

  Maybe Garrig Swigton was sending them there as final punishment for their debts.

  By the time the ship was orbiting Vistra, Sarah was drenched in sweat and fear. She hoped that as soon as they landed, she could sneak away and hide till she could sneak aboard another ship that was outward bound. She would have to move fast.

  God, she wondered, had she just traded in one hell for another?

  ***

  Brax walked out onto the unloading deck and walked over to Dock 8. The large ship from Europa slowly descended and came into docking formation. Looking over the hulking ship, Brax was not impressed. It was an outdated and ill-maintained vehicle, that much was clear.

  As the cargo door lowered itself, a group of scraggly, scrawny humans slunk out. Brax stared at them. He had heard some earthlings were having trouble in their settlements. Was Europa one of them? Looking at how pale and thin these humans were, he wondered how destitute their colony must be. How could anyone expect these men to unload heavy cargo?

  The driver, a squat man, came over with a tablet and a pen, needing his digital signature. Looking up at the giant Vistran, the driver smacked his lips and said in Galactic lengue, the common galactic language accepted by nearly all planets, “Alright there, we have 1200 shipments of Europa tobacco, 1000 of the wine, and a dozen slaves. Sign?”

  Brax recoiled at the word. “Slaves?” he repeated, staring at the malnourished men anew.

  The driver nodded impatiently. “Yes, slaves. Like it says on the order form.”

  Brax stared down at the tiny man. The driver gulped, feeling the weight of the Vistran’s gaze. “What the hell would I need slaves for?”

  Vistra never held slaves. There were servants. The palace was filled with butlers and maids and hell, even Brax had a few maids. But there was a huge difference between servants and slaves—namely, servants were paid. And paid well.