Alien Rogue's Price: Alpha Alien Romance (Alpha Aliens of Fremm Book 4)

by Nancey Cummings

  “And amazingly, I could do without paying the fines of a petulant man-child,” she said, unimpressed with my attitude. “Disorderly conduct. Destruction of property. Assault. I have half a mind to call your mother.”

  The threat made me sit up. “You wouldn’t.”

  Her tail swished back and forth. The grin dared me to call her bluff.

  She totally would.

  “That’s low, Resolve. Real low,” I said. Calling down the wrath of my mother, the Lady Argana ey Leil, was one threat too far.

  “When you were an insufferable kit,” Resolve said, “I could take you over my knee. Unfortunately you’re too big for that, so I have to get creative.”

  “By tattling to my mother?”

  “And what would I tattle?” She cocked her head to the side, considering my sorry self. “That her son got drunk off his ass and was thrown into a holding cell? That he cheated at cards, poorly, just to start a fight with a lout twice his size? Or that he’s specifically looking for someone to knock his lights out?”

  “You know why.” I was a coward afraid to risk my own neck. My mate pleaded with me to help but I refused. No one was more upset with me than me.

  Honor. Valor. Loyalty. I embodied none of the Fremmian virtues.

  The relationship with Meyet was only a front, a scheme to get past the quarantine and collect my bounty. But somewhere along the way, that Terran woman worked her way into my heart. No, not just somewhere. My attraction to her was instant but our connection was more than physical. The physical was spectacular, though. When we touched, it was electric. And when Meyet realized my defect, she wasn’t horrified. Never did she treat me as less-than, always as a whole person. I can’t say that happened often.

  “I know but I’d like to hear you say it,” Resolve said.

  “Dammit. Do you enjoy watching me suffer?”

  She frowned. “No, I don’t, but I’m not paying your fines until you admit the real reason you’re sitting in that cell.”

  “I’m such a fool,” I groaned, head in hands. “I found my kompli and let her walk away. Worse! She needed my help and I refused, so now she’s the prisoner of those two monsters. They’re going to -” My voice cut out. Gentle and Swift would rape her. Beat her. Murder my kompli, my bonded mate. And Meyet was my kompli, the traditional Fremm word for mate. Our connection was instant but deep and the weeks together only made that bond deeper. Didn’t I say I would do anything for Meyet the moment I saw her?

  Empty words. I can still hear the hurt in her voice. I would hear those words echoing in this hollow life for the rest of my days. I did the one thing a komplan should never do: I failed to protect my mate. I was selfish. I wanted the joy of having a mate but none of the actual responsibility. Resolve was right; I had acted like a petulant child. I deserved her scorn. Stars above, I deserved to have her call down the wrath of my mother.

  Meyet deserved better than a sorry excuse of a man like me. I needed to be a better man.

  Determination shifted inside me. The bastard Gentle only had a forty-eight hour head start. Talmar was twenty eight hours away. There was still time to fix this mess.

  “Gentle has a two day head start,” I said, standing. “Tell the crew we leave as soon as their captain gets his head out of his ass.”

  “I already did, Captain.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Meyet

  The compound had changed. On the outskirts of Alyer, the Yvar compound was always isolated. Now it was even more so.

  As Gentle’s flyer approached from above, I could see the physical changes. The main house, once so refined and elegant in appearance, was harsh and militant. Guards openly carried arms. Bars covered windows. I shouldn’t fall victim to nostalgia, remembering the compound as a happy place, but I did spend my childhood there. I had happy memories of playing in the garden. Now there was no life outside, no gardeners, no one taking a stroll through the greenery and no children. Only men with guns.

  Swift waited on the landing pad. He wore a loose fitting white suite. The fabric blew back from his muscular body as the ship landed. Gentle practically dragged me out of the craft and threw me towards his brother.

  “There. I hope you enjoy her longer than the last one,” Gentle said before leaving.

  A predatory smile spread across Swift’s face. “I will adore her to her last breath.” That could be romantic but really it sounded like a threat.

  Swift escorted me into the main building, where he handed me off to a servant I did not recognize. There must have been some staff turnover. More likely, Swift removed anyone who knew me and could be sympathetic. Sympathy led to escape, after all.

  Escorted upstairs, I recognized the approaching doors: Swift’s suite. Before I could protest, rough hands shoved me inside. The door closed heavily. I tried the handle.

  Locked.

  Locked in the one place I always avoided. Don’t panic. Remain calm. Scout the situation.

  The first room was a seating area with an entertainment center. The decor was masculine with dark leathers and deep greens. The second room held a small dining table, elegant dishes already laid out. A bottle of wine rested in a bucket of ice on the table. Swift planned to woo me with dinner and wine? That seemed unlikely.

  The third room was the bedroom, with the cleansing room attached to the side. The walls were clad with a polished, dark wood. Sheer white curtains covered the windows. In the center of the room was the only piece of furniture: an enormous, four poster bed piled high with fluffy white pillows and blankets. At the foot of the bed was an off-the-shoulder white dress with ornate gold embroidery at the neckline.

  I gulped. Swift’s message was clear. He wanted me to wear this dress. Refusing would only incur his wrath. I held up the dress. The sizing seemed correct. Did he have this made for me or was it hanging around? Did Swift dress up all his women like dolls? I honestly had no idea.

  The pure white fabric reminded me that I hadn’t bathed in two days. Though the idea of undressing in Swift’s room and using his shower was unpleasant, him finding me stinking from the journey and not playing dress up was worse. I decided to appease the man. At least until I could secure Malik’s release.

  The cleansing room layout was exactly the same as the one in my former chamber. I stripped and shoved my dirty clothes into the sonic unit. They would be spotless and odor free by the time I was out of the shower.

  In the mirror, I caught sight of the raised red welts on my abdomen. Carefully I brushed the surface. Painful to the touch, the scratches oozed. Would Swift be upset that his twin marked me? Or did the prospect of sharing me excite him?

  Again, I had no idea and I really didn’t want to know.

  A med kit was in the cabinet. I opened a packet of cleanser and dosed my skin. The liquid bubbled on contact. I frowned. Not good. Gentle had some type of poison or acid on his claws. Whatever he used, it was slow acting. He didn’t want to kill me; just make every breath painful. I grabbed the hypospray and administered a low dose of pain medication. I slathered the wound in knit gel and covered it with a derma plaster.

  I showered quickly, not wanting to spend one more second nude and vulnerable than necessary. Brushing out my hair, I left it loose around my shoulders. Wrapped in a towel, I went to fetch the dress. A pair of lacey white panties and matching bra waited on the bed next to the gown. The bra and panties were clearly picked by someone who never had to wear women’s underwear. Flimsy, not supportive and somehow painful, the bra dug into my side. The dress however, that dress was perfect. Off the shoulders, the wide swath of gold embroidery sat perfectly at the neckline. The loose fitting bodice gathered at my waist. Every line perfectly complimented my shape.

  I fussed with the cuffs, also embroidered. The dress made me nervous. It was too perfect for a last minute purchase. Swift had planned this outfit, and had intended to have me in his room, completely at his mercy.

  “You look lovely.” Swift leaned against the doorway, arms folded over his chest,
tail swishing.

  My hand went to my chest. “You startled me.”

  Swift stalked towards me. “Of course, you stink of that Fremmian smuggler.”

  I stood perfectly still. Don’t flinch in front of a predatory. Don’t run. They will only give chase.

  Slowly, he circled me, his hot gaze burning through my resolve to not run.

  “You don’t even deny it,” he said.

  “I don’t understand what you’re asking,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. A deep blush betrayed the fact that I understood exactly what he was saying.

  A sharp, sudden slap sent me sprawling down on the floor. I held my smarting lip but said nothing. Anger should have been seething within me, but it was all I could do to keep my lower lip from trembling. Tears wetted my eyelashes. No crying. Tears will not help. Keeping my wits about me was the only way to survive this nightmare.

  “Sweetness,” Swift said, crouching down next to me. “I know you’re confused, but the idea of you giving yourself to another man makes me crazy. I can’t help myself when you’re involved.” He helped me to my feet. “I have decided to forgive you. When you... left... you did not understand the nature of our relationship. It frightened you.”

  I understood perfectly. Ours was the relationship between master and property, nothing else. “Th-thank you,” I said.

  “That’s why you ran away, isn’t it? I frightened you. It was too much at once.”

  Is that what he believed? Did the twins not suspect that I administered the wrong drug to their father? I was not about to correct his misunderstanding, but Swift could practically smell a lie. “I was scared,” I admitted truthfully.

  He pulled me into an embrace, stroking my hair. “Sweetness, we were made for each other. I have always known this. I thought you knew it, too.”

  “I didn’t know.” The fabric of his shirt muffled my voice.

  “If I catch you with another man again, I will gut him and make you a necklace from his innards. Then I will give you to Gentle. He’s been itching for a new toy.” The imagery of the bloody garland made me shiver. “What do you say?”

  “I understand.”

  “Love. Call me love, sweetness.”

  “I understand, Love.”

  Satisfied, Swift pulled away. “I can barely wait for our wedding tomorrow.”

  Wait. What?

  “Wedding?” I asked.

  “Oh yes,” Swift said. He grabbed my arm and dragged me to a window. The garden below hummed with activity. Carpenters constructed a traditional wedding altar. Pruned to perfection, huge floral arrangements decorated the green lawn. “I’ve planned this for ages. Almost as long as I planned my father’s death.”

  My back went rigid.

  “You knew,” Swift murmured. He stood behind and wrapped his arms around me. “You destroyed that pesky little pile of ash, after all. I never did thank you for that, Sweetness.” He brushed my hair away from my neck and brought his lips to the exposed nape.

  I fought the urge to flinch, to jerk away. I remained cold and passive, allowing him to kiss and lick my neck. Swift believed I was complicit in the murder of his father and convinced I did so out of overwhelming affection. Nothing could have been further from the truth. His touch was nauseating. Degrading.

  Swift growled in frustration. “You’re thinking of him, aren’t you?”

  “No, love.”

  “You are!” His hand wrapped around my neck, squeezing my throat with just enough force. “When I imagine that blue bastard between your thighs, I can’t…” He breathed deeply and relaxed his grip. “You see how much I love you, sweetness? You see what you make me do?”

  “I wasn’t thinking of him. I swear. Love.”

  His mouth returned to my neck, his rough tongue soothing the red mark on my skin. “Do not lie to me again, Meyet. I could not bear it.”

  “I was thinking of Malik. My brother.”

  Swift growled again, menacing. “Do not speak to me of that half-breed!” He took a deep breath, as if gathering in my scent. “Can you believe I was jealous of Malik? Years I stewed, trying to reason why you favored that scrawny runt.”

  “No. Why would you be jealous of a slave?”

  “Because he had your affection.”

  “He is my brother.”

  “No, Sweetness. He is like a brother but he is not blood. I feared you two were more intimate and it drove me crazy. My father forbade me from touching you. Forbade any man, but Malik managed to sneak by.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “Imagine my relief that you were unsullied. Pure. Waiting for me.” His fangs scraped the curve of my neck at exactly the spot Gentle promised to mar when claiming me. I was less pure now but that didn’t seem to bother Swift. His hands cupped my breasts and skimmed down my form. “We will marry tomorrow.”

  “It’s very sudden. Love.” I nearly forgot to add the pet name.

  “Is it? Or have you known for ages what I wanted?”

  “I knew.” My voice was barely a whisper.

  “I cannot wait to taste you, Meyet. I know you’re every bit as sweet as I’ve dreamed.” He pushed up the hem of the dress, his hands skimming up the inside of my thighs. His progress stopped at the flimsy panty. His thumb stroked over the fabric.

  “I want to wait!” I pulled away, breaking contact.

  “What?” Frustration clouded his face.

  “I need to meditate. For the wedding. Tomorrow.” My mind raced, trying to find time. “A bride prays to the gods for fertility. Don’t you want kits?”

  His eyes narrowed down to amber slits. Swift wanted many things tonight and he did not want to be denied.

  The doors opened. Two servants pushing trolleys came through. A delicious aroma filled the room. My stomach growled. The last real meal I had was two days ago on the Promontory. Gentle only had ration bars on his ship.

  Swift sat the at table. “Let us eat dinner first. Then I will take you to your brother.”

  ***

  Traffic was non-existent. Lights from Alyer were a colorful blur in the rainy night. Swift kept one arm around my shoulder during the trip, holding me close to him. On the surface, it was an affectionate gesture but his claws were digging through the fabric of my shirt. The vehicle pulled in front of an abandoned-looking warehouse.

  “I cannot wait to show you your surprise,” Swift said, climbing out of the vehicle.

  I doubted I’d be overjoyed with my surprise but I smiled, empty and pretty. Exactly how Swift liked it.

  Two thugs in suits opened the front door for Swift. I did not recognize them but they nodded to us as we passed. The warehouse was black.

  “Lights,” Swift said, as he triggered the vocal command.

  The warehouse was empty except for a fighting ring and cage in the center. The floor was concrete and the heavy scent of bleach and blood lingered in the air. This was where Swift and Gentle held their cage matches.

  Swift took my elbow and dragged me forward, towards the cage. Whatever was in the cage, I didn’t want to see it. I hated everything about the cage matches. I hated patching up the fighters, doping the men enough so they could ignore crippling pain and continue to fight, and I hated watching Malik in the cage.

  But someone waited in the cage.

  Oh no.

  I broke away from Swift’s grip and rushed forward.

  Malik sat in the corner of the cage, knees drawn up to his chest. Blood stained his clothes, a light-weight pant and shirt typical of Talmar. His blood. The collar, so similar to my own, gleamed under the spotlights. A chain connected the collar to the larger structure of the cage.

  “Malik!”

  My brother lifted his head at the sound of my voice. Bruised and swollen, his eyes were black marks on his face.

  I moved to rush forward but Swift grabbed my elbow and pulled me back roughly. He clutched me to his chest and stroked the top of my head, cooing in an overly dramatic fashion. His tail wrapped around my leg and stroked up my
thigh. A cry of frustration and rage strangled in my throat. My hands beat against Swift’s chest, each blow growing weaker than the last.

  Finally, Swift released me and I approached the cage. “What have I done to you?” I asked, voice trembling.

  “You should not be here,” Malik said, his own voice a croak.

  My fingers clutched at the chain-link of the cage. This was my surprise: my brother, beaten, chained in a cage. “How could I leave you?”

  Swift stood next to me, hand on my shoulder. I flinched away. He hissed his displeasure.

  “Why did you do this?” I asked Swift.

  He cocked his head to one side. “You demanded to see Malik, I complied. Is that not what mates do for one another?”

  “A mate does not beat family to a bloody pulp, and chain them up like animals.”

  “Property.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “He is chained up like property,” Swift said. He opened the cage and strode towards Malik, still in the corner. I could see now that the chain was too short to allow him to move or stand. “My property has a habit of vanishing when Malik is around, so I needed to take extraordinary measures. Isn’t that right, Spice?” Swift grabbed a handful of Malik’s hair and pulled his head back, pain etched on Malik’s face.

  “Y-yes, master,” Malik said, teeth clenched. Swift delivered a quick punch to the solar plexus. Malik doubled over, howling.

  I was beside myself. I came back, knowing what Swift and Gentle had planned for me, in order to rescue Malik, not see him abused. “Stop! Please.”

  That caught Swift’s attention. “Don’t you see, sweetness? This slave disrespects me, he disrespects you and our family. Then tongues start to wag that Swift Yvar isn’t half the Tal his father was. Then business opportunities dry up and you and our kits go hungry. He’s stealing food from the mouth of our kits. What kind of man would I be if I let that go?”

  Swift made quite a few logical leaps but I wasn’t in a position to argue. I held up my hands in a surrender gesture. “You’re right, Swift.” He looked at me expectantly. “Love,” I added. “You’re right, love. But he is my family. Surely you have compassion for family.”