“She died.” Seeran had not thought of Lova in many years and today he thought of her several times. The universe was strange that way.
“I’m sorry. That has to be hard.” She reached across the table and patted his hand.
Seeran observed her hand, creamy pale skin contrasting against his own purplish-red complexion.
“Sorry,” she said, withdrawing her hand.
“No,” he said quickly, snatching her hand back. “Do not apologize for a compassionate touch.”
A fragile smile spread slowly across her face, brighter than the Terran sun.
“The story of my first mate is not happy,” Seeran said.
“Oh, you don’t have to explain—”
He waved his hand, dismissing her protests. Strangely, he wanted to share his history with her. He had not thought of Lova in many years and he certainly had never spoken about her fate, not to anyone except his parents and, even then, only once. “I came to Earth during the invasion,” he said. “I was matched to a female from Sangrin. Lova. They sent her to Earth.”
“I recognize that name. The soap opera I watch is set on Sangrin.”
“It is planet of my mother’s people.” His father, too. Seeran was second generation Sangrin-Mahdfel. He took a long swallow of the bitter black coffee before continuing. “At the time, teleportation equipment was kept in the Terran encampments. There was a quarantine.”
“The spore virus?”
Seeran shook his head. While the Suhlik released many biological agents during the war, that was not the reason for the quarantine. “Influenza.”
“Oh. Healthy people normally recover from the flu. Maybe not during war but in regular situations...”
Seeran remembered the anger and frustration as his mate was held behind the quarantine blockade. Illness ran like wildfire through the malnourished Terran population where they clustered together for shelter and food. “For a Terran, perhaps. She had been inoculated against many of the biological agents used by the Suhlik but we were unprepared for this. I never met her.”
“She was in quarantine the entire time?” Hazel gasped, covering her mouth with one hand.
He nodded. He had a mate and Earth took her away before he ever had a chance to speak to her. Normally such a look of shock or pity would irritate Seeran, but Hazel’s sincere reaction of distress comforted him. He was a widower, an unusual situation for a Mahdfel male and not one he cared to casually discuss. Widows were far more common given the danger in a warrior’s life.
Hazel reached across the table and squeezed his hand lightly. “Thank you for sharing that. Do you miss her?”
“It has been many years.” It was hard to miss what he never knew. The idea of her... perhaps. “Matches are rare. A male may wait his entire life for an event that never happens.”
“A bit like lightning striking?”
“Yes.” For him, lightning struck twice.
Hazel glanced at the communication unit on her wrist.
“Do you have an appointment?” he asked.
“I just need to get to the bank before it closes, but I’d rather stay.” A sweet pink flush spread across her face.
“Then it must be so. Call your vehicle and we will go.”
The flush intensified. “My, um, car isn’t that fancy. It doesn’t have autopilot. I have to go pick it up.”
Seeran requested a public transport. In moments, the driverless vehicle arrived. Hazel seemed surprised when he climbed in after her. “I will escort you to your destination,” he explained. The Terran authorities would not detain Scott for long and Seeran needed to ensure that Hazel was unharmed. He’d remain at her side as long as she allowed and would shadow her if she did not allow.
“I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” she said.
The wound was small but she struck true and it stung. “I presume too much,” he said. “I apologize.”
“What? No.” She blinked at him, confusion on her face. “I just have a lot to do. Pack. Things. I have things that have to be done and if you’re there, I think we’ll get distracted.” Her eyes swept up his form and lingered on his chest as she spoke.
“I believe the distractions would be enjoyable for us both.”
Her skin blushed a pleasing pink. Intrigued, he reached out a hand, letting his fingers brush her cheek. Her skin was soft and warm, but not noticeably warmer. The color change must indicate something other than temperature but he had seen red and pink-faced Terrans sweating in the sun, so the color could indicate temperature. She turned her head and nuzzled into the palm of his hand and all thoughts of human biology vanished.
All but one.
Seeran leaned in, his lips claiming hers. The first touch was soft, questioning. She yielded, opening to him. His arms wrapped around his mate and pulled her close. His kiss was hard and demanding, a male taking everything he could from his female because it was their first kiss and could be the last. This female was his. Chance brought them together and their paths may never cross again, but he would always remember the feel of her lips on his, her heart fluttering next to his, and the sound of her luscious moan.
He pulled away. She panted, eyes wide. Her fingers drifted to her lips, as if processing all they shared. He wanted to do it again, kiss her until kissing could no longer satisfy them both, until they needed to feel skin on skin.
More than the powerful attraction, Seeran wanted to bring this female to his home. Not the quarters on the Judgment, although he longed to see her in his bed, but to his family’s home on Sangrin, to his parents and to meet his brothers. It was an odd desire. He had never particularly wanted to bring anyone to his family before.
Still holding her, he pressed his forehead to hers. This was his female and he had to let her leave.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, pulling away.
“Do you?” he asked, plucking at the edges of her fabric wrap. The loud pattern grabbed his attention.
“Do I what?” she asked, voice breathless.
“Love aliens?”
“I’m coming around on them.”
With a smile that spoke of longing and regret, she climbed into the transport. He waited until it was out of sight before moving on.
Chapter Five
Hazel
Hazel brushed her finger across her swollen lips in disbelief. That did not just happen. She did not just make out with a stranger, with an alien. It was not the most exciting, passionate moment of her life and she certainly didn’t enjoy it.
She was such a liar.
She didn’t just enjoy it. She fucking loved every moment of it.
Drifting in on a cloud, high on endorphins, she made her way back to the restaurant to pick up her bag. As expected, she didn’t have a job, not that she was planning to stick around town. She handed in her company-issued “I love aliens!” sarong and got her share of the tips. With forty dollars stuffed into her jeans pockets, she headed to the bank.
The bank closed frustratingly early but if the doors were locked, she’d withdraw the max limit from the ATM and make do. She’d leave behind some cash in the account but she didn’t want to use her bank card on the road as it would leave a trail for Scott to follow.
Her car had seen better days a long, long time ago. She used to have a shiny new car with all the bells and whistles back before the divorce, not that she had a job to get to or that Scott ever let her go anywhere unaccompanied. Outside of the occasional grocery shopping, it sat in the garage being all shiny and perfect.
This beat up old car was what she could afford after the divorce. It was cheap, she paid cash, and it was hers. Not Scott’s or bought with Scott’s money. Hers. The car still used gasoline, which made it a lumbering dinosaur in the terms of vehicle tech. The AC busted ages ago and Hazel suspected the heater didn’t work, either, but the Florida weather never turned cold enough to test it. The radio worked when it pleased, randomly turning on, and the upholstery in the front seats was shredded. Hazel laid an old towel
over the torn upholstery and brushed foam bits off her butt when she got to her destination. It might not make another long trip but Hazel would baby it along as far as it could go. Wherever it died—and there was no doubt in her mind that this trip was a death sentence for the car—that new place was her new home.
Or—
Hazel’s fingers brushed her lips again, an excited fluttering started in her stomach and made her ache in a way she hadn’t felt in years. Maybe there was another option.
She just needed to get away and had no specific destination in mind, just away from her ex-husband. What was further away from Scott than another planet? Or spaceship, whatever. Scott was Earth bound, she wasn’t. She could volunteer to be matched to a Mahdfel. The commercials played often enough, promising a signing bonus and the money would be useful. Hazel thought of her sister, Rosemary, and her nephew, Michael. They could use the money, that was for sure. And the Mahdfel she’d met today seemed like a decent guy— Well, guy probably wasn’t the right word but a good person. He tried to help her and got himself arrested for his trouble.
“Seeran,” she whispered his name as if it could summon him. Her alien.
He’d been easy on the eyes and that kiss—
Her core ached with a hollow yearning, needing to be filled.
She hadn’t had sex since the divorce, not even in the months before separating, and good sex was even further back in the mists of time. Years?
She shouldn’t make a huge decision based on one amazing kiss with a hot alien. Her body wanted sex, that was all... She needed to stay focused and stick with the plan: empty out the bank, pack a bag, and leave town.
The car pulled into the parking lot. At one end of the building sat her bank. At the far end was a Mahdfel recruitment center.
Her fingers drifted to her lips again.
Fuck.
She was about to do something really stupid.
Seeran
HE COULDN’T EXPLAIN way his blood ran hot. It shouldn’t. Seeran always held himself above the heat of battle, to better see patterns and anticipate the enemy’s next move.
Patience, calm and control was the mantra drilled into every Mahdfel youth as they began training and that mantra went against every instinct. The Mahdfel were designed by the Suhlik to be warriors, to be elite killer machines, and both the Suhlik and the Mahdfel were very good at what they did.
The urges for battle and breeding were hardwired into the Mahdfel genetic code but succumbing to those urges left a warrior exposed and vulnerable. With bloodlust—or simple lust—coursing through their bodies, a warrior made mistakes and mistakes cost lives. A warrior gone completely to a berserker rage might have one or two victories but his glory would be short lived.
The Suhlik never particularly cared for the longevity or quality of life of their dogs. If one, or a pack, fell in battle, they had plenty to spare. They aimed their dogs in the general direction of what they desired destroyed and set them loose.
Patience, calm and control were how a warrior became a true master. His body was a weapon, his skills finely honed and his will unbreakable. Seeran’s control was everlasting and could bring lesser, more foolish warriors to heel. The Warlord trusted him, and only him, to ensure the security of the clan.
So why then did he feel the need to follow this female? When she wasn’t in his sights, his skin crawled.
Seeran rubbed at his neck and shoulders. Correction, when she wasn’t in sight his tattoos ached. When she was near, they burned. And when they kissed, the marks shone with fevered intensity.
Now that he found her, he couldn’t let her go but he had to be patient. Time would deliver Hazel to him. She was single once again and did not have the smell of mother’s milk on her. Legally, she was obligated to be tested for the bride program and they would be matched.
He could wait for her even if it would be the most difficult thing he’d ever done.
Just that morning, Seeran had considered his greatest hardship to be delivering the news of Lova’s death. Telling her parents had been uncomfortable, but they were strangers and did not share the same level of grief. Seeran mourned the loss of a female he would never know but they mourned the loss of their daughter.
Delivering the same news to his parents had been far, far worse. His father gave him a stoic nod and said nothing but his mother... His mother visibly wilted under the weight of disappointment. In her heart she had already welcomed a daughter and mentally named grandchildren. Now? That was not Seeran’s future. The odds of being matched once were slim. Twice would be nothing short of a miracle. Seeran would always be alone.
Today, everything changed.
He thought he had control, he was mistaken. He thought he knew strength but he was wrong. He thought he could be impartial, but he could not. He had a mate and a second chance at... at everything he once believed lost.
Instinct urged him not to wait. The Mahdfel-Earth treaty demanded that he abide regulations.
He could master his instincts and wait.
Barely.
Knowing that Hazel would remain on Earth, alone and unprotected— Everything about that situation felt wrong. Earth was filled with many dangers and Terrans were surprisingly unadapted to their environment. Was their skin hardened enough to avoid puncture from animals? No. Their skin was so laughably soft the sun burned it. Their only protection from solar radiation was pigmentation. Beyond the environment and animal attacks, Terrans were at great risk of assault from other Terrans. Their planet was not hostile enough, so they turn on each other.
Hazel had no protection from her former mate. The Terran authorities were reluctant to enforce their own laws, their own restraining orders. If his mate could not rely on Terran police for her safety, what other options were there?
Terran justice was a frustratingly slow grind. He had been on Earth now for weeks—weeks!—waiting for Vox’s female to get her justice. How Vox could sit and wait was beyond Seeran. Mahdfel justice was swift and brutal, as it should be.
Scott could use a dose of Mahdfel justice.
A threatening growl rattled in Seeran’s throat. He could not leave his mate unprotected. If his warlord knew all the details of the situation, he would command Seeran to ensure the safety of his mate.
Scott needed a refresher on the finer details of the restraining order. The male also needed to know what it felt like to be the weaker, smaller party in a physical altercation. Scott needed to know how it felt to be shoved and have his shoulder dislocated.
Yes. Scott needed to those lessons, Seeran was the warrior to teach them, and Hazel deserved her justice.
The warlord might not approve of Seeran’s methods but he would certainly agree that he could not leave Hazel unprotected.
He was about to do something ill advised.
Chapter Six
Hazel
The lights were off when Hazel arrived at her apartment. She eased the door opened and grabbed the baseball bat she kept propped up next to the door. A quick inspection revealed that the apartment was, indeed, empty.
She placed an empty suitcase next to the bed and tossed her favorite clothes into a pile. Then she tossed in the boring essentials like bras, panties and socks. A small bag filled with toiletries. Wherever she ended up, a new town or outer space, she’d still need a toothbrush.
As the late afternoon light faded into evening, her stomach growled. She hadn’t exactly had an opportunity for lunch. Hazel took a break from packing and rummaged through the kitchen. Standing at the open freezer, she realized that she had to do something about the fridge. She just couldn’t leave it and let all the food rot. That was unfair to her landlord. Bad enough that she was doing a runner. She didn’t have to make the situation worse with a fridge full of rotten food.
While a frozen pizza cooked, she emptied out the freezer, fridge and pantry. Fortunately, She didn’t keep a well-stocked kitchen. Scott had expected a hot meal on the table at 6:30 every night. Not cooking was a little assertion of her
freedom. She could make a fancy dinner or eat frozen pizza, it didn’t matter as long as it was her choice. She normally ate something at the restaurant. If she didn’t, by the time she got home all she had the energy for was toast or ramen.
The pizza finished cooking by the time she dragged the trash bag to the dumpster.
Her meal consumed, Hazel finished sorting and packing her clothes. She didn’t have much in the way of knickknacks or mementos, just some old photos of her family that survived the invasion. Those were definitely going. As a second thought, she packed a partial crocheted afghan. The soft wool had been a splurge but the afghan promised to be the cuddliest, snuggliest blanket in creation. She’d already put too many hours into the project and she might want something to keep her hands busy so she squeezed it into her suitcase.
Giving the apartment one last sweep, Hazel got down to the unpleasant business: calling her sister.
“You’re going to be unhappy with me,” Hazel said when Rosemary answered. Her face filled the tiny view screen. Hazel didn’t have the budget for a top-of-the-line model with fully immersive holographic technology. Her phone was a tablet device roughly the size of a book. It had a kickstand built into the back as a “bonus feature”.
“You’re not getting back with Scott,” she gasped. “I thought you were over this—”
“What? No. I mean, I am over him. Totally over. So over.” Rosemary frowned at Hazel’s rambling. “I volunteered to be matched.”
“Matched to what?” Rosemary titled her head to one side, genuinely confused.
“I’m getting tested to be matched to an alien.”
Another gasp. “What? No! You can’t!”
“I have an appointment in the morning.” It was too late to back out now. Hazel had signed a contract. “Scott found me.”
The surprise on Rosemary’s face vanished. “So you’re going to run away?”
“Yes! He came to my work today and got me fired. The police showed up and everything.”
Seeran: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 6) Page 4