Jacole let out a sigh. “Here we go.”
“Prison convoy,” Syrin muttered. “Computer, ignore their message for now. Show holo image here on the deck of their proximity,” he ordered. A moment later a beautifully rendered image magnified in front of them. Sara walked around to get a better view. The convoy was a blurb of many ships, moving closer.
“We left a signature for them to follow on purpose, so we could reingage,” Trax explained. Sara nodded, stepped over and sat in her system analyst’s chair, took a sip of coffee and got to work.
“Is Kroga of Seventy-Five aboard any of those ships?” Syrin asked the computer.
“Yes, Kroga of Seventy-Five is on the Bridge of the lead ship.”
“He’s not getting away this time,” Syrin announced. “I don’t care if he’s the goddamn Prime Minister of Othorone, he’s ours. He thinks because he’s the warden, we can’t extract him.”
“Agreed,” Joyzal commented. “But how are we going to isolate him?”
Syrin turned. “Sara, can you get a lock on Kroga and bring him in?”
“Already working on it,” she grinned, happy that he seemed to basically be able to read her mind. “And…” She ran her fingers over the console, like a lover, her best friend or a musical instrument. “Got him! Bam!”
“Mic drop,” Jacole muttered.
“Huh?” Sara asked. Mic drop? What was that?
“Unknown Earth reference,” Joyzal offered. “She does it all the time, says things I’ll never understand. Get used to it.”
“What did you do?” Trax asked.
“I force transmitted Kroga to the cargo bay.”
“Wow,” Jacole whispered. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“Kroga of Seventy-Five is on this ship?” Syrin asked.
“Yep, better hurry. He’s there right now.”
Four Bounty Hunters immediately ran off the Bridge. Syrin grabbed her hand. “You’re with me,” he said. And they ran after the others.
Sara and Syrin were the last to arrive in the cargo bay. She fully expected to show up mid-battle, with everyone fighting an enraged Xylan warrior, but instead she arrived to see everyone standing in a semi-circle around an adult female Xylan. A mature female of royal pigment, with threads of silky-gray in her long bronze-black hair. She was easily one of the most beautiful females Sara had ever seen.
“Melachine,” Joyzal growled. “You have a knack for arriving in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Don’t even start with me,” the Xylan female responded. “I discovered that your mission was to retrieve Kroga. Of course I would be here. It is my right by law to confront my mate and make him pay for what he did to me. To all of us.”
“Melachine, if you’re here, who’s taking care of baby Joy?” Jacole asked.
“Don’t worry, my grandchild is safe and happy with Rayzor and Rebecca on their farm. Joy is spending time with her cousin.”
“Melachine,” Joyzal blew out a sigh of exasperation. “You’re not supposed to be in contact with them. You shouldn’t know they exist. It’s dangerous for you and for them.”
“Don’t you think I know that? But I need to—”
“Melachine!” Kroga roared.
The cargo bay grew quiet. Everyone turned to stare at the warrior who was getting up off the floor. Sara took a step back because holy gods, Kroga was a scary motherfucker. He was almost as big as her husband and still wore the uniform of a prison warden.
Melachine bared her fangs at her long-lost mate and her claws elongated. She strode over to confront him. “Kroga. Finally. You…asshole.” She swung and punched him in the face with all her might. Kroga grunted and stumbled back with the force of her blow, his face bleeding. He shook his head and spit out a tooth. Melachine continued to march forward, murder in her eyes.
Kroga swung around and grabbed her close, wrapping his arms around his furious mate. Melachine cursed and struggled in his grasp. Kroga slapped a small metal object on her chest. There was a matching object on his chest, also.
Oh shit.
The other Bounty Hunters rushed forward.
“Syrin! He’s—” Sara tried to warn them, but it was too late. Both Melachine and Kroga wavered and disappeared, teleported off the ship.
“Melachine!” Joyzal raced forward into the space his mother had occupied, only to find it empty.
“What just happened?” Trax shouted. “Where did they go?”
“Computer,” Sara asked. “Confirm location of Melachine and Kroga.”
“Those life forms are no longer aboard this ship. Unable to pinpoint exact location.”
“Kroga of Seventy-Five has kidnapped Melachine?” Jacole asked, her eyes watery. A single tear began rolling down the side of her cheek.
“Yes,” Sara whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Joyzal fell to the ground, on his knees, his arms stretched out over the floor where Melachine had last stood. His shoulders shaking.
Epilogue
The entire Hunter Guild spent two planetary cycles scouring the corners of the four sectors, looking for Melachine. Syrin temporarily suspended the Leaderboards and paused bidding on retrieval of targets for two planetary cycles. He ordered every Bounty Hunter to meet with their contacts, run database searches and issue orders to up local bidding for the apprehension of Kroga of Seventy-Five. His Bride worked herself to the point of exhaustion, surveying space maps for a trace of Kroga. But no matter where they searched, Melachine was not there. Kroga had simply disappeared with his Bride. The prison system was no help. Kroga had worked on Detention Center: Zeta 149 using a stolen identity. They had no information on Kroga’s present location.
The Guild was frustrated.
Eventually, Jacole and Joyzal left to meet with Rayzor and his Bride, wanting to reunite with their offspring on Zamarian Prime. They would continue to search and plan Melachine’s retrieval from Rayzor’s farm.
Basically, the entire Hunter profession was in a state of mourning over the loss of Kroga, which led to the kidnapping of his long-lost Bride. The Xylan High Command was unhappy that once again, Kroga had escaped.
And of course this brought Syrin to the attention of the Xylan High Command. He knew they were going to be all up his ass and about to send a judge to settle this matter of his illegal mating. They would never allow a berserker to keep his Bride and would consider the offspring he and his Bride had created as optional—something to be immediately terminated because berserkers were not allowed to breed.
Although, he might have a work around for that…
Syrin took his Bride by the hand and led her down the hall. “We need to go to the Medical Bay,” he said.
She sucked in a breath. “Why? Are you sick?”
“No,” he answered. And a smile formed on his face, which was a nice change considering the brevity of their recent situation. The last few cycles had been hard and he hadn’t had much alone time with his Bride since their claiming. They had fallen into bed each sleep cycle, exhausted from their search for Melachine and Kroga, sleeping and not breeding. But today he was going to spend time with his lovely Bride in private. They had important matters to discuss. “I am taking you to the Medical Bay because I have to show you something and confirm a suspicion of mine.”
“Well, okay, as long as no one is sick, that’s fine with me.”
He pulled her with him into the Medical Bay. Sara was visibly impressed at the medical technology, which warmed his hearts. He enjoyed watching her reactions to new environments. Her emotions always showed clearly on her features, which was refreshing.
“I need to run a diagnostic on you,” he explained, pointing to the white evaluation bed.
“Me?” Her blue eyes widened.
“Don’t worry, I have a surprise for you.”
She smiled, which lit up her face like a Sumar sunrise. “Ooh, I like surprises. Well, as long as it’s a good surprise…”
He took her hand. “It’s a pleasant surpri
se.”
“Okay.” His Bride reclined on the bed which was much too long for her tiny, fragile human form.
“Computer, run diagnostic on Sara of One.” A slim wand lit up and moved over Sara from head to toe. She sucked in a breath. “Don’t worry,” he told her, “it’s quick and painless.”
She nodded and squeezed his hand.
He already knew what to expect. He’d taken Sara to the Medical Bay directly after their prison escape and stood by her side as the bots had closed her wound and healed her. The computer had also discovered her lack of inoculations and had found an abnormality that would have led to a life-threatening disease, but that had been corrected. Syrin knew his Bride was healthy. He was searching for something else.
“Diagnostic complete.”
The computer provided an over view of his Bride’s blood type, inoculations and general health, and then came the words he’s been waiting to hear, “Sara of One is pregnant.”
“What?” Sara gasped, and sat up, her eyes bright. “You knew? You already knew I was pregant? How is that possible?”
“I felt it, that spark of life that was created when I released my seed during our claiming ceremony.”
“You felt it?”
“Yes, didn’t you?” It was what had made their joining special.
Her eyes grew wet. “Yes,” she answered with a rueful smile. “Yes, I felt it too.”
“Computer, show visual of offspring of Sara of One and Syrin of Forty-Six.” And there it was, a holo vid of his newly formed offspring, already a small form with two tiny hearts. He held his Bride’s soft hand in his claw and let out a deep, satisfied breath.
“Oh Syrin, our baby is so beautiful. I cannot believe how quickly this happened.”
He looked down. “You like your surprise?”
“Of course, I love it, you big idiot. But Syrin, what happens now? You said that you were not supposed to breed.”
“Yes, I expect the Xylan High Command will be contacting me soon.”
“Isn’t that bad?”
He shrugged. It would be, if he didn’t have a plan. “Computer, what is the probability that Sara of One and Syrin of Forty-Six will produce offspring that are carriers of the berserker gene?”
“Humans do not carry the berserker gene,” the computer replied. “The mating of a Xylan berserker and a human female will not result in berserker offspring,” the computer said.
“It is as I suspected. There are no berserkers within the human species. Our mating will never produce berserker offspring. They will let me keep you. I will send vid of our escape from 149 as proof, showing how you calm and rein in my berserker with your scent, your pheromones. And I will send this med evaluation, proving that it is impossible for a Xylan and a human to breed a berserker.”
She smiled wide and leaned in to give him a sweet kiss, causing his cock to twitch. Then she pulled back, blinked, and asked, “Syrin, one more thing…”
“Yes?”
“Um, we all escaped from prison. But the three of you were never technically charged with anything, you were undercover Bounty Hunters. But I was actually charged with something, no matter how unfair. When I originally planned out my escape I always imagined I’d change my identity and hide out somewhere remote. But instead I’m here using my real name, in a high-profile position as the mate of the President of the Hunter Guild. I guess I’m worried that I’m going to be taken from you and thrown back in prison…”
Syrin moved closer to the bed she was sitting on, positioning himself between her luscious thighs. He cupped her beautiful face in his claws. “I’ve been working on that. You’re free and clear. All charges against you have been dropped. Cylo Rin came out of hiding recently and admitted to faking his own death in order to increase his viewership for his reality show.”
“Oh, that’s lovely. What an asshole.”
He laughed. She was right, as usual. Cylo Rin was an asshole. And if he ever saw that male in real life, he’d tear his heart out while it was still beating. If Syrin hadn’t ended up in the same cell with her as her protector, his Bride would have died on 149.
“I love you,” he told her.
Her eyes instantly welled up and a tear ran down her cheek. “No one has ever said that to me before,” she choked. “You’re the only one.”
He brushed a finger across her lower lip. “Not even when you were young? Your mother did not say this to you?”
“My mother died giving birth to me. I never knew my father, and my aunt who raised me, hated me.”
His brow furrowed. “Do you choose to live with me, Sara of One?” he asked. “To love me, bear my offspring and stay by my side for the rest of your days? I know little about mating, but I will fight until my last breath to keep you happy.”
His Bride smiled brilliantly. “I do,” she answered. “I do.”
“I want your smiles…all of them,” he said. “You will work with me, by my side. We will make a good team.”
“We will.”
“Tomorrow we leave for the new Hunter space station, it is the headquarters for all the Bounty Hunters in the four sectors. This will be our new home. It has been built to be similar in design to the comforts on the new Omega 9 space station, have you heard of it?
“Yes, I’ve heard of it. The Hunter station sounds terrific.”
He wrapped his arms around her, engulfing her small form with his larger frame. That scent, and the silky colorless hair. He shuddered with relief, having his Bride so near. “You’re mine,” he growled.
“I’m yours,” she agreed.
He swept her up into his arms and carried her out of the Medical Bay.
“Where are we going?”
“To our cabin, where I will strip the clothes from your body and make love to you for the next three planetary cycles. I have ordered us to not be disturbed.”
“Oh, okay,” she giggled. “Sounds like a plan.”
THE END
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Rayzor’s One
Rayzor of Twelve, a lonely Bounty Hunter banished from his home world, is determined to follow his mission parameters: He must extract his target from a primitive planet called Earth with zero human casualties.
His plan unfolds with precision, until a human female gets in the way.
Rebecca doesn’t understand what the hell is happening. One moment she’s scared and alone in the spooky forest. Then a seven foot tall alien warrior is gazing at her with dark passion, his clawed hands touching her reverently. He’s kissing her, claiming her and saying, his voice hoarse with emotion—that she is his Bride.
His Bride? Wtf?
This stranger is swoon-worthy, but…She doesn’t know his name, or what species he is and he’s kidnapped her, thrown her on his goddamn spaceship and now she’s speeding away from Earth to parts unknown. And he expects her to fall into his arms?
Oh hell, no.
Continue reading for an excerpt…
Excerpt
Rebecca blinked. “What?” It was hard to hear over the thumping music. She must’ve heard wrong, because there was no way—
“You heard me. If you’re not gonna give me some head, you can get the hell outta my car and walk home, bitch.”
She stared at him, pissed off like no one had been pissed off in the history of pissed off.
He’d actually said that to her. He’d fucking said it. And in front of his two friends in the backseat, who were grinning ear to ear, snort-laughing and loving every minute of her discomfort. She clenched her fists. How dare he? Who died and made him king? “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. I wouldn’t touch your dick now if it was gold-plated and the last dick on Earth.”
Yes, Rebecca knew she had a bit of a potty mouth, and a temper, but usually she kept that all bottled inside. But holy crap, this guy had turned into such a piece of shit. She couldn’t hold back.
&
nbsp; Eric’s handsome features twisted into a mask of rage. The funny jock she’d agreed to go on a date with that night had been replaced with this selfish, misogynistic freak show in the driver’s seat, whose priority in life seemed to be getting a blowjob. And if that didn’t happen, look out. He turned from Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde.
Eric gave her the evil eye and jerked the steering wheel over. The car skidded to a halt at the side of the road. He slammed the gear into park, turned and pointed. “Get your ass out of my car.”
The couple in the backseat cackled at her predicament.
A headache pricked at her temples. God, if only she’d been bold enough to ask someone at the party for a landline to call for a taxi, none of this would be happening. She’d be at home, in her pajamas, watching reruns of Buffy. Not here, stuck with these assholes.
“But…” She glanced through the car window at the dense forest and pitch-black nightscape that surrounded them. She was thrilled at the idea of getting away from these jerks. Except… “Go where?” she asked.
“I don’t give a fuck. You’re walking home. Now get out.”
So, she got out of the car. What else could she do?
The chill in the mountain air nipped at her arms and legs. Her cute silver sandals crunched on the asphalt. She slammed the car door shut behind her, trying to think of a really biting parting shot to yell through the open window, the perfect remark to cut him with, but Eric barely waited for the door to connect before punching the gas on his sleek new sports car. He pealed out of sight without a backward glance. The car lights blinked and disappeared around the bend in the road. Silence descended, and Rebecca’s stomach sank like Titanic in the cold North Sea.
She stood there slack-jawed for a moment. Her heart pounded in her chest like she’d just run the mile. It took a good five minutes for the enormity of it all to sink in.
What the hell? Did that really happen? Had she really been dumped like trash, alone, past midnight, in the middle of nowhere?
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