Hero

by Reagan Woods

  Hero

  In the aftermath of the Last Great War, Tara lost her beloved grandmother - her only family. She clings to her sunny disposition despite the tragedy she’s seen in her young life. In the CORANOS-run work camps, she found a good job and relative safety. But she wants more.

  Other girls are flying to the stars to live with their perfectly matched alien men. Why not her? The only alien who offers her a way out is Shirok – and she’s not having him. Tara is holding out for shy, hunky Calyx. She didn’t come this far in life to take no for an answer. One way or another she’s going to get her man – er – alien.

  Calyx has nothing to offer a female, he’s a nobody and gets tongue-tied whenever the sweet, sexy Tara looks his way. She’s perfect and he’s come up with a plan to get her. All he must do is keep Tara safe until he’s earned his next promotion. Then, he can apply to General Darvan for the Right to Claim her.

  Before he can achieve his goal, an ugly revolt occurs, pitting Doranos against Corian – something that hasn’t happened in the millennia since the two super-powers combined to form the CORANOS Galactic Alliance. The first act of war comes when the Texas Work Camp is raided for females. It’s only a matter of time before another male snatches his female. Does Calyx dare buck the chain of command to take what he wants? Or will he continue to play by the High Council’s rules, working for a prize that might never be his?

  Hero

  Earth Neverafter Book 5

  Reagan Woods

  Book Title Copyright © 2018 by Reagan Woods. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Reagan Woods

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Reagan Woods

  Visit my website at www.ReaganWoods.com

  Edited by Borden Fleetwood

  Contents

  Hero

  Prologue

  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 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Epilogue

  From Reagan

  Prologue

  Earth, Pre-CORANOS Galactic Alliance (CGA) Invasion

  The late summer air remained oppressive in the swamps of what was once known as Louisiana. Tara Willoughby didn’t care a fig what anyone called it these days. Was anyone even left to dispute it if she named the whole dang swamp Willoughby Wetlands? Not fricking likely.

  She shoved her frizzed braid over her shoulder and wished for a simple elastic. This godforsaken heat had loose tendrils of her dark brown hair clinging to her sweaty nape already.

  Damp decay hung thick in the air mixing with the smell of algae and other earthy things. The scent of the bayou made her nostalgic for happier times. Back when these parts teemed with life and game and her mama was alive…

  This morning, the water glinted, black and oily as she poled the rusted old Jon boat like a punt carefully across to the muddy island. The faster she checked her traps and foraged for edible plants and mushrooms, the sooner she would be back with Grandmama and the others. There was so much to be done and Grandmama’s health was failing.

  Everyone depended on her now, and – somehow - she would come through. She would. Two weeks ago, the soldiers had packed up and driven off in the middle of the night. They’d left Tara to care for the twenty – down to eighteen, now - sick and elderly civilians who had survived the last several years in the embattled Fort Burro. With Grandmama by her side, she was doing her best. She didn’t comment when Grandmama began to wheeze a few days ago. Truth be told, Tara didn’t feel so wonderful either, but someone had to take care of these people, her people. God willing, they’d figure something out and make it through this.

  Their collective hope lay in what she could bring back from excursions like this one. When the soldiers left, they’d hauled out with their dry and canned goods and, more importantly, their weapons and the men willing to hunt with them. She could skin a kill and find tasty roots and leaves to make it appetizing but game had been scarce for a long time now. Hunger rolled in her belly, urging her on.

  Her thick pole skated over something hard deep in the water and the little boat heaved. Despite the heat, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she looked around the gloomy swamp, spooked.

  A heron flapped his wings, skiing majestically across the surface of the bayou in search of breakfast. Placing a hand over her fast-beating heart, she smiled, eyes filling with joy and relief. Joy because the fall-out from the fighting hadn’t quite managed to snuff out all living things.

  Whoever coined the phrase ‘war is hell’ was a prophet, certainly, but surviving after this Last Great War was hellacious in its own way. The fighting had ended months ago. Neither side declared victory or peace. One day, there simply was no more fighting…

  The soft, swishing ripple almost didn’t register – she hadn’t heard a gator take to the water in ages. Her mind caught up quickly, chiding her for letting down her guard. As her feet started to skid, her arms began a crazy windmill while the boat rose beneath her once more. Shit!

  Alligators weren’t particularly smart, but they were big and agile in the water. Even a ten-foot gator would be bigger than this raft with sides. Those cold-blooded predators could grow to nearly twenty feet…that was more than she could handle thinking about right now.

  Quickly, she pulled her pole into the boat and sat down with a thud. Without the pole, she wouldn’t be able to make it to either bank. Her ass would be sore later, but she ignored the pain and scrambled onto hands and knees as the boat slapped down hard on the water.

  Momentum from the gator bump spun her boat into what she knew to be deeper water. She felt the telltale press and drag as the beast slid beneath the boat, arching its big back and strong tail to try and capsize her.

  Getting dumped in the water was not an option. Her swimming skills sucked. Not that being a good swimmer would do much for her against an alligator. She shuddered, sweat slicking her underarms. Thinking about becoming gator food wasn’t helping the situation.

  The island was only a few yards away, its banks bristling with woody Cyprus knobs. Surely, that would deter the alligator from following her onto land. Her friends and family at Fort Burro
depended on her, and they were starving. She couldn’t, would not, give up now.

  Slowly, she inched toward the side of the boat with the pole in her sweaty hands. She pushed cautiously to her knees, checking the water for signs of the gator. A water moccasin swam by, head poked curiously out of the water, but nothing else moved.

  The boat bobbed ominously. Tara suspected the unseen predator created an undercurrent. That meant the gator wasn’t giving up - and he was much bigger than she’d imagined.

  Before she could lose her nerve, Tara extended the pole over the side of the boat and thrust it about, desperate to hit on something to give her that final burst of acceleration to make it over to the island. Please God, let there be a submerged log or something else solid down there.

  Nothing.

  Frantically, she began crawling along the edge of the boat, flailing her pole about with one hand as she went. She couldn’t be stuck out here. Couldn’t. Why, oh why, hadn’t she looked for something to use as a paddle before she left? Stupid, stupid girl.

  One moment, the pole was in her shaking hand, the next, it was wrenched out of her grasp by a set of enormous snapping teeth as the biggest gator she’d ever seen breached, jumping a good eight feet into the air.

  Tara screamed her terror and fell to the metal floor with a bang. The thrashing alligator took her pole under in a churning froth of muddy water. Luck was with her in that she still had her hand, but she wanted to cry as the waves caused by the gator’s attack pushed her away from her goal...into deeper waters.

  The settling water began to swirl again, making an eerie trickling noise as the gator rose up out of the water to float at the surface. She bit back a moan of horror as she took his measure. He was sixteen feet if he was an inch – the granddaddy of alligators.

  His golden, reptilian eyes dared her to make a move. Come to me, my pretty, I’ve been waiting for a good meal for oh so long, he seemed to croon as he floated motionlessly just feet from the side of her boat.

  Fucksticks. Tara felt the hot glide of the first tear roll down her cheek. Talk about being up a creek…

  “Are you going to sit there and watch that creature eat her?” Silex asked, sounding bored as he scraped the primitive combat knife he’d taken as a trophy beneath his thumbnail.

  Calyx’s heart was still pounding as he lowered his weapon and glared at his brother Warrior, conflicted. Personally, he was terrified for the female he’d been watching these past days. Yet, one less Earther would be no great loss, and their direct orders were to observe and report. Only. But they’d trailed the fierce little female as she made a desperate attempt to cross the dank swamp. Something about the half-starved, filthy Earther made him need to stay close. “Of course not.”

  “What are you waiting for, then? She’s going to die of fright or do something stupid and get eaten.” Silex shook his bald head, his natural camouflage making his face seem to fade into the shadows surrounding them. “I can’t believe those so-called soldiers left her to fend for so many.”

  “Their deaths were too quick,” Calyx agreed coldly, sighting the monster with his longblaster. A crack sounded as the bolt of energy hit the beast between its eyes. The Earther ducked down in her boat with a sob and her hands came up to cover her head.

  “So much for not attracting attention,” Silex commented wryly, slinging his own longblaster over his shoulder and straightening.

  Once they’d neutralized the remaining native soldiers, they’d been told to stand down but make note of Earthers in the area. Their unit would sweep through in concert with the other Collection Teams deployed on this small world as soon as the order came down.

  Calyx knew his actions might be construed as insubordination. However, their Team Leader, Skylan, wasn’t likely to raise a fuss – if he ever found out. Silex was a pain in the ass but he wasn’t the type to turn on a brother Warrior. “Let’s go haul her out of there.”

  “Yes,” Silex agreed with faux cheerfulness as he tucked the blade away. “I’m sure she’s met plenty of alien Warriors by now, so she’ll welcome our help with open arms, right?”

  Already knee-deep in rancid swamp water, Calyx didn’t bother with a reply. The female wasn’t dumb, but she was desperate. He was big and, according to his training, likely terrifying with his naturally camouflaged skin and the metallic, reflective nature of his eyes.

  Somehow, he knew she’d accept his help anyway. She was struggling under the burden of caring for the others.

  In her language, he called out, “Stay where you are! I’m coming to help.”

  Chapter One

  One Year Later

  Earth, Just After the Loss of the Horizon

  Tara poked her head around the door and did a quick sweep to make sure she was alone. It was a blue-sky day in her little corner of the world. She’d claimed this small, hidden patch of soil outside the alien camp’s kitchen door as a garden months ago. Her efforts were paying dividends now. Tonight’s stew would have fresh herbs. Yum, yum. It was a little thing, but she couldn’t wait to treat everyone to that tiny bit of comfort.

  Quietly, she propped the door open and slipped out to begin her simple harvest. Everyone else was either out in the fields or clocking their mandatory time in ‘the library’ the nickname they’d given the banks of CORANOS Galactic Alliance (CGA for short) reconditioners. The reconditioners were a hypnotic, virtual reality-like learning platform designed to assimilate the user into CGA culture.

  As kitchen manager, or as she liked to call herself - head chef, Tara was allowed significantly more freedom than the general population of indigenous workers, i.e. Earthers. She’d also been in alien custody for longer than most of the other humans, so the aliens trusted her more. She was allowed in and out of her room without an escort and reported to the library on her own schedule. That suited her right down to the ground. Even better, no one monitored her intake of the nasty ull bars or the electrolytes, so she didn’t eat or drink that crap at all.

  Tonight, she planned to make a simple salad for the small staff of women who helped her feed the masses. They would appreciate the effort she put in to grow the small plot of radicchio and butter lettuce. If she had more space and seeds, she would love to feed the whole of the Texas camp fresh veggies. It didn’t work that way, though. Flavorful produce like lettuce, peppers, etcetera weren’t considered nutritionally dense enough for their alien overlords to deem them worthy of ground space.

  There was talk of setting up vertical hydroponic gardens for such luxuries, but for now, they would make do with what they had. Beans and high-calorie strains of corn and potatoes were staples in her kitchen. It was hard to dress that food up now that Cajun and Creole spices were nothing but fond memories.

  Oh well. Thanks to the herd of cattle, they at least had fresh meat a few times per month. If only they could find some chickens…

  Distant lowing from said cattle combined with the snip, snip from her harvesting scissors to create a pleasant background noise and Tara started to hum. A faint breeze stirred her dark brown curls as she piled her goodies into the basket slung over her arm. Giddily, she pulled in deep, tangy lungfuls of the fresh air.

  As she bent low to yank a handful of carrots from the earth, she was shocked to feel someone grasp her hips and pull her backwards into a hard body. With a startled yelp, Tara jumped and jerked free, spinning to face her assailant. Brandishing her gardening shears, she fought to keep her wits about her as she faced the alien. He was your typical Doranos, standing head and shoulders taller than her, garbed in pale gray with his flowing white hair loose about his shoulders.

  “What the hell!?!” Tara screamed, waiving her scissors threateningly at the stranger. Her fingers were crossed that she’d attract one of the roaming Warriors’ attention. It didn’t take a trained observer to see the Warriors – splotchy-skinned Corians – and the Doranos didn’t get along. It seemed like the two alien races would complement one another with the Doranos administrating and the Corians providing sec
urity and order, but not so much.

  The Doranos’ empty hands shot up and he stumbled back a step, his light purple eyes bugging. “I meant no offense,” he offered, his smooth voice at odds with the cruelly twisted lips.

  “Right,” she drawled loudly. “Then I’m sure you won’t mind stepping back.” She gestured him away from the door with her scissors. He’d effectively backed her into the neat box created by the exit’s windbreak. With his superior wing-span he could snag her if she tried to run into the camp yard or if she tried to slip back into the kitchen.

  “My name is Shirok,” he said, ignoring her pointed directions. His arms fell to his sides, but Tara could see that his weight remained on the balls of his feet. He was ready to give chase if she ran.

  Tara didn’t reply. If he didn’t already know her name – which was a big if – she wasn’t going to let him turn this into a run-of-the-mill social encounter. The intent to assault her, to scare and hurt her, was written all over his face. He was simply reassessing his tactics. Her granny hadn’t raised a fool.

  As if to prove her right, he took a small step forward. She wasn’t about to be backed further into this corner.

  “Get away from me!” Tara shouted. “Help! Help! Somebody, help!”

  Shirock’s mouth twisted cruelly and he jumped forward, grabbing the wrist that held her scissors in a painful grip and yanking her forward. She stumbled against him, letting out another wordless shriek that he cut off by slapping his hand hard over her mouth and nose.

  “Now, now!” He chided. “That’s no way to make friends. I have some power in this shitty little camp,” he sneered, purple eyes dancing with glee as he met her terrified stare. “You’d do well to make a friend like me.”

  Bodily, he shoved her back, trampling over her carefully-tended plantings as he slammed her against the wall of the windbreak. “I can be very good to my friends.” His toothy smile was nothing short of menacing and it was all she could see as his face blotted out the sun.