Stolen: A SciFi Alien Warlord Romance

by Alison Aimes

  Surprise, then wariness flickered across his face before his expression settled into his familiar smirk. “As you can see, I turned out all right.” His expression returned to grim. “And learned a valuable lesson.”

  “Do tell?”

  “The only one worth pleasing is yourself.”

  “So, you just say and do whatever you like? Without a care for anyone else?”

  “It’s the Martian way—and it’s better than being a hypocrite and pretending all the time.”

  The idea of no longer hiding sparked a dangerous longing inside her. The urge to stop pretending and drop her walls, to let him inside her mind and her soul, to surrender to his strength and his command, a nearly overwhelming compulsion. Which only infuriated her more.

  “So, stop pretending now.” Her grip tightened until her knuckles were white, as if her hold alone could stave off his effect on her. “Tell me why you didn’t say anything to my stepfather and the others about what happened on that balcony. Tell me what you want.”

  “You know what I want. Same thing you do.” His gaze traced her lips before dipping to the pulse fluttering at the base of her neck, his voice dropping to a deeper rasp. “I want to hear those sweet, sexy sounds you made in the garden. I want you on your knees, those pretty lips stretched open, ready to receive my cocksto and suck me hard.” He pulled her closer, their hips only inches apart. “I want you on your back, legs spread, hips restrained by my hands, unable to move while I thrust in and out of you at my whim.”

  She stumbled, her body turned to liquid, and he caught her, pulling her hard against his chest. “I may not want forever,” he growled, “but I will be deep inside you. No damn balcony keeping us apart.”

  Forever? She didn’t want that, either. Did she? Her body quivered, every inch of her skin on fire, her thighs pressing tight as she fought to think. “W-we don’t even know each other.”

  “So?”

  Ass. “That’s not happening.” Even if it was all she could now imagine. Even if her body craved it with every fiber of her being.

  “You think you’re strong enough to resist?” he chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “I can barely counter the mating heat and I’ve had far longer to master control.”

  “M-mating heat?”

  His steps faltered, only for a heartbeat, but it was enough to break their rhythm and allow her to put a small distance between them—enough to clear the roar of lust in her brain and let his words register. “W-what is the mating heat?”

  “You don’t know?” He nodded as if everything suddenly made sense. “Of course, élithes make it a point to know so little about other worlds and races.”

  There he went again lumping her with the rest of her kind and insinuating that she was deliberately ignorant, when the fact was she had done her best to gain as much knowledge as she could while cordoned off from the rest of the universe with few resources at her disposal. But all of that paled in comparison to the larger implications underlying what he was saying. “What did you do to me?”

  “Me?” His gaze darkened and he spun her faster. “I haven’t done anything yet, but I will. I’ll do every dirty thing I like to you—once you beg me.”

  “S-stop.” Her voice shook.

  A flash of remorse pulsed against her skin, as if he regretted his mocking words, but that couldn’t be, could it?

  Except his voice was definitely gentler when he next spoke. “The mating heat strikes who it strikes. I had no say in it. It’s unusual for it to occur between a Martian and a non-Martian but it happens. Maybe it chose you because I’m half élithe and the fates mistakenly thought we would be a good fit.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. His words shouldn’t sting, but they did.

  “I should probably warn you, occasional blasts of each other’s feelings slip through the soul ties during the heat in an effort to facilitate a core bonding.” His tone was remarkably blasé for the universe-shattering news he’d just dropped in her lap. “But if you ignore both the ties and the emotions, they’ll curl to ash soon enough.”

  Goddess, she hadn’t been delusional. She did feel his emotions. And he felt hers.

  What else could he feel?

  “Don’t worry, Balcony.” As if he felt her distress, but misinterpreted the source, he tried to offer her comfort, his words all wrong. “I am always in control. I’ll make sure we both stay safely on the side of lust. No actual soul bonding. Or deep emotions. We’ll fuck like animals, yes, but it will be a tangle of tongues and limbs, nothing else. Despite what our bodies are saying, a deeper connection between us isn’t in the stars.”

  Each casually delivered word dragged against her skin, slicing deep.

  She had no expectations beyond survival, no desire to depend on anyone but herself, but his dismissal somehow hurtled her back to the small silly girl she’d once been, cast off and rejected, crushed that the ones she loved didn’t care enough to want her back.

  Rage and hurt swirled, sharpening her tongue. “Mating heat or not, I would never be with a male like you.”

  She was yanked up against hard steel. “Even a male like me can be pushed too far.”

  The ferocity of his emotions hit her hard.

  It was crystal clear through those ties he’d implied would be so easy to ignore that her words had accidentally brought old wounds of his rushing to the fore.

  This time, she didn’t dismiss her senses as delusional.

  Or try too hard to understand why the impulse to relieve his hurt roared through her.

  “I was referring to your arrogance,” she said at last. “Nothing else. You might want to have that hair-trigger insecurity looked into.”

  He hesitated, then shocked her by chuckling.

  “You’re right.” His lips quirked upward in a rueful smile. “I think the mating heat is wreaking more havoc than I realized. I may have some issues to work on, but between the two of us I’d say I’ve been a lot more honest about who I am and what I want.”

  Her small sense of victory fled. He was right. He’d been truthful about the strange connection between them as well as his expectations. In return, she’d given him nothing but dishonesty.

  Shame prickled her skin, making her hot and uncomfortable.

  But what choice did she have? She certainly couldn’t be honest with him.

  And this strange pull she felt toward him, this mating heat as he’d called it, was the last thing she could allow right now.

  For his safety and her own, ignoring it—eradicating it—was exactly what she needed to do.

  “I’m finished dancing and would like to return to my companions.” Tipping her chin upward, she met his golden stare head-on. “You said I had a choice and…I choose no.”

  Heat flashed in his starlit orbs—and for an instant the image of her being thrown across his shoulder and carried from the room was so strong it was as if she read his thoughts—but in the next instance the vision dissipated and the look in his gaze shifted to cool indifference. “As you wish. Run for now, Balcony. I don’t play games with little girls too scared to take what they want.” He dropped his hands and stepped back. “Anyway, the song finished some time ago.”

  Silence.

  Realization dawned, the lack of music as deafening as a shriek.

  She swayed on her feet. How could she not have noticed?

  Her gaze slid sideways, cataloging the smirks of those standing nearby, their pleasure in her social misstep obvious.

  If word of what had happened spread…

  She pressed her palm to her stomach, her belly cramping.

  “What’s wrong?” The low growl of the male who was the source of her downfall—as if he actually gave a damn—gave her the anger she needed to act.

  Ignoring him, she swept her skirts in hand and whirled around, only to smack directly into her stepfather’s immoveable chest.

  “The music ended.” His voice was low and lethal. His fingers dug into her flesh as he gripped her elbow.


  “I…I…” She tried to draw breath and couldn’t.

  “We’re aware.” Volkan spoke from right behind her, his voice pitched loud enough to be heard by those standing nearby, his voice vibrating with a lethal menace, as if he was barely keeping himself in check. “It was my fault. You know how we Warlords like to brag about our daily killings. Lady Aurora was too polite to cut me off before I finished what is—and always will be—a very long list.”

  Confusion sliced through her. Why was he coming to her defense? At his own expense, no less?

  “Of course. Entirely understandable.” Whetherton’s smile was brittle. Then, he leaned in so only Volkan and she, squashed between them, could hear. “Stay away from my stepdaughter, Martian. Your kind tends to sully anything they touch.”

  A dangerous growl rumbled from the Warlord’s chest. “Take your hands off her before I slice them off.”

  Paling, her stepfather stumbled back.

  The fear on his face would have thrilled her if she didn’t know the consequences would be one hundred times worse.

  Grayson, meanwhile, appeared and clamped a hand on the Warlord’s shoulder. Whatever he whispered—she thought she caught something about a debt and the name Tom—caused Volkan’s fangs to flash, but was also enough to hold him in check, his fists at his sides, low growls emanating from his chest.

  “You really are a savage.” Her stepfather, too stupid for his own good, backpedaled until he was safely surrounded by his supporters, a bully finding solace in the company of other bullies. “Come.” He snapped his fingers. Like she was a pet.

  For an instant, she entertained ignoring his command and hurling herself into the Warlord’s arms.

  She beat it back.

  DaKar Volkan wasn’t her ally and he wasn’t her savior. Far from it.

  He’d told her what he wanted from her—and no amount of mind-blowing, rough and raw orgasms or Martian heat would save her from her stepfather. It was up to her to do that.

  Steeling herself, she went to her stepfather’s side, her face blank as his nails once more dug into her skin, his hand a brutal vise around her elbow.

  Summoned by a curt wave from her brother, Cecilia joined them as they swept through the exit without even a goodbye for the hosts.

  Her aunt’s short, frantic breaths sent guilt spiking through Aurora.

  She hated that Cecilia was afraid. She despised even more that she couldn’t help her.

  But how could she? For all her schemes and plans, she couldn’t even save herself.

  9

  The air in the vehicle lay hot and heavy. Only the roar of the engine thrusters broke the silence as their transport zipped through the air toward home.

  Whetherton relished the tension.

  He leaned forward and, with a flick of his wrist, activated the privacy shutters.

  The interior went dark, making it nearly impossible to make out the figures seated across from him. He allowed himself a small smile. Without sight, it was easier to hear his companions’ rapid breathing.

  Plus, he hadn’t missed his stepdaughter’s instinctive flinch when he’d drawn near. Good.

  He waited, letting the silence and the darkness do their job. Soon the low lights would flicker on and eyes would adjust. But, now they were vulnerable.

  “No daughter of mine will behave like a Forbidden Zone pleasure slut. I would rather see you dead.”

  Had he shouted? He lowered his voice. The rumble of the thrusters muffled a great deal, but it would not obscure everything. He didn’t care what any of his pathetic servants thought, but he could not have gossip reaching the élithe shareholders who would decide if he was chosen Chancellor.

  It galled to have politics intrude upon his familial affairs, but such was the price of being a devoted civil servant.

  “Why would you behave like that?” His voice slashed through the darkness like a whip. “After all the care I have shown you? Do you know who he is?”

  “I did nothing wrong.” Aurora’s voice was cool and controlled.

  Her show of spirit only enraged him further.

  “I saw how close you danced. The way you eye fucked each other and whispered, even after the music ended. What did he say to you?”

  “He spoke about Martian traditions.”

  “Liar! You shame your mother and me with such whorish behavior.”

  “My mother would wish for my happiness.”

  “Bah. Lydia didn’t give a fig for your happiness. Truth is, your mother hardly thought of you at all. You were a mere girl when she died. Your aunt no doubt filled your head with romantic images of Lydia as a doting mother. But she was a sick, weak woman interested only in joining your father in the grave and glad to wash her hands of the care of you.”

  His taunt had little effect. Aurora’s expression, now illuminated by the low lights under the seats, never cracked.

  He never should have sent her off with that bitch spinster sister of Lydia’s.

  He’d only contracted with Aurora’s mother for the shares she brought to the merger as a widow. He’d been focused on climbing the corporate ladder and assumed someone else’s brat would only get in his way. How could he have known that the skinny, irritating brat foisted on him would become a lovely young female whose beauty and family name could go a long way to securing his own aspirations?

  It had been his one miscalculation. If he’d had hold of her during her formative years, he would have stamped out any rebellion long ago.

  It had taken several planetary rotations of legal wrangling and the death of the aunt to get Aurora back under his control. He’d tried ever since her nineteenth birthday when a lawyer, managing their shared estate business, had shown him a small portrait of his useless dead wife’s offspring. He’d taken one look and realized the girl was meant to be his.

  It had been a great disappointment to realize she did not feel as he did—and an even greater one to discover that her time away had twisted her into something he would need to untwist to his satisfaction.

  But he would.

  Because in order for her to be useful, he required her to remain unsullied and untouched by scandal. The males he was negotiating with for her breeding contract were very clear on that point. They only wanted a breeder whose purity was unquestioned and who they could be assured would give them a legitimate heir, not saddle them with someone else’s bastard.

  He’d purposely refused the first few waves of offers he’d received because his father had taught him to drive up an item’s value. He’d turned Aurora’s breeding negotiations into a frenzy, each single élithe male striving to outbid the rest and win what the other could not. Until he’d finally found those willing to offer him what he’d wanted all along: enough votes to gain him the Chancellor position.

  He could not allow his stepdaughter to mess that up now.

  “You cannot dispute that by signing a breeding contract with me, your mother put me in charge of you. Legally, as well as morally. She gave you to me.” He saw Aurora’s eyes flash and knew he’d scored a hit.

  “I am not a possession.”

  “Oh, but you are. You belong to me. Earth law says so, daughter. And with that obligation comes a great deal of responsibility. I must be ever vigilant to make sure you behave correctly, speak correctly, the way the daughter of such an important personage should. You must be polished into a sparkling jewel. What kind of mentor would I be otherwise?”

  When she said nothing, he continued. “That is why I must punish you so often. It is the only way you will learn. The only way to make you understand I am to be obeyed in every way.”

  Even as he spoke, however, a sense of dissatisfaction roiled through him. Despite his words, despite his punishments, there were places within her he never reached. Moments, like tonight, when he felt her resistance most keenly. As if he was losing his power over her. As if she was increasingly beyond his grasp.

  That was something he would never allow while she was under his roof.

 
He would not be happy until she understood he controlled her purse strings and her schedule as well as her body, her thoughts, her fate.

  His eyes lit on Cecilia. Unlike Aurora, his little mouse of a sister huddled in the corner of the vehicle, praying no doubt that all his ire would be directed at his charge. Some things never changed. Their father had called them both weak, but he’d ultimately proven to his sire that he could be strong when forged in fire. His sister had crumbled into ash.

  He reached out and patted her knee. Cecilia’s gaze fluttered to his.

  “Do not expect to escape my displeasure, dear sister.” His pat turned into a sharp slap, the cracking sound reverberated through the confined space.

  Both females jumped. His palm tingled from the contact, the sting of pain whetting his appetite for more.

  “I’m extremely displeased with you. The fact that earlier in the evening you had no idea where Aurora had gone off to or when she would be back reveals a distressing lack of attention to your duties as her companion. Supervising my daughter is the reason I allowed you to leave the outer sector and come to the city at all. If you can’t handle that, you will be shipped back to obscurity with my displeasure sharp in your mind. A disapproval you will begin to feel tonight.”

  He paused to ensure he had their attention. “For the next seven lunar rotations, you will both be confined to your rooms, barred from your gardening, card games, books, and watercolors. You will take plain meals of bread and water and you will decline all invitations.”

  He barely heard Cecilia’s quiet whimper over Aurora’s protest.

  “It was my fault. Not Lady Cecilia’s. She asked me where I was going and demanded I return from the ladies room immediately after I was done. I-I was the one who lingered to speak with some of the other guests. The only reason she did not go with me herself was because you required her presence. She tried to fulfill her duties and should not be punished.”

  “Two wheeks.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Cecilia will now spend fourteen lunar rotations in her room. You do her no service by trying to spare her from accepting her failures. What she needs is to concentrate on repairing my trust. Isn’t that right, Cecilia?”