A Son for the Alien Warrior (Treasured by the Alien Book 2)

by Honey Phillips

  It all looked peaceful and pleasant, and she could only hope that her sister’s life here had turned out to be the same.

  Despite a number of automated wagons, the most common mode of transportation appeared to be the xuths, tall shaggy beasts that bore an uncanny resemblance to Earth camels—aside from the fact that they had four eyes and their long shaggy fur was a dusty blue. However, they had the two humps, and most carried a saddle between those humps. She watched in amusement as a small boy ordered one to its knees, then climbed aboard with a regal air. Would Charlie have done that someday?

  Her eyes filled with tears, and Cestov came over to put his arms around her.

  “What is it, my miri?”

  “Just thinking about Charlie. I hope he’s all right. That they both are. This doesn’t seem like a bad place, does it?”

  “No,” he said slowly. “But I do not like the presence of Dhalecs.”

  “Of what?”

  “The large blue males.” He pointed out two of the different aliens she had noticed. Big, hulking males with no necks and massive tusks, they didn’t seem to be doing anything particularly harmful despite their forbidding appearance. They were seated in an outdoor patio in front of what appeared to be a tavern, drinking from large mugs.

  “They aren’t bothering anyone.”

  “No. But they do not have a good reputation. They are mercenaries and they work for whoever will pay the most. Which is not necessarily bad, but they do have a reputation for somewhat… unscrupulous behavior. It just seems like an odd place to find them.”

  He glanced down at her worried face and smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure it is nothing. My father was somewhat paranoid about other species and I suppose he has passed that on to me.”

  “He did? Everyone on your ship comes from somewhere different.”

  He laughed. “You are correct. It is probably more accurate to say that he passed on his feelings about a few specific races such as the Vedeckians and the Dhalecs. He had strong opinions about what was right and what was wrong, and they violated his moral code.” His smile faded. “I think he might have been disappointed by some of the choices I have made.”

  “I don’t believe you would ever do anything morally wrong,” she said immediately. Oh, she could believe that he might not follow every regulation to the letter or always behave with perfect propriety, but she knew he would never deliberately set out to hurt someone else or to take advantage of them.

  “Thank you, Mariah.” He tugged her closer and together they continued to watch the street.

  Now that he had called her attention to them, she kept her eyes on the two Dhalecs. She began to notice that most of the other people in town avoided them. Twice, someone would start to enter the courtyard where they were drinking, spot the males, and move away. When a young Granican male came to bring them more drinks, his hands shook so badly that she could see the tray moving. The Dhalecs grabbed the mugs and sent him off with a casual cuff to the back of his head.

  She began to suspect that Cestov’s father had been right. They were not nice people.

  But then she spied Maldost approaching from the alley behind the main street and all thoughts of the Dhalecs disappeared.

  “He’s coming. Let’s go meet him.”

  “Not too fast, my miri. You will injure yourself,” Cestov said as she tripped over the leg of her chair in her haste.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

  She tugged impatiently on his hand and he laughed and gave in. When Maldost emerged from the lift, they were waiting for him.

  “Did you find her?” she burst out.

  “I’m not sure—but perhaps.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mariah stared at Maldost and tried to refrain from shaking him. “What do you mean you’re not sure?”

  He shook his head and led the way to the lounge. “Just a minute. I’m hungry.”

  “Maldost, you’re killing me here. What happened?”

  “Patience, my miri,” Cestov said soothingly.

  Together they waited for Maldost to retrieve an enormous bowl of food from one of the cooking machines.

  “Well?” she demanded as soon as he sat down.

  He frowned. “No one in this place wants to talk much. I did the usual—browsed through some merchant stalls, stopped for some food, tried to strike up a conversation with anyone I met.” He shook his head. “Usually people in an isolated trading town are eager to talk to strangers. These people seemed reluctant to talk about anything other than business.”

  “Did you see the Dhalecs?” Cestov said grimly.

  “No, but I heard enough whispers to guess that they were here.”

  “What about my sister?” she interrupted.

  “I started a few conversations about strange new species—sorry, Mariah—but as soon as I even hinted at someone remotely human, they stopped talking.” He looked at her, worry in his eyes. “Which I suspect means trouble.”

  “Oh no.” Her heart started to pound. “Did you find any?”

  “No, not really. Just that odd reluctance to talk.” He looked at Cestov. “And they were even worse if I mentioned a Cire.”

  “So, you didn’t find out anything?” Her hopes started to slip away.

  “No, but I was on my way back to the ship when one of the Granicans beckoned me into an alley. He gave me this.” He held out a scrap of paper with some numbers on it.

  “What are those? I don’t understand.”

  “They are coordinates,” Cestov said. “Did he say anything else?”

  “No. He shoved it into my hand and told me to go. Then he vanished.”

  “Do you think that’s where my sister is?” she asked Cestov, who was frowning at the piece of paper.

  “I don’t know. But I think we need to go and find out.”

  After considering the matter, Cestov decided that the best approach would not be to try and land the Wanderer at the given coordinates. If there was trouble there, he did not want the sight of the ship to trigger any kind of incident.

  “I think it would be best to approach like normal travelers,” he said. “Could you procure transportation, Maldost?”

  “Of course. Do you want two of the riding beasts?” He grinned, showing his large white fangs.

  “I think we would prefer one of the wagons.”

  As soon as Maldost left, he turned to his mate. She had been cycling between excitement and fear, delighted that it appeared her sister was so near, and terrified of what she would find.

  “Perhaps you should stay on the ship,” he told her.

  “Absolutely not. I’m going with you.”

  There was nothing he wanted more. Even now, his tail slid across the small space between them and wrapped around her ankle. But…

  “We do not know what we are facing. It could be dangerous.”

  “If my sister is there and it’s dangerous, then there’s all the more reason why I need to go.”

  “You cannot protect yourself.”

  She bared her small white teeth in an adorable attempt to look ferocious.

  “You bet I can, buddy. If you won’t give me one of those gun things, I’ll find one somewhere.”

  “You’ll be safer here on the ship,” he suggested, even though he hated the thought of being parted from her. “If I find your sister, I promise I will bring her to you.”

  “And what if something happened to you?” Tears filled those big blue eyes. “Then I’ll have lost three people that I lo… care for. And I would never know what had happened to any of you.”

  His instincts vied with each other—the urge to protect her at all cost with the urge to have her with him at all times—but in the end, her tears won him over. He could not stand to see her so unhappy.

  “You are a most infuriating female,” he said with a sigh.

  “Does that mean you’ll take me with you?”

  “Yes.”

  Her smile blinded him. “Thank you, Cestov.” />
  While Maldost was arranging to hire a wagon, Cestov instructed Plovac to move the Wanderer about halfway to their destination. They would still be far enough away to avoid detection and Maldost would meet them there so they could go the rest of the way in the local vehicle.

  Unfortunately, Mariah did not handle the wait well. She paced back and forth, coming up with increasingly dire speculations.

  There was only one way he could think of to calm her down. “Come with me.”

  “But what if Maldost comes back? I want to be ready to go.”

  “It’s going to take him at least an hour to get here.” He picked her up and carried her off to their cabin as she sighed and stopped protesting.

  “What are you going to do? If you think I’m going to take a nap, you’re crazy.”

  “No, my miri, I have a better plan.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. Here.” He handed her the box he had retrieved from the cargo hold.

  “What’s this?”

  “Open it and find out.”

  She frowned but opened the box, then gasped in surprise. “Oh, these are gorgeous.”

  The box was filled with thin silk scarves in a vibrant array of colors.

  “Where did they come from?”

  “They are part of the trade goods.” An expensive part because they were made from the finest fibers spun by the spiders of Wignow, but he had decided that he would rather see them on his mate than worry about his profits.

  “And they’re for me?”

  He nodded and she threw herself into his arms. “You are really the sweetest male.”

  After kissing her until her firm little nipples rubbed against his chest, he lifted his head and smiled down at her.

  “Perhaps I am not entirely sweet. I must admit that I had something in mind.”

  “In mind? With the scarves?”

  “Yes. That very first night, you promised to show me the dance of the seven veils.” The idea had taunted him ever since.

  “You know I don’t remember that.”

  “I do.”

  “And I’m not even sure it’s a real dance—it’s just something I’ve heard people say,” she protested, but he could see that she was considering the idea.

  “Dance for me, my miri. Please.”

  “I suppose I can give it a try.” She ran a teasing hand along the heavy ache of his erect shaft. “I’m sure there’s a sultan in the story. Are you going to play that part?”

  “A sultan?”

  “A rich man. A ruler. One who would be lounging on a bed of pillows while his female danced for him. Can you be my sultan?” With an impish grin, she disappeared into the sanitary facility with her box of scarves.

  A rich ruler? Not a role he ever expected to play, but the least he could do was join in her game. He willingly stripped out of his clothes and went to the bed, piling up as many pillows as he could find. The thought of her dancing for him, clad only in the thin scarves, had his seed pearling on the tip of his erection. He gave it a rough stroke, willing himself to be patient. The door opened a moment later and he had to grip the base of his shaft to prevent himself from exploding.

  Three scarves fluttered around her lush hips while another two barely contained her full breasts. The final two veiled her head, leaving only her eyes visible—big, blue, and mysterious. Singing softly, she danced around the room, as graceful as ever but with a seductive edge that had his cock throbbing in his hand as he desperately gripped the base.

  One veil slipped away, then another, leaving only a thin cloud of blue covering her luscious cunt. The translucent fabric barely concealed anything, yet he found himself as anxious for her to remove it as if it had been entirely opaque. He wanted her completely bared to him. The next scarf came from around her breasts, flashing a tantalizing hint of pointed pink nipples.

  “Mariah,” he groaned.

  She only smiled at him and kept dancing, singing something about pouring sugar. He didn’t care; he just wanted her to keep dancing, to keep revealing herself to him. Another veil and her breasts sprang free, naked and perfect, undulating with her movements, and then the final one fluttered to the floor.

  He could wait no longer. Forgetting his role, he sprang from the bed to take her in his arms. The last two veils still covered her head and he ripped them away, wanting to see her beautiful face as he kissed her. More seed gathered on the head of his cock as he carried her to the bed, sliding a thick finger between her folds, praying that she was ready for him. Thank Granthar. She was slick and hot and perfect. He could wait no longer. He slid into her as she arched up into his thrust.

  “Yes, my sultan. Yes, Cestov.”

  He plunged helplessly, overwhelmed by his need for her, and she met every stroke, her soft cries urging him on until he exploded in shuddering waves as his cock swelled, knotting inside her. His tail flicked across her clit and then she was coming too, in exquisite little pulses that sent jolts of pleasure through his body.

  He collapsed onto the bed and pulled her close, careful not to disturb their joined bodies.

  “I like this dance very much.”

  “I could tell.” She smiled up at him and put her hand on his cheek. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For the scarves, for playing with me, for being here with me.”

  “If it is possible, I will always be with you.”

  Her eyes filled with tears and she buried her face in his chest.

  “Please let it be possible,” he heard her whisper.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cestov slowed the wagon as they approached the ranch. It looked like all of the other buildings they had flown over, although perhaps a little more run down. The wall that surrounded the outer courtyard could have used painting and a line of flowering bushes along the wall drooped, half-dead from lack of care. They had seen a herd of robedas in a nearby field but there didn’t seem to be anyone taking care of them. Even the air seemed curiously still.

  “Where is everyone? Wouldn’t you think a place this size would have people working here?” Mariah whispered.

  “Yes,” he said grimly and put his hand on his weapon. He should never have let her come with him. Even though he didn’t spot any obvious danger, he couldn’t help but wonder if something lurked in the silent shadows.

  “I guess I’m just being silly,” she said firmly. “After all, it’s just a house, right?”

  Despite her words, she shrank a little closer to him and his tail gave her a comforting hug.

  “Do not worry, my miri. I’m sure everything is fine.”

  He brought the wagon to a halt outside the courtyard gate. “Perhaps you should wait here.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “If it is the home of a Cire, he might be more receptive to seeing me alone than he would be to admit a couple.”

  “And if he’s a horrible slave owner, he might think you’re the same and relax,” she pointed out.

  “Perhaps you have a point.” And he would rather have her close at hand.

  “All right,” he agreed. “Just stay behind me.”

  Mariah rolled her eyes but nodded and fell into place behind him. His tail reached back and curved around her wrist and she gave it a grateful pat. She wasn’t nervous exactly, but the absolute silence was definitely strange. She could hear the distant lowing of the cattle, but the faint rustle of the wind was the only other sound. If this were a western movie, she would have expected to see a tumbleweed roll by.

  Cestov pushed open the gate, the hinge creaking loudly enough to make her jump. Inside the wall, the courtyard had the same abandoned air. More dying flowers lined the edge of an open veranda on one side and an ornate sundial had been knocked off its pedestal. The tile path that led to the front door was covered with dust and scuffed footprints. Her hopes began to fade again. Surely her sister wasn’t here? She couldn’t imagine Judith living in such an untidy environment. But then her eye caught on a flash of red be
neath the bushes.

  She tugged on Cestov’s tail and pointed. A brightly colored ball, obviously a child’s toy, lay half-concealed in the vegetation. He saw it and nodded, his hand tightening over his weapon. Please, she prayed, please let them be here.

  The path led up to the veranda and a large set of forbidding double doors, strapped with metal. A small bell hung next to them. Gesturing for her to stay to one side, Cestov pulled on the bell. The unexpectedly melodious chimes rang through the courtyard, at odds with the oppressive silence. They waited, but nothing stirred within the house. After a long pause, he knocked on the door, his fist thudding loudly.

  “Go away. I already told you I don’t know where the papers are located.”

  The voice was undoubtedly feminine, but young and frightened. Not her sister. Her heart sank but she couldn’t help responding to the terror in the soft voice.

  “We’re not here looking for papers. We’re trying to find someone. Can you help us?” She took another look around the abandoned courtyard. “Or do you need help?”

  Another long silence and she began to despair of any response, but then she heard the sound of a bolt being unfastened. The door cracked open. A pretty young Granican with lavender hair stood there, her shaking hands holding a gun as she stared at them. Her gaze traveled from Mariah to Cestov and her eyes widened as the color drained from her face.

  “Who are you?” she whispered.

  As she spoke a small blond head appeared around the edge of her skirt. The little boy never even glanced at Mariah but looked straight at Cestov.

  “Daddy!” he cried and burst into tears as he threw himself at her mate.

  Cestov instinctively opened his arms and picked up the young human. The little boy sobbed against his neck and he gave Mariah a helpless look. She stared at the two of them and he saw the moment she reached the same conclusion he had just reached. His brother—his twin brother—was the despicable Cire who had bought a human female as a slave.

  His shock and grief overwhelmed him. How could Bratan have done such a thing? The brother he remembered would never have violated such a fundamental tenet of their society—but more than that, he was a genuinely kind male, always ready with a friendly word or a helping hand. How could he have sunk so low? And if he had, Cestov could only blame himself. How much Bratan must have changed since he left their ship, all because Cestov hadn’t had the ability to understand his brother’s dreams. His self-loathing was so great that it took him a minute to realize the boy was speaking to him.