Blooming Desire: An Extraordinary Spring Romance Collection

by S. J. Sanders

  “That is enough.”

  An inhuman voice whispered in the back of Aella’s mind, so cold, so emotionless, so alien, that the muscles in her body tightened. Dread pooled in her belly. Her heart hammered in her chest.

  She recognized that voice.

  That horrible, insidious voice belonged to the Gray that announced on television that Earth was now under their protection.

  What the hell is going on?!? She thought desperately.

  Straining to see, Aella lifted her upper body as much as her restraints would allow; her belly muscles burned with the effort.

  He stood at the foot of the gurney, his hands splayed in front of him as though he were praying, the dark gray sleeves of his robes falling to the floor, his large, black eyes staring at her unblinkingly. His skin was gray but several shades lighter than the clothing he wore; his head was large and bulbous, his eyes taking up a good third of his face with a small button nose and thin lips.

  “She will do,” he said in that cold whispering voice that sent ice flowing through her veins.

  He floated towards her – literally floated – and she shrank away from him. Truthfully, he did not exceed more than four feet in height and appeared benign with his nonthreatening body language. She would have felt at ease if it weren’t for the fact that this alien and his species were responsible for the death of billions of people on Earth. Being wary of the Grays was not the smart option here; she was absolutely terrified. She had seen firsthand what the Grays were capable of, damn it!

  The Gray stretched out a hand towards Aella and she recoiled, a whimper of fear vibrating in her throat.

  “Sleep,” he commanded as he pressed one fingertip to her forehead.

  Amon! She thought desperately.

  And then blackness consumed her.

  7

  Amon

  “Where is she?” he snarled.

  Skarll, or, rather, the being that looked like Skarll, trembled, Amon pinning his much smaller body to the wall with his mightier bulk.

  “I will not ask you again,” Amon growled, flashing his lethally sharp fangs at the other male.

  “I d – don’t know,” Skarll whimpered.

  Something snapped inside of Amon.

  Furious, he coiled his tail around the smaller male’s legs and hips and began to squeeze. His dorsal fin stood up to its full impressive height, the spines glistening with venom and his blue bioluminescence; the light raced up and down the length of his body, swirling in a dizzying array around his eyes and cheeks. Amon leaned forward, his tongue flicking rapidly between his lips and he savoured the taste of the other male’s fear. An Ir’eil, even one heavily camouflaged, was no match for a dominant male Songiell like him.

  Skarll placed his hands on the coils tightening around his waist, his fingers attempting to dig into the thick scales that covered Amon’s tail.

  “Please!” he gasped when the coils tightened around his rib cage and slowly began to cause him difficulty breathing. “Please don’t kill me!”

  Amon sneered.

  Typical, he thought. The Ir’eils are cowards, every single one of them.

  He slammed his fists on either side of Skarll, watching the male cower before him, the subtle hint of pleasure and malice burning inside of him.

  “Tell me where she is,” he crooned.

  Skarll stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes. Amon met his gaze unflinchingly.

  “Th – there’s a ship,” the Ir’eil disguised as the Oraed wheezed.

  “A drone ship?” Amon demanded.

  The Ir’eil nodded. “Yes.”

  Amon swore in his own language, his fury transcending into an all-consuming rage that left little thought but the desire to annihilate any and all threats to his mate. He could no longer ignore the truth. Aella was his mate. Not Calliope. He had known this instinctively from the moment he saw Aella drowning in the dark waters of Loch Ness and he began glowing for her. Every time he saw her afterwards, no matter how fleeting their interactions, he wanted to pull her into his arms, wrap her tightly in his coils and mark her so that every male would know that she belonged to him. Knowing that she was in danger only intensified his feelings of possessiveness towards her.

  Her being abducted by the Ir’eils, however, could not explain Calliope’s involvement.

  Fighting to control the red haze beginning to flood his vision, Amon tightened his coils around Skarll until the other male’s bones cracked beneath the strain. Blue bioluminescence flared around his eyes and cheeks and the tips of the spines of his dorsal fin, blazing such a vibrant shade of blue that the room glowed. His tongue flicked rapidly between his teeth, once, twice, and then he licked one of his fangs in a display of aggression that caused Skarll to whimper in fear.

  “Where is the drone ship located?” he asked.

  “I – I can’t! They’ll kill me if they find out I told you! Please,” he pleaded.

  Amon’s coils tightened even further up Skarll’s body, his sensitive scales able to feel the vibration of the male’s bones rubbing together in ways that should not be possible.

  “I will kill you if you don’t tell me the drone ship’s location,” Amon snarled, his voice deep and feral with the rage consuming his thoughts. “And I promise you, Skarll, I will make you beg for it.”

  Skarll flinched and Amon knew that the other male had finally broken.

  “The moon,” he rasped. “The drone ship is hidden behind Earth’s moon.”

  Amon lunged forward and his jaws closed on open air just millimetres away from Skarll’s throat.

  “The moon?” he hissed. “That is impossible. We would have noticed if a ship was hiding there.”

  “Ordinarily, yes,” Skarll wheezed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled for breath, “but this ship is special.”

  Amon stared at him; his brows lowered in a harsh frown. “Go on.”

  “It’s a drone ship but its outfitted with highly advanced cloaking technology,” Skarll said.

  “The Interstellar Alliance oversees any race that is capable of constructing such technology,” Amon snarled.

  “Yes,” Skarll agreed, “but that doesn’t mean there aren’t pirates.”

  His eyes widened when that single word left the Ir’eil’s lips.

  Pirates.

  They were rare but there were rogue ships that patrolled the galaxies, attacking freighter ships, cruise liners and passenger ships; the odd time pirates would attempt to board a military vessel but it resulted in immediate capture and harsh punishment. With Earth’s solar system on lockdown, that would alert every rogue out there that something major had taken place on a planet within this specific solar system.

  “Get to the point,” Amon growled.

  “Pirates often have access to technology that you and I don’t,” Skarll continued and black blood started to dribble down the corner of his mouth.

  Amon bared his teeth at him.

  “You’re certain that I will find the ship where you say it is?”

  Skarll nodded frantically.

  With a feral snarl, Amon released the other male from his coils. Skarll slid to the floor, his ribs protruding at odd angles from the pressure of Amon’s tail, blood dribbling down his chin.

  “What are you going to do to me?” he asked fearfully.

  Amon glared down at him.

  “You will be taken into custody and tried for your actions,” he hissed. “How dare you impersonate a soldier under my command? What have you done with the real Skarll? Is he dead?”

  The Ir’eil looked away, silently answering Amon’s question.

  His rage grew.

  “I will make sure that you are justly punished for your crimes,” he vowed. “Right now, I must rescue my mate.”

  “General.”

  His soldiers saluted him the moment he entered the bridge, the captain turning his body and offering him a polite, though curious, nod; Amon rarely took command of his ship. He and his crew had been togethe
r for several years and they knew that Amon was extremely busy with a million and one things to do besides overseeing those in the wheelhouse. He inclined his head, his fingers curling into fists at his sides at the ridiculous formalities that were required of him. With every minute that passed, his mate could be closer to death; he feared that the Ir’eils’ plans for her were far more sinister.

  He glanced at the two soldiers stationed on either side of the door that opened up onto the bridge. Both wore the uniform denoting them as first lieutenants, their broaches bearing the six-pointed star and swirling scripture of the Interstellar Alliance.

  “The two of you are to imprison the Ir’eil in my chambers in cell block A,” he commanded, his voice and aggressive body language brooking no refusal. “Be wary. The Ir’eil has masqueraded as the Oraed Skarll and may try to trick you into releasing him. Do not let him escape.” He glared menacingly at both males. “I want him alive. I will question him later. Post a guard outside his cell at all times and, if anyone outside of this room asks, do not tell them anything.”

  “General.”

  Both soldiers saluted him before they exited, striding for his private quarters where the Ir’eil Skarll was bound and gagged.

  Satisfied, Amon turned to address the captain.

  “Set coordinates for the dark side of Earth’s moon,” he growled.

  The captain merely stared at him.

  Amon’s dorsal fin snapped upward, blue bioluminescence blazing along the tips of his spines.

  “I gave you an order, Captain,” he hissed.

  “Sir.”

  The captain jerked to attention. “Yes, sir!”

  Amon turned to stare out the enormous window that overlooked the lower decks of the ship and the vast expanse of space. The muscles in his arms bunched, his hands clenched into fists, his gaze intense as he watched the ship shift 90 degrees; the floor trembled slightly underneath his belly scales, the engines beginning to whir, before they slowly climbed out of Earth’s atmosphere and into her orbit.

  They reached the moon within minutes, a feat that would have impressed humans back in 1969 when the countries of the world were competing to be the first person to land on its cratered surface.

  “Slow,” he commanded.

  Obeying, the captain reduced the ship’s speed.

  “Sir,” he asked hesitantly, “what are we looking for?”

  “What does not belong,” he growled. “We are looking for a cloaked Ir’eil drone ship.”

  Everyone in the room stiffened when he uttered those terrible words.

  “Sir,” the captain growled, anger tightening his features, “I may have something here.”

  Amon loomed over the captain, gazing down at the screen, and a malicious smile curled his lips when red lights flashed over the disguised drone ship.

  I am coming, Aella, he thought. I promise.

  Aella

  She awoke to chaos.

  Green light flashed around her, an alien voice speaking over the communications' system in a language that she could not understand. The ship trembled beneath her feet. This was not the smooth vibration of an engine gently thrumming into maximum overdrive; the floor shuddered violently enough that she found it difficult to stand. Losing her balance, her shoulder slammed into the wall, the chains that tied her manacles to the floor tinkling gently.

  Her stomach dropped and bile rose to the back of her throat as her body recognized the rapid descent through the air. She whimpered, closing her eyes. Fear welled up inside of her, the emotion as familiar to her as happiness because the two of them had grown intimately close throughout the Invasion and the war.

  “Amon,” she whispered his name like a plea, biting her bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

  She wanted him to save her.

  What does that say about the feminist movement? She thought with a derisive snort, momentarily forgetting her fear as the floor stopped vibrating beneath her feet.

  Exhaling loudly through her parted lips, Aella slowly righted herself, her fingers curling around the chain that connected her to the floor. The metal was cool against her warm skin. She glared down at the smooth manacles that adorned her wrists, no visible sign of a lock or release of any kind. She tried to slip the smooth circlets from her wrists but they would not budge. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears.

  There was no way she was getting out of here unless someone rescued her.

  A furious roar echoed through her cell and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. The feral sound sent her heart racing in her chest, adrenaline surging through her veins. Somehow, that animalistic bellow frightened her more than the prospect of free-falling did.

  Her bottom lip quivered and hot tears scalded her cheeks.

  She just wanted to go home. She wanted to hug Anthea and apologize for whatever it was she had done to offend her sister and mend their broken relationship. She wanted to hold her nieces or nephews when they were born.

  And, damn it, she wanted to explore her relationship with Amon.

  That feral roar sounded again, closer this time. The walls of her cell actually shook with its ferocity.

  She pressed her back against the wall, the chains tinkling softly, a whimper vibrating in her throat.

  “Amon,” she breathed. She closed her eyes, tears stinging her lashes and scalding her cheeks, knowing she should be concerned about the reason why she was desperately calling out the name of an alien warrior.

  There was a shrill scream that pierced the air followed by the hum of an energy blade and the sharp ping of several blasters. Then, everything grew still and quiet.

  Aella waited with bated breath, her heart hammering in her chest.

  Her cell door swung violently inward, smashing against the wall with enough force that she skittered to the other side of her cell, her shoulders hunching forward when the chain prevented her from moving any further.

  “Aella!”

  Amon slithered through the open doorway, his enormous bulk seemingly much larger and she realized that his dorsal fin was flared to its full, impressive height, the spines glowing with his bioluminescence. The muscles in his arms bulged, the fingers of his left hand curled around the hilt of his energy blade. Black blood was splattered over his neck and chest, slowly dripping down his abdomen to pool beneath his belly scales. His tongue flicked rapidly between his lips, tasting the air. His electric blue eyes blazed so brightly it illuminated his face and cast dark shadows over his cheeks and muzzle.

  “Amon,” she whispered, her lips trembling.

  Dropping the hilt of his blade, he closed the distance between the two of them, enfolding her within the safety of his arms. She pressed her face into his chest, heedless of the black blood. All that mattered was that he was here.

  Amon tightened his arms around her for a moment before he drew back just enough to gaze down into her face. He lifted a hand, his fingers caressing her cheek, his thumb trailing over the swell of her bottom lip.

  “My Aella,” he growled, his deep voice sending butterflies fluttering in her belly and her heart racing for entirely different reasons. “My sweet, Aella.”

  The absolute tenderness with which he held her, with which he caressed her jaw, brought tears to her eyes and she offered a soft, watery smile.

  He leaned forward, and pressed his mouth to hers in a hot, fiery kiss that stole her breath away. It wasn’t gentle. He nipped her bottom lip, the tips of his fangs pricking her flesh until tiny droplets of blood welled there. His tongue licked them away. A soft, rattling hiss vibrated in his throat, a sound she had never heard before, but he did not frighten her. He lifted her into his arms and she wrapped her legs around his waist, the chains attached to the manacles on her wrists softly chiming a protest.

  “Mine,” he growled, the feral rumble to his voice sending sparks of electricity zapping along her nerve endings. “My mate.”

  Why did that sound so much more permanent than ‘wife’?

  “Come, Aella, my mat
e,” he murmured, his deep voice lowered to a sweet croon. “Let’s go home.”

  Smiling tiredly, she dipped her head.

  “I’d like that very much, Amon, but first” – she shook her manacled wrists – “do you think it would be possible to get these off?”

  Offering a small smile, he inclined his head and, as Amon turned to reach for his energy blade, he stopped at the sight of Calliope standing in the doorway. She held the hilt of his energy blade in her hand, the blade itself pulsing with blue-white light. Her ruby eyes blazed with malicious intent, focused solely upon Aella.

  “You!” she hissed; her fangs bared. “You’ve ruined everything!”

  8

  Amon

  With a scream of fury, Calliope lunged towards Aella, the energy blade humming softly in the air when she swung the weapon wide.

  Amon pushed Aella behind him, instinctively flattening his dorsal fin to prevent her from cutting herself upon one of his venomous spines, and raised himself upwards by several inches, towering over the smaller female Songiell. If the two of them were swimming in the dark depths of their home planet’s seas, Calliope should have submitted to his dominance but, after years of living on a military vessel and understanding the different cultures that filled the galaxies, she ignored it. Amon’s tongue flicked angrily, his lips drawing back as he bared his fangs at her, his blue bioluminescence fluttering around his eyes and cheeks in a second, more subtle warning. Again, she ignored him.

  When Calliope shifted to the right, Amon mirrored her, always keeping himself in between her and his mate. While she may be inexperienced in the ways of combat, it did not mean that she did not pose a serious threat. While Amon fought to control his temper around those under his command, his instincts demanded that he subdue the female that dared to threaten his mate. Dominance battles between Songiell were common; even females fought to establish themselves in their familial hierarchies. Unlike the battles that had been fought on Earth’s soil, this was not calculated or logical or even strategically planned; this was a fight to the death. Both Amon and Calliope knew that he would never allow her to live after threatening his mate.