Her Alien Warrior Prince
Her Alien Warrior Prince
Warriors Of Valkred: Book 1
Roxie Ray
Contents
1. Akzun
2. Carly
3. Akzun
4. Akzun
5. Carly
6. Akzun
7. Carly
8. Akzun
9. Carly
10. Akzun
11. Carly
12. Akzun
13. Carly
14. Akzun
15. Carly
16. Akzun
17. Carly
18. Akzun
19. Carly
20. Akzun
21. Carly
22. Akzun
23. Carly
24. Akzun
25. Zark
Stolen By The Cursed Alien
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Her Alien Warrior Prince
1
Akzun
Why the hell did we have to meet here? Why tonight?
I peered out the nearest window as I asked myself this question for perhaps the hundredth time, trying to focus on the vastness of space outside the station – distant stars twinkling in an endless black sea.
My people, the Valkredians, are naturally drawn to darkness. We seek it out, thrive on it, revel in it. To us, shadows are extensions of ourselves. They are our shields and our weapons, as surely as the blade-resistant body armor we wear and the blasters hanging from our belts. They comfort us, nourish us, almost as much as the blood we consume to survive.
And what is space, after all, but an infinity of shadows? A place where even the blaze of the most brilliant sun is swiftly snuffed out by the darkness that presses in from every side, and stretches to eternity?
It's no wonder the Valkredians dominated this sector for so many centuries… until the Mana rose up to challenge us for supremacy.
I sighed heavily, thinking of the countless casualties lost in battles with the Mana over the last three decades. No clan on the Valkred homeworld had been spared from the slaughter. All the members of our race had grieved for fathers, sons, brothers, friends, mates. I had personally attended the memorial services of five cousins, two uncles, a nephew, and dozens of companions from my youth.
I remembered each one, bitterly and far too vividly. And after every one, I offered up a silent prayer to the stars that it would be the last.
Now, finally, it seemed as though my prayers might have been answered. M'ruvev, the new leader of the Mana, had sent a transmission saying he was willing to negotiate a peace treaty. He set the time and place for our meeting – and despite my misgivings about both, I agreed to his terms in the name of diplomacy and the prevention of additional loss of Valkredian life.
But why here, damn it? And why tonight?
“Come now, Akzun,” Zark chuckled, slapping me on the shoulder good-naturedly. “You know perfectly well why M'ruvev insisted on meeting you here, and why he chose this night in particular. So stop repeating the same thoughts over and over, before you give me a headache!”
I let out a humorless laugh. My race's telepathic abilities could be a blessing at some times, and a curse at others. “Still poking around in my mind without my permission, Zark? I thought that would stop when I was ordained Blood Ruler of Valkred.”
Zark raised an eyebrow sardonically, running his pale fingers through his curly purple hair. His dark green eyes twinkled with mirth. “Then you're a bigger fool than I ever gave you credit for. It's a brother's prerogative to go rummaging through his sibling's things at will.”
Torqa, my advisor, stared Zark down stonily, her arms folded across her chest. “The Blood Ruler's private thoughts are to be shared at his discretion, not stolen and snickered at by his underlings. Such transgressions are considered acts of treason. If you think Akzun is incapable of punishing those close to him for that sort of thing, ask Elrisa.”
I held up a hand to silence her, suppressing a shudder at the mention of Elrisa's name. That wound was still a bit too fresh for me to contemplate. “There's no need to bring that up, Torqa. Zark is accustomed to taking certain liberties where I'm concerned.”
Torqa nodded, but she was clearly displeased at being reprimanded. “I apologize, Ruler. I only seek to protect you in all things, as ever.”
“I know. And your loyalty is appreciated… if somewhat vociferous. Not that I can blame you. I suppose we're all a bit on edge today.”
I turned back to the window, but privately reached out to Zark telepathically, connecting our minds so we could communicate without being overheard. All right, so let's hear it. Why do you believe M'ruvev chose the Cexiea Station for our peace summit? It's run by a member of our race, so it can hardly be considered neutral ground. And it's full of thieves, killers, smugglers, raiders, and every other sort of outlaw in the cosmos… not ideal in terms of ensuring security for all concerned.
I could see Zark's reflection in the thick blast-proof glass, his lupine features so similar to my own. He grinned, running his tongue over his fangs – an old familiar gesture, one he'd perfected since we were children and our permanent canine teeth started to come in. A way for him to remind me that his were slightly longer. He'd always had a competitive nature.
First of all, M'ruvev didn't just choose Cexiea, Zark thought at me with a smirk. He specifically chose this nightclub – The Vein. And the fact that you chose telepathy rather than words to discuss this with me proves that you know exactly what his reasons were. He wants you distracted, off guard, so he'll have the tactical advantage during the negotiations. He must have his suspicions regarding the onset of your...condition.
Impossible! I tried to keep my expression neutral so Torqa wouldn't suspect that I was conversing with Zark, but inwardly, I felt as though my worst fears were being confirmed. You're the only one I've told about the bloodlust. How could he possibly know?!
The Mana have spies everywhere. You know that better than most. Unlike Torqa, Zark knew better than to reference Elrisa directly – he knew the pain that memory caused me. And even though you're doing your best to hide the symptoms, brother, someone with a well-trained eye might still be able to guess what you're going through. You've been twitchy, distant, ill-tempered. Your pallor has started to shift from white to an ashy gray, and your gums are receding. Your hair is losing its luster. All of this is still in the early stages, and could conceivably be blamed on stress or fatigue. So far, that's what's kept anyone on our homeworld from challenging your rule. But if the wrong person knew what to look for…
I suppose I didn't realize how bad it had gotten, I admitted ruefully. So you think M'ruvev specifically chose The Vein so I'd be surrounded with blood slaves...and chose a non-auction night so I'd be unable to slake my thirst by purchasing one of them. Is that it?
Zark tilted his head slightly to indicate our surroundings. I've certainly heard worse plans. You have to admit, this place is full of distractions.
I looked around, conceding his point. The club was dim, low-ceilinged, and the light fixtures were all filtered crimson – a subtle touch that made every Valkredian who entered feel like they were in the final stages of bloodlust, swimming through a red ocean of throbbing bodies waiting to be drained.
Most of the patrons were members of my race, but there were others as well: A crew of reptilian Krote scavengers sat drinking in a corner, loudly singing a space shanty and banging their mugs of Vraklian Nova Ale on the table with each new chorus. A pair of white-furred Drekkir were placing bets on a game of Six-Teeth, scattering a half-dozen ivory molars on the surface of the bar and chittering excitedly at the carved symbols that came up. There was even a lone Lunian male staring at the entrance inscrutably, the ghostly
glow of his skin cutting through the sweaty, smoky, murky air of the place like a beacon – a rare sight on a station full of brigands and cutthroats, to be sure.
And there were the Earthlings.
They, of course, were not in The Vein to drink and socialize. Rather, they were captured and brought here as laborers and living decorations – serving drinks, cleaning up messes, and titillating the clientele with their attractive appearances. The ones with black collars were available for purchase as sexual partners, and wore scandalously revealing outfits. The ones with red collars wore clothing which revealed more specific areas of their anatomies: Major arteries, to indicate that they could be bought as blood slaves.
The sight of them immediately made my mouth dry. So tempting, and so out of reach. I had never felt so thirsty in my life – the bloodlust was a syndrome that only took hold of members of the Valkredian species as they began to reach middle age, and at just under a hundred years old, it was natural for it to begin to affect me at this stage of my life.
Natural, but damned inconvenient.
I can't believe M'ruvev would attempt to gain an unfair advantage over me by resorting to such base trickery, I thought to Zark. Despite the hostilities between our peoples, I had always considered him a friend.
I'm sure if Torqa could hear us, Akzun, she'd remind you of her favorite saying: “If you have a friend who is a Mana…”
“…then you don't have a friend,” I finished with him tiredly. Not exactly the most auspicious beginning to a peace conference, is it, brother?
No, I think not. And speaking of the Mana… He nodded to the window, and I followed his gaze.
The Mana flagship Aquavor approached the station – huge and sluglike, essentially a miniature ocean contained by an impenetrable membrane of armored fibers, glowing blue and pulsating gently as it moved serenely through space. It was surrounded by half a dozen tiny escort ships, insectile and iridescent as they buzzed in tight formation around their charge. The sight reminded me of the Gorvyan Slime-Leeches of my home planet, drifting through the swamps with clouds of smaller blood parasites in their wake, waiting to feed on whatever dregs the fat worms left behind.
A rather undiplomatic comparison, I thought, standing up and straightening my tunic in preparation for their arrival.
I felt both Zark and Torqa bristle as M'ruvev and his contingent entered The Vein. I tried to appear stoic, but the wings beneath my clothes fluttered apprehensively against my back, their feathers standing on end. I forced my mouth into a smile, stepping forward and bowing slightly. “M'ruvev. It's been a long time.”
M'ruvev's scaly lips pulled back into a grin, his fish-like eyes peering up at me. His bluish skin – and that of his companions – was still damp and clammy from swimming around in their ship. “It's good to see you again, Akzun,” he replied, his voice gurgling gently from the water-breathing apparatus hooked up to his flapping gills. “Hopefully, if these peace talks succeed, we'll be able to visit each other far more frequently.”
“If you're really interested in the success of this summit, you might have chosen someplace quieter for us to meet. The Vein isn't exactly the most conducive environment for discussions such as these.”
M'ruvev sized me up cannily, and for a horrible moment, I was certain that Zark was right – that he had found out about my bloodlust somehow, and planned to mention it in front of Torqa (and anyone else who might be listening...after all, Cexiea was full of spies from every civilized race in the galaxy, as well as some who weren't very civilized at all).
Instead, he put his webbed hand on my shoulder. “Akzun, despite the war between our races, I've admired you a great deal and considered you a friend,” he burbled. “You saved my ship from a pack of Krote corsairs years ago when you could just as easily have left us to fend for ourselves...as such, I'm indebted to you for my life, and it is for this reason that I felt I owed you a chance to bargain for peace. But that doesn't mean I had to make it easy for you. After all, how could my people respect me if I didn't use every strategic advantage at my disposal?”
“A fair point,” I conceded, gesturing for him to take a seat. “Just as I wouldn't be much of a Blood Ruler if I allowed such tactics to affect me. Shall we begin, then?”
M'ruvev nodded his bald head serenely, sitting down. As I took the seat across from him, Nos, the owner of The Vein, hobbled over to our table with a tray. He was a Valkred as well – but while most of my race are tall, lithe, and graceful, he'd been born with a rare disfiguring condition called Mak'Shrek Syndrome. As a result, his back was hunched, his fingers were long spidery claws, his head was hairless and lumpy, and he had a mouthful of cruel crooked fangs. When he spoke, it was in a sibilant hiss.
“Ah, such a noble group of worthies blesses my humble tavern with their presence!” he drawled, placing drinks in front of each of us. “Welcome, welcome! Lord M'ruvev, please accept this Eukaryotic Ale on the house...it's been aged in a cask for over two and a half centuries, very strong, yes, very pungent. And for Blood Ruler Akzun, a glass of D'Naarican Blood Cider! The plasma in it was distilled from the Ever-Wise Oracle of Travanya. They say that a sip will briefly infuse you with her visions, yes? Quite potent, oh yes, quite rare indeed! Shall we drink a toast to peace in our time, gentlemen?”
M'ruvev and I raised our glasses, clinked them, and drank deeply, our eyes locked. When our glasses were drained, Nos snatched them away greedily, as though he intended to sell them as mementos from the peace talks – which, knowing his level of entrepreneurship, might indeed have been his intention.
As he scuttled into the back room, he shoved a human female server – one with a red collar – toward our table. She picked up a pitcher of water and two glasses and carried them to our table.
I watched her as she approached, my breath lodged in the back of my throat like a Gangryllian Needle-Bat caught in a tree snare.
I couldn't take my eyes off her.
She was short, even for an Earthling, with wide hips and a beautifully full bosom. Her hair was long and reddish-blonde, her eyes were a penetrating shade of brown, and a series of small speckles decorated her delicate upturned nose – a rare trait for her species, from what I'd been told.
As she quietly placed the pitcher and glasses on the table, I couldn't help but stare at the exposed areas of her skin. I could practically hear the blood rushing through her brachial and femoral arteries, and the faint pulse of her jugular made beads of sweat form on my skin. Her scent filled my nostrils, a heady, musky aroma that sent a sharp tingle down through the core of my body.
It was all I could do to keep from reaching out and grabbing her right there – to take her, drain her, make her mine. My throat felt like sand, and I was seized with a desperate urge to lick my lips...but that would be a sign of weakness before M'ruvev, one I couldn't afford.
She turned and walked back to the bar, her eyes barely meeting mine. I wasn't surprised. Nos trained his slaves to be stared at by the patrons, not to stare back.
“Akzun?” M'ruvev said teasingly, as if on cue. “Are you still with us?”
Look at him, Zark thought at me. He knows, the smug bastard.
No, I shot back. He might suspect, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of confirming it. Not when we have the upper hand, not when we're so close to ending this war.
“Of course,” I answered out loud. “Let's begin, shall we?”
M'ruvev nodded placidly. “Yes. Let's.”
His eyes narrowed, focusing on the pitcher of water between us. As I watched, the fluid inside began to surge and roil, rising in a shimmering column and undulating. Then it arched, pulling itself out of the pitcher completely and approaching me slowly. It sprouted a pair of legs, marched toward me like a soldier on a parade ground… and then suddenly collapsed into a puddle on the table, splashing the front of my tunic.
I knew about the Mana's elemental ability to control water with their minds – everyone did – but I'd rarely seen it demonstrated before. It w
as strangely hypnotic, but also unsettling.
“An amusing parlor trick, my aquatic friend,” I said. “But I fail to see your point.”
He laughed. “My point? I thought it was fairly obvious. A full two-thirds of the valuable captured outposts you like to hold over our heads are planets or moons with significant bodies of water. We should know – they once belonged to us. If a significant number of my race were transported to one of these locations… if we were all to use our abilities at once… we could turn entire oceans into weapons and wipe your armies out. I simply wanted you to… be aware, so that you can fully consider your options.”
I shook my head, stealing another glance at the Earthling female and hoping it would go unnoticed. Inwardly, I kicked myself for being so distracted. This peace summit had the potential to be one of the most important historical events in Valkred history – I couldn’t jeopardize it by allowing my bloodlust to control me. There was far too much at stake for my personal trifles to interfere.
If only I had chosen a mate by now. Or at least a blood slave, to quell the immediacy of these cravings. But I'd been too busy trying to win the war, and I had been confident – perhaps too confident – that I could keep myself under control until the conflict was over.
Too late now. I'd have to ride it out, no matter what.
But that woman.
She was like the moon, changing the very tides of the blood in my veins with her gravitational pull. Why her? What was so special about her?
It didn't matter. I had to have her. I felt as though I couldn't wait another moment, but I forced myself to refocus on the discussion at hand.