KRAL

Mail-Order Brides of Crakair, Book 4

Ava Ross

KRAL

Mail-Order Brides of Crakair, book 4

Copyright © 2020 Ava Ross

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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations with prior approval. Names, characters, events, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

ASIN: B08HD31MRK

Cover art by Germancreative

Editing by JA Ireland

Created with Vellum

Contents

KRAL

1. Mila

2. Kral

3. Mila

4. Kral

5. Mila

6. Kral

7. Mila

8. Kral

9. Mila

10. Kral

11. Mila

12. Kral

13. Mila

14. Kral

15. Mila

16. Kral

17. Mila

18. Kral

19. Mila

20. Kral

21. Mila

22. Kral

23. Mila

24. Kral

25. Mila

26. Kral

27. Mila

28. Kral

29. Ten Days Later - MILA

About the Author

Books by Ava

WULF

Chapter One

AXIL

Chapter One

Before my mom died,

she told me I needed to write a book.

In the eleven years since,

I’ve written almost thirty.

Note to all: Your mom is always right.

For my family, who are endlessly supportive.

And for my critique partners,

Alex, Laura, & Stephanie

who’ve made these books infinitely better.

KRAL

A stoic Vikir warrior meets his match

in a spunky Earth woman determined

to show him

what he’s been missing.

After she’s kidnapped on her way to Crakair, Mila’s not sure she’ll ever meet her arranged mail-order alien match. Until Kral falls—literally—on top of her during his heroic rescue mission. Who wouldn’t be attracted to a gruff, scaly green alien doing all he can to save her from the bad guys? But with space stations and ships exploding around them, it soon becomes clear someone is determined to make sure she and Kral never reach Crakair.

Kral has settled into his role as Kral the enforcer and Kral the loner, the person he had to become after his father was killed and he was forced to assume leadership of his clan. He signs up for the Selection, never expecting to develop feelings for his Earthling female match. Despite the danger they’re in, she makes him laugh and shows him that life doesn’t always have to be serious. But with an enemy chasing them across the galaxy, Kral will have to tap his Vikir warrior skills to protect his Earthling bride.

Kral is Book 4 in the Mail-Order Brides of Crakair Series. This standalone, full-length story has on-the-page heat, aliens who look and act alien, a guaranteed happily ever after, no cheating, and no cliffhanger. You can find the rest of the series here.

Look for the prequel novella, Axil, which is FREE when you sign up for Ava’s newsletter.

One

Mila

Mila woke up lying on a hard surface, blinded by the light generated by a flat, rectangular, glowing creature pinned to the ceiling above her. She blinked as the blue-green, hairless being writhed, struggling to break free.

Like Mila. When she tried to lift her arms, they remained pinned in place. Her ankles were also tied. Her moan slipped out.

“Hey,” she said in a croaky voice. “Hey.”

No answer.

The creature on the ceiling flinched, but then went back to tugging at the metal pins holding each corner of its rectangular body in place. Its beady black eyes focused on her for a long time, and she swore she read desperation and sorrow there. A feeling they shared. There was nothing worse than having no control over the bad things that happened in life.

Where was she? The white walls around her gave nothing away and, when she cricked her neck, the tiles on the floor looked like something found in any random building on Earth. The smooth walls were windowless, with only a small, opaque window at eye level in the single door. She guessed it was locked.

From the low hum rumbling around her, she assumed she was on a spaceship. The slight vibration reminded her of the star cruiser she’d been traveling in from Earth to reach Crakair. She didn’t sense enough rocking for a smaller vehicle; the vibration was smooth, almost seamless. Back on the small ship they’d taken to reach the larger star cruiser, she’d been thrown off balance and fell on her big ass, her feet going out from underneath her when the craft pitched sideways.

“Don’t worry,” her new friend, Taylor, said with a sympathetic laugh. “In no time, you’ll find your sea legs. Until then, keep ‘em wide and let your body shift with the subtle movement.”

“Sure,” Mila had said, rubbing her sore butt.

She’d met Taylor and Lily moments before. They were two of the twenty women who’d signed on as mail-order brides matched to alien males from a distant planet. During the days traveling to Crakair, she, Taylor, and Lily had grown close, sharing their hopes and dreams for their new lives with their matches. They’d even held a bridal shower for the three of them. That was when they’d been…

Taylor. Lily.

Halfway to their destination, they’d been kidnapped and taken who knows where. Four-armed, blue-skinned aliens had attacked and kidnapped her. The last thing she remembered was one of them tapping her temple with a black stick, and then lights out.

So much for meeting her alien match and getting married.

The creature on the ceiling struggled. Her heart pinching to see the poor thing in pain, she wished there was a way she could help it.

“I’ll free you somehow,” she whispered, “I promise.” Once she figured out how to free herself. “Taylor?” she called out. Her voice rose as panic took hold. “Lily!”

No reply.

Mila choked back a sob, but it did no good. Tears trickled down her temples and landed in her hair. Were her friends okay? They could be tied to a table like she was, only in a different room. She’d break free, find and release them, and they’d escape this trap together.

Resolve shot through her, giving her the strength to strain against her ties. She refused to play the victim, waiting for someone to rescue her. Mila was going to rescue herself.

Plus the greenish creature pinned to the ceiling.

The door opened, and a four-armed, blue-skinned alien strode inside. She’d heard of this species, the Al’kieern. They called Mara, one of Crakair’s three moons, home. They’d attacked the star cruiser and taken Mila and her friends. Her gut clenched and her hands went sweaty. What were they going to do to her?

He shut the door and crossed the small room to stand at her side. His beady eyes drifted down her body in a clinical way, and she was grateful nothing sexual shone in his dark gaze. Though she wasn’t sure she could do much about it if he decided to take things in that direction.

“Who are you?” she barked, sniffing back her betraying tears. Shit, she hoped he didn’t see them.

“I am a noble Al’kieern. A scientist.” He laid a palm on his chest and bowed. “Pleased I am to meet you. Sad I am that I must do this.”

Sure. She could tell from his almost-gleeful tone.

“There’s nothing noble about kidnapping women,” she said. “Let me go, and I won’t whip your ass. I also won’t tell the Crakairian government what you’ve done.” Brave statements for her to make but, before her dad died, he taught her to bull her way through dangerous situations. Don’t ever let anyone sense your fear, he’d always said. She missed him; he’d died a year ago from the mysterious disease that swept through the galaxy, killing most of the men on Earth and nearly all the women on a variety of alien planets throughout the galaxy.

Hence the mail-order bride proposal and contract with Crakair. How far Mila had come since signing up for a match.

“Why am I tied to a table?” she snapped, barely keeping her lower lip from trembling.

“You cannot be free. Not until auction.”

“Auction?” She couldn’t hold back her whimper. “What are you talking about?”

He smirked.

Great, great. She had to lie here until…whenever the auction took place? Her body trembled, but she found the will to glare at him. “I’m not being auctioned off like a flock of chickens.”

He growled and fumbled with the shiny implements lying on a silver table near the head of her stretcher. “Silence, breeder.”

“Mila.” She matched his growl. “My name is Mila. I’ll never be silenced, and I for damn sure will never be a breeder.”

The alien’s sneer revealed long, rot-riddled fangs. She’d read fang-baring was a Crakairian way of smiling. When she’d watched the video sent by Kral, the Crakairian male she’d been matched with, he’d bared his fangs. On her mate/husband-to-be, it was cute. No, he was hot when he bared his fangs. On this guy? Nasty.

In the video, Kral had said sweet, thoughtful things to her, and he’d made promises he could no longer deliver. That he’d be kind. He’d treat her well. He’d keep her safe. Her chest ached at the loss of what could have been, but she stiffened on the hard mattress. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, but she’d get through this and find Kral.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked as the blue guy lifted a long, thin metal tube into the air.

“I think word is…testing?”

Past jokes about alien abductions and probes shot into Mila’s mind, and she struggled against her bindings. It was all fun and games when she and her friends were teasing each other about their matches and probing. When faced with the reality of a creepy alien guy holding a long, silver implement, the notion sent terror bolting through her.

“Testing for what?” she said.

“Fertility.”

“Let me go!” she shrieked, bucking as fear took control of her limbs.

The creature pinned to the ceiling above her groaned. One of the metal pins holding it in place released and fell on the table by Mila’s hand. The Al’kieern appeared too focused on the silver probe to notice.

“Sad I am, but I will not release you,” the Al’kieern said, his sneer suggesting he was anything but upset about this.

“No tests,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the tiny wooden stake. When it pricked her palm, she nearly shouted with satisfaction. It wasn’t much, but it was sharp and now a weapon. She shifted her fingers, twisting the jagged end around to face her bindings.

The Al’kieern lowered the long silver tube onto the table and lifted a big syringe into the air. He squirted deep blue liquid up in an arc. The point descended toward her arm as she writhed, trying to escape. “This over quickly. Rest now.”

Blubbering and no longer able to hide her tears, she tried to yank free, but the ties bit into her skin. Hot wetness trickled down her wrist, telling her she was bleeding. She sawed with the metal pin, feeling part of the strand holding her wrist give way.

The needle descended.

“No!” Flailing, she yanked herself to the side, but there was no avoiding the needle.

A prick on her upper arm, and the world went black…

Mila woke on what she believed was her fourth day in this room, tied to the table.

Twice each day, the blue aliens had released her, let her use the stinky bucket in the corner of the room, fed her, paced her around for a few minutes, then tied her back on the table.

Each time she was free, she’d kept the pin clutched in her hand, hoping she’d find a use for it.

And each night, she’d spoken to the flat, luminescent light creature still pinned to the ceiling. A few times, she could swear he’d replied—in her mind. But that couldn’t be true. The drugs they’d been giving her were making her imagine things.

For the first time in days, no four-armed blue alien stood at her side. But she had the metal pin, and she was determined to get out of this hellhole. No more drugs. No more being tied to the table. She would break out of the room, find her friends, and burn this fucking place down.

After sawing the bindings for what felt like hours with the metal pin, her left hand snapped free. Yes. It was quick work after that to release her other hand and ankles.

Overhead, the poor creature continued to struggle.

“Hang in there, Firefly,” she whispered as she rose to her feet on the table. “Sorry for the nickname, especially if you don’t like it, but you remind me of a firefly. But don’t worry. Help is on the way.”

Thank you.

She had to be imagining things.

When the door opened again, she—they—were ready.

The surprise reflected on the blue jerk’s face as she brought a trash bucket down on his head. Mila grinned. She laughed out loud when Firefly sprung from the ceiling and plastered himself across the blue guy’s face.

Adrenaline lent her the strength of a thousand suppressed women.

While the alien gulped and gasped and whirled around, trying to pry Firefly off his face, she kneed him in the groin. It worked with men; would it work with aliens?

His four hands left Firefly and cradled his crotch. Yesss.

She rushed around him and opened the door, turning back. “You leaving this shithole with me, Firefly? Or do you want to stay here and chow on the blue guy some more?” Freedom was so close, Mila could taste it.

Go.

The blue alien danced around the room, alternately clutching his groin and smacking at Firefly, who still clung to the alien’s face.

Wait. Firefly had no mouth. How had he spoken to her?

“Did you talk to me in my mind?” she asked, her jaw dropping.

Yesss. Yousss gooo.

Ohhhh-kay. It didn’t seem possible yet here she was, talking to an alien creature in her mind.

She cupped her head. Damn, telepathy made her brain pound. “Are you sure?”

Gooo.

With a twinge of sadness, she nodded. She got it. He was free, and he’d want to track down any friends or family he had here, not hang out with Mila.

She’d lost her mom, her dad, and her new friends, Lily and Taylor. She could deal with losing her new friend, too.

Shoving aside the pinch in her heart, she pushed for a smile. “Okay, Firefly. You, um, look me up if you need anything, okay?” She darted through the door and out into a long hall, calling over her shoulder. “I’ll be around for a little while.” Hopefully only a little while. It shouldn’t be too hard to escape this place, right?

Thank you, Firefly said in her mind.

Mila paused a moment in the hall, unsure where to go. Left or right? Each continued a long distance with doors interspersed at regular intervals. Each seemed to end at a junction with another hall.

While she gnawed on her lip, shouts from her left were followed by four Al’kieern stomping around a corner in her direction. Two ran on cloven feet, but the others skip-hopped, their webbed wings unfurled.

“Breeder!” one shouted.

Not in this lifetime.

With her heart rushing up into her throat, she took off, racing in the other direction. She passed a series of big windows. The stars outside had cloned themselves, filling the sky with a billion sparkling lights. No time to take in the view. As she ran past the openings, she saw long metal posts extending from the craft and smaller, round, satellite-like pods that could be ships or space houses or creatures, for all she knew. The structure reminded her of the pictures she’d seen of Earth’s space station.

The big planet in the distance did not resemble Earth, however. Even without the huge expanses of blue peppered with small landmasses, the four moons of varying sizes would’ve given it away. Mila wasn’t in the Milky Way Galaxy any longer.

“Halt,” one of the aliens shouted.

Yeah, sure. She would, because he’d asked so nicely. Sucking in a deep breath, she ran faster.

One of the flying guys caught up and latched onto her hair, wrenching her backward.

Grunting, she whirled and kicked his leg. She bit down on the arm wrapping around her hair deep enough to draw blood. The guy bellowed and wrenched back, releasing her.

With her pulse galloping a thousand miles an hour, she pivoted and shot down the hall again. She hadn’t run since quitting track in high school—damn Janie and her “fat girl” sneers. But Mila had been good. Record sprinter good. While she’d gained some weight since then, her legs had not forgotten how to take her where she wanted to go.

Luck was on her side, because she hit a stairwell at a run and bumped through the door and onto the landing. Not stopping, she went down, taking the steps two at a time. A few floors below, while the aliens clambered above her shouting for her to come back (really?!), she exited the stairwell into another long hall. Partway down the corridor, she found an unlocked door and darted inside, finding an office. Rounding the desk, she dropped to her knees and scooted beneath.

She waited there for what felt like forever before leaving the room, listening until she heard the aliens entering the stairwell and the door banging shut behind them. Using a different stairwell, she crept down multiple flights until reaching a door marked maintenance.

There were lots of nice hidey-holes in maintenance areas. Boiler and electrical rooms felt like home.

Dad had been a high school janitor and, as a kid, Mila had hung out on Saturdays with him after Mom left when Mila was eight. She’d driven away and never looked—or called—back. It wrecked Mila, but her dad stepped up and did everything he could to help get her through it. Some could say it was the best thing that could’ve happened as Mom hadn’t been happy raising a kid. Dad loved her more than all the planets combined. He’d died, and Mila missed him more than a severed limb.

She slunk inside the room and was relieved to find no four-armed, blue-skinned guys waiting for her.

Creeping across the big open surface piled with boxes and weird-looking mechanical devices, she poked through the rubble, trying to find some place safe.

Here, Firefly said from farther inside the room, surprising her. How had he made it here?

You okay, buddy? she said in her mind. I was worried about you.

No fear. Free.

Sort of, if living inside a big tin can could be called freedom. But at least she wasn’t tied, and he wasn’t pinned to the ceiling. Where are you?

A glow ahead pulled her in that direction, toward the back of the room, where she found a pile of wood stacked to the ceiling. She scooted around the side and found a small passage behind.

Here, Firefly said from ahead. Yousss safe.

Safe was a relative term on an alien space station.

Scooting sideways, Mila shimmied through the narrow strip of area between the woodpile and a metal wall. At the end, she found a beat-up door.

Safe.

Firefly’s light faded. He was leaving.

Her eyes stung, but she swiped the wetness from her face. She had no reason to feel sad.

She could handle whatever came next alone.

She opened the door and crept inside a tiny, hidden room.

Two

Kral

When word of an upcoming breeder auction came through the Crakairian Council intel, Kral and Wulf knew the odds of this leading them to Mila and Taylor were slim, but they had to look into it.

After Commander Vork gave them a fully crewed ship, Kral and Wulf followed the lead that took them to the Al’kieern Space Station in the outer Dricad Galaxy.

As they approached in the fully cloaked ship, Kral grunted in satisfaction.

Mila was here. He knew it.

First, his gut never lied. He would stake the leadership of his clan—even his life—on it. But the symbol that had appeared on his palm as they’d arrived in this quadrant confirmed it for him.

Wulf had the same certainty about Taylor, though no symbol had appeared on his palm in confirmation.

“Engage cruise speed,” Kral said in a voice that betrayed nothing, but the fingers of his right hand tapped rhythmically on the command chair’s arm.

An RT34 droid working at the console to his right dipped its head. “Yes, Sir.” The droid spun and its four limbs flew over the dials, tweaking and turning.

While he could do this himself—Kral had asked the lead droid to show him how to operate the ship within minars of stepping onboard—he held himself back. He didn’t have to control everything.

The engines whined, and his belly lurched as he stared through the expansive viewscreen taking up most of the front of the small bridge. Despite traveling five daelas in this vessel, the thought of being trapped within a giant hunk of metal hurtling through the stars wreaked havoc with his mind. A Vikir needed to feel the wind in his naanans, the warm earth beneath his feet. Kral would only be happy when he was roaming free, be it deep within the cave system where he’d played as a youngling or in the treetops where the Vikir had made their homes for thousands of years.

With no discernable movement of the ship, it transitioned out of the high speed they’d traveled at for three daelas and slowed to a bare crawl. Stars that had blurred past for what felt like a lifetime became fixed. They winked, playing tricks with his mind.

“Heille,” Wulf hissed.

Kral’s breath caught and, as he released the air, the orbiting Al’kieern space station crept out from behind Yarris, a C-grade planet that provided resources for the station. The Al’kieern had set up orbit here to develop and settle the planet below.

The size of a mountain, the station appeared impenetrable, indestructible. How the heille was he going to force the Al’kieern commander to do what he asked?

The intel the Crakairian Council had received suggested the kidnapped women were being held on the station and would be auctioned off soon. After that, it was anyone’s guess where they’d be taken.

“Should we remain cloaked, Sir?” the RT34 droid asked in a mechanical voice, not turning away from the console where it worked.

“Yes. I would like to maintain the element of surprise,” Kral said.

“Very good, Sir.”

Unable to sit still, Kral left the chair. His right leg spasmed, and he rubbed the area that had never correctly healed. Ten yaros old, his home had caught fire, and his father had urged him through an open window, saving Kral’s life. The fall had fractured his leg in three places, but he’d lived. Unlike his parents.

Thankfully, Kral’s beloved Aunt Riella had nursed him back to health. He was eternally grateful she’d survived the illness.

Within months of his father’s death, he’d taken over the role as leader of their clan.

Pain slashed through him as the memory resurfaced. While his aunt had been kind, doing what she could to replace his lost family, he missed his parents. He’d die rather than lose someone he cared for again.

Suppressing his groan of discomfort, he walked back and forth across the front of the small bridge, his boots creating uneven thuds on the floor tiles. He refused to broadcast the agony tightening around his leg like a steel band, even to his fellow Vikir and friend, Wulf.

“Scan the station,” Kral bit out, hating that his voice came out harsh. But pain shot through the top of his leg like a bolt of lightning. Thankfully, the droids wouldn’t care that he snapped. But Kral prided himself on being kind to others at all times, so he softened his voice. “See if you can isolate a woman from the others on the station.”

“I will, Sir,” the droid said.

Wulf, standing beside Kral, gnashed his teeth. “They are here.”

If Kral’s gut was wrong, if Mila and Taylor were not on board the station, Kral was confident he’d find others equally in need of rescue inside. Trafficking might be forbidden per an interstellar treaty, but that didn’t stop some species from transporting kidnapped beings to locations like this station in the outer reaches of the galaxy. Some races ignored the rules when a profit could be made.

“A ship.” Wulf pointed to a speck easing away from the left of the space station. “It is small.” His gaze met Kral’s. “A shuttle, do you think?”

“Two lifeforms on board,” a droid said. Its mechanical digits flew across the dual screens in front of it. When it glanced at Kral and Wulf, the weight of its attention made Kral’s heart stall before slamming double time. “One human female and one…I cannot discern who or what the other being is, other than it is not human.”

“Have humans made it this far into the quadrant?” Wulf asked. “Could it be someone else?”

“They have not,” the droid said. “All mates other than subjects Mila Theresa Dunkirk and Taylor Nina Willis are accounted for. A simple species, Earth does not possess ships capable of reaching this deep within the galaxy.”

“Engage the windlerdrive force field and pull the craft into our bay,” Wulf said. He leaned forward, and tendons stood out starkly on his neck. “It must be one of our mates leaving the station, Kral. There is a chance whoever is onboard is helping her, but we must assume the being is stealing her. We must do something.”

At Kral’s nod, the droid worked on the console a minar before turning to Wulf and Kral. “Our windlerdrive engagement has been blocked.”

Kral and Wulf’s eyes met. There would be no pulling the other craft into their boarding bay. Unless they could somehow intercept it, the human woman onboard could be in grave danger.

Lines stood out sharply on Wulf’s face. “I will go after her.” His back tightened. “If it is Mila, I will protect her with my life until she can be brought home to Crakair and formally introduced to you. I…I will not fail you.”

Orphaned as a youngling, no family had offered Wulf a permanent home. From the age of ten yaros, he’d been fed and housed by whoever needed him for one task or another, handed around until he’d fully grown. After that, he’d joined their clan’s guard, rising to the highest level of the ranks before he hit twenty-five yaros. He was Kral’s best friend and one of the few males he trusted.

Kral braced his palms on Wulf’s shoulders. “I will pursue our original plan with the station and if I locate Taylor there, I will keep her safe.”

Wulf’s steely gaze met Kral’s, and he dipped his chin forward. “We will be victorious.”

“We will.” Certainty rang out in Kral’s voice, because he knew… He wasn’t sure how, but he was convinced Mila was still onboard the station and the human in the shuttle was Taylor. As Wulf pivoted and strode to the back of the bridge, Kral called out. “Travel with safety and stealth, my friend.”

Wulf grunted. “Until our paths cross again.”

Three

Mila

On what she believed was her seventh day on the space station, Mila scooted down the hall in the lower passages of the glued-together hunk of scrap metal she now called home.

A creak and a shudder made her pause and press her body back against the wall. A quick peek back showed she was alone, but the blue guys had to be getting desperate. After all, they had an auction to run, and she was a big-ticket item.

Tonight, she was searching the highest level of the space station, determined to find Taylor and Lily. She’d started at the bottom and worked her way up, canvassing a few floors each time she ventured out of her hidey-hole in the back of the maintenance room. Shaped like two funnels with the big ends connected in the middle, she’d found the middle floor of the space station the longest and the others gradually shorter. She was living in something that vaguely resembled a globe. Or a death star.

Bad analogy right there.

As fear hitched up her spine like the odd centipede-like creatures she’d tiptoed around while investigating the basement levels, she poked her head into every nook and cranny she found. So far, she’d found no evidence of her friends, but that didn’t mean they weren’t locked away somewhere on the station.

She’d seen a hell of a lot of aliens. Their noose was getting tighter, and she worried they’d find her hidey-hole in the basement.

Mila had somehow remained free so far, but she might as well be stuck in a cell. She’d found no way off the station other than small spaceships parked on a docking level she had no clue how to drive.

She’d lost all hope of ever reaching Crakair or meeting Kral, which made her sad when she thought too hard about it. Would he look for her or write her off and move on to a new match? The idea shouldn’t bother her; they hadn’t even met. Yet she wanted to rip out the Earth girl’s hair at the thought. Stupid to be jealous about a guy she might have hated on sight.

You didn’t hate him in the vid…

He’d been kind, smart, and hot. Extra hot with his upper body dressed in furs that revealed mountains of muscles all over his arms and shoulders. He’d also worn snug, black leather pants that hugged the important parts. Yum.

But no more mooning about Kral. She needed to find her friends. Despite needing to search the final level of the space station, Mila knew in her heart Lily and Tay weren’t on this rumbling hunk of scrap metal with her. This was confirmed when she reached the end of the hall.

A bang behind her sent her skittering around a corner. She ducked into a room and waited behind a pile of wooden boxes while what sounded like a pack of blue aliens stomped by. Had they seen her? If so, would they find her? She trembled, scared out of her mind. How had she evaded them for three days?

Once the sounds of their footsteps died down and she’d waited to the count of one thousand, she carefully opened the door and listened. When she heard nothing, she left the room.

She hurried to the stairwell on light feet and scurried down to the kitchen level, pausing partway down the hall by a window to peer out.

The sun had passed beyond the biggest planet, and darkness had exploded in the sky left behind. The planet didn’t resemble anything she’d ever seen before, with deep blue land masses and a lot of water. Would she ever know what the surface was like or would she grow old and die on the space station, hiding from the Al’kieern for the rest of her life?

Her heavy sigh bled out, leaving a white sheen of fog on the window. Turning, she slunk down the hall and into the kitchen. As usual, the cooking droids continued to work without glancing her way. She couldn’t tell if they didn’t see her or they didn’t care. As long as she didn’t pop their soufflés—or whatever they were cooking—they left her alone.

She snatched a hunk of what she’d decided to call bread off the counter and sank her teeth into it, chewing and swallowing fast. It didn’t taste the same. Nothing here tasted the same, but it was food. No matter how much she stuffed into her mouth during her nightly trips to the kitchen, she could never satisfy her howling belly.

The chef droids baked their version of bread daily, and the warm, chalky-doughy goodness dropped onto her stomach with the same comforting feeling of her weighted blanket back on Earth.

Opening the ice cooler, she pawed around and snagged two small blocks of what looked like a sweet potato but tasted enough like cheese she could pretend. She stuffed them into her loose top, loose because it would fit a bigger alien who had left it behind in a corner of the maintenance room.

She missed food that tasted familiar. She missed her friends. Most of all, she missed her home on Earth. Dad might be gone, but she’d still had a job. Friends. A purpose other than survival.

After closing the fridge, she stood on her tiptoes, looking around for fruit. There! Over by the far wall, they’d set out a bowl filled with more of the red globes she’d stolen and eaten yesterday. She had no idea what they were, but they tasted like a combination of pears and watermelon. Easing around the droids bustling through the kitchen, she worked her way to the fruit where she stuffed her pockets with as many pieces as she could hold.

She’d added a loaf of bread to her shirt when a whimper made her come to a shuddering halt. Her gaze was drawn to a cage she hadn’t seen before, tucked in the corner of the room.

Oh, no. Absolutely no fuckin’ way.

She scurried in that direction as a droid turned toward the cage holding a butcher knife. A four-armed, lavender-furred monkey-like creature cowered in the corner of the cage, wrenching on the bars, trying to get free.

Its panicked gaze met hers, and it scrambled backward, dragging its right hind leg. Snapping at the droid, it plastered itself against the back of the cage.

Mila stormed forward and snatched the knife from the droid’s grip, then chucked it toward the far wall. It impaled itself in the surface and quivered, remaining in place. If she ever escaped the space station, she could consider a job as a magician. They were good at throwing knives, right?

She shoved the droid to the side and stooped down in front of the cage door. Fiddling with the latch, she unlocked it and swung it open.

“Come on, sweetie,” she said, holding out her arms to the purple monkey. “We’re outta here.”

The alien creature leaped forward and wrapped all four arms around her neck. “Chee-chee-chee!” it said.

“Sure thing. Chee to you, too.” Mila gurgled and hoped her airway would remain open. But the creature—who she might as well call Chee-chee—was frightened; it made sense it would cling to the only lifeline in town. Besides, it could barely walk on what she suspected was a broken back leg. As a physical therapist, she’d worked with her share of patients with fractured limbs.

The monkey’s arms loosened, but it still hung on while she straightened. As she pivoted to escape the kitchen, one of the cooking droids struggled to pull the knife from the wall. Another peered into the cage as if it expected the monkey to hop back in and say kill me, please.

Mila snatched a big knife from the rack near the bread. She’d add it to her collection in her hidey-hole. She raced to the door to the hall and poked her head out to make sure no Al’kieern lurked in the hallway. Finding it empty, she raced down to the end of the long corridor.

The monkey leaped from her arms and hobbled back down the hall. It scurried around a corner and disappeared from view.

“Chee-chee, come back.” Mila’s body sagged. So much for helping her new friend. For one second, she’d started to believe she’d have someone to talk to while she splinted his leg. He would have been someone she could fight for, someone who’d help her feel less alone—a feeling that had haunted her since her dad died.

Other than the rare telepathic conversation with Firefly, she hadn’t seen him for days, not since he’d shown her the tiny room. Although, she’d noticed the lighting in some halls had dimmed as Firefly freed his friends. Did the station have a back-up lighting source? She’d only found a few wall-mounted lights in her travels.

Fighting off her sadness about Chee-chee, she bumped through the door to the stairwell and paused to make sure silence ruled. Good. Tiptoeing downward, she made her way to the loading dock floor where small shuttles pulled in to unload supplies or take the blue Al’kieern aliens to the planet’s surface.

As she passed the windows looking out toward the planet, she stalled again, and her jaw dropped.

“What’s that?” she whispered, staring at a silver ship that had appeared from the darkness, materializing like in a sci-fi movie. Was this a friend or a foe?

If only there was a way to send them a distress call.

“Earthling,” someone shouted from farther down the hall, making her jolt forward. “Halt!”

Her hand tightening on the knife, Mila bolted.

Three Al’kieern shrieked behind her, hot on her tail.

Four

Kral

After Wulf left the bridge, Kral stared out the viewscreen, unblinking. Within a short time, a shuttle left this star cruiser, following the small shuttle to the planet.

“This action will reveal our location to those on the space station,” the droid said. “Shall I remove the cloaking?”

“Are you able to scan the station first?” Kral asked.

“I have, and I pick up the signals of sixty-three lifeforms, Sir,” the RT34 droid said. “They have engaged their blocking mode, and I am now unable to identify specific species. What would you have me do next?”

Kral’s thick brows drew together. “Bring us to a halt and hold our position.” His fingers traced the hilt of the sword strapped to his back. He itched to pull it, to slash out with it.

To protect his mate.

The droid to his left zipped back and forth in front of the second console.

Kral did not like allowing others to handle things for him when they had a direct impact on his life and that of the Earth woman he’d been matched with. The knowledge that he was helpless, that he couldn’t control what might happen next burned through him like a chisser beetle, a creature that could randomly secrete acid.

After he’d taken over leadership of his clan ten yaros ago, he’d strived to present a firm, ruthless front to the villages he was responsible for. At seventeen, he’d had to appear able to lead. Any hint of weakness on Kral’s part could be manipulated by those who sought power. Command belonged to the person who took it, and after the fire killed his parents, Kral was determined to be in control of every situation if possible.

Sitting back in the Commander’s chair, he gave in to the overwhelming need to rub his leg. The spasm eased, but the lingering ache continued. He knew it would do so until the day he died.

He watched the station, unable to suppress the fear he felt for Mila, who must be as terrified as a wildarn infant separated from the herd. If the Al’kieern hurt her…

A growl burst from him, and the RX74 droid turned his way.

“Sir?” it asked.

“Nothing,” Kral said. He pressed his lips together, and his sekairs, large defensive scales that could shoot darts, spiked on his shoulders, lifting the sections of his hide shirt that had been cut specifically to allow this action. If he felt threatened, poison would lick up the tips, and when his body threw the segmented darts, they would take down an enemy with a single blow.

As the star cruiser crept closer to the space station, Kral’s jaw tightened.

“Remove the cloaking,” he said. He fidgeted with the handle of his broadsword again, the tip of it nestling low on his spine.

Some would assume the weapon was ceremonial, due to the polished golden handle and highly hewn blade. In many ways, it was, but Kral had honed his skill with the weapon after many yaros of practice. His ability with his blade had saved his life on more than one occasion.

“Excuse me, Sir,” the RX74 droid said. “If I may?”

“What is it?” Kral asked.

“I have circumvented their blocking and completed a broader scan. The scan is imperfect, but the controls sense one unusual lifeform on board the station. This one being is not like the others.”

“Explain.”

“It is a human female.”

Mila.

“I assume the rest are Al’kieern?” Kral asked.

“Yes,” the droid said. “It would appear so. Our sensors also pick up the signal of thirty-eight ST droid units. Older models, but they bear mentioning.”

“Any security droids?” They would present a deadlier threat than any other ST model.

“Two, Sir. The rest are ancillary staff.”

Not much of a security detail, but they wouldn’t expect a star cruiser to enter their airspace and challenge them.

On this ship, Kral utilized a staff of ten droids. Three on the bridge, two in the kitchen, and the rest in maintenance and housekeeping. A ship ran smoothly with a good crew, and Vork had made sure Kral was well-outfitted before Kral departed Crakair.

Kral leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “Please be safe.” The worry he’d suppressed during the journey from Crakair came through. He’d lost his parents…

He couldn’t lose his future mate, too.

He only knew her name, but he felt a connection to her. If only things had gone as they should have. Then he would be bowing to her, taking her hand, and showing her the world he could offer. For a brief time, he’d allowed himself to dream he could be with someone who might grow to care for him. Someone he could protect and keep safe.

More than anything, he wanted to let down his guard and be Kral the male, not Kral the enforcer, Kral the leader, or Kral the untouchable. He wanted to show Mila the youngling person he’d been before his parents were wrenched from him and he was forced to take command of his clan.

Soon, Mila.

“Detecting power-up in their defense systems,” the droid to Kral’s left said, returning his attention to where it needed to be: on what was happening around him.

“Shields up,” he barked.

“It is done,” the droid said.

Kral leaned forward and activated the com on the small commander’s dash with a tap of his finger. “This is Kral Lilgat Adhoh Shiel’qoin of the Star Cruiser Adire 3, hailing the Al’kieern Space Station.”

Tension licked through the air like a bolt of lightning, and his sekairs flipped up, the tips primed with poison.

Silence ticked on so long, he worried his naanans would gray while he waited. Would the Al’kieern answer?

When a crackle came through the speaker, Kral’s only response was the twitch of his finger on the armrest.

“You are outside your territory, Star Cruiser Adire 3.” The grating inflection of the voice indicated an Al’kieern, not a droid, was giving the reply.

“I have come for the Earthling woman you hold aboard your vessel,” Kral stated in a voice edged with steel. “You will transfer her to my star cruiser immediately.”

“You have no jurisdiction here, Adire 3.”

They did not deny having her onboard.

The Al’kieern’s use of jurisdiction was a stall tactic. Kral’s fingers flew across the small screen in front of him, running scans that would show any transfer activity outside the main station. A 3D holoimage of the station appeared above the screen, but no ships approached or left the multi-level space station other than a distant cruiser that was passing through the outer quadrant and likely unrelated to the space station.

Kral’s lips twisted, and he bared his fangs. “The Crakairian Earth contracts say we have jurisdiction,” he said dryly. “Hand over the woman.”

“There is no woman here,” the voice sneered. “Look elsewhere if you are desperate for a breeder.”

Kral’s growl echoed in the small room. He rose and limped back and forth. “I will have to board the station.” But how? They’d see him transfer on board and capture him before he could search even one level of the enormous vessel. And the action would be seen as aggression, something he wished to avoid.

“Sir, if I may?” the RX74 droid said. “I am not able to detect an inflection in the Al’kieern’s voice that indicates he is lying. Are we confident this human female is the one you seek?”

Kral held up his palm, displaying the mark that had burned across the surface when as he’d approached the station.

“A matebond symbol, Sir,” the droid said, leaving the console and approaching Kral. It peered up at him.

“This tells me Mila is on the space station,” Kral said. “Even more, I know this in my bones.”

“If I may offer a suggestion, then?” the droid said. At Kral’s nod, the droid continued. “There could be a way, one that has a twenty-eight percent chance of success, but there are inherent risks.”

“Tell me,” Kral said, rubbing his thigh.

“We are testing a new cloaking system,” RX74 said.

Kral’s breath whooshed out. “We already cloak ships. This is not new. And they know we are here already.”

“Yes, we cloak ships,” the droid said. “Normal cloaking technology has a ninety-eight percent success rate.” Its mechanical arms splayed out. “Our latest venture includes cloaking individuals and transferring them from one location to another. The system still produces more error than accuracy, which is why the Crakairian High Council has asked us to continue our studies before trialing with larger subjects than hand-sized creelets. The small creatures appear better able to withstand the transfer.”

“I will do it,” Kral said. His hand went to the hilt of his broadsword as it always did when agitation coursed through him. His gaze met the droid’s. “Now.”

Kral checked to ensure he had strapped on his other weapons, but it was a gesture for reassurance, not because he had doubts. A Vikir never left the clan unless he was fully armed.

“I should add that your odds of successfully assaulting the station and surviving an attack are less than twenty-two percent,” RX74 said. “The odds of rescuing the Earth female, assuming we are correct in our assumption that she is on board the station, are less than twelve percent, depending on where she is being held.”

A leader should let others take on situations like this, not do them himself, but Kral had no choice. He could not send droids and risk harming Mila.

“Why have the tests failed?” Kral asked.

“We experience a technical error,” the droid said. “Our transfers are smooth. The test subjects arrive safely, but the cloaking mechanism does not withstand the transfer for more than a few seclars. That is the true flaw we have been unable to isolate and fix.”

“Then it is not a true cloaking,” Kral said, his frustration bleeding through his voice. Each seclar he waited was one less he had to locate Mila. If the station raised full shields, he’d have no choice but to attack.

“But it is a true cloaking,” the droid said, unperturbed by Kral’s irritation. But it wouldn’t be upset. Droids felt nothing. Their ability to complete tasks without letting emotions cloud their judgment was why they were used extensively by the spacefleet. Most star cruisers were staffed with only a few Crakairians and the rest droids. “In our trials, the creelet is transferred from one vessel to the other without detection.”

Kral stepped toward the droid. “You are saying you can cloak me and transfer me into the station, and they will not see me arrive, however—“

“Within seclars, the subject is no longer cloaked,” the droid said. “We would, of course, if you chose to take this option, transfer you to the safest location possible.”

“A stairwell. Or somewhere in maintenance.” He stiffened his spine. “I am ready.”

The matebond symbol on his right palm pulsed. He was losing his ability to think rationally when his mate’s life was in danger. Yet this wasn’t about possession or promises made between distant planets. Or even about making an heir, though after meeting the Earthling females at one of the other matched Crakairian male’s home, the idea of fucking with an Earth woman intrigued him. This was about ensuring a vulnerable person under his care was safe. Protecting her to show he would not fail another.

“I will also mention, Sir, that there are other options,” RX74 said.

“Name them.”

“You could send a droid in your place.”

Kral never trusted others to do something he needed to do himself. A lost droid could be replaced, but if the Al’kieern caught and eliminated the droid, they would be wary. The element of surprise would be lost. “Not an option.”

With a surprising huff, the droid continued. “There are three other star cruisers within seven daela’s travel. With a full force, the Al’kieerns will have no choice but to back down and hand over the woman.”

“Even one daela could be too late,” Kral said. “How long until you can complete the transfer?”

“It will take ten minars to cloak you, but only seclars for the transfer.”

A blink of the eye, then.

Kral bowed. “I am ready.”

“I should mention the other minor issue we have seen with transferred creelets.”

“What?”

“Two percent lose consciousness within seclars of arrival.”

Two percent was nothing. “I will take that chance.”

Five

Mila

After almost getting caught—again—in the hall, Mila evaded the Al’kieern by racing along the obstacle course she’d mapped out within hours of breaking free. The course included climbing through ceiling ductwork and shimmying on her belly beneath rows of supply cabinets. After she was confident she’d lost them, she scurried to her hiding spot in the back of the maintenance room.

Hours later, she crept back out, because…

Mila was determined to take her first bath since she’d been kidnapped, and nothing was going to stop her from sinking into the water and soaking for at least an hour. She’d wash her hair! Shave her pits with one of the knives she’d stolen from the kitchen. And then she’d soak some more.

Lugging the final bucket of water, she scooted sideways and shimmied between the pile of wood and the wall, snarling when she caught her shirt on the edge of one of the boards. With a huff, she broke off the sliver of wood and scowled at the new hole in her shirt. She’d stolen two complete outfits over the past few days, but they were wearing out fast. At this rate, she’d be naked in no time.

The clothing hung off her body because it wasn’t made for humans. She’d discovered if she knotted the extra sleeves around her middle and ignored the holes in the back that were made for wings, she could move okay. As for the pants—with a hole for a tail she did not possess—she rolled them up to her knees.

Alien capris, right?

She snapped off the splinter and pocketed it in case she needed it later. Her heavy sigh rang out. While the woodpile made a great cover for her hidey-hole, who needed wood in space? Outside of building material—which made no sense as everything on the station was made of plastic, or burning wood in a fire pit, what use was all this stuff?

After Firefly showed her the tiny compartment in the back of the room, she’d cleaned it out, distributing the items here and there so it appeared casual, and then slowly collected possessions over the past three days. Her two outfits. A hunk of foam that served as a bed. Oddly enough, two towels—which made decent blankets. And knives from the kitchen. If only she could steal one of the zapper sticks they’d used on her and Lily. Then she could knock out the Al’kieern when they got too close.

In the back of her compartment, she’d found a flat half-barrel that vaguely resembled a horse drinking trough. She’d evicted the spiders. It figured even spiders existed in space. Couldn’t avoid those babies by leaving Earth, now could she?

Yesterday, during her exploration of the ship, she’d located a bucket. Huge score right there.

She opened the door to the small room and scooted inside, where she poured her tenth bucket of water into the tub, making it full enough water would slosh around Mila’s waist while she sat. The water was relatively warm, a bonus. The last time she’d done a quick wash—two days ago at the janitor’s sink—only cold would come out of the faucet. This time, she’d lucked out with tepid.

After stripping, she climbed into the tub and sank back against the side with a groan.

“Oh, shit, this feels wonderful,” she said. Using her fingers, she washed from top to bottom. Then she rinsed her hair a second time until it squeaked.

Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back and relaxed. “Damn, this is awesome. No bath bomb, but I’m not complaining. Who would have thought a simple bath could feel so wonderful?”

A soft sound made her pause, and her eyes slit open.

Gulp.

A tall, green alien male dressed in furs that barely covered his chest and tight black leather pants had appeared at the foot of her tub like he’d been beamed into the room. His dark gaze traveled down her body, taking in her boobs peeking above the waterline.

She slunk lower, but that only lifted her crotch higher.

Shit.

Like she’d pressed it against a hot stove, her right palm burned.

“Ouch!” She flipped her hand over, and her mouth dropped when she saw a gleaming gold symbol appearing on her palm.

She’d read about these before.

A matebond brand.

“What…?” How had it appeared on her palm? She’d assumed women were marked in some way once they’d agreed to stay and marry their Crakairian mate, because magically appearing symbols only existed in fantasy books. They didn’t appear just because she’d met some random, green alien guy.

“Dreafillar,” the dude said gruffly. His lips curled back, revealing sizeable fangs, and he gave her a short, courtly bow that was oddly appealing despite his caveman outfit.

“I, um…” Damn, she was stuttering, but she couldn’t seem to force words out of her mouth. She should be screaming, though that would be stupid when she was in hiding. Or she should be jumping from the tub and grabbing one of her knives. In fact, she…

Wait.

Dreafillar—the Crakairian greeting from one mate to another.

“Since there is no protocol droid near to make the introductions,” he said, staggering to the side before righting himself. “I must do so…myself.” He bowed again. “I am Kral Leglette…” He frowned. “No. I am Kral Lilgat Adhoh…Shiel’qoin. I have come to rescue you, Mila Theresa Dunkirk.”

Her jaw remained ajar. “This is…“ Highly unusual. Wild and exciting.

Weirdly erotic.

Realizing he was still studying her naked body, she slapped her hands over her crotch then moved them up to her boobs. If only she had three hands to cover all the bases.

“How did you get here?” she asked, her voice coming out wispy.

“I have…” Blinking, he frowned, and his thick eyebrows wedged together. Large scales on his shoulders lifted and fell, fluttering in agitation. His deep black pupils encircled with Caribbean blue widened. “I have…”

What was happening?

“Are you okay?” she asked. Maybe he needed rescuing more than her.

“I am sorry, but…” His eyes rolled back in his head, and his arms collapsed at his sides. With a soft hiss, he keeled forward.

He landed on top of her, and water sloshed over the sides of the tub.

Six

Kral

Kral woke with his nose pressed between the mounds on Mila’s chest and his right hand buried between her thighs.

For a minar, he couldn’t remember what had happened or how he had ended up on top of her. Oh. The transfer. Losing consciousness. Falling forward. Of course he would be among the two percent.

Matebond blood surged through his veins, and his body heated in response to her sweet scent and soft flesh beneath him.

Heille.

Embarrassment clogged his veins for the first time in yaros.

“I am sorry,” he mumbled gruffly, his fangs grazing her skin. She smelled like jinjin fruit on a warm summer’s day. “I… I am not in full control of my actions.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I…the transfer.”

After meeting Earth women and seeing their differences when compared to Crakairian females, he’d looked forward to discovering if hair felt like naanans. And if Earthlings were all as petite as Lily, Sadie, and Evie. He’d also teased himself with the possibility of viewing his future mate’s chest mounds.

He stared at her chest, and he discovered the cloaked transfer may have messed with his tongue in addition to his mind. “Crakairian females do not possess such unusual appendages. I have heard of the fleshy lumps. They are called…beasts? Yes, that is it. Beasts.” He was not sure why they would be called that, but what did he know? They could be beastly.

She snorted. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Anyway,” he said. “I have heard they are for suckling an infant. So odd. Crakairian females feed their young through fleshy tubes that emerge from their abdomen after birth.”

“I see,” she said. She flicked her hand toward him. “You um…”

He’d also looked forward to touching her unscaled skin, but never like this.

“Hey, you’re not moving. Are you okay?” she asked. Her hands fluttered beside his head, but she didn’t touch. “You fell. You were unconscious there for a minute. I, um, couldn’t move.”

He grunted and, as he shifted on top of her, his fangs grazed the soft tissue on the top of her right beast. A small, pink nub pebbled in the center. Had he caused this possibly unwelcome action?

“Kral?” She squirmed beneath him.

He grunted again and shook his head, hoping to clear it. His naanans appeared to have a will of their own. They glided along her arms and neck, and one teased across her left beast, aiming for the pebble.

She moaned softly, and when he looked up, her pupils had widened.

“What…what…?” she said. “You… This can’t be happening.”

“Me?” He studied her flustered face, unsure why she appeared upset. Well, other than the fact he was lying on top of her.

“Yes, you.” Her hands dropped onto his shoulders and stroked. Perhaps realizing what she was doing, she lifted them quickly again, holding them aloft. “Is swan diving on top of a potential mate part of the courtship rituals?” Humor danced in her voice.

“No. I am terribly sorry.” Hands braced on the sides of the tub, he lifted himself, but he couldn’t stop staring down at her. “I introduced myself, did I not? I cannot remember.”

A smile twitched across her lips. “Yes, you did introduce yourself.”

“Good.” While the setting was unusual, he dipped his head forward to continue the first stage of courtship. “Dreafillar.”

Since Mila was lifting her head at the same time, their foreheads banged together.

“Ow,” she groaned, rubbing the circle of redness blooming on her pale skin.

“Again, I am terribly sorry.” Embarrassment crashed through him, and he broke out in a sweat.

He’d come here to rescue his mate, and now she would tell him she was not interested in being courted by a bumbling Vikir warrior. Heille, he could not unscramble his brain enough to get off her. The star cruiser droid had been right. “I am among the two percent who lose consciousness after a cloaked transfer and apparently, one who also loses his inhibitions.”

She blinked slowly. “Two percent, you say?”

He dipped his head, being careful to avoid impacting it with hers. “I am sure my inhibitions will return to full force soon.”

“I’ll…look forward to that.”

Did he hear laughter in her voice? He couldn’t tell, and it was best not to assume.

“Maybe you should…uh…” Her hand flicked between them. “Get off me?”

“Oh, yes.” He tried to shift sideways to climb out of the tub, but their feet tangled together. His wounded leg spasmed, sending his foot shooting along the bottom of the metal surface. His hands slid off the sides of the tub, and he flopped back down on top of her again.

The air whooshed out of her lungs.

“I do apologize,” he groaned. He pulled his fingers out from between her legs. As he lifted his hand to reach for the side of the tub again, it brushed the pebble on her beast. “I mean…” He frowned, trying to make his mind work.

“Kral,” she moaned. “This…This…”

While mortification had become his best friend, his cock had decided finding her lying beneath him meant he could bypass the courtship and marriage and get right to the fucking. He had a steel bar in his pants.

“Oh, shit.” Her cornling blue eyes widened. “Fuck. You’re turned on by this?”

“You are not?” No. He had not said that. Please.

“Um, probably not.” Her cheeks grew as red as the mark on her forehead.

A bloosh. That was what it was called. “You are blooshing. Human skin colors when the person is…embarrassed.”

“Okay, shit, maybe I’m a little turned on by all this? But it’s just…the moment. Me. You. All this wetness. Let alone that pipe in your pants.” Her eyes half-closed. “I’m dreaming, right? That’s what this is. I fell asleep in the tub and I’m having the most amazing dream about an alien dude who says he’s Kral. This isn’t real. You’re not real. It’s not real.”

“I am real. As is…it.” He slid his tongue along his lower lip, eager to taste her. He needed to stop this train of thought immediately.

“Your tongue,” she said. “Damn. It’s forked on the end. And long.”

“There are many uses for my tongue.”

“I bet there are.”

He swore he heard sarcasm in her voice, but he must be mistaken. He needed to get off her, rescue her, take her to his ship, and lie down until his brain cleared.

She squirmed beneath him. “Okay, dream alien. Time to get out of the tub.”

“You are right.” His black naanans were long, a few reaching nearly to his waist. While he reached for the sides of the tub again, two naanans drifted to her beasts. The pebbles, they intrigued him.

“Perhaps your beasts are for more than a youngling’s sucking,” he said before he could shut off his tongue.

“Honey, don’t you know it.” She rolled her eyes. “Talk about an introduction, dude.”

“I am Kral. Your mate. Not dude, though if you wish to use dude as a pet name for me, I will allow it.”

“You will, huh?” He did not miss the irony in her voice. “Dude isn’t a pet name.”

“You may call me whatever you wish. Even this…honey? That means sweet bee juices.”

She frowned before her face cleared, and she laughed. “That’s you for sure. Sweet bee juices.”

“I am happy to have given you a reason to smile,” he said. “Even if it means I am called bee juices.”

Her snort of laughter made her body shake. “I can’t say that I’ve ever had a first date like this before.”

“First date.” It came out as a statement, not a question. He liked that they were already proceeding with the courtship. He had greeted her correctly. Once they were back on his ship, he could proceed with the rest of the rituals.

Although… While there were no zithers in the water, this was very close to a zither bath.

“Soon, I must emulse your feet with the boodler,” he said, thinking of the next step in his courtship.

“I’ll…look forward to it.” She grinned, and he found the fang-less gesture enthralling.

He had made her smile, no one else.

Taking care, he climbed out of the tub, trying not to put too much pressure on his leg that throbbed dully. As he stood, water beaded on his furs and drizzled down his pants, pooling on the floor. Not the way he had intended to look when meeting his mate for the first time, but she had been kidnapped. They were on an enemy space station and needed to escape.

At least his head was clearing.

He bowed and swept out his arm. “As I said, I have come to rescue you, Mila Theresa Dunkirk.”

She held up a finger. “Hold that thought. I need to get dressed before we go any further.” Her gaze fell to his pants. “Jeez, I guess I wasn’t far off with the 3D printed dildos.” When her eyes met his, she smiled. “Is it purple?”

He did not know what a dildo was or what she was asking, but he was eager to please her, especially after messing things up by falling on top of her. “Yes, purple.”

“All the time or just when it’s…” Her gaze drilled his groin. “Enlarged.”

Oh… “Not purple.” He rubbed his arm. “I am a rich green all over my body.” He reached for the fastener of his pants. “Would you like to see?”

“Slow down,” she said with widened eyes. She fanned her face. He did not understand how she could be overheated when the room was cold. Especially for someone wet like him. “Hold the cock show for later, okay? If you’ll turn around, I’ll get out of the tub.”

“I have already seen—”

“Kral.” Warning rang out in her voice.

He spun to face the wall. Earthling females. Were all of them as complex as his mate?

Splashes were followed by rustling.

“Give me a sec to dry off and dress, and then we can move forward with your rescue,” she said.

Did he hear teasing in her voice? He gnashed his fangs, wishing he could interpret her current tone. In the ten yaros since his parents had died, he’d struggled to feel confident, respected, and in control.

Now one slip of an Earthling woman sent him spiraling in every direction. He’d enjoyed touching her, and he had enjoyed their playful conversation in the tub. But he didn’t like feeling this unsettled. His belly fluttered worse than an aspila tree in a stiff wind.

He heard more shifting of material. “I appreciate you showing up, by the way,” she said.

“You are my mate.” What else would he do?

“What if you’d popped into the room and found Taylor or Lily here instead of me?”

“Lily is with her mate, Jorg.”

“Really?” Mila shouted, and he read relief and happiness in her voice. “She is?”

“Yes. Really.”

“I am so glad. What about Tay?”

He assumed she meant Taylor, the third of the group kidnapped. “Wulf is seeking her at this minar.”

“Her Crakairian match. Cool. Things are suddenly looking up.”

“Wulf is my friend. He is very dedicated.” There was no one else Kral would ask to cover his back. “As we approached this station, a ship with a human female and one other life form flew toward Yarris, the planet beneath us. Wulf took a shuttle and followed. Assuming this is Taylor, he will locate her and bring her to Crakair.”

“Do you think it was her?”

“I do.”

“You don’t know how good hearing this makes me feel.” Her voice choked off. “I’ve been worried about them. I looked everywhere on the station but couldn’t find them.”

“Taylor will soon be safe.” He had to trust in this. Had Wulf located his mate already?

When Kral returned to his ship, he assumed there would be a message from Wulf waiting.

Her gasp rang out. “Whoa. That’s quite a sword you have there. I just noticed it.”

He tapped the handle sticking out from the sheath lying along his spine. “This is a titar sword, made of trinar steel.” Not many Vikir carried a weapon made for fighting a vengeance, but Kral had sworn to keep it with him after his parent’s death. It was one of the few things he’d found among the smoldering ruins of their home and had been his father’s.

Mila stepped closer and traced her finger along the sheath, making it shift subtly on his back. “And you wear this thing wherever you go?”

“It is a weapon, made to be worn. It is made to be used in battle.”

“Let’s hope things don’t come to that.” She paused. “You know how to use it, I assume.”

Did she think he would carry it with him at all times if he did not know how to use it? “Yes.”

“If we run into any Al’kieern, will you impale them for me?”

He sighed, still unsure about her tone. “Trust I will defend you to the death.”

“Good.”

“Are you finished dressing?”

“Almost.” She tapped the sheath again. “How do you sit with this thing riding on your back? You’re pretty much a scaly green Conan the Barbarian, from your leather pants to your fur shirt, to this sword.”

Conan? “I am Kral.”

She snorted. “Yup. One-hundred percent Kral.”

“You like this.” His voice deepened, and he held his breath while he waited for her answer. Would she share?

“Yes. I do.” The words came out raspy.

His cock twitched, and he was eager to feel her beneath him again. But she was right. Now was not the correct time. “The sheath accommodates movement, even when sitting.”

“That’s good.” She snickered. “I’d hate to think of you stabbing your ass.”

Truly? She had to be joking. “Are you finished?” he growled, biting back his impatience. He wanted to see her. He needed to read her face, assuming that was even possible.

“Almost. Hold your horses.”

“I do not have horses, whatever they are.”

“Nope, just a giant sword hanging down your back.”

He said nothing, though his hands flexed at his sides. How long did it take one slight woman to don clothing?

“Hold your horses means the same as don’t get your panties in a wad, though that’s a bit more derogatory than the horse comment.”

“Panties…” To what did she refer? “What are panties?”

“I guess you could say they’re a bit like a garlong. Isn’t that what Crakairian men wear?”

“We wear them during courtship.” Sadly, he had not brought one with him. Could he improvise?

“I’ve read about garlongs,” she said.

Did she speak with anticipation or did the prospect now fill her with fear? She didn’t sound frightened, but he’d quickly come to believe that Earth women were complex. Highly appealing.

Fascinating.

“If you wish, I will wear the panties for you,” he vowed. “Soon.”

She sputtered.

“Are you ill?” he asked.

“Why would you as a question like that?” she asked through her laughter.

“You keep making a snorting sound.”

“Oh. Nope. I’m not ill. I’m just…enjoying myself. Never thought I’d say that while I’m trapped on a space station, but I am. Meeting you has been a lot of fun for me.”

After his parents died, he’d spent months wracked with pain, slowly healing. His Aunt Riella had done all she could to comfort him. She’d given him a place in her home, done what she could to help him heal, and even gone so far as to call him her substitute son. But the moment he’d recovered enough to get around—somewhat—he’d been asked to assume leadership of the clan, a role he’d inherited from his father. Although, his cousin would have inherited the role if he had perished with his father.

Kral’s parents had died while he’d lived, and he’d decided at that minar to take life seriously. There’d be no more running with the other younglings—he couldn’t run any longer, anyway—and no having fun.

But he liked that he could bring his mate joy.

“You can wear anything you want other than panties.” More laughter spilled into her voice. “Girls wear panties. Guys wear…boxers. Most of them that is.”

How did a box equate with panties or garlongs?

English was a confusing language.

“Okay,” she said brightly. “I’m dressed. You can turn around. Then we can get the hell out of here.”

He spun and took all of her in.

His mate was petite and curvy. Lush and inviting. Her hair, the color of rich tricar wood, was still damp, but it gleamed. Her blue eyes sparkled. Tiny spikes outlined her eyes, and she fluttered them. Eyebashes. Yes, that was what they were called. And she had thin bushy lines above her eyes that begged his touch.

So much hair. Someday soon, when he had finished courting her, they would be full mates, and he could touch her hair. Touch her.

He’d never dreamed a human could be this appealing.

The smile she gave him made his chest ache. “So, let’s get this rescue started. I’ve been looking forward to something like this but was afraid I’d be hiding out here for the next ten years before it happened.”

He winced. “I arrived as soon as possible.”

“Oh, you don’t hear me complaining.” She snickered. “Interesting arrival, but we’ll work with it.”

What did that mean?

Kral had never been a person who believed in instant attraction for another. Yet here he was, eager to do whatever it took to please Mila.

His mate.

“I will need to hold you while we transfer back to my ship,” he said gruffly.

“Cool.”

He blinked. “I promise my arms are warm.”

“It’s another phrase.”

“Oh, yes. I understand. Cool means delightful—“

She laughed. “Yup, sure.”

“The opposite would be warm?”

“Hot.” Her word came out breathy yet she had not been exerting herself. “That’s the opposite of cool.” Her gaze skimmed down his front, and she fanned herself.

“If hot is the opposite of cool, it means…”

“You.” The word came out of her like she was admitting something she preferred to hold back.

He tilted his head, trying to scent her meaning in the air. He caught a hint of lust, but that was to be expected with the matebond blood.

“You are attracted to me as you should be,” he said with a nod.

“Arrogant much?”

“It is true, is it not, my mate?” He advanced toward her.

She backed up a step. “Maybe.”

“You are.” He knew it.

With redness staining her cheeks, she huffed. “Now hold on a—”

“I am grateful you feel this way because I feel the same.”

Her shoulders deflated. “You do? I mean…” Her hand fluttered at her sides. “This is all so sudden, and we sure got off to a weird start, but I guess we are matched. It’s expected we’ll get along. That’s what the computers say.” Her face got redder.

This…bloosh. He liked that his human female gave him signals, because he was beyond perplexed by much of what she said.

“Just, um…” She flicked her hand through the air. “Hot is good.”

“I am good?” He strode closer to her, and his voice deepened. “I would like to be better than good. I would like to be cool.”

“Then get me out of this rust bucket and proceed with the courtship. We can talk about how hot and cool you are after that.”

He would never understand his mate.

She advanced until they almost touched. Her scent, sweet yet with hints of cinter, teased his sense. Heat poured through him, fed by the matebond blood. He would need to be patient until he had completed the courtship and proposed.

Fuck that, his body growled.

“Fucking. Yes,” he whispered.

She winked. “So soon? You just got here.” Her laughter pealed, but she sobered when he didn’t join in. He wanted to, but he didn’t know how. His stoic side competed with a spark deep within him that shouted he should laugh along with her. “Are you okay?” she asked. Her fingertip rose to tease one of his naanans, and he froze. His eyes closed against his will, and he groaned. “I’m sorry. Did that hurt? I shouldn’t touch you without asking first.”

He captured her hand in his and held it in place. “It feels…good.”

“You like it,” she said with awe.

“Naanans are highly sensual.”

“Ah.” She winced. “So I just groped you.”

“Groped…?”

“I guess it means I touched you in an inappropriate manner. Kind of like when your hand slid between my legs and your naanans…touched my nipples.” Her breath caught. “For what it’s worth, I’m looking forward to your courtship.”

His gaze caught hers. “Truly?”

“Truly,” she whispered.

“Then let us get to my ship.” He held out his arms, and she stepped into his embrace. It felt good. Right.

No, it felt hot. Cool. Whatever.

“Kral,” she said, her voice slightly muffled against his chest.

“Yes?” He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her in his arms. Could he hold her forever?

“Kral.” Her voice came out more insistent.

His eyes opened. “Yes?”

“Should my arms be around you, too? Is that why we’re still in my hidey-hole and not on your ship?”

“If you wish,” he breathed.

“You’re the one in charge of the situation.”

Was he? Or was she?

Her arms went around his waist, and she snuggled closer. “You’re damp, but you still smell good.”

Heille. He was coming undone by a tiny wisp of an Earthly woman. He liked it. But he needed to get her to safety, and could not be found here in her hole of hidey.

With a tap, he engaged his com, initiating the transfer sequence.

Nothing happened.

Mila shifted in his arms. “Is this a time-delayed thing?”

He tapped his com harder, but they remained inside the metal box.

Seven

Mila

“We will need to leave your hole of hidey and venture into the main part of the ship,” Kral said with complete seriousness.

Hole of hidey. The way he twisted English was cute and sexy, all at the same time. Should she correct him? She’d never enjoyed it when someone pointed out her mistakes. It made her face heat up; as if she should be well-versed in something she had no knowledge of. The last thing she wanted to do was make him feel silly when he was trying to be a hero and rescue her. Sometimes, guys were as fragile as newborn deer. Was Kral one of those guys?

He came across beyond arrogant, but she sensed a softer side that was highly appealing.

When his hand had slid between her legs. And his naanans had landed on her breasts…

She growled. It was best not to think about him stroking her body.

While an Earth guy might have taken advantage of the moment—they’d been wet and she was naked!—she’d found it oddly appealing that he’d mostly behaved.

She needed to forget the feel of his fingers between her legs and think up a plan to get them out of here. This was the weirdest rescue she’d ever seen—on TV, that is. Who started a rescue by passing out on the girl they were trying to save?

He squinted at the silvery steel walls and ceiling that made up her tiny home. “The material must be blocking the signal to my ship.”

“Were you trying to hail the ship I saw out a window earlier?” she asked.

“This is possible.” His thick brows drew together, the scales seamlessly shifting with the movement. He had no hair there, just prominent ridges. Plus his naanans, thick, dreadlock-like appendages encircling her shoulders like his arms still did her waist. One of the naanans teased along her nape, and she swore she felt a subtle vibration. She must be mistaken. They were thick strands of moveable…sort of hair; nothing else. She couldn’t forget he’d said they were sensual. Jeez. Could she get her brain off the idea of steamy stuff for even one second?

“When you looked out the window, did you see an Adire Class Star Cruiser?” he asked.

“I’m no better at identifying star cruisers than airplanes. It was a ship. Silver. Shiny. It appeared, like in a sci-fi movie. It was invisible, and then it wasn’t.”

“We de-cloaked.”

Oh, cool. “Like Star Trek.”

“Yes, we will trek across the stars, my mate,” he said, all burly and gruff. By the way he spoke, he almost sounded shy. Did he worry she might not like him? If she’d been in his position and had passed out on top of someone she hoped to impress and then groped the person, she’d be hiding her head in a corner. Her face would be so hot, she would be able to fry an egg on it.

Aw. She liked seeing this inside peek into Kral. It made him even more appealing than he already was. Yeah, he was as sexy as an alien god, but inside, he appeared to be a regular guy meeting a woman he’d been matched with and maybe—like her—hoping something wonderful could come from it.

“Take me to where you saw the ship,” he said. “With an unfettered view, we might be able to transfer on board.”

“Beam us up, right? That’s the Star Trek way.”

“Yes, beam us up.” His dark eyes sparkled, and he bared his fangs. Some girls might find the two-inch fangs scary, but Mila found them an incredible turn-on, like she was dating a vampire who’d be careful not to drain all her blood. She did hope he liked to bite, because that would be hot. When they’d grazed across her breasts earlier…

Do not think about this now!

“I’ll take you there,” she said as seriously as she could. When his arms tightened around her, she peered up at him. Man, he was tall. The top of her head came to where he’d have nipples, if Crakairians had them. “Do we need to be hugging until we get to the window?”

His arms loosened, but he didn’t release her. “No.”

He sounded reluctant to let her go, which was flattering for a short, slightly overweight—okay, plump—woman. Back on Earth, she’d yet to meet a guy who wanted to hold her all the time. Or any of the time, for that matter.

“Stay close,” he said, taking her hand.

Their symbols touched, and sparks flew through her, centering between her legs.

She gaped at him. “What did you do? Do you have magical pheromones you dispense when our hands touch?”

The flash of his fangs suggested he was devilishly satisfied. His chest puffed. “This is our matebond blood speaking to us. We will need to proceed with the courtship, marriage, and fucking soon, or it will overwhelm us.”

Heaven help her, but she liked the idea of being overwhelmed.

“Hold the latter part of that statement, Kral, and back up a second. I don’t think human women have matebond blood. It’s regular old O positive on my end.” Courtship, marriage, fucking. Talk about speaking plainly.

Lifting her hand, he kissed her knuckles. “We are mated. This is how it will be between us always. Soon, you will not be able to resist me.”

She could barely resist him now. But she hadn’t read about this endless craving she’d have for him. She’d been told this bond thing might happen and if it did, it meant they were fated mates or something like that, but she hadn’t heard about feeling an overwhelming urge to fuck him.

Which she did.

He dipped his head, almost colliding with hers again. “This is how it will be. I am Vikir, a very old race. The blood surges strongly in my race. It has been transmitted to you.”

“Urge for what?” She shook her head before he could answer. “Never mind all that.” She knew. Jeez, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. His fingers, the uninhibited feelings that had poured through her. “We can talk about this when we’re not facing a great escape.”

“We will leave now.” His gaze scanned her small room as if seeking threats before he tugged her toward the door. “Tell me what is outside the entrance of your hidey.”

“A big pile of wood. We’ll have to turn sideways and shimmy along to get out from behind it. This compartment is in the back of a long maintenance supply room. That means you’ll find tools, construction equipment, and barrels filled with miscellaneous building supplies. No clue what they’re doing with it.”

“They are building a colony on Yarris.”

Okay. “That’s the planet I’ve seen out the windows?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s habitable. Does anyone live there already?”

“No biped species anyone is aware of.”

“You mean beings that walk on two legs.”

He frowned. “From what I have heard, there are plenty of other…creatures roaming the planet, but no bipeds.”

“Yet they’re settling on the surface.”

He shrugged. “The planet has many natural resources.”

“It’s always about money, isn’t it?” Just like on Earth.

“Many times.”

She reached for the door. “If we’re in luck, everyone has left the station and is working at the construction site on Yarris.”

“We know that is not true, but I will protect you.” He placed his clenched fist against his heart. “You will be safe soon.”

A smile curled her lips. “Thanks. How long will it take to get to Crakair once we’re on your ship?”

“The equivalent of five daelas.”

“Five days isn’t long.”

“My ship has hyper drive.”

“Do you travel a lot? I ask since you have a ship.” Would he be gone a lot, leaving her with people she didn’t know? That might be unsettling.

“I borrowed the ship from Commander Vork.”

“I don’t know him.” She frowned.

“He is a Crakairian mated to an Earth female. Evelyn. Evie. I met her before I left Crakair, as well as other Earth women.”

She worried her lower lip. “Are they happy together?”

“They seem to be. When we arrive on Crakair, I will arrange for you to meet them and you may ask them yourself.”

That eased her concern somewhat. Sure, it was intimidating to travel to a distant planet to marry a man she’d never met, especially an alien dude she hadn’t met, but she wasn’t scared or she wouldn’t have volunteered for the Extraterrestrial Matchmaking Service. This was an adventure, a chance to start a new life. She was like the women who had traveled out west in the 1800s, not knowing what might await her around the next bend in the trail but boldly striding forward to meet it.

As she pulled the board away and grabbed the latch, his free hand rose to his sword, and he pulled it from the sheath.

Definitely Conan.

“They have black sticks that work like Tasers,” she said with a shudder. “One touch and you’re out like a light.”

“I have seen them.” He hefted his sword, and an edge of steel gleamed in his eyes. “They will not touch us.”

“Easier said than done.” She gave him a curt nod. “Stick with me, and I’ll get us where we need to be. After that, it’ll be up to you to get us off the station.”

“You will remain safely at my back.”

He was cute, if a bit arrogant. Stern and stoic, yet bumbling. Such a strange combination. It was endearing. If such a thing was possible in a seven-foot-tall scaly green guy sporting muscles on his muscles. She liked the mix. Given time, and she could maybe love it. Love him, which was a weird notion considering she’d just met him.

On Earth, she never would’ve dared approach a guy like him. He was hot, unbelievably sexy, and he made her heart flutter. When he’d held her, butterflies flung themselves around in her belly like bumper cars. She wanted to stroke her fingertips across his skin to see if the scales were flexible or rigid. His naanan had been lightly furry yet solid, a segmented, flexible band. But she wanted to touch them again, too.

“Maybe I should lead,” she said. “Since I know where we’re going.”

He bowed slightly. “For now, I will follow.”

“And cover my back, right?”

His gaze darted to her ass. “I will watch your back at all times.”

Her face heated. He wasn’t looking at her big butt.

Was he?

Oh, God. Did he think it was too large? She wouldn’t ask. She’d never be able to ask. But still.

Please don’t let him look at her thighs.

“We’ll have to be very quiet once we’re out of the room,” she said. “I haven’t seen anyone in the storage section during the daylight hours, but I’ve heard them moving around at night, packing things up, and bringing new things in.” The hall was even busier, with traffic flowing almost 24/7. She’d almost been caught multiple times.

Too many nights, she’d lain on her pitiful bed shivering, hoping they wouldn’t discover that the steel cabinet in the back had become her Hilton hotel suite. If they’d investigated, they would’ve caught her. Poked her again with needles. Then sold her to the highest bidder.

“I’ve lived here in my little hidey-hole for three days, and I’m desperate to keep them from discovering it.” Her gaze met his, and the understanding there made her knees weaken. When he squeezed her hand, she knew. He recognized how she was feeling. Best of all, he didn’t mock her for her fear of revealing her location.

“I will not speak when we cross the outer room,” he said softly.

She nodded, biting her lower lip. Damn, her eyes were watering.

“Mila.” He said her name in a sigh.

“What?” She couldn’t look at him, because she knew where this was going.

“I am sorry I did not arrive sooner.”

“Better late than never, right?” Jeez, she’d been strong for a week and, once she’d escaped, she’d survived on her own. Why was she falling apart now?

“We have one moment before we must leave, do we not?”

They did. As long as they stayed here, they were safe. Mostly. This had become her sanctuary, the only place she could retreat to where she could let down her guard for one second. When she was foraging or out on the floors looking for her friends, she had to remain on high alert.

“Sure.” She glanced up at him, biting back tears. Why did she feel like she needed a good cry? Her chest ached, and her throat had choked off. She hated that she was giving in to her feelings.

He gathered her into his arms. “Mila.”

“Don’t say it,” she said.

“You are safe now.”

There it was. The thing is, she might never be safe again except here at this moment and in Kral’s arms. It humbled her. It gave her hope. And it terrified her. Since her mom left, she’d relied on herself with Dad as her only backup. And then he’d died. No fault on his part. He’d succumbed to the disease like ninety-nine percent of the men on Earth. He’d fought it, told her he’d make it through, but it had sucked him away like life had her mom.

Mila was afraid to love someone that much again.

Or was she? Could she give her heart to Kral, trusting he wouldn’t hurt her like everyone else had in the past?

All she could do was try. She hadn’t signed onto this to give up before she got started. She’d see this through, no matter where it took her.

Easing out of his embrace, she didn’t look up. She couldn’t look up. “Let’s get this show on the road, okay?”

He stroked her hair, his fingertips stilling on the strands. “It is soft. Luscious. I…”

“My hair?” It was hair like any other. A bit curly—okay, frizzy—when it rained. Mostly she bound it up to keep it from interfering in her life.

“I have never felt anything like it,” he said. “It is beautiful. You are beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Her face was hot. Again! She’d blushed more in the past twenty minutes than all of her life combined.

“We will go, but know this,” he said fiercely. “You are no longer alone.”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“You’re going to make me cry again.” She’d just met him and all she kept doing was fall apart.

If she trusted him, and he failed, it could rip her heart to pieces.

Would he hurt her?

“No,” he said.

“You can’t read my mind.”

“I can guess from your face. I see hope. Fear. Vulnerability. Emotions I know very well. But know this, my mate. I will not betray you or give you cause to fear anything again.”

“Kral.”

He bared his fangs. “This is too much and too soon, am I correct?” He pressed his fist to his chest again. “I do not wish to frighten you, but I feel…” His gaze darted from hers. “Is it too soon to say that I feel for you, Mila?”

“What, pity?”

“Never.” He said it like a vow. “I am pleased you are my mate.”

“You’re going to choke me up, and that won’t do us any good. I have to remain alert and on my toes, if we’re going to get through this.”

“Lead on, Mila. I will be with you. For guidance, if you wish, but mostly, to be your sword.” He tapped the handle of the weapon. “With this.” He smacked his upper arm. “With this.” Another fist to his chest. “And with this.”

“Your heart.”

“I believe it could be yours, should you choose to take it.”

“Kral.” She kept breathing his name. His scent. Everything about him overwhelmed her. “I…”

He placed his fingertip over her lips. “No rush. No pressure. Let us get out of this, my mate, and then we will talk.”

She gave him a watery smile. “Thanks. It’s not too soon. Probably. Maybe. Shit, I don’t know.”

He bared his fangs. “It is…shit, but it is also…okay. That is an Earth word. I like it. This—we—will be okay.”

Nodding, she blinked fast to clear her eyes. Time to get this over with. After taking in a deep breath and letting it ease out of her, she stepped into the doorway and paused to listen. When she didn’t hear anything but the usual tick-tick of machinery, she slipped out, moving carefully behind the woodpile.

Kral remained with her, hunkering forward as if he worried he was so tall he’d loom over the woodpile.

When she reached the end of the stack, she dropped to her hands and knees and peeked out from behind the wood, listening.

Everything felt as it should, but she waited to the count of one hundred to make sure all was clear.

Standing, she waved for him to follow as she darted out into the room, heading to the opposite side. She wove around piles of supplies and huge crates filled with who knows what. When she reached the door leading to the hall, she turned to Kral.

“To reach the floor with the windows—and a loading dock, come to think of it—we’ll be out in the open. I try to stay away from that area whenever possible, because it sees more traffic, but there’s no avoiding it altogether if we need to stand in front of the big expanse of windows.”

“You are amazing, surviving on your own for so long.”

Her eyes smarted. She didn’t want to be amazing. She just wanted to feel safe and secure if only for a few hours. Yeah, she’d been able to sleep in her hidden room, but it had been broken sleep with her waking any time she heard a bang or sound that could be someone sneaking up on her.

“You ready?” she said, wiping her eyes.

His hand dropped onto her shoulder, and he squeezed. “I am ready.”

“Stick close, then, okay?”

He nodded.

She eased the door open and carefully peered into the hall.

Shit. A big group of Al’kieern guys mingled out there, along with two tall aliens she hadn’t seen before. They had green skin like a Crakairian, though she couldn’t be sure as the lighting was poor. During the past few days, she’d freed more fireflies, and the Al’kieern had replaced the creatures with cheap lights that barely lit up a two-foot circle around them.

Ducking back into the room, she carefully shut the door and leaned against it, breathing like she’d just run a 100m.

“They’re in the hall.” Panic lifted her voice. “We’ve got to hide.”

“No hiding.” He hefted his sword and snarled. “I will kill them.”

“There are eight or ten of them out there.”

He huffed. “That is nothing. I could kill them all with one eye closed.”

Jeez. Talk about wanting to end his life before it began. She’d just met him. Was starting to like him. Could he hold off on the suicide mission for ten minutes?

“There are also two green guys out there,” she said.

He frowned. “I must see.” Moving around her, he opened the door and poked his head partway out. He backed up and shut the door. “No green guys.”

“They were there.”

“I believe you. Describe them.”

“I only saw their backs. They were tall. Green. And wearing pants and regular shirts.”

“Naanans?”

“I think so, but I can’t remember.”

“Heille.” He paced back and forth, slashing his sword around. It whistled, and she woofed and backed up, though she was confident he wouldn’t hit her. “Who is involved with this? I will kill them, too.”

She shrugged and placed her hand on his arm, bringing him to a halt. “No need for killing, though I appreciate the sentiment. Let’s go back to my room and try later.”

He huffed. “I wish to do this. I will show you my prowess in battle.”

“How about we say you already did, okay?” It was all she could do not to laugh. He came across fierce and protective. The ultimate alien caveman. Either that, or she was giddy from lack of food and sleep. But really, why endanger their lives if they didn’t have to? “I’ll let you loose on them soon enough, I promise.” She doubted they’d get out of here without a fight.

He gave her a curt bow. “If you wish.”

“I do wish.”

He waved for her to go ahead of him, and they trooped back to her hole of hidey. The name was catchy and growing on her. Once inside, she wedged the door shut with a board she’d located for this very purpose.

“If I killed them, we could reach the window and be on our way to Crakair within minars,” he offered again, his sword still in his hand.

“Hold that thought, Cujo, although I love how eager you are to jump in and kill.” What were they going to do? From past experience, she knew the Al’kieern could hang out in the hall for hours. Or they might decide to come inside the storage room and poke through the supplies.

She worried her lower lip with her teeth.

“What is this Cujo?” he asked.

“It’s the name of a rabid dog in a scary book created by a well-known horror author.”

“I like this. Cujo.” He bared his fangs. “You may call me Rabid Kral.”

Her laughter snorted out of her. “Sure thing.” Moving around him, she sat on her bed. “We can wait ten minutes or so and try again.” Maybe in between then they could play…cards.

Because they weren’t playing anything else.

He followed her. Sheathing his sword on his back, he sat too close for her comfort.

Damn, he smelled too good.

The warmth emitting from body snuggled her like the warmest blanket. For the first time in a long time, she could relax. She wasn’t facing this alone.

Mila tipped her head back and closed her eyes. Her brain hurt, and her body was limp and trembling. Freedom had been so close, and it had been snatched away. But it was closer than it had been since she’d been kidnapped and brought to the space station.

Kral stroked her hair and, when she leaned forward, he rubbed her back, making slow circles with just enough pressure to loosen her stiff muscles.

She couldn’t hold back her moan.

“While we wait,” he said in a gravelly voice near her ear. His breath tickled, but she liked it. “We will talk.”

“About what?”

“Your beasts?”

Beasts…Beasts… She snickered. “Actually, they’re called breasts.”

“Ah. I see. Breasts. Beasts did sound like an odd term for suckling mounds.”

Shit, this guy made her laugh. Her eyes watered, and thankfully, she wasn’t crying due to sorrow.

She leaned against his shoulder. “You want to talk about my breasts.” Not that unusual for a guy. Although, none had called them beastly outside of Kral.

“They are soft,” he said.

“They’re…” Shit. She couldn’t say fat, because they weren’t made up solely of fat. “They’re made up of fibrous…” Fatty… “And glandular tissue.”

“One day, we will grow close, and you will allow me to touch them?”

What an odd conversation. “Sure. Tell me about where you live.” She spoke low, barely above a whisper in case someone passed near the woodpile. “Where we’ll live.”

Shit. She was seriously considering going through with this.

But he excited her, unlike any guy had done for a very long time.

He put his arm around her shoulders, and his naanans joined in, teasing her jawline and neck. They were deep ebony. And long, reaching almost halfway down his back.

“My village is deep within the Ikeline Mountains, though not high in elevation.”

“And you’re their leader, correct?”

“I lead my clan, just as my father did before me.”

Did. “So, your dad is…dead?”

“Yes. My parents were killed in a fire when I was seventeen yaros. My aunt raised me after that.”

“I’m sorry.” It must have been horrible. She couldn’t imagine losing someone she loved in a fire.

But she did understand loss. She gulped as memories crashed through her. “My mom left my dad—and me—when I was ten. My dad died from the disease. I… I miss him a lot.”

After that, there had been nothing keeping her on Earth. She’d cut any other ties when she boarded the spaceship.

When she closed her eyes, all she could see was herself sitting at her father’s bedside while he choked out his last breath. His eyes opening and meeting hers. His whispered words of encouragement. “Even when he was dying, he only thought of me. He told me he loved me, that he hoped I’d be happy. That he was sorry he wouldn’t be around to spoil his grandchildren.” She wiped her eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry I keep crying.”

“You are feeling. It is natural to express this emotion. Crakairians do not weep but when I see how it releases sorrow, much like rain filling the world with darkness before the light. I wish Crakairians could cry.”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” She sniffed. “You get all stuffy, and your face is splotchy.” She released a rueful snort. “Well, I get stuffy and splotchy. Your skin doesn’t seem to reflect colors with emotions.”

“Like your bloosh.”

Bloosh? “Oh, yes, like my blush.”

“I am garbling all your pretty words. Blush is a much better way to express the pinkness rising in your face. It begins on your chest and blooms upward.”

“You’re kinda poetic there, Kral.” She peeked up at him and gave him a watery smile.

He held himself stiffly. “Do Earth women find a poetic male hot or cool or instead…I do not know the word for finding a male distasteful.”

“A jerk or…I don’t believe there’s a temperature word for jerk.”

“Jerk will do. Do Earth women find poetic males jerk?”

“Not most of us.” Afraid of what he’d see in her eyes—what she might reveal—she pulled her gaze from his. “I like it. I think it’s hot.”

His body loosened. “Then I will aim to be poetic.”

“Cool.”

Eight

Kral

Mila’s mumbled something and tucked herself closer to Kral.

After she’d wept, she’d drifted to sleep. He knew he should wake her, tell her they had to leave, but she’d been on guard for so long.

He wanted to give her this moment of peace. A time where she didn’t need to be afraid.

He stroked her side and murmured little stories his mother used to tell him. She wouldn’t hear, but speaking them aloud gave him comfort. Physically, he couldn’t cry, but perhaps this was his form of release.

His human female mate stirred so many emotions inside him, emotions he wasn’t sure he enjoyed feeling. What if he couldn’t keep her any safer than his parents? If only he’d woken up before the fire reached his room. If only he’d been able to reach his mother. Then they would’ve escaped together.

Instead, he was left with a hollow cavern inside his heart that would never be filled.

His Aunt Riella had tried. She had even made him his favorite foods, hoping to stir his appetite and make him feel welcome. He loved her. Appreciated her efforts. But no one could replace his parents.

Unless Mila…

He shook his head, and his naanans flared up before dropping back on his shoulders. On her shoulders. He held her gently with his arm and his naanans, sheltering her while she dreamed.

He couldn’t wait to bury himself inside her.

Soon, he promised his body. After he had finished the courtship, he would propose in Vikir tradition. She would say yes—heille, he prayed she would say yes—and then he would be able to touch her. Kiss her. Fuck her.

She stirred and turned to snuggle into his chest. “Kral,” she murmured, her voice a reegar bird feather stroking his scales. It tickled and aroused him all at the same time.

Did this tiny female Earthling know the power she had over him already?

“Yes, my mate?” He kissed her soft cheek. Her skin was both intriguing and mystifying to him as it seemed to provide too little protection. How could it withstand the elements? His scales protected him when he moved through the forest. If a predator came near, he could easily blend in with the vegetation. If a stick scraped him or an insect tried to bite, neither could penetrate the surface.

Mila’s soft skin would be too easily ripped apart. One more thing he would willingly protect her from.

“When we are on my ship,” he said. “I will proceed with my courtship.”

“Foot emulsion is up next, right?” she said, her fingers teasing across his chest.

Capturing her fingers, he kissed them. Kissed the matebond glowing on her palm. This marked her as his as much as his symbol marked him as hers.

Soon they would be together fully. Soon they could start their lives together.

“What comes after foot emulsion?” she asked.

“Orgasms.”

She coughed and gaped up at him. “Are orgasms part of the courtship process?”

He couldn’t completely tell, but she did not sound horrified by the notion. His naanans stilled on her shoulder. One had been creeping toward her beast—breast. “Would you like orgasms to be part of the courtship process?”

“Orgasms were not mentioned in the manual I studied with my protocol droid while I was on the ship.”

“Perhaps you did not reach that section before the Al’kieern attacked. Giving a mate an orgasm used to be a common courtship ritual among the Vikir. It was often completed minars after the couple met.”

She tipped her head and slit her eyes at him before blinking her eyebashes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I am not…kidding. Do you not do this as well on Earth? Males do not bring women to orgasm during courtship?” He was half-teasing, but also curious.

“Nope, especially not on a first date. Hell, on Earth, women are lucky to get an orgasm on their tenth date. Sure, it’s common to sleep with a guy after a few dates if you’re serious about him, but most men are only into banging until they get off, then flopping off and snoring beside you.”

“Earth males are foolish.”

She shot her finger at him. “You got it.” Her lips twisted. “You know I’m not a Vikir.”

“No matter.”

“Yes, it does matter.”

“You bear my mark, which means you are mine. This shows we have a true matebond.” He stood and offered her his hand. “Come. It is time to escape the station together. Then we can get to the courtship, proposal, and…orgasms.”

She snorted, and when she took his hand, he tugged her to her feet. “You Vikirians don’t waste any time. Just don’t rush the good stuff and bypass the foreplay.”

“Fore…play.” He tasted the word but did not understand its meaning. “Play…fore?”

“You know. A way of warming a girl up for bigger things.”

Her gaze fell on his pants, and his cock twitched.

“I will play with your fore as much and often as you wish,” he said, sure that was the right thing to say.

“I appreciate it.” Her lips flicked upward, giving him the feeling he’d—again—said something humorous, not sexy.

This courtship stuff presented a challenge for a serious Vikir warrior like Kral. He’d forgotten how to laugh. He no longer knew what having fun felt like.

But he ached to have fun and laugh again, with Mila. He wanted to share everything with her.

He couldn’t forget the beauty of her lying in the water. Her creamy skin. Her lush hair spilling over her shoulders. And the dark patch of curls between her legs.

“Does the hair between your legs feel like the hair on the top of your head?” he asked.

She sputtered. “Excuse me?”

“Why would you need to be excused?”

“Slow down! You’re lobbing one steam bomb after another at me. Pretty soon, I’m going to explode.”

“I do apologize.” While his face could not show flames like Mila’s did, his embarrassment scorched his bones. “I am curious, and I…”

She lifted the ridges above her eyes. “Have no filter?”

He puzzled out her words. “Yes. That is right. I have no filter.”

“Welcome to the club.”

“It is not appropriate to ask an Earthling female about the hair between her legs.”

“Well, it’s not the usual thing to talk about on a date. Although, this isn’t exactly a date.”

“This date. It is like steps in a courtship?”

“Exactly.”

“If I was following ancient Vikir tradition, I would know how the hair between your legs felt as I would have already touched it.”

She fanned her face. “There you go again.”

“Where am I going again?”

“Into steamy territory.”

“And you do not like this?” He watched her face, wishing he could read her expression. Perhaps one day he would understand every crease and movement as if it was the landscape of his face.

“Um… Let’s escape the station, and we can add this to the list of things to talk about.” She started for the door.

“This is a wise idea.”

Turning, she grinned and tapped her temple. “That’s me. Wise.”

“Know one thing, my mate.”

She quirked up her brow ridge, something he found highly appealing.

“Know that I will court you. Propose and win you. And then make you explode with many orgasms. You will scream my name.” Arrogant of him, but Vikir males were known for their abilities beneath the furs.

She stomped over to him so fast, he took a step backward. “Know one thing.” Her voice deepened. “I will let you court me. Propose and maybe win me. And then you will explode with many orgasms. You will scream my name.”

“Males do not scream.”

“Moan. Groan. Whatever sounds more masculine, if that makes you feel better.” She poked his chest. “All I can say is game on.”

“This will not be a game. It will be serious.” He bared his fangs. “I look forward to shared orgasms and screaming.”

“I’m sure you do.”

He liked that she looked forward to claiming him as her own. This was how it should be between a matebonded pair.

She lifted her hand. “I’ll say one thing. You’re making my brain spin.”

“Good, because mine spins as well.”

Her hand dropped onto his arm. “So far, this courtship has been wild. When I traveled from Earth, I never imagined anything like this.” Sadness filled her gaze. “I also didn’t imagine getting kidnapped. I thought I’d land on Crakair, meet you, we’d court and then marry.” Her hand flicked out. “Nothing like this.”

“We have shared a rough start.”

“Seems like you’ve been able to turn it partway around.”

“I will turn it around.”

“Shit. I’m sure you will.”

“Shit?” His brow ridges drew together. His human female mate discussed defecation more than anyone he had met before.

She pouted. “You know what I mean.”

He did not, but he also believed it would be best to pretend he did, so he nodded.

“Anyway.” She heaved out a sigh. “I want you to wait here while I go look in the hall.”

Puffing his chest, he drew himself up. “I will not cower in your hole of hidey while you survey the battlefield.”

“That’s just it. It’s not a battlefield, and you’re in my territory now. I rule.”

He huffed, wanting to insist he should be in command. He was a leader, the one used to battle.

She was the one who’d survived here for daelas.

His chest deflated. “I will wait, but only for one minar.”

“Give me two.”

She left the room and returned before he could storm across the maintenance room. “They’re still there.”

“Good. I will kill them, we will transfer to my ship, and we will be on Crakair before you have time to blink your eyebashes.”

“Eyebashes…” Confusion filled her features before her face cleared. “Before you go out there and kill a bunch of blue-skinned aliens, can we talk about it? I mean, I think they deserve what they get. They kidnapped me and my friends and brought me here to auction me off to the highest bidder. But slicing and dicing them with your sword feels drastic.”

He leaned against the wall, frowning. “What would you have me do then?”

“How about we sneak through the halls until we reach the loading dock floor with the windows where we can see your ship. No slicing. No dicing.”

“No killing?” He’d looked forward to an honorable battle.

“You can kill in self-defense, but we should avoid putting ourselves in that kind of situation.”

“If you wish,” he said with a heavy groan. Truly, he did not understand Earthling females. Did she not wish to witness his prowess in battle? “Perhaps, while we wait, I could complete another courtship ritual.”

“Emulsion?”

“There are no boodlers in your hidey.”

“I’m not even sure what a boodler is.” She held up her hand. “Hold that thought. I’m also not sure I want to know.” Her head tilted. “What other courtship rituals can you do here in my little hidey-hole before you go Cujo in the hall? At this point, I’m not sure anything could surprise me.”

“I will perform an ancient courtship dance.” The Vikir used traditional Crakairian courtship rituals like the zither bath, but most still clung to the traditions used in his clan for generations, even courtship orgasms.

“A dance?” she said, her lips twitching. “This is gonna be good.”

“You will enjoy it,” he grated out, more nervous than he should be.

“That sounds like a command,” she said dryly.

“Am I not right?”

“Do it and I’ll let you know.”

He nodded.

He’d practiced this dance with his Aunt Riella cheering each time the moves became seamless, knowing that someday, he would perform it for his intended mate. Now the time had come. Would he miss some of the steps and make a complete fool of himself or do it as seamlessly as he had for yaros and impress her?

Like a trapped bird, his heart fluttered. What if she watched him dance and said it was not good enough? That he was not good enough? He could not let himself think this. He would do it. Then hope she smiled.

With renewed vigor, he pulled his sword, the blade hissing as it left the scabbard.

Her eyes widened, and she stepped backward. “Does your dance involve stabbing anything?”

“You are correct in this assumption.” He held the blade upright with both hands on the hilt and bowed toward his mate. “Long ago, two males would engage in the dance together. It was quite common for one of them to be impaled on the blade.”

She sat on her bed and scooted into the back corner, tucking her knees up to wrap her arms around them. “Just…uh, maybe watch out where you thrust that thing.”

“I would never cause you harm, Mila. You are my mate.”

“How long have you practiced with a sword?” she asked, staring at the blade.

“I started with a wooden sword when I was two yaros old, then graduated to steel at eight. This blade was my father’s.”

“It’s pretty.” She loosened her death grip on her legs and stretched them out on the mattress.

Pretty? His naanans flared in defense of his mighty weapon, but then he caught the twinkle in her beautiful eyes. She was teasing him.

He liked that he was starting to figure her out.

Baring his fangs, he felt laughter rise inside him, but he tamped it down. The dance must be serious.

“I just have to say, today has been much more entertaining than the past week.” She flicked her hand toward him. “Dance time. Show me what you’ve got.”

He held himself still, waiting for her to finish.

“I’m chattering, aren’t I?” she said. Sitting upright, she clasped her hands together and laid them on her lap. “You’re welcome to begin whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” He gave her a bow.

He closed his eyes and composed himself. His hands should not be shaking. She would enjoy his dance or she wouldn’t. There wasn’t anything he could do about it now but put his heart into his every movement. Assuming the starting position, he held his sword in two hands again.

Mila sat forward, watching his every move.

He began slowly, his movements careful and precise, gliding his sword sideways across an invisible plain at eye level. He wove it through the air, creating the movements of the delicate jiera, a creature who bound through the woods on spindly legs, its mighty antlers thrusting up toward the sky.

A slash to the left was followed by one to the right. His muscles warmed up as he moved faster, spinning in place while the sword created seamless waves in the air.

Under normal circumstances, someone would beat a drum and a pipe would play, creating a melody that would weave through his dance.

Without a drummer or piper, Kral would have to improvise.

His low hum rang out in the room, a decent imitation of the song. He tossed the blade into the air and caught it behind his back. Flicking it to the front, he kept humming, carefully matching the song to his movements. The mournful cry of the piper universally made Crakairian females sigh. He stomped his feet, mimicking the beat of the drum.

Mila maintained a smile on her face, but when he imitated the piercing shriek of the flute, she winced.

This…wasn’t working out as he’d expected. Did the problem lie in the size of the room? He’d had to modify his dance to fit the tiny space.

The lack of piper had to be harming his case.

Why did his voice sound like metal dragging across stone? Perhaps volume was the answer.

When he hummed louder, Mila jumped.

Kral lost his rhythm while directing his blade in a mid-air, kliera curve. His injured leg spasmed, and he stumbled forward, driving his sword into the floor to stop him from falling.

“That was…”

Did he hear awe in her voice? He’d fumbled at the end of the dance. If he’d done this at home for a female, his friends would have teased him.

“It was unbelievable,” she said. “I’m not sure how to describe how it made me feel.” She tapped her temple. “I felt it here.” She pressed her fingers against her chest. “But mostly here.”

Stalking forward, he gave her a quick kiss.

As he straightened, she stared at him in wonder. Her fingers rose to trace along her lips. “That was our first.”

“Was I too bold?”

“You were too quick.”

Oh.

Before he could tug her off her mattress and give her a better kiss, she spoke.

“Do all the Crakairian men perform this dance during courtship?” she asked, blinking up at him.

“They do.” Holding his sword parallel to the floor, he bowed.

“Thank you. I don’t believe anyone has ever done something like this for me before.” Emotion clogged her voice.

He studied her face, trying to read the intent behind her words, but she gave nothing away. “You are suitably impressed?”

“Oh, I’m more than impressed. I’m completely bowled over. It was amazing.”

He re-sheathed his sword on his back and bowed again.

She smiled up at him. “What comes next in the courtship?”

“I will need to make a sacrifice.”

Nine

Mila

“Please tell me you don’t plan to…I don’t know, chop up a living pig or hunt down an endangered species to impress me.” She couldn’t get the idea of a sacrificial animal out of her mind. Except… Her fingers pressed against her lips. “You mean you’re going to sacrifice yourself. Well, guess what? No. You’re not doing it, dude.”

His eyes twinkled. “See? Dude is a pet name.”

She smirked. “That would be honey or sweetie or love chops.”

“I prefer dude.” The scowl he sent her shouted tease.

“Tell me what you mean about a sacrifice.” If she kept gnawing on her nails, she’d have none left.

He gave her a short bow. “I will do something heroic in your honor.”

“Look, you don’t have to do anything like that.” Talk about embarrassing. “You’ve already impressed me.” She flicked her hand in his direction. “That was an incredible dance.”

Truly, his sword dance had blown her away. The seamless way he’d swung the blade. The intensity on his face while he moved. And even the off-key humming had been sweet and cute.

It wasn’t every day a guy performed a dance solely for a girl.

He held out his hand to tug her off the floor. “It is time to see if the Al’kieern have left the hallway.”

“You’re right. Hold off on the sacrifice until we’re…on your ship.”

He scowled. “There will not be opportunities for sacrifice on the ship.”

“We’ll find one.” She scanned the room quickly, wondering if there was anything she wanted or needed to bring with her.

“You’ll have clothing for me on your ship?” she asked. “Otherwise, I…stole a few outfits from here and there, and I can bring them with me.” She lifted her cleaner shirts. A relative term. It hadn’t been easy finding places to wash her clothing.

“There is a 3D printer on board my ship,” he said. “We will be able to create clothing for you.”

She tapped her chin. No need to bring the mattress. And there would be food on board, so she didn’t need to bring what she’d recently raided from the kitchen. Funny how she wanted to stuff everything into the big cloth flour bag she’d dug out of the bin in the kitchen and load up her stuff. Each item represented a frightening trip to the kitchen, a nerve-wracking climb up or down the stairwell, and the bruises she’d earned escaping the Al’kieern.

Her eyes shouldn’t be stinging. She should be excited about saying goodbye to this tiny room forever.

“Are you ready?” he said softly, and his hand dropped on her shoulder as if he understood. But he couldn’t, could he?

With a sniff, she turned and pulled the board out from beneath the doorknob. “The same rules apply,” she said with a croak in her voice. “If you can, try to be quiet. If we’re separated…” How could she drag him through an obstacle course when he had an injury? She’d noticed his uneven gait, though he was good at pretending nothing was wrong. “We need to do whatever we can to keep from being separated.”

He tugged her into his arms and kissed the top of her head, which was sweet.

She could see herself falling for Kral.

Once they got off the space station, and she didn’t have to watch her back all the time, she could relax and get to know him better.

They could have a real Crakairian date, whatever that entailed. Odd foot rituals or unusual foods. Whatever he wanted to offer. And then they could proceed from there.

“Ready?” she asked him. Silly to ask, because she was the one with the shaky hands and uneven steps. At his soft grunt, she opened the door and made sure there was no one in the storage room. Leaving her hidey-hole, they made their way to the door leading to the hall.

This time, there was no one there.

Just to be sure, Mila counted to one hundred before she eased out into the corridor and turned right. She pointed and leaned close to Kral, keeping her voice low. “We’ll take the stairwell at that end since it’s rarely used by the Al’kieern.” They often used the elevator which Mila avoided whenever possible.

Flaps on his shoulders lifted, but there was no time to ask him what they could be used for.

They crept down the hall, sticking close to the wall, and she jumped at every click or creak made by the metal structure surrounding her. It creeped her out to think about how fast things might be moving around her. The station held its position with thrusters, and the first time she’d heard them at night, she’d been afraid they were launching the vessel further into space. For some reason, as long as she could see the planet, she felt safe. It was only recently that she realized the sound was the weight of the galaxy pressing down on the outer surface of the structure, eager to crush the space station like a tin can when someone stomped on it with their foot.

It creeped her out.

Her heart galloped in her throat, and her breathing was ragged. At every corner, she expected to hear blue guys shrieking and feel the hiss of laser beams blasting past, close enough to graze her skin. Or the impact of a beam hitting her back.

Kral peered around feverishly, his grip tight on the hilt of his sword. While she’d been blown away by his dance that reminded her of Viking TV shows she used to watch back on Earth, she wondered if they’d be better off locating a more sophisticated weapon. Like a laser gun. A Taser. A cannon.

Yet look at her, planning to defend herself with the kitchen knife she held tight in her grip.

Reaching the stairwell, she bumped her hip against it, pushing it open an inch. Another moment listening told her no one else was using the stairs—so far. She tiptoed out onto the landing and pointed up to show where they need to go next. Five flights. Could they do it without being discovered?

More important, would Kral be able to do it with his wounded leg?

A bang below was followed by muffled voices.

Shit. Predators were in the stairwell.

Her pulse slammed up into her throat, and her palms went sweaty. Her panicked gaze met Kral’s, and he urged her on with a nudge of his head upward. The flaps on his shoulders—sekairs, if she remembered correctly from the manual—stood at attention, ready to shoot poison darts at anyone who came near. She imagined he could take on quite a few enemies at one time, but there must be a point where numbers would overwhelm him and he’d be taken down. She didn’t want to know what that number might be.

She darted up the next flight of stairs. Two flights left. Did they dare keep going to the floor they needed or should they bail on the next available level and wait for the Al’kieern to exit the stairwell?

The bang of a door above, followed by footsteps and voices, shot that idea out of the water. They’d have no choice but to leave the stairwell and take their chances.

They were so close. Kral seemed to think if he could see his ship, he could initiate their transport to the other vessel, and she hoped he was right. She was eager to be out of here and on their way to Crakair.

Racing as fast as she could, she took the stairs two at a time, a big feat with her short legs. Talk about a workout. She’d gotten more exercise in the past few days than during her last year on Earth. This would teach her to give up running.

Kral’s limp became more pronounced.

She wished there was time to stop and evaluate his condition. She’d add the task to her to-do list and the moment they were safe, she’d ask him about it. Perhaps she could help him with exercise and massage.

They reached the floor, and not a second too soon. Stomps from below and the growing volume of their voices overhead told her the Al’kieern would discover them within seconds.

She eased open the door and froze.

Shit.

Five Al’kieern, two with wings and three wingless, stood halfway down the hall, in front of the windows she needed to reach with Kral.

Ten

Kral

He peered past Mila and assessed the situation. They couldn’t go back down the stairs. The Al’kieern were not far behind and, from the multiple voices, there were at least ten individuals in the group. The number above was harder to discern, but the numerous stomps told him waiting here was not an option.

Better to take on the five in the hall.

He leaned close to Mila and whispered. “Are there other windows where we might see my ship?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Pressing his fist to his chest, he made a solemn vow to protect Mila no matter the cost.

She worried her lower lip. “You’re seeing this as your sacrificial opportunity.”

He was seeing this as a chance to escape.

“I’ve got an idea,” she said, shooting a look of fear over her shoulder, but they had not reached the level below us yet. “You see the intersection?”

About five paces down the hall. He nodded.

“If I take a left there, the connecting corridor loops around and comes out beyond where they’re standing.”

“Ah. Smart.” He grinned, proud of his mate’s clever thinking. “You will call to them and draw their attention away from me.” His gaze narrowed on the Al’kieern. “Then I will kill them all.”

She released a soft growl. “It’s time. Unleash your rabid Cujo for me, dude.”

He huffed out a stifled laugh. “I am not sure now if I prefer Cujo or dude for a pet name.”

Despite the danger, she grinned. “Both.” She tugged on his sleeve and nudged her chin upward. “Unless you prefer to run to the next landing. If we can make our way to the opposite side, there’s another set of stairs that will exit on this floor. If we’re not caught, we can work our way back down from there.”

“What is above this level?”

“Offices, a lower control bridge.”

“Occupied?”

“Sometimes. I was nearly caught on that floor two days ago, while looking for my friends.”

“Then your first plan is the best.” Tipping her chin up, he gave her a kiss that seared through his veins. After, she stared at him with her mouth ajar while he nudged her side. “Be careful, my mate. Distract them, but do not endanger yourself. At all. Do you understand?”

She nodded, her mouth still open as if he’d stunned her with his kiss.

Good, because he was equally stunned.

“When they start toward you,” he said, his hand on the knob. “You must run and hide. I will come at them from behind and…”

She gulped. “Kill them. I should feel bad for them, right? But I don’t.”

“What would they do to us?” he asked grimly.

“Me? Capture me, tie me up, and send out the notices for a breeder auction. You…?” Her eyes watered, something he’d caused too often already. He wanted to tug her near and give her some of his strength. But she was tough. He hadn’t been lying when he told her how much he admired her fortitude. She’d survived here—thrived here—in an enemy camp and under dire circumstances. “As for you,” she said. “I don’t think you’ll fare well.”

“I will do my best to survive.” Baring his fangs, he nudged her spine. “Go. I will be right behind. Together, we will do this.”

“Make it fast because…”

He lifted one brow ridge.

“We need to continue our courtship.” She rose onto her toes and tugged him down for another quick kiss. “You owe me those Vikir courtship orgasms, and I want to give you a few, too.”

A fire roared through him. He needed her. But first, he would destroy all who had threatened her.

She gave him a watery smile and hefted her knife. From what he could tell, it belonged in a kitchen, but it was a weapon. His brave warrior mate. He was proud to stand by her side. And eager to get them free from the station so they could be together.

Silent as a new dawn, she eased down the hall, heading for the Al’kieern who had not yet noticed her. Her hand clenched her knife, and she kept her steps light. At the intersection, she turned left and slipped from view.

Sounds above and below told Kral he’d be seen by the others soon. He hated waiting, not because of the others but because Mila was exposed and in danger, while he stood seemingly doing nothing.

She appeared on the other side and waved to him.

His hand rose, and he bared his fangs. Heille, he was proud of her.

“Hey, blue jerks,” she called out. Propping one hand on her hip, she kept her knife down and behind her thigh. “What are a bunch of creepy aliens like you doing in a place like this?”

Kral wasn’t sure what she meant, but it worked. Bellowing, the Al’kieern took off after her without a glance in Kral’s direction.

He eased out into the hall and chased after them, his blood on fire and his sword eager to taste Al’kieern blood.

Before they reached Mila, she spun. With a snarl, she ran toward them.

They underestimated his mate. As they snickered and lifted their arms to capture her, she leaped up. Her knife slashed out, gliding across one of the winged Al’kieern’s throats. Blue blood squirted, peppering the tile floor, and the Al’kieern collapsed, his hands clutching the lethal wound.

The others stopped and pulled their shocker sticks. While the winged ones soared toward her, the others rushed her way, determined to stun her.

Heille, no.

They didn’t hear Kral coming. His steps light, he raced up behind them. Blade whirling, he severed the head of the biggest threat, a winged Al’kieern with a laser stunner. Landing solidly on his feet with only a twinge in his thigh, Kral stabbed out, taking down another Al’kieern.

One snarled and spun, his shocker rushing toward Kral.

Kral leaped up and flipped over backward, landing in a crouch. He whipped his blade out and gouged up and through the belly of the Al’kieern coming for him.

Another grabbed Mila and shoved her against the wall. He scrambled for her knife, but she snapped her teeth and struck out with her knife, slicing deeply into one of the Al’kieern’s four arms. With a grunt, the Al’kieern kneed Mila as Kral’s sword took out the other Al’kieern with a quick swipe.

Mila shrieked and tried to stab the Al’kieern again as he grabbed her arm, grappling for the knife. Her knee rose and hit the Al’kieern, but the blue-skinned alien was not deterred. He pressed himself against Mila and hit her in the neck with a shocker.

Her eyes widened, and she gurgled. The knife fell from her hand as she went limp in the Al’kieern’s arms.

“No!” Kral snarled. He darted toward them, his sword dripping blue, his blood raging through him. A flick and Kral’s sekairs shot darts into the Al’kieern’s back. The male shuddered and tumbled to the ground, releasing Mila.

She slumped sideways and glided down the wall. As he reached for her, her head lolled, and her eyes lost focus.

He caught her and gathered her close. His blade fell from his hand, landing on the floor with a clatter, and he stroked her hair off her face.

“Wake, love.” His voice croaked. “Wake. Please.”

She stirred, twitching in his arms. Her head lifted, and she gave him a wobbly smile. “Kral. You’re so pretty.” Her fingers traced along his naanans, and he shuddered.

Now was not the time to feel desire or to laugh about her calling him pretty. He was a Vikir warrior. Vikir warriors were never pretty.

“You are infinitely sweet,” he said with a shaky laugh. He sunk his face into her neck, wishing he could take her to a safer location. When the Al’kieern had stunned her, he’d feared the male had used a voltage too high to be safe for a tiny human female like his mate.

“I will show you the world, my mate,” he promised. “Soon. But first, we need to get out of here.”

She shifted her legs, and he eased her onto the floor. He wanted to carry her everywhere, but he’d need his sekairs and sword arm free to defend them.

Clutching his arm, she took on more of her weight. “I’m okay. Gonna be okay. Soon.” Stumbling backward, she nearly impacted with the wall, but he caught her again and gathered her close.

“Hold on, my mate,” he said, stooping down to grab his sword. A quick wipe on one of the Al’kieern’s shirts to clean the blade, and he’d sheathed it along his spine.

Mila’s gaze honed in on her knife, and she shuddered. Her gaze traveled from the Al’kieerns lying dead around them before it met Kral’s. Her eyes swam with tears. “Shit, shit, shit. I…killed someone. I killed someone.” Her knees gave way, but he caught her.

He’d always catch her.

Scooping her up, he held her close. He backed around the corner, out of view, and settled against the wall. While they should flee, he couldn’t resist taking one minar to comfort her.

“Kral,” she said, sounding so lost and alone. “I killed someone. I hated them, but I avoided them. I didn’t want to kill them.”

Kral’s first kill had come when he was twelve. When his grandfather had been the leader of their people, they’d often warred with other Vikir clans. One had attacked. Kral’s tribe had fought them off, but Kral had wet his blade on the blood of another. He’d never forget the gut-wrenching pain of knowing he’d ended someone’s life.

Reminding Mila that the Al’kieern would’ve harmed her and killed Kral would do no good. She would be lost in the minar, reliving the instant when her blade had hit true. When the skin had parted. And when life had left the male’s body because of her actions.

All he could do was hold her and offer her the comfort of his arms.

He kissed her forehead, marveling at how soft skin was compared to his scales. The silky strands of her hair drifted around them.

“It will be okay,” he said.

“How can it be?” She peered up at him with tears in her eyes. “I get it. It was us versus them, but still. I can’t imagine how anyone does this on a regular basis. It slices into your soul. Bruises it. I can’t imagine that feeling will ever go away.”

He nodded. “I think one who can dismiss death no longer lives themselves.”

She leaned her head against his chest, and a long sigh eased out of her. “Thank you.”

“I will always be here for you, Mila.”

“I’m beginning to see that now.” She tipped her head back to look up at him. “We just met, right?”

He nodded, wondering where she was taking this.

“Then why do I feel like I’ve known you forever?”

“Our souls know each other.” He held up his palm, displaying the symbol, and she linked their hands together.

She kissed his knuckles. “I wish I could stay here, because you holding me feels wonderful but…”

“Once we get to my ship, we will be safe.” He’d hold her, soothe her any way he could. Courtship could wait. They could wait. He wanted to be here for her as she worked her way through what had happened, like his father had comforted him after his first kill.

The male’s face would haunt Kral for the rest of his days.

She slid out of his arms and stroked his face. “Let’s do it. Take me to Crakair, Kral. Take me to your home. Our home.”

Home.

To think she still wanted to see this match through despite all that had happened. A kidnapping, survival on an enemy space station, and now killing in self-defense. He wouldn’t blame her if, when she asked to be taken home, she meant Earth.

“Yes, home,” he said gruffly. This human female… She could shred him. If he was wise, he’d guard his heart, but how could he? It wasn’t about the matebond symbol or the contract made with Earth.

It was about them. About being together, no matter where life led.

He couldn’t wait to see what happened next. She’d…bring back his laughter. Taking her hand, he squeezed it.

They walked to the windows. In a minar, they’d be free. They could put this behind them and move forward together. They stopped at the glass and he nodded as he took in his ship, waiting for them outside. The droids would be wary of tricks. The moment he and Mila arrived, the droids would leave the quadrant and take them to Crakair.

“Hold on,” he said, tugging Mila into his arms. “Soon, we will arrive on Crakair. I will take you to my clan, and my Aunt Riella will welcome you.

“Soon,” she echoed.

As he lifted his arm to engage the com, his ship exploded.

Eleven

Mila

“Shit. There were…” Horror poured through her, and she stumbled out of Kral’s arms and away from the window, her hands slapping against her cheeks. “My god! That was your ship, right? Your crew!” So many people dead. She couldn’t stand it. She wanted to yank on her hair. Run.

No, she wanted to curl into a ball on her bed in her hidden room and cry.

“Yes, it was my ship.” He followed her and held out his arms.

She darted into them and shivered while he tucked her against his chest.

“I do not understand,” he said. “Are the Al’kieern trying to start an intergalactic war?”

“Stealing me and my friends might have done that already.”

“This was not the first time…” He growled. “We’ve assumed the kidnapping attempts were part of rogue operations, but now…” His naanans flared out. “The droids… The ship was completely automated, but the droid crew was loyal.”

Her protocol droid on the star cruiser, TX57, had been a pain in the butt most of the time, but he’d had a bit of a personality, a mix of quirky and insistent. She would’ve felt sad if he’d been killed.

Some people might feel relief that “only” droids had been killed, but they were beings; entities like any other, even if they didn’t have feelings or a soul like people did.

“The ship is part of the Crakairian spacefleet,” he said, incredulous. “This will be seen as active aggression against my government’s military.”

“If anyone finds out.”

“What do you mean?” His naanans flared around his head. “Ah. I know what you mean. If they eliminate all evidence—us—no one will know what happened.”

“This isn’t good,” she said. She looked up, taking in Kral’s grim expression. “We’ve got to find a way off this station and get to Crakair. Then we can tell them what happened. What are we going to do now?”

He took her hand. “The Al’kieern are building on Yarris, so they must have shuttles. Do you know where they dock them and can you get me there?”

“We’re going to steal a ship, right?” She shouldn’t be feeling excited about this. The situation was scary and tenuous. This wasn’t Star Wars. “I can take you—”

The door to the stairwell banged open and a bunch of Al’kieern on foot rushed out, followed by winged guys. Their shrieks echoed in the hall, and if the Tasers in their hands didn’t scare her to death, the laser guns they held would.

A shot hit the glass behind them and pinged off, blasting toward the opposite wall.

“Come with me,” she said, tugging him around the dead aliens crumpled on the floor. “About that limp.” This wasn’t the time to look, but she needed to know what she was dealing with.

He grunted.

“New injury or old?”

“Old.”

“Sword wound or…”

“Fracture.” His feet hit the floor beside hers, and while he didn’t hold her back, he wasn’t racing ahead, either. “Three places. A fall. It didn’t heal right.”

“Can you run? We’re going to have to run.”

“I will keep pace.” His hand on her low back swept her up, and they flew faster than she’d run back in high school, and that had been record-breaking speed.

“We’ve got to go up three floors,” she said as they plunged down another hall and headed up the next with the Al’kieern in hot pursuit. “You up for that?”

“Keep going.”

A laser blast hit the wall beside her head, and hunks of material flew around them, some hitting her cheek hard enough it stung. A hot trickle along her chin told her she was bleeding.

Passing the hall she’d used to sneak up on the other aliens, she rushed Kral around a corner, and they raced down the next passage, aiming for the stairwell at the end. The lighting in this part of the station sucked, but it would work in their favor. They’d be harder targets to hit.

More laser blasts smacked the floor and walls around them, sending tile and concrete flying. They were crazy! They’d destroy the station and everyone on board if they weren’t careful.

Her lungs on fire, she slammed through the door to the stairwell as more firepower slammed into the wall to her right. Good thing they had crappy aim.

Fliers roared toward them with Taser sticks in their hands.

“Watch out for those babies,” she panted out. “They’re lethal.” The memory of being hit and slumping down the wall, unable to move her limbs or even think, would haunt her dreams for the next few weeks.

Kral spun and engaged two Al’kieern with his sword, severing a head from one guy’s shoulders.

Mila darted around Kral and slashed out with her knife, slicing deeply into the other Al’kieern’s arm. While the blue guy spun away from her, shrieking, Mila grabbed Kral’s arm and tugged him toward the stairs.

Kral snarled, probably wanting to stay behind and take on the ten or twelve aliens racing down the hall toward them, but he’d be dead in seconds.

Running could be their only chance.

She flew up the stairs with Kral behind, urging her on. His limp had become more pronounced, and she hated that he might be in pain, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Soon.

Unless they were captured first. No. She had to believe they’d get away.

Anxiety raked down her spine, and she tightened, expecting a laser beam to slam into her back.

They raced around a landing and flew up the next flight of stairs.

One more flight. Bangs and grunts below told her the Al’kieern were not far behind.

“This plan better work,” she huffed out.

“It will.”

She loved how confident he was. But shit had hit the fan, and it was spraying all over them.

They reached the next landing and barreled out into the hall, not bothering to look first. The goose was caught, and the wolves were snapping at their heels. It hardly mattered if they ran into more aliens on this floor.

“The airlock is halfway down, on the right,” she said. Her leg muscles screamed, and her lungs were on fire. She promised herself she’d start running on a regular basis, assuming she got out of this alive.

He tapped her back. “Keep going. I…will remain here.” He gave her a curt nod. “Once you get inside the airlock, you can hold them off.”

And what did he plan to do while she hid inside the airlock? Remain behind and hold off the Al’kieern fliers shooting laser guns? Even with his sekairs shooting poisonous darts, he’d be killed in seconds.

She grabbed his hand and tugged. “Come on.”

“Mila.” His voice held a warning she chose to ignore. No way. They were doing this together.

“You’re not sacrificing yourself for me. I won’t let you.” Her steely gaze met his.

“I will do what I must to protect you.” He shook out his shoulders, and his naanans flared. His sekairs stood at attention, glistening on the tips.

“You can hold them off at the airlock,” she said. She gnawed on her lower lip and tried to make her legs pump faster.

“And then what?”

“While you’re doing that, I’ll find a way around the lock.”

His lips twisted, and she knew he might not be mocking her, but he was coming close. “Will you do this with your knife?”

“With this.” She held up the laser pistol she’d taken off one of the Al’kieern lying dead on the other floor.

His arm went around her waist, and he gave her a quick hug. “Clever.”

Her low chuckle rang out as they ran down the hall. “I’m resilient.”

“You did not need me to rescue you. If I had not arrived, you would have done this yourself.”

Maybe. She couldn’t fly a shuttle. Short of stowing onboard a craft that put in to deliver supplies, her options were limited. She’d seriously considered finding a way onto a foreign ship, but the only one to arrive had been heavily guarded. And she worried doing something like that would flip her from the frying pan into the fire. At least on the station, she has some semblance of safety. Onboard a foreign vessel, she’d be at the mercy of the crew and captain if she was caught.

They ducked into the recessed area outside the airlock, and she peered through the small window in the door. A short corridor waited if they could find a way inside, followed by another door with a larger window. Beyond that, she spied the loading platform with shuttles parked like taxis waiting for passengers at the airport.

If they could reach a craft, they’d still need to find a way to open the hanger doors to fly outside. Then they’d have to deal with the station shooting missiles at them.

They were toast. There was no way out of this.

Turning, she gave Kral a weak smile, and the answering grim look he shot her didn’t boost her confidence.

She nudged her head toward the keypad on the wall. “I’ll work on the lock while you…”

How the hell was he going to hold off a bunch of aliens with only a sword and his sekairs?

She pressed a bunch of numbers, but the glass above kept flashing red. Figures even in space red meant no. More numbers resulted in the same result. It was hopeless. She’d tried in the past and gotten nowhere. Why had she thought now would be any different?

Stepping back, she leveled the laser gun and blasted the lock. Sparks and smoke erupted from where the keypad used to be, but the door remained ominously closed.

And the damn panel flashed more red symbols.

Shit.

Yells erupted as the Al’kieern stormed down the hall. By the number of cries, a full battalion had joined the chase. If they had enlisted the military droids, she’d only encountered once—and barely escaped—their battleship was sunk. They’d never get away.

Her chest ached as if squeezed in a vise. She should have led Kral through her obstacle course. Once they’d lost the Al’kieern, she could have brought him up here and they would’ve had time to work on the lock.

There should have been some other option. She’d done this to them. She was to blame.

But after seeing him limping, she hadn’t been confident he could run the course with his bum leg. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him further by making him crawl under cabinets and shimmy through the ceiling.

Stupid. He’d proven he could keep up. No, he’d proven he was as good at this as she was.

Her shoulders collapsed, and it was all she could do to remain on her feet. Tears stung her eyes, and she girded herself for the final battle. She wouldn’t let them take her. She wanted to be with Kral; being sold as a breeder wasn’t an option.

A blast took out a chunk of the ceiling above them. Hunks of tile rained down, stinging where they hit.

“I am sorry, Mila,” Kral said, his sekairs shooting darts. Cries from the Al’kieern told her they’d been hit, but more rushed forward to take the place of the fallen. “I wish I could kiss you one more time. Touch you. Have time to court you properly and propose. I wish we’d had a lifetime together.”

“It’s not over yet.” Though their odds were not good. “But I wish for the same things, too. Samesies.”

“Samesies?”

“When we get out of this, I’m kissing you. Touching you. I don’t know how I’ll court you, but I’m going to try. And if you don’t propose, I will.”

He watched her face as if he worried she was teasing, but she meant it. She’d only recently met him, but it felt like they’d lived three lifetimes together already.

Too bad they were about to lose everything.

“Lay down your sword, Vikir warrior,” the lead Al’kieern said, floating forward under wing-power. His heavy gaze fell on Mila. “We will take the breeder now. Customers are eagerly waiting to bid on the holodeck.”

Kral shot darts at the Al’kieern, but the blue guy lifted a shield, and the poisonous missiles deflected in other directions. Losing their momentum, they fell to the ground, spent.

Mila snarled, wishing she could sink her knife into the leader’s throat. Tears smarted in her eyes. It wasn’t fair. After days of hiding then meeting Kral, and after getting a glimpse of the future they might have together, it hurt to think it could be stolen.

The other Al’kieern jeered—at least twenty of them—and poked their Taser sticks toward Kral, who snapped his fangs and slashed out with his sword. The Al’kieern only laughed and darted away.

She leaped forward and threw her knife at one of them, impaling him in the chest. A perfect strike, but now she had only the laser gun to fight with. Lifting it, she focused it on the leader’s head. “Back off. You’re not selling me, and you’re not killing Kral.”

The leader hissed and ducked behind one of his companions. Coward. “As for the Crakairian male, we have use for him on Yarris.”

For what, labor? They’d work him hard until he dropped. They wouldn’t care that his leg was injured, that he needed therapy for it to get better.

It shouldn’t be like this, but there it was.

She refused to go down without a fight. Better to die here than be sold to the highest bidder who’d rape her to produce children.

“I don’t have any more tricks,” she said to Kral out of the corner of her mouth. Her laser pistol was ready, though, and she’d take at least one of them down before they dragged her to the floor and tied her up. Would they stun her first with their Tasers?

Tears streamed down her face, but she sniffed them back. Be strong. Fight. Show them what you’re made of. Words her father had said to her more than once when she was young. She missed him so much. If he was standing beside her, he would have charged forward with a bellow and head-butted at least three of the Al’kieern, sending them all the way to Yarris.

But she stood with another man instead. One she admired and cared for. Kral had shown her his strength, his honor, and his kindness.

Her chest ached for all the other parts of him she’d never have a chance to discover.

Kral.

Overhead, the lights started flashing. She frowned.

The Al’kieern peered at each other, as puzzled as she was about what was going on.

Al’kieern Space Station Destruction Sequence has been engaged. Repeat, Destruction Sequence has been engaged.

Shit. Who had done something like that?

The tall green guys she’d seen earlier. Were they somehow involved? Silly to think they were, but… She’d been confident they’d been Crakairian.

Kral’s ship had exploded.

Now the station?

Almost universally, the Al’kieern’s eyes widened. A few backed up, looking around as if they worried the place would explode around them. They might not be far off from that thought.

Fear wicked up her spine like a flame chasing a line of gunpowder, heading for the bundle of dynamite at the end. Tension built in the air.

“We have to get off the station,” Kral shouted as he engaged an Al’kieern in battle. His sekairs continued to shoot. How long until his body was depleted of whatever made up the poison? His supply couldn’t be endless.

“What does Destruction Sequence mean?” she shouted, though she already had a sickening idea.

Station implosion in nine hundred seclars, the voice announced overhead.

The mechanical voice started counting down from nine hundred.

Mila didn’t stop to add this up. Nine hundred was too few seclars.

With his sword lifting, Kral bellowed and rushed forward. Mila followed with her laser gun blasting. She hit a flying Al’kieern in the thigh. Like a plane with a blown engine, he veered to the right and crashed into a wall. Blue blood coursed from the wound and onto the floor.

More laser shots took out two more Al’kieern, but then she was out of charges. In frustration, she tossed the gun at an Al’kieern flying toward her with his four arms extended.

Prepare to abandon the station, the voice said overhead. Eight hundred and fifty seclars. Repeat. Abandon the station.

The light flickered again.

Would they be plunged into darkness?

As the Al’kieern gathered to charge at Kral and Mila, odd shapes fell from the ceiling onto the Al’kieern’s heads.

Mila’s mouth dropped open.

The Al’kieern started spinning around and screaming.

Twelve

Kral

Kral’s sword arm dropped, and he stood motionless as numerous lizzers dropped from the ceiling and plastered themselves on the Al’kieern’s faces.

“Get back,” he shouted to Mila over the Al’kieern gurgled shrieks. “Stay away from the lizzers.”

Heille. How was he going to save her from this new threat? The creatures would be on them in seclars, and it would be over.

At least thirty lizzers slunk across the ceiling, but the rest had latched onto the Al’kieern, who reeled and spun, smacking into the walls. While the lizzers dug in, the Al’kieern tried to pry the light creatures off their faces, but even four arms would not make a difference. Once attached to a being’s face, a lizzer could not be detached. An inner limb would extend toward their prey, and the appendage would work its way inside, drilling through bone, seeking brain matter to consume.

It was a gruesome way to die.

As if the lizzers weren’t a big enough threat, the door to the stairwell smacked open, and a sizeable pack of meerdregs scampered out, rushing toward where he tried to protect Mila in the small chamber outside the airlock. One of the meerdregs limped, but the others flashed eyes full of fire. When the meerdregs reached the Al’kieern, they leaped into the air and overran the blue-skinned aliens, dragging them to the tiles. Their claws dug in while the Al’kieern writhed and struggled. The lizzers were bad enough, but meerdregs, too?

What a nightmare.

The injured meerdreg broke off from the pack and hobbled toward Mara.

Kral would die before he let the beast touch her. As long as he stood on his feet and held his sword in his hand, he would defend her to the death. He tightened his grip on his weapon, prepared to take on the threat. A meerdreg’s claws could inject a toxin that immobilized their prey within minars, as was evidenced by the Al’kieern lying motionless on the floor while the lizzers feasted.

“Chee-chee,” Mila cried, stooping down and holding out her arms. “I’ve been worried about you.”

Kral gulped as the meerdreg flung itself upward and wrapped its arms around Mila’s neck.

“Hold still,” he said softly, turning. He reached for his knife, preferring a smaller blade in close combat. “Do not move and whatever you do, avoid its claws.”

Mila nuzzled her face against the meerdreg’s, ignoring Kral. “Where have you been, little guy? I was hoping you were okay, that you’d stayed free. How’s that leg? If you give me a chance, I think I can fix it for you.”

Kral’s jaw dropped further as the meerdreg rubbed its face against Mila’s and purred. He’d never seen anything like it. Meerdregs attacked. They did not cuddle.

Yet this one did.

“Looks like my friends came through for us,” Mila said, smiling up at Kral.

A glance at the lizzers showed Kral they’d left the Al’kieern and were oozing across the floor toward him and Mila. Would a direct assault on his part make any difference? How could his mate control creatures that had never cooperated with anyone outside their species? If he wasn’t seeing this with his own vision, he would not believe it had happened.

“I freed Firefly the first day I arrived,” Mila said, smiling at the single lizzer that had left the swarm and oozed along the floor, close to her feet. Shifting the meerdreg around to hold it on her hip like a harmless youngling, she held out her hand to the lizzer.

Kral hissed. He ached to pull her backward, to put himself between her and the numerous threats, but from the minar he’d met her, he knew he should trust the woman he ached to claim as his forever mate. “There you are, Firefly. Thank you so much for your help. Kral and I are eternally grateful.” As she stroked the lizzer’s back, she looked up at Kral and winked. “Right?”

“Most definitely,” he said quickly, giving the pack of meerdregs and the swarm of lizzers a deep bow. “I am very grateful to the lizzers and meerdregs for their help.” Could he be any more shocked?

She rubbed the lizzer on the underside of its belly, where its appendages projected after it had latched onto someone. He’d never seen a lizzer quiver from someone’s touch. He’d never seen anyone give a lizzer affection. How would anyone believe a lizzer would welcome it from a person?

The creature appeared to adore Mila.

He could understand that. He was well on his way to adoring her himself.

Six hundred seclars. The call coming from overhead jolted through Kral like lightning. Abandon the station. Abandon the station. Destruction Sequence is in progress. Repeat, Destruction Sequence is in progress.

“We need to leave the station,” he said.

“I messed up the keypad,” she said. After giving the lizzer—Firefly—one last pat, she stood. The meerdreg continued to cling to her. Would it wish to come with them?

The other meerdregs gathered behind the lizzers, and more poured from the door at the end of the hall, joining the ones crowding behind him and Mila. The lizzers clicked and snapped, and the meerdregs cheeped, as if the two species communicated and came to some sort of agreement.

Shrugging the creatures off, as there was no way he could defeat them if they attacked, Kral took in the smoldering ruin that used to be the keypad. Mila had made the right decision trying to shoot her way through, even if it hadn’t worked.

“Can you get it open?” she asked, moving up beside him. She shifted the meerdreg on her hip. Its fingers clung to her shirt. He wanted to remind her to beware of the claws, but it appeared the creature was being extra careful. “I think our time is—”

Five hundred seclars. Five hundred seclars.

“Running out,” she finished.

Could he somehow pry the door open? Sheathing his sword on his back, he stepped forward. He wedged his fingers into the slender gap and strained, his muscles bulging and the cords in his neck standing out sharply.

Turning, Mila hugged the meerdreg closer, fretting. “Can you do it? Please,” she whispered. “We need to find a way through there and get to a ship.”

“I…do not…know.” He pulled harder, but it would not give.

The meerdreg called Chee-chee hopped from Mila’s arms, yelping when it landed on its injured leg. It limped over to a small panel below the keypad, and with its claws, pried off the cover. It climbed inside and scrambled through the wires.

The door to the airlock slid open.

“Whoa,” Mila said. She stooped down and tucked her hand into the opening in the wall to stroke the meerdreg. “Chee-chee, thanks! You’re the best monkey in the world.”

The meerdreg chirped as it hopped out of the hole and back into her arms.

She stood and took Kral’s hand. “Lead the way? We need to get out of here.”

Four hundred seclars. Four hundred seclars. Abandon the station immediately.

“Doing it,” she said as he tugged her forward.

The lizzers and meerdregs followed en masse. They glided around the couple, pouring toward one of the shuttles.

“Let’s take that one,” Mila said, pointing to a sleek model. “It’s sporty. Always wanted to ride in a Maserati, and this is as close as I’m going to get.”

The meerdregs and lizzers rushed toward two of the shuttles.

“Where are they going?” she asked. “They need to come with us.”

The last thing he wanted was to ride in a small spaceship with two large groups of deadly creatures.

He’d be prosecuted if he brought them to Crakair.

“They are indigenous to Yarris,” he said. “Perhaps that is where they should go?”

“They can’t fly a ship themselves.”

“I will…” He ran to a control panel on their left, and his hands flew across the dials. The hatch to the shuttles closest to them slid open as did the hatch to the small star cruiser Mila had selected. “I will program the ships to take them to Yarris.”

Three hundred seclars. Three hundred seclars. Abandon the space station. Abandon the space station.

Behind them, a cluster of Al’kieern banged on the outer airlock door Kral had closed.

“Should we help them?” Mila asked, worrying her lower lip with her small, white teeth.

“Not until we have secured our escape.”

Two hundred and seventy-five seclars. Two hundred and seventy-five seclars.

“We need to leave,” she said with panic in her voice. “Can we get off the station before it blows?”

“All we can do is try.” He snatched up her hand as he rushed toward the star cruiser. “I added a delayed opening to the airlock door. This…should work.”

The meerdregs cheeped and jumped into a shuttle.

“What about you, Chee?” she asked the meerdreg she held. “You with us or your friends?”

He clung tighter to her neck.

“Okay, then. Hold on!”

Behind them, the Al’kieern continued to bang, and their cries grew desperate.

Why did Kral care if they died? They’d been a part of the kidnapping, even if they hadn’t orchestrated it themselves. They wouldn’t show him sympathy if their positions were reversed. And they’d happily kill him and auction Mila off, given another chance. For all Kral knew, they had plans to kidnap other Earthling matches, and freeing them would facilitate that action.

But the approval in Mila’s eyes meant the world to him. That was why he’d made the effort.

He and Mila rushed up the ramp and into the cruiser, and the hatch closed behind them. The meerdreg leaped from Mila’s arms. It hobbled ahead of them and turning a corner, it continued out of view.

“Chee-chee?” Mila called, and the meerdreg chirped but didn’t join them. “Hmm. While I’m happy he’s coming with us to Crakair, I’m surprised. I’d think he’d want to return to his home planet.”

Kral shrugged. The animal had helped them. If it wanted a home on Crakair with them, he would welcome the creature into their dwelling. He doubted the Crakairian Council would care about one meerdreg.

“Where should we go?” Mila asked as they moved through the small airlock and into the main part of the ship.

“Bridge,” he bit out, pulling her to the right when they hit the hall. They tumbled into the small cabin in the front of the ship as the station continued to chant out the countdown.

Two hundred seclars. Two hundred seclars. Safety can only be achieved by putting a klek’s distance between your shuttle and the station and beyond fifty seclars. Repeat. Safety will only be achieved with one klek distance beyond fifty seclars.

Fifty? Heille.

He dropped down into the commander’s chair while Mila strapped into the one beside. A few taps and Kral had accessed the controls.

The door to the station’s main airlock opened, and the shuttles carrying the meerdregs and lizzers flew past. Through the front windows, he spied meerdregs perched in the chairs and on the control panels. He hoped they didn’t mess up the autopilot he’d programmed into their craft.

Chee-chee joined him and Mila, hopping up on the dash to wave.

Everyone assumed the creatures were simple primates, but Kral had to wonder. Chee-chee had shown considerable thought process.

Kral was grateful they’d been here to help him and Mila get away. They must have been captured on the surface of Yarris since they and the lizzers were rarely found outside this part of the galaxy.

As he eased the ship away from the boarding dock, he caught the Al’kieern rushing toward a shuttle, telling him the delayed airlock opening sequence he’d arranged had worked. They’d either make it out of the station or not. He couldn’t concern himself with them any longer.

He carefully guided the star cruiser into line behind the meerdreg shuttle, and the inner door closed behind them. Once the pressure had stabilized, the outer door opened, and both ships shot out, heading toward the stars.

“Go,” he ground out, leaning forward. His naanans flared around him as he pushed the ship to its fastest cruising speed. Hyper drive would be useless until he had time to map out a route that would keep them from hitting anything the moment they shot through the galaxy.

Chee-chee hopped off the dash and, with a parting screech, limped down the hall, leaving the bridge.

Kral’s inner countdown told him they had ten seclars to reach the minimum one klek’s distance needed for safety.

It wasn’t going to be enough time.

Thirteen

Mila

“Are we going to make it?” Mila asked Kral. From the way he strained forward, as if he would push the ship from behind if he could, she had a feeling it was going to be close.

“We will try,” he bit out.

Not the most assuring statement, but she’d take it.

To their right, the other two shuttles dove toward Yarris.

“Bye, Firefly,” she whispered, her hand lifted in a wave. Frowning, she placed her palms against her head as his message came through.

May starsss alwaysss be there to guide, friend, Firefly said in her mind. Always welcome in lizzer tribe. When you meet, tell them I, Treessse, say you receive clear passssage.

Thank you, she replied in her mind, then aloud. “May the stars always be there to guide you, too.” Her throat choked off, and she blinked fast to keep her damn tears from forming. With a sniff, she turned to Kral. “He said goodbye. He’s a sweet little guy.”

Kral’s jaw unhinged. “How do you know he said goodbye?”

“We communicate telepathically.”

“How is this possible?”

“It just is.” She watched the shuttles taking Treese, his friends, and the other monkeys to Yarris. “I would’ve liked to get to know him better. He was interesting. But I haven’t lost everyone.” Damn, she shouldn’t be dwelling on loss—again. “Chee-chee decided to come with us.”

“You have not lost me,” Kral said gruffly, bringing a shaky smile to her face.

“For that,” she said. “I am extra grateful.”

“You amaze me,” he said.

“By making friends?”

“By finding friendship with creatures others fear with good reason.”

“Why?” But she knew. Her smile slipped as she remembered them killing the Al’kieern. “They’re lethal little buggers, aren’t they? Treese, who I call Firefly, was pinned to the ceiling above me when I first woke on the space station. I helped him get free.”

“The Al’kieern often use other creatures to fulfill a need.”

“They had lights they could use instead. Why hurt someone when you don’t have to?”

He shrugged. “Some do not think of others when they should.”

“They were going to eat Chee-chee. I rescued him from a cage in the kitchen. I still need to splint his leg. I believe he has a hairline fracture, but I can help it heal so he won’t always have a limp.”

“As I said, you are amazing.”

“I only do what anyone else would.”

“Do you?”

Sure, she did. Right?

Facing forward, she watched as a third ship jettisoned to Yarris. “You gave the Al’kieern an equal chance to live.” What they chose to do with it from here on, she couldn’t know, but she hoped they’d reconsider their actions and how they impacted others. They should stick with developing Yarris and leave Earth women and other creatures alone.

Kral lifted his hands off the controls and leaned back in his chair, telling her he’d done all he could to get them out of this tenuous situation. Fate would be the one to decide what came next.

While panic should be setting in, urging her to run, she only felt sorrow.

She held out her hand, and Kral took it, bridging the small gap between their chairs, between them. He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, his fangs grazing across her sensitive skin.

Her breath caught. One simple touch and he lit her on fire.

They hadn’t had enough time. Sure, they’d been able to talk. He’d courted her and made her laugh.

He’d helped her escape the ship.

Now there was nothing they could do but wait to be blown to bits. It was wrong, but at this moment, there was no chance for right.

They hadn’t even shared a real kiss, one full of emotion.

She wanted it. Wanted him, even though she’d only recently met him. They’d connected from the first moment, and she knew the more time they spent together, the more their souls would weave into one.

Love? She still wasn’t sure about that yet, but she knew deep in her heart she could care a lot for Kral, given the chance.

Would she have that opportunity?

“What do we do now?” she asked, the pain of potential loss splintering her voice. The words jerked out of her.

“We have forty seclars before the station explodes.”

“Are we one klek away?”

“I do not know.” Anxiety came through in his voice, and his sekairs lifted in defensive mode. Shit, he was afraid they wouldn’t make it. He was trying to protect her like he had from the moment he met her.

She didn’t want her last forty—no, make that thirty—seclars alive to be spent sitting in a chair wondering what she was missing. Unbuckling, she got up and strode to his chair. She climbed up onto his lap, straddling his waist.

“I want to kiss you for real,” she said softly. “There isn’t time for anything else, but we can have this.”

His hands went around her waist, and he tugged her closer. “Mila.”

“Twenty seclars,” she said.

“My mate…”

His naanans glided along the nape of her neck and tugged her closer still.

She cupped his shoulders as his mouth met hers, tentatively at first as she’d expect from the stoic Crakairian male who’d tumbled on top of her when she lay in her bath.

His lips were firm yet tender, but she wanted more. She needed to feel…for one last time.

Desperation fed their fire, turning it into a roaring blaze.

His tongue met hers, and she moaned. Groaning, he deepened their kiss, giving her a taste of what might have been. They’d come so close.

Why did life have to be unfair?

His naanans stroked her shoulders and teased along the sides of her breasts.

When the world exploded outside the ship, he grunted and wrapped his arms securely around her. If it was physically possible, he’d protect her from all harm. Would the world rip them apart?

The ship shook, and they continued to kiss. In her touch, Mila shared all her hopes and uncertainty, plus the dreams she’d started to build around a future together.

Tears stung in her eyes, and her breathing grew ragged as the ship was tossed into space. The craft tumbled like a toy thrown by an angry child, and she was nearly wrenched from Kral’s arms, but he held true, keeping her safe even as the vessel shuddered and creaked around them.

The lights dimmed, then resurged. Dimmed again.

She kept kissing him, determined that if they died this moment, it would be like this, linked as one.

The lights brightened, and in the echoing silence, only a subtle tick from the dash reached her.

They broke apart, though they remained locked in each other’s arms.

“Did we make it?” she asked, her soft words breaking the hush. “Or are we dreaming?”

“We have made it.” He bared his fangs, and his eyes gleamed with happiness he’d only hinted at so far, as if, while kissing, he’d also seen the future they could share. “No dream, my mate.”

Her smile was so big, it made her cheeks ache. “Your mate, huh? You’ve called me that before.”

He cocked one eyebrow, and his naanans continued to stroke her nape. One teased along the side of her breast, making heat burst inside her. “Are you not my mate?”

“I think I am.” Her face overheating, she leaned in close. “Do I get to call you mate, too, or is there another term Crakairian women use instead?”

His eyes gleamed. “Mate will do nicely.”

“We’re free, right? Safe for the first time since I was kidnapped from the ship.” She couldn’t believe it was over, that all she had to think about now was her new life on Crakair with Kral.

“We are free.”

“What happens next?”

“We need to ensure we’re safe here on the ship, and I need to program the controls to take us to Crakair.”

“How much time will it take to get there?”

“At hyper drive? Approximately five daelas.”

“Gee. What will we do to pass the time?” She hadn’t intended the words to come out enticingly, but her face grew hot all over again. She wasn’t practiced with this seduction stuff.

He pressed his fist against his chest. “I will take this time to finish courting you.”

Her spine tingled at the thought of her lying spread out in front of him, his hands—no, his mouth—between her legs. Why was she going in that direction now? She should be thinking about the regular courtship stuff, like foot emulsion—whatever that was. And him cooking for her in a garlong.

He had mentioned the ancient Vikir tradition of courtship orgasms…

Was a woman supposed to ask a Crakairian—Vikir—male to break with modern ways and take her back in time for the good stuff? She sighed, unsure how she could bring it up. Then she side-eyed him. “About these courtship rituals. How are you going to pull them off on a foreign spaceship?”

He leaned around her and pressed some buttons on the control panel before sitting back in the chair and grinning. “You may have noticed that I, your Vikir warrior mate, am very good at improvising.”

Damn, he was hot when he smiled. She hadn’t had time to notice, but now it seemed there would be plenty of time for her to see things like that. She wanted to get to know him better, to find out what made Kral tick.

Okay, she wanted to give him a courtship orgasm. She squirmed on his lap as heat shot through her. Did she dare act boldly? She never had with a guy before.

She’d heard some of the other Earth women hurried their courtship because they couldn’t keep their hands off their Crakairian male, and she understood the drive. Kissing him had been enough to make her eager to drag him off to bed, assuming there was a bed on this ship.

“The ship is now on course,” he said, pulling his hands back. He dropped them onto her hips and tugged her close. “Would you like to begin your courtship now?”

This was it. All her fear and worry that they wouldn’t survive long enough to fall for each other burst through her. She could hold on to the bravery her father had taught her, or she could slink away and hide.

Mila hated to hide.

“What would you say about using a few of the old Vikir courtship traditions?”

His eyes lit on fire. “You…” When he shook his head, his naanans flared out before settling on her shoulders. “I would very much love to explore my ancient traditions.”

Her lips quirked up on one side. “It seems to me we’re missing out on the first, biggest tradition.”

He leaned in close and grazed his fangs along her neck. “Mila. I would kill to give you an orgasm.”

How could a girl turn down an offer like that? Rising, she scooted to the back of the bridge and shut the door. No need to have Chee-chee announce himself at an important moment.

She returned and stood in front of Kral.

Keep being bold.

A few tugs and she’d pulled her shirt over her head. She wore nothing underneath but her skin.

He gulped, and his hand lifted but didn’t touch.

She stepped forward until his fingers could trace her breast.

“This mound. Beast—breast,” he corrected quickly. He flashed her a look of wonder before focusing on her breasts. “This fibrous, glandular tissue. It feels…It arouses me.”

When he looked up again, she saw vulnerability mixed in with the lust on his face. The feeling was echoed in her. His tongue glided along his lower lip, and she moaned. What would that forked tip feel like on her breasts, let alone other, intimate places?

“Touch me more, if you want,” she said in a husky voice. Heat swirled through her, centering between her legs.

“Does touch on your breasts feel good?” he asked.

“It’s incredibly arousing.”

He flashed his fangs. “I wish to arouse you. All the time.” Leaning forward, he flicked his tongue across her nipple. When she gasped, he glanced up. Gone was the vulnerability, replaced by fire and a touch of the cockiness she’d seen hints of and loved.

She couldn’t hold herself back and thrust her chest forward, fully into his hand.

He teased the nipple between his thumb and finger and watched while she squirmed. She closed her eyes and gave in to the moment. For too long, she’d been on the run. Afraid. Now, she only wanted to savor the heady emotions growing for Kral.

While his fingers continued to stroke one nipple, he sucked the other into his mouth. His tongue glided across it, each of the forked sides wrapping around the base and tugging.

She was going to explode, and the impact would be bigger than that of the space station.

One of his naanans took over from his hand, locking onto her nipple, and something in the tip fluttered.

Her eyes popped open, and she jerked toward him. “What…?”

“Do you like it?” he asked, his voice deeper than the center of the galaxy. Other naanans teased along the top of her pants, undoing the knotted rope she’d used to keep the overly large garment from falling around her ankles. The knot released, and the pants fell.

No undies—panties—either. She’d been going au natural under her stolen clothing since she was captured. As for the dress she’d been wearing when she was kidnapped, it had been torn and stained, and she’d tossed it into the trash.

“You are…the most beautiful person I have ever seen,” he said in awe.

The self-conscious woman inside her wanted her to squirm and deny his words. But the new Mila, the one who’d escaped alien captors and survived alone on an alien space station for days, stepped forward.

“I want you,” she said.

“I will give you everything I have,” he said reverently. “All of me.” He urged her backward to lie across the front dash, in a smooth section without dials. Then he dropped to his knees in front of her and lifted her legs to place them on his shoulders. “This…” He waved to her body lying in front of him. “Is beautiful. But this…” He pressed a fist against his chest before pressing it against hers, in the same place, above her heart. “This is timeless and possesses a beauty beyond compare.”

“Kral.” He was going to make her heart fracture into a thousand pieces, but she had a feeling he’d find a way to gather them up and seal them back together.

“I wish to taste all of you,” he said, leaning forward. “I will give you an orgasm with my mouth.”

Holy shit. She was going to let him do it, too. She’d wanted this since his fingers accidentally slid between her legs, since his fangs and naanans grazed her nipple. From the moment he’d fallen on top of her in the tub.

“It is my wish to pleasure you always,” he said as his fingers stroked down her folds. A naanan teased across her thigh and settled on her clit.

It vibrated.

She bucked, nearly sliding off the dash. But he chuckled and braced her in place. “Are you falling for me, my mate?”

“Funny,” she groaned out. Shit, she could barely think with his fingers tracing along her slit and the naanan latched on and humming.

“I wish to see you come,” he said.

It felt so good, it made her eyes roll back in her head. “Far be it for me to deny you your wishes.”

“Yes, you are right.” He laughed again. “Always give in to my wishes.”

“Don’t get too cocky.”

“Do you not wish to give in?”

She did. A billion times, but especially now.

“Kral,” she said, the power building inside her. Her body tightened as tiny spasms swept through her, dragging her closer and closer to complete satisfaction.

“Yes, my mate?” He stroked her slit, the tip of his finger barely dipping inside her.

She wanted him to stand in front of her and drive himself inside. She’d seen hints of his cock pressing against his pants, and it looked thick. Big.

And she’d heard they vibrated.

Damn, she needed to find out.

Other naanans stroked her breasts and vibrated against her nipples.

This was pure bliss. She’d died, and he’d taken her there.

Her nipples tightened, and she was so wet, she had to be dripping.

She shivered, and it wasn’t solely due to the cool temperature. She ached to feel him moving inside her. Taking her to heights she’d never experienced before.

He stroked her legs, his tongue gliding up her thigh, moving close but never touching where she ached for him most.

“Kral,” she sighed, fisting his naanans. She glided her fingers down to the tips and stroked them.

He shuddered, and his mouth paused over her clit. “That…Mila.” Her name croaked out of him. “You…”

“Fair play, my mate,” she said. “I don’t intend to only receive an orgasm today.”

“It is for the female. Never the male.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” His tongue flicked out and traced along her slit.

She moaned and lifted her hips upward, her heels braced on his shoulders. “You need to experience this, too, and I’m gonna make it happen.”

“You. This is about you.”

Her fingers stilled on his naanans. “Nope, dude. It’s about both of us.”

“Us, but this one minar, you.” His eyes darkened. “For me, there will be later.”

She would hold that statement as a promise.

“Kral.” His name came out in a plea.

When his finger glided down her slit, she jerked up toward him, gasping. He dipped inside her then pulled his finger out and licked it.

“Sweeter than jinjin fruit.” He growled, his breath hot on her skin. “I need to taste more.”

She was going to come before he did more than stroke her.

He dipped his finger into her engorged folds, pushing and gliding, but he stopped partway inside. “And what is this?”

“Shit, shit,” she sighed, her body on fire. A few more pumps, and she was going to blast across the galaxy. “Don’t touch that.”

“What is it?” He stroked his finger across a small round mound inside her.

“My G-spot. Don’t touch it!”

“Why ever not?”

“Because…Because…”

“Do you not like it?”

“Shit, yes.”

“Then I wish to touch it. Often.”

Fuck.

“I sense you are about to orgasm, Mila. Do it. Let it go. I want to feel it on my fingers and taste it on my tongue.” He glided his finger across her G-spot again, and she bucked and moaned. “This intrigues me. Do you have other pleasure spots you will share?”

She was so close. “Kral.”

“Yes?” His naanans continued to stroke her breasts, her tender inner thighs. Shit. How could a guy have hair that sucked and teased? It wasn’t fair.

She wiggled and somehow found enough wits to speak. “Stop fooling around.”

“You are right. Why waste time when I need to do this?” He stroked up her to her clit, where the tip of his tongue coiled around her and tugged.

Her body rocketed to the stars.

While she shuddered and shook, his fingers teased inside her, stroking her folds before dipping in to tweak her G-spot. Over and over. Pumping. Pushing.

For an improviser, he sure learned fast.

Moving down lower, he drove his tongue inside her. It was long and thick, and the forked end flicked deeply.

“Kral!”

He lifted his head. “Yes, my mate?”

His naanans. Shit, his naanans. Two worked her breasts while others stroked her everywhere else. It was like having sex with three guys at the same time, each making sure no part of her body went wanting.

His mouth. And his incredible tongue.

She moaned and whimpered and begged him to do this forever.

Until the world crashed over her, and she fell back on her bed, a spent wreck.

“Are you ready for the grand tour of the ship?” he asked.

After she’d gushed all over the place and he’d licked it up, he’d sat back and tugged her onto his lap. His naanans had stroked her back and shoulders, while his arms wrapped her up, keeping her safe and warm.

They’d stared through the windows, marveling at the stars.

“A tour?” she said. “Sure.” Rising, she stood on her limp legs, her insides still shimmering from her “courtship orgasm” and dressed. After, she stood on tiptoes to give him a kiss. Hot, but fast.

Damn, she needed to stop thinking in those terms.

She got the idea he’d enjoyed the kiss—let alone everything else they’d done—if the bulge in his pants was anything to go by. It was big. She’d heard Crakairian males were large all over, and the rumors appeared to be true with Kral. A longing to feel his skin pressed against hers rose inside her again, nearly overwhelming her.

“None of that,” she whispered to herself.

He quirked one brow ridge upward. She couldn’t call it an eyebrow without hair, but it had essentially the same effect. And the gesture was cute. “None of what?”

“You know what I mean.” She waved her hand to his body. “Stop being so sexy.”

He advanced on her.

She backed up. For self-preservation. Certainly not because she was afraid of him. Her heart raced and delicious fire blazed through her body. Maybe her fellow Earthlings were onto something there with their old “skip the courtship” thing.

“Stop it,” she said with a laugh.

He kept coming.

She kept backing until her butt hit the wall.

He braced his hands on either side of her head and leaned in close. As he nibbled along her jawline, he spoke in a low, gruff voice. “You find me sexy?”

“Don’t you know it already?”

“How could I?”

He seemed to have a fascination with her ear, because he bit down on it as if tasting, then lathed it with his tongue.

Her legs shook. No, her whole body shook.

She was definitely thinking about ditching the courtship.

Wait.

“Hold on there,” she said, pressing a finger up between them. “Courtship. Marriage. Then comes the fucking. Not that I’m opposed to moving the game pieces around.”

“There will be fucking,” he said with humor in his voice. “Lots of fucking.”

Oh, fuck.

Her laughter snorted out. Fuck was right. Damn, her body had a one-track mind.

He backed away from her. “I must resist you at least until I have ensured we are safe on this craft.” He tugged her close and wrapped his arms around her. “We will take things as they come.” Stepping back, he bowed. “Prepare to be fully courted, my mate.”

Fourteen

Kral

Kral’s cock throbbed with need.

He wanted her beneath him. On top of him. And against the wall with her legs wrapped around his waist while he drove inside her.

Completely naked.

Solely at his mercy.

Today, tonight, tomorrow, and for the rest of their days.

But he was determined to follow the rules and do this right, and that meant courtship. Marriage. Then the fucking.

Fuck. It was all he could do not to snarl. There was nothing he could do about his damn cock that felt like a steel rod in his pants. Yes, she had offered to give him satisfaction, but he could not relax his guard until he was sure they were safe.

As they headed to the exit, he couldn’t help noticing the pulse beating feverishly in her throat, the way her breathing had gone ragged, or the way she clung to his hand.

He loved that she yearned for more, that she was as unsettled about him as he was about her. Was he foolish to have already half-fallen for the Earth female he’d been matched with? What if she decided partway through his courtship that she wanted to return to Earth? It would be impossible to let her go.

He wouldn’t force a relationship, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do all he could to persuade her to stay.

They entered a hall behind the bridge.

Chee-chee started to scoot past them, but she grabbed one of his arms. “Not so fast, little guy. We need to fix you up and then you can scurry around the ship.”

The meerdreg gave Kral a long-suffering look, but remained calm while she placed him in the Commander’s chair.

“I need something about this long.” She held up her fingers. “And stiff. Like a thin piece of wood. And tape if we have it.”

Kral dug through the cabinets in the back of the bridge and located what she needed. He watched as she carefully splinted the meerdreg’s leg.

The creature hopped off the chair and moved forward as if testing the fit.

“Chee. Chee-chee!” he said before leaping back into the Commander’s chair. He sat and stared out the front windscreen as if he planned to take charge of the ship. Perhaps he did. Kral had never thought much about meerdregs, but it was clear they were intelligent and savvy.

“Is that okay, little guy?” Mila asked, stooped down beside the chair.

“Chee.”

As long as the beastie kept his claws to himself, he had a home with Kral forever.

“Don’t get into trouble,” she said, shaking her finger at the creature. She fed Kral a look reminiscent of an indulgent parent.

The meerdreg sighed and ran his claws along the arm of the chair.

“Do you think he’ll mess things up?” Mila asked, gnawing on her lower lip. “Maybe we should get him down from there.”

“And do what with him?”

“No clue. He should rest. Let that leg heal.”

“The ship is on autopilot, now. He cannot change that.” Kral hoped not, anyway.

“Maybe he’s thinking about his friends.”

“If he is not happy on Crakair, we will bring him to Yarris once he has healed.”

Her shoulders loosened. “Okay. That’s a good plan.”

He shut the door, and they faced the hall.

The ship was built like all other smaller star cruisers he’d traveled on, containing a bridge spanning the front of the craft, a main hallway behind with small rooms on either side and, if he guessed correctly, crew quarters at the end. Beneath the floor, Kral suspected he’d find electrical and engine compartments.

He opened doors to find two closets located on either side of the hall.

“What are these for?” Mila asked, fingering one of the silver garments hanging inside.

“For space missions on the outer portion of the ship mid-flight or when stopped, when they’re unable to pull into a repair dock.”

He tugged one of the suits out and scowled at it.

“It might fit me rather than you,” she said with a smirk.

About the right size of Mila, it was made for a much slighter body than Kral’s, and for a person with four arms.

“Let’s hope we don’t need to do any repairs,” she said in all seriousness, seeing the gravity of the situation. “Because I can’t picture myself putting this on and going outside.”

Kral held in his shudder at the reminder if something like that happened, they’d be helpless.

After tossing the suit back into the closet with the rest of the equipment, he shut the door and continued down the hall.

They located a small galley kitchen on the right. Assuming there was food on board, they could eat it in the break room he spied on the left.

“The ship looks about like what I’d expect to find,” Mila said, walking into the dining room. “Reminds me of sci-fi movies I used to watch when I was a kid.” She opened one of the cabinets mounted along one wall but found it empty. The rest contained dishes and eating implements, cups, but no food.

They left the dining area continued down the hall, finding compartments containing tools and supplies on either side of the passage.

Near the end of the hall and on the left, they found a droid crew regeneration room with a charging pool, useless to a human and Crakairian. And on the right, a small bathroom.

He did not see the tub to feature in one of his courtship rituals. Modern Crakairians took zither baths, but Vikirs preferred a more traditional soaking. While Kral lacked the necessary components for a Vikir courtship bath, he would improvise. His aching body told him he’d need a long soak to make up for the lack once he reached his home.

“Can I, uh…” Mila pointed to the toileting unit mounted on the left wall.

“Of course.”

He stepped out into the hall and shut the door.

Mila emerged not long after, her body quivering.

“What is wrong?” he asked, poking his head back into the room, his hand reaching for his sword. He didn’t see anything amiss. Had she encountered a threat?

“The toilet essentially attacked me.” She put her hand on his arm, stilling it before he pulled his weapon. “While I appreciate you going caveman protector on my behalf, we might need it before we reach Crakair.”

“How do you mean, attacked?”

Her face flushed. “The toilet grabbed my legs while I was, uh, sitting. Something from underneath tried to…” She shuddered, and her eyes widened. “Talk about alien probes.”

“The Al’kieern require a specific type of cleaning after they—”

She held up her hand. “I don’t need to hear the details. Nearly lived it already. If I was a timid person, I’d be traumatized for life.” Shaking her head, a smile teased across her lips. “Fortunately, I’m a bold kind of woman.”

“You are.” He admired her greatly. She’d been through so much over the past likar, events that could break a person. Yet here she was, smiling about Al’kieern toileting units.

His gaze drilled her hand still held high, and her gaze followed his. She curled her fingers inward, and her arm dropped. “Oh. Yeah.” More pinkness flooded her cheeks. He found the coloring gesture highly appealing. Could she do it at will? It appeared unlikely. “The hand thing. It means…”

“You would like a kiss?”

Her gaze went to his mouth, and she slid her tongue along her bottom lip.

His cock shot to attention.

“Now that you mention it…” she said.

Advancing on her, he cupped her face, his thumbs stroking the fine skin along her jawline. Her silky hair teased his fingers, and he ached to bury his face in it while burying himself inside her. But that would go against the “no fucking until after marriage” rule. How could he bear to wait that long?

She tipped her head back, and her lips parted. He gave her a kiss that hinted at the fire raging inside him. She gasped and opened her mouth, inviting his tongue to stroke hers. Pressing herself against him, she cupped his shoulders and deepened their kiss.

He trailed kisses to where her neck met her shoulder and bit down gently on the tender flesh. Unable to resist, he stroked her breasts with his naanans, focusing on the hardened pebbles in the center. He wished he could pull off her clothing and touch them again.

Taste them.

When he focused the fluttering tip of one naanan on her breast pebble, she moaned and pushed her hips against his. Her head tipped back, and his name burst from her lips.

Fuck. This courtship was going to be pure torture.

They pulled apart.

She traced her fingers across her lips, and he wanted to push them aside and replace them with his mouth again.

The courtship. He must focus on the courtship, not on his overwhelming urge to spin her around, rip through her clothing, and drive himself inside her.

Patience.

With a growl of frustration, he shut the door to the bathroom and opened the final door centered at the end of the hall. He expected to see Al’kieern crew quarters that would consist of hammock-like bunks suspended from the ceiling and pits along the sides of the room where the winged Al’kieern could slither down into sandy soil carried from Mara. The Al’kieern considered the activity restorative.

Instead, he found what appeared to be the standard Commander’s quarters made up of a bed, a few tables, and a desk. The ship must be crewed by droids, like the one Vork had loaned him to come after Mila, the one the Al’kieern had destroyed.

Mila strolled into the room ahead of him. “Huh.” She ran her hand along the wooden headboard. “If I didn’t know better, I’d believe I’d been dropped into a romance cliché.” Turning, she smiled and leaned her shoulder against the wall by the big bed.

“In what way?” He was intrigued by the notion of romance but could not see how this could be a cliché.

“There’s only one bed. That’s a common set-up in romance novels.”

“Novels of romance?” He felt a fool for repeating her words, but he still did not understand.

“I love them. Read them all the time back on Earth.” She sighed. “Do you think the Crakairians threw out my things on the star cruiser? I brought a digital reader loaded with enough books to last a lifetime.”

“I assume your possessions will be waiting for you on Crakair when we arrive.”

“Oh, good.”

“Tell me more of this romance cliché.”

“It’s a common trope. The story starts simple then gets steamy.”

“Steam?”

“Yeah, hot. Since we’re living the cliché, you and I will need to lie on the bed together, because there isn’t anywhere else onboard for us to sleep.”

“I could sleep in the—”

She strode to the closet doors and flung them open. “Bingo.”

“Bingo?” Who was Bingo?

“Just like I thought.” Though her movements were purposeful, she didn’t sound angry. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was amused. “Empty closets. There’s nothing for us to wear. But in our romance cliché, you will valiantly agree to sleep on top of the covers and wear your boxers.”

“What are boxers?”

“Panties for guys.”

His naanans flared. He did not have boxers with him. Was this a problem? Perhaps she meant she wanted to box-er. A box-er was someone who battled in a ring. That could not be right. Panties, she had said… Ah. Yes. Small garments Earthling females wear beneath their clothing. She had mentioned them earlier.

Like most Crakairians, he wore nothing underneath his pants and furs. He had not anticipated courting Mila and had not thought to bring a garlong—a loincloth-like garment Crakairian males wore when they courted their future mates. He could improvise, however. “Never fear. I will be quite willing to—”

“So, we’ll lie in bed for a long time, each of us unable to sleep. We’ll listen to the other breathing. I’ll try not to touch you. You’ll do the same.”

He stepped toward her, frowning. “Are you sure about that? Because I am happy to touch you. Lick you.”

She fanned her face. “Eventually, we’ll fall into a restless sleep.”

Actually, this did not sound like fun. Boxing, lying while listening to breathing, followed by a night of restless sleep. Earthlings sought out stories like this for pleasure?

“Somehow, during the night,” she said. “I’ll seek out your mostly naked body, because—”

“You will?” Perhaps this romance cliché could be a good thing, after all.

She shook her finger at him as if chastising a child. “I’ll seek you out because I’m cold.”

“I see.” He waved his hand to the circular half globe mounted on the ceiling. “We can adjust the climate controls, and you will not be cold.”

“That’s not the point, and it doesn’t fit the cliché.”

“I see.” He did not. He did wonder how he could facilitate the she is cold so she seeks out his nearly naked body component of this cliché, however.

“We’ll wake up with me snuggling on top of you. You’ll have a hard-on, and it’ll be pressing against my thigh.”

“Would you like me to press my hardness against your thigh?” Earthling females were more complex than he had assumed. Romance clichés and pressing hard cocks against thighs must be part of Earth courtship rituals. He would do this if she wished.

“Pressing it against my thigh isn’t the point.”

He frowned. Then what was the point? He felt as if he floundered in a pool of shartins, lulled by the warm waters and unaware one was about to glide over and bite off his leg.

While the idea of pressing hardness against her thigh had merit, the hint of a tease in her voice told him he was missing something in the conversation. But he rushed to reassure her. “I must mention this one thing. If we are together in a bed and you lie naked on top of me, I cannot promise I will not have hardness…on my body. I also cannot promise not to press it against you.” Frankly, he’d have rip-roaring steel between his legs if he woke up and she lay sprawled on top of him. What else could be expected of a matebonded male? “And you already know I will be spreading your thighs and giving you the pleasure you deserve.”

“Perfect. That’s in the romance cliché, too.”

“Then we shall continue this romance cliché.” One day, he would read one of her novels of romance. They sounded intriguing.

“Guys and morning hard-ons seems to be a thing,” she said.

“If you would like, I can sleep in the Commander’s chair,” he said. “Then you will avoid me pressing my hardness against your thigh until you tell me you are ready.” He took comfort in the fact that he had learned something about cock hardness and Earth courtship rituals.

“You don’t have to sleep anywhere else. We can share the bed.” Her eyes sparkled. “I promise I’ll behave myself.”

What if he was not capable of behaving? His matebond blood surged through his veins, eager to drive his every action. Add to that the blood of his raider Vikir ancestors. This talk about cock hardness and pressing it against her only made him more eager to tumble her onto the bed and strip off her clothing.

“I will not fuck you until after our courtship is completed,” he said.

She strode close to him, and the scent of her arousal hit him in the forehead like the kick of a wildarn’s hoof. “Tell me the steps of the courtship and let’s see how close we are to the good stuff.”

They were very close. The warmth of her body made him eager to get there this seclar. “A zither bath.”

“You joined me in my bath when we met.”

“There were no zithers.”

“How vital are the zithers?” she asked, her head tilting. Her tongue dipped out to touch her lower lip, and he stifled his groan.

“We can dispense with the zithers. Many times, there are none available and the Crakairian male must make do with other…species.”

Her fingertip traced down his throat to the top of his furs. “Then let’s call your zither bath a success.”

“Perhaps.”

“What comes next?”

“I must emulse your feet but we have no boodler.”

“How about a foot massage instead? Fingers work for me.”

Mesmerized by her every movement, he found himself nodding. “I will do this. Massage your feet.”

“After the emulsion comes…”

“You.” It was all he could do to hold on to his mind. Mila had swept into his life and sent him spinning.

“Oh, orgasms.”

He gulped, confused. But he soon realized she was teasing. She had fallen apart in his arms. He knew she had found pleasure. “You were fully satisfied,” he growled.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be fully satisfied, but you’re right, we can tick off that part of the Vikir part of your courtship.” She frowned. “What else?”

“I must make a sacrifice in your honor.”

“Done. Back on the space station, you were prepared to die to keep me safe.”

He tugged her into his arms. “I would do it all over again.”

“Kral,” she whispered against his chest. “We were so close to losing each other. I don’t want anything like that to happen again.”

There may be no way of preventing it, but he would try.

“Is there anything else you need to do to complete the courtship?” she asked.

“I must prepare you a traditional meal while wearing a garlong. Which I do not have with me.”

“But you said you love to improvise.”

“I will dream up something.”

“If it involves skimpy clothing, I can’t wait.” She winked.

“And I will sleep in the bed with you tonight, to fulfill that part of the Earth romance cliché courtship.”

She blinked a minar before her face cleared. “Sure. I’m not complaining. We can skip the bundling board.”

He frowned.

“It’s an Earth courtship tradition from hundreds of years ago. A dating couple would get into bed together, but since they weren’t supposed to have sex, they put a rolled blanket or even a board between them to keep them from touching.”

“But then the woman cannot have an orgasm.”

She smiled. “Exactly. Some people still use the practice today, like the Amish.”

“What is the purpose of this board of bundling other than keeping the couple apart?”

“I think it was common because it was so cold when they were dating. This way, they could stay warm underneath the covers without touching. They’d talk and get to know each other.”

“We will not bundle,” he said firmly.

“Because we’re in a romance cliché!” She wiggled her eyebrows, and he wished he could interpret what that meant. “Are you planning anything other than sleep tonight?”

He couldn’t. Not until the courtship was finished. But he liked the idea of incorporating Earth courtship traditions into Vikirian.

He strode to the small room’s sole closet and peered inside. Empty as she had said. Turning to Mila, he watched her face. “You accept that we will not wear clothing in the bed?”

She nodded with a smile. “Yup. Sure. After all, no fucking, right?”

“I am to lie on top of the blanket while you lie beneath.”

“That’s the romance cliché plan but we can…” She smirked. “Improvise.”

He advanced on her, and she stood her ground. “Then prepare yourself for the final phase of the courtship. Soon, I will prepare your meal while wearing a substitution for the garlong.”

“And I’ll happily eat the meal.” She rubbed her hands together. “Then comes the best part.”

“The proposal. You will say yes.” His words were only half-teasing.

“Cocky, but I’m going to roll with it, because I’m sure I will.”

“You do not sound completely confident.”

“Maybe I’ll need more examples of what you can deliver.”

He nudged her against the wall and trailed kisses along her jawline. She shivered in his arms and released a moan. “I am happy to show you.” He bit down on her shoulder.

“Kral,” she said, gripping his arms tightly. She pulled him closer, flush against her. “Don’t keep me waiting long.”

“I will not. Because soon, we will begin the fucking.”

Fifteen

Mila

He backed away from her and started for the door.

“That’s it?” she said, deepening her voice to make it sound like his. “I will propose, my mate, and you will say yes. I will wear the garlong and prepare the meal and you will eat and enjoy it. And then we will fuck.”

“That is correct.” He bared his fangs.

Jeez. She fanned her face. Panty-melting smile right there.

Her knees shook, and it wasn’t solely because she’d spent days running on the ship or even that they’d had to do the Stairmaster on the way out.

“So where do we go from here?” she said.

He stroked her hair. “You are tired.”

She yawned. “You’re right. I could probably crash right now, but for all I know, it’s mid-afternoon. I could barely keep track of time while outrunning the Al’kieern.” The days had blurred and only the sun rising over the planet below the station gave her a sense of morning versus night.

“It is nearly time for the evening meal, and I will prepare it for you in the traditional Vikir courtship way.”

“Really looking forward to the improvised garlong.” He’d be nearly naked. Could she keep her hands off him long enough for him to cook, serve her, then get down on one knee to propose?

Assuming Crakairians got down on one knee. Well, Kral had come close earlier, when he’d gone down between her knees. Her head spun as she remembered. She wanted that again, and there was one way to make sure it happened. She had to behave herself long enough to let him finish his courtship.

“If you would like to lie down,” he said. “I will let you know when the meal is ready.”

“Perfect.” A little nap would perk her up. Her synapses weren’t firing as they should.

He left the room, and she took off her pants and flopped on top of the bed. Curling on her side, she stared blindly at the wall. The picture hanging there blurred, and she drifted away…

She woke when the mattress shifted and flowed underneath her, oozing up around her arms and legs. Pinning her in place.

Shit. An attack bed!

Shrieking, she scrambled off the surface and backed as far away from the beastly bed as she could get. She watched with wide eyes as it smoothed out again.

Kral leaped through the doorway, his sword in his hand, poised to slice and dice. He crouched inside the room and peered around, his gaze feral. “Where is the threat?”

Her jaw dropped. Holy hell, what was he wearing?

“What are you…” She shook her head. At this point, it didn’t matter what he was wearing. The bed had attacked her. She pointed. “Stab the bed. Stab it hard.”

He straightened, and his sword arm dropped to his side. “You would have me wound the bed.”

“Do it fast before it leaps on me again!”

“The bed will not leap on you.”

“It’s alive. It’s some kind of creature and it tried to smother me.”

He sheathed the sword along his spine—his naked spine—and strode over to the bed. She tried not to be distracted by his prime butt cheeks sashaying in front of her, but damn… Would he notice if she touched them?

He was green all over, and completely hairless. And scaled, each segment about the size of her thumbnail, though his shoulder sekairs were larger. She already knew his scales were softer than they appeared.

Where had Kral found the strip of leather, and why was he wearing it? Not that she would complain, because he looked incredibly lickable wearing only a scrap of leather.

Leaning forward, he pressed his hands on the bed.

Fuck. Now she could see hints of his cock. The way he was standing created a shadow that made it seem like it was the size of her forearm, but that couldn’t be true.

He turned to face her, and the front of his skimpy garment twitched.

Double fuck. It hadn’t been an illusion. No shadow cock. She’d caught a glimpse of the real thing.

It was the size of her forearm.

His lips quirked up on one side. “Mila.”

How was he going to fit that inside her? And why was she wet at the thought of the effort it would take to get it in there?

“Mila.” He strode across the room, his thigh muscles flexing, and stopped in front of her. With a soft chuckle, he lifted her chin with one finger. “Mila.”

“Yeah?” His muscles went on forever. He didn’t have a six-pack. He had a full case of ridges across his abdomen. What would they feel like beneath her fingertips?

“Mila.”

“Where did you get that outfit?” No one could call it an outfit. It looked more like a scrap of light brown cloth he’d tucked between his legs. The material wasn’t wide. It must’ve taken some creative effort on his part to stuff his cock inside the suggestion of a pouch. A strip of material encircled his waist like a belt, holding the other scraps low on his hips.

“I did not bring a garlong,” he said patiently.

“You’re cooking me a meal in that?” Could she watch?

“I was, but you cried out.” His gaze fell on the bed.

Oh, yeah, the beast-bed. “It tried to eat me.”

“The bed is made up of acklor, a plant that molds to the shape of whoever lies on the surface.”

“A plant?” Curious, she moved around him and approached it slowly, ready to spring backward if it pounced. “Why?”

“Because it is comfortable?”

He sounded perplexed, but so was she.

“I’m overtired,” she said. “That must be the issue here.”

“It is to be expected after all you have been through.” He came up behind her and hovered so close, she could feel the warmth radiating off his skin. “Know I will keep you safe while you sleep.”

“You sure it wouldn’t make sense to stab the bed? To, um, keep it in line?” Did she dare climb back onto it and let it mold itself around her again?

“Lie down,” he said in a soothing tone that made her want to curl up in his arms and pass out for a while. “Allow the plant fibers to cushion your frame. While you sleep, they will gently massage you. You will wake after your nap refreshed and ready for whatever might come next.”

“Which is…?” She crawled up onto the bed, trying not to cringe as the mattress literally flowed around her hands and knees, accommodating her weight like a living memory foam.

“I will prepare your meal. You will eat it and enjoy it, as you wisely said earlier.” Humor came through in his voice. “We will then proceed to the next part of the Vikir courtship.”

She flopped down onto her side. As long as she kept reminding herself the mattress was a plant and not the Loch Ness monster rising from the deep to gulp her down in one bite, she could appreciate how comfortable it was. Easing onto her back, she closed her eyes. The beast-bed oozed underneath her, adding support to her lower back and slightly lifting her feet. Yeah, this was gonna be okay.

“What’s the next phase of the Vikir courtship, after the meal?” She liked the idea that he’d serve it in his skimpy thong. She wanted to check out his scales, plus a few other parts of his body.

“The courtship will be concluded.”

Her eyes popped open. “What?” She had to have heard him incorrectly. Hadn’t he mentioned more courtship rituals?

He removed his sword from its sheath and rested it near the bed. Then he climbed onto the surface and over her, bracing his palms on either side of her shoulders. His naanans teased her neck and the sides of her breasts. The tips… Fuck the tips with their flutter mechanism. Those babies would come in handy later. Two had played with her nipples. She’d liked it. She wanted him to do it again.

Hold on. “Could you repeat all that?” she asked. “I was distracted.”

Leaning forward, he kissed her jawline and down her neck to where the tops of her breasts were revealed by her poorly fitted Al’kieern shirt. “After I have served the formal meal in a garlong, the courtship is concluded.”

“Then we don’t need to make this go on for a year?” That’s what she’d read.

“Do you wish me to court you for a year?”

“I don’t think I’ll need that long to decide if I want to be with you or not.” Grinning, she put her hands on his shoulders.

“After the formal meal, I plan to lick you until you orgasm.”

Her heart slammed up into her throat, choking off her words. All she could do was sputter.

“If you agree, of course,” he added with a twinkle in his eye.

“Are you joking?” How could she not agree with that? It was all she’d been able to think of outside of escaping the station.

“Would I joke with you?”

“Maybe?” How did she know? Sometimes, it felt as if she’d known him forever, but in reality, it had only been a day. Sure, she’d killed aliens with him. Escaped an exploding space station with him. And he’d given her the best orgasm in her life. But still…

He nuzzled the dip between her breasts. “You smell delicious.”

Her skin tingled wherever he touched. Wherever he didn’t touch, too.

His tongue dipped out and traced her skin, raising goosebumps. He nudged the loose shirt down until only her nipples held the material in place. Tracing his tongue across the material, he teased near her nipple. “Yes or no?” Biting the top of her shirt with his fangs, he eased it down to expose her breast.

“Wait. What are you asking?”

“To call the courtship completed after the meal and the emulsion.”

“What if I don’t enjoy what you serve?” She was joking. She’d be happy eating crackers if he served them in this outfit. As for the emulsion, it would be fun, right?

“If you do not enjoy the meal, then I will make you something else.”

Actually, the bar of steel between them might do nicely for a feast.

His breath caught as he stared at her breasts. “You are the loveliest being I have ever seen.”

She had no urge to cover herself or to drag up her shirt. From the moment she’d seen this man standing at the foot of her tub, she’d wanted him.

“Yes,” she whispered.

His gaze met hers, his black pupils, gobbling up the dark blue ring encircling it. “Yes?”

“Yes. Let’s end this after the meal.”

“I should get the meal started soon, then.”

“First things first,” she said, tugging him near for a searing kiss. “I have something I need to do to you.”

Sixteen

Kral

He growled and nipped at the sweet flesh on the top of her exposed breast.

She shivered and arched up to meet him.

But then her eyes opened, and she gave him a smile that curled his toes. “There’s something I’d like to do to you.” She urged him off her and onto his back on the bed, then she climbed over him. “Why do you get to have all the fun?”

He bared his fangs, enjoying this teasing side of her. “Do you not have fun, too?”

“Everything has been awesome,” she said with a sigh. “Well, I could’ve missed out on a few things, but earlier, you were left with a hard-on. I think it’s still waiting for more.”

“It is the way of my life lately,” he admitted.

“Not any longer.” She kissed him then moved down his jawline to his neck, trailing her mouth along the veins that pulsed in his throat.

He closed his eyes and drank in the sensation of her lips kissing his chest and abs. Her long hair tickled, and he began to see the benefit of tresses like this in place of naanans.

When her fingers teased along the ties of his improvised garlong, his eyes opened. “I must wear this when I cook your meal and feed you.”

“Call this an appetizer.”

Appetizer… He wasn’t sure what she meant but—

Fuck.

She’d undone the ties of his improvised garlong and tucked it out of the way. His cock—something he’d been vaguely embarrassed about most of his life due to its larger size—sprang free.

“Wow,” she said.

He barely held in his flinch.

“Okay,” she added.

He waited for her to tell him it was too big. Too much. Something she didn’t want to touch, let alone invite into her body.

Her gaze met his. “You’re gorgeous.”

His jaw dropped, and a snort of laughter popped out of him. “Males are not gorgeous.”

“Well, you are.”

“Mila…” His heart felt like it was going to explode. This woman… His mate. He couldn’t wait to claim her.

When her fingers teased along his length, he couldn’t stop his hips from jerking upward.

“I think I need a garlong,” she said.

He couldn’t speak. All he could focus on was her fingers stroking him, her thumb gliding across the precum beading on the tip. “Why…” He struggled to clear his head. “Why do you need a garlong?”

She grinned up at him. “Because I’m about to make myself a feast.”

Scooting down further on the bed, she crouched between his legs. When she lowered her face and took the head of his cock into her mouth, he nearly exploded.

“Heille,” he hissed.

She looked up at him. “This okay? I…honestly, I’ve only tried it a few times, and I’m not sure I’m any good at it.”

“Don’t stop,” he said.

A sly smile curved her lips. “I don’t plan to.”

She stroked both her hands up his cock and exhaled on the tip before encasing at least half his dick inside the warm wetness of her mouth. He had to be halfway down her throat but fuck, he wanted more.

“That feels amazing.” His fingers wove into her hair and at first, he thought of pulling her away. The sensation of her sucking…Her tongue lathing across the bulb… Her fingers teasing his balls… He couldn’t stand it. He was going to blow. He’d embarrass himself by shooting everything he had into her mouth.

But the moment he touched her silky hair, he couldn’t resist stroking her head and tugging her closer.

She took more, dipping and moving. Sucking. Fuck. His brain spiraled into the stars.

She released him with a pop and smiled. “Dude, you taste awesome. Like cinnamon. My favorite spice.”

He did not know what cinnamon was but if she loved it, he would contact Earth and buy as much of it as possible.

Leaning forward, she took more of him inside her mouth. He didn’t expect her to take him all, not without choking.

Her tongue swirled across the top and sides of his cock as she milked him. The walls of her mouth pulled in, stroking his length.

He pumped up as she pushed down. He couldn’t help it. He’d kill to be buried inside her warmth.

She increased her pace, as if she wanted him to come.

Heille. He’d never expected anything like this; never dreamed of anything like this. No one had… Her mouth…

His brain tumbled away as he sunk inside himself and savored each stroke of her tongue, each time she glided her lips along his shaft. His balls tightened, and his pulse thundered in his ears. If she didn’t stop, he was going to…

She licked the bulb on the end and gently bit down.

He erupted, his guttural groans echoing around the room.

She continued to suck and pull him deep inside, the vibration of her moans driving him out of his mind.

He shuddered and continued to shoot inside her as she drove him over the edge again. It wasn’t possible. He’d never…

Only his mate would do this for him.

Sitting back on her heels, Mila grinned. Her pink cheeks and swollen lips attested to what she’d been doing. “Did I do it right?”

With a growl, he rose and flipped her over, onto her back. He tugged off her clothing, nudged her thighs apart, and buried his mouth between her legs.

She fisted his naanans and tipped her head back as he drove her as wild as she had done him.

Her cries soon followed his, absorbed by the atmosphere around them.

Seventeen

Mila

“Time for your meal, my mate,” Kral said. He smacked her butt. Not hard, just enough to jolt her back into this time zone. Maybe. Her brain was mush, and her body was limper than an overcooked noodle.

Her alien monkey friend hobbled up onto the bed near her head.

Shit.

“Chee-chee, cover your eyes, buddy!” she said, yanking a sheet over herself. “I’m stark naked.”

“And glad I am that you are,” Kral said. He’d donned his sword again, though nothing else from the waist up. “I doubt your meerdreg friend cares as he is also naked.”

During the time she’d lolled around in intense satisfaction-land, Kral had wound the scrap of leather around himself again, hiding all the good stuff.

“Dress, my mate,” he said. “Or not. Then join me in the dining area.”

“What are we cooking?”

“I am cooking, and you will enjoy it.”

“Is that a command or a request?”

“Both,” he said, his muscular arms crossed on his equally muscular chest.

“I want pancakes. Can you make pancakes? With lots of butter and covered in syrup.”

“Cakes of the pan will have to wait until we are on Crakair and I can obtain the necessary ingredients.”

“No maple trees on Crakair, I presume.”

“What is maple?”

“We drain the sap from the trees in the spring then boil it down to make a thicker syrup. Boiling intensifies the flavor.”

“We have something similar called seereng. I will make you seereng when we are in my Vikir village.”

“Is it sweet?” She cracked an eye his way, enjoying his buff shape lounging against the doorframe. Damn, he had a creative mouth and tongue. She would never get enough.

“It is.”

Chee-chee climbed over her head and settled down beside her. He started licking his paws, and his gaze kept darting from her to Kral and back again as if he was following their conversation.

“Do you think he knows what we’ve been up to in the bed?” Talk about cringe.

“Perhaps.” Kral chuckled. “He would scent it in the air.”

Double cringe. Could her face get any hotter?

“Ugh. Don’t,” she said, rolling onto her back but making sure the blanket covered her boobs.

“You think he does not do this, too?”

“Eat a woman out?” She snorted. “I doubt that.”

“I imagine he has a mate or wants one.” Kral nudged his head to the animal. “Do you wish to mate, Chee?”

“Cheep!” the animal said.

She didn’t know how much Chee-chee understood. Although, the others had figured out how to save her and Kral from the Al’kieern and then jumped into a shuttle as if they knew the ship would take them home.

Chee-chee and his friends were probably smarter than she was.

Kral bowed, somehow making the gesture look hot. Maybe because he was nearly naked. Anything he did would look hot if he had almost no clothing on. “I will prepare something similar to tetria.”

“What’s tetria?”

“It is a blue vegetable that tastes somewhat like fish.”

“Darn.” Not. “Too bad you don’t have the right ingredients on board to make tetria.”

“Never fear,” he said, and from the twinkle in his eyes, he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I have found a reasonable substitute.”

Before she could ask what that might be, he’d left the room.

She stretched and then patted Chee-chee, who leaned into her hand and made a rumbling noise in his chest that sounded a bit like a snake rattle combined with a cat’s purr. What an odd combination.

“I guess I ought to get up and see if Kral needs help in the kitchen,” she said to Chee-chee. Or ogle him while he cooks in the kitchen. She could sit back, put her feet up, and watch him move—err, work.

She scooted to the edge of the bed and snatched her shirt off the floor. Her pants lay beside it where they’d been tossed during her and Kral’s recent bout in bed. At least he’d had his share of the orgasms this evening.

She stuffed her feet into her shoes. Hard to believe the fancy footwear her protocol droid had insisted she wear had held up. Although, she’d broken off the heels. No way could she run an obstacle course in those babies.

Finding Kral in the small kitchen, she stood in the doorway and watched. He didn’t seem to realize she was there, which gave her the chance to ogle him in his skimpy leather outfit. Man, he had a butt of steel.

Well, and a few other steely parts, though the one she’d most recently had a close encounter with was not erect. At the moment.

Humming the same tune he’d performed his sword dance to, he shimmied back and forth in front of a tall, spindly surface with an odd-looking pan placed on the wide top. Chunks of something greener than Kral’s skin—though thankfully not scaly from what she could tell—sizzled in the pan.

“That’s a stove, huh?” she asked. She’d intended to hide out in the doorway and stare but couldn’t help speaking up. Striding over to him, she grinned. “It’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“It is not a stove.”

“Yet it’s cooking your meal.” She couldn’t quite place the smell. Fishy…maybe. And something sweet, like pineapple or citrus.

“The Al’kieern seem to have removed the stove from this ship.” He pointed to an empty spot between two counters.

“Figures we’d steal the only ship without a stove.” She leaned into his side. “Yet you’ve found a way to cook.”

“I had to.” While a few of his naanans teased her spine, he flicked his hand toward the meal. “These are poisonous unless they’re completely cooked.”

“Huh. And we’re going to eat them?”

“You will love them.” He bared his fangs, and he appeared so boyishly excited, she couldn’t do anything but return his smile. If it made him happy, she’d eat a full plateful. He wouldn’t serve her anything that would hurt her.

“My mother used to serve something like this as a special treat for my birthday.”

“When is your birthday?”

“In two weeks.”

“How old will you be?” She hadn’t thought about his age, but now she was curious.

“I will be twenty-nine yaros.”

“For the first time.”

He tipped his head, frowning. “Why the first time?”

“It’s a joke. You can say you’re twenty-nine for the first, second, fifth time, if you want, to avoid saying you’re thirty.”

“Why would I not wish to be thirty? With age comes wisdom and an acceptance of self. This I would welcome in my life.”

“What don’t you accept about yourself?” she asked. “You seem perfect to me.”

He snorted. “I am nowhere near perfect.”

“You don’t need to be. I…I like you. A lot, just the way you are.”

“Mila,” he groaned. Leaving his improvised stove, he crossed the tiny room and kissed her, cupping her face with his palms. “You undo me and then put me back together again.”

“I think that’s how it should be, because you do the same for me.”

“Good.”

Damn, he sounded cocky. But she liked it. It was pure Kral.

“We’ll need to celebrate your birthday,” she said. “Hold a big party. What else did your mother do for you to make your day special?” She hoped talking about this made him happy. That was how she’d processed her father’s death: by focusing on the good things and trying not to dwell on the bad.

“She would sing a song she’d made up for me, to wake me in the morning.”

Mila laughed. “I imagine that was fun when you were three but less so as you got older.”

His lips curved upward briefly, and she could tell he was lost in the past. “Yes. I would groan and complain, leading her to believe I was much too mature for something so silly.” His gaze met hers. “I wish…”

She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I get it. I wish, too. More than I should.”

“We’ve both been broken by what happened in our past but perhaps…” He gave her a sweet kiss. “Perhaps now we will be whole together.”

This guy made her come undone, but she loved it.

Hell, she was half in love with him already. Maybe more than half.

He eased away and returned to stir his meal.

“Do you have ketchup?” she asked.

He shot her a frown then, using a knife, poked cautiously at the chunks as if he worried they’d bite back. “What will we catch…?”

“Each other.” She gave him a soft smile, her emotions still hot and tumbling around inside her. “Ketchup is a condiment. It’s made from a vegetable, tomatoes, though I guess they’re not a vegetable. They’re a fruit.”

“And you enjoy this fruit-vegetable with your meals?”

“I dip everything in ketchup.” Her words came out mournful until she remembered she’d stuffed a few bottles into her bag. When they reached Crakair, she’d find it waiting, right?

She kept thinking of how fun it would be to try those edible undies from the bridal shower she and her friends were having when the Al’kieern boarded the ship and kidnapped her, Lily, and Taylor. The dildo would not be needed.

Kral pulled the pan off the heat with his bare hands. “There are no dishes to serve this, but we can eat it together off the pan.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Why don’t you go ahead of me to the dining area?” He nudged his head toward the hall. “I will bring the dish.”

“Cool.” She rubbed her aching belly, not quite sure when she’d last eaten.

“Please sit,” he said, waving to the area he’d cleared in the center of the room. He’d arranged pillows on the floor, and she dropped down onto one.

“A picnic?” she asked. “This looks nice.”

“Pick the nick?” he asked.

She held in her chuckle. “Hopefully not. A picnic is when people take a meal outside to the park or on a hillside. You set things up, sit on the ground, and enjoy the food.”

“Then, yes, this is a pic-nic.” He bared his fangs. “I was joking. I knew.”

She grinned. “I’d wondered. Your English has impressed me from the moment I met you. I know our translators do much of the work, but you hadn’t had much interaction with Earthlings, had you?”

“I had not.” He lowered the pan onto the floor in front of her, then sat on the cushion beside her. Lifting a jug, he waved it her way. “Drink?”

“What is it?”

“It is supposed to be quarklet, a watery fruit drink most Crakairians enjoy.”

“Supposed to be?”

His fangs flashed again. “I had to improvise.”

“I enjoy a male who can think fast.”

He leaned in close, and when he whispered near her ear, she shivered in a good way. “I think very fast.”

“Sometimes, being fast isn’t the best,” she said, not trying to hid she meant sexually.

His eyes sparkled. “In that, I take things slow. You will feel everything.”

Whoa. She fanned her face. She wasn’t sure how long she could hold back with only foreplay. She wanted the main course.

Focus on the meal. Once it is finished, a substitution emulsion was the only thing left.

“Fork?” she said brightly. The implement might make it easier to eat the green chunks.

“I will feed you.”

Okay, that could be fun. That’s what they did in rom-com movies, right? She loved the ones set in foreign locations, and there wasn’t anything more foreign than an alien ship and a hot alien guy sitting beside her.

“Aw, this is our first official date,” she said.

“If you were dating on Earth, what would you do with the male?”

“Go out to eat, so pretty much the same thing.”

He puffed his chest, and his eyes flashed. “But he would not emulse your feet afterward.”

“You’ve got that right.” What, exactly, went on during an emulsion? The manual she’d studied on the ship hadn’t outlined the process, and she hadn’t thought to ask her protocol droid. She’d figured she’d find out when it happened. It wasn’t as if she could avoid it. “I thought you said you don’t have a booger.”

“Boodler.”

“Oh, yeah. A boodler. Don’t you need one to emulse my…feet?” A part of her looked forward to it. This was one big adventure. If she cringed away from things, she’d miss out on the good parts.

Chee-chee bounded into the room and climbed up onto her lap. He turned and sat like she was a chair. Reaching out, he snatched up a piece of the meal.

“I hope you cooked enough for three,” she said with a laugh while Chee-chee gnawed on the food.

“There is plenty.” Kral lifted a chunk. “Would you like to try?”

“I would. What is it exactly?”

“Since there was no food on the ship, I had to improvise.”

“You cooked something. We’re calling it food. How is this possible if there was no food on the ship?”

“I went…” He frowned. “What are the words for the activity? I went floundering.”

She blanked. Floundering… “Maybe explain what you did, and I can give you the right word?”

“I stuffed myself into one of the puny Al’kieern suits and went outside the ship.”

She recoiled. “We’re traveling at warp speed, aren’t we?”

“I slowed the ship briefly.”

“Okay.” She blinked, unable to imagine him leaving the safety inside. In all the sci-fi movies she’d seen, horrible things happened to the person who went outside the ship. They were the expendable ones, the guys set up to sacrifice themselves for the rest of the crew. Or, they went out to battle the alien monster, and the two were sucked away into space. Again, the expendable person. This wasn’t Kral. “So you wore an Al’kieern spacesuit—not even asking what you did with the extra arm holes—and you went outside and…floundered?”

“Yes. I floundered for wae-lyns.”

“What’s a wae-lyn?” She watched Chee-chee finish off the hunk and take another.

“A creature that lives in space.”

Her gaze was drawn to the circular porthole high on the outer wall. “How does it survive?”

“They live among meteor clusters, hiding from view, eating dust filtered from the air, and foraged along the surface of the meteor.”

“So sort of a space lobster?” She could get into that. No butter or mayo, but a girl couldn’t be picky in outer space.

“I do not know what a lobster is, but wae-lyns are blue and have thick coats of fur.”

“They sound cute.”

He rose and strode over to a cabinet mounted on one wall and opened the door. Reaching in, he pulled out a slug-like thing the size of a small pony and held it up. “Cute?” It dangled from his hand, its multiple-centipede-like legs flickering.

She reeled backward but curiosity and hunger overcame her squeamishness. “It looks like something you’d squish if you found it in your garden. Well, if it was smaller.” Ugh, not a good thought. She shoved it aside before she dwelled too long on it.

“You will not find wae-lyns on Crakair.”

“I’ll sleep better at night.” She flicked her hand to the creature, trying not to look at it too hard. A fish and she liked eating fish. Yes, she’d think of it as a fish. “Is that breakfast?”

“With the one I cooked and this one, we should have enough food until we reach Crakair, even with your little friend stuffing himself with my garlong-prepared meal.”

She glanced down. “Jeez, Chee, where did you put it?” He’d eaten almost half of the dish. Lounging on her lap, he burped. She couldn’t help it; she laughed and snuggled the top of his head. “Are you going to sleep now, baby?” Glancing up at Kral, who had returned the wae-lyn to the cabinet and was crossing the room to join her again, she grinned. “He’s heavy.”

He held out his arms. “Would you like me to take him? I can put him in the Commander’s chair. We can leave him in charge.”

“Sure, why not? We’re eating a space lobster. Why not let the space monkey drive the ship?”

He took Chee-chee from her and carried the drowsy monkey from the room, returning a few seconds later. “He appears content playing Commander.”

“Probably not play.” She tapped her temple. “He’s smart.”

Kral dropped down onto the cushion beside her. He lifted a piece of the meat toward her mouth.

She leaned back and eyed it. “Are they…I know I shouldn’t be squeamish. We need to eat. The space lobsters are out there, able to be floundered.” Her mouth formed a circle. “Oh! I know what you mean. You went fishing.”

“Yes, fishing. That is it. I did not flounder.”

“Hopefully not too much,” she said with a snicker, but her mood sobered. “I guess I’d prefer this was a bug and not a mom or a dad with little baby wae-lyns waiting on a meteor for Mama to bring home the bacon. Or dust, in the wae-lyn’s case.”

“They are simple organisms, much like plants.”

“Do they have feelings? I mean, I’m not a vegetarian. I love steak too much. But for some reason, I’m squeamish about this.”

“The wae-lyn is a moving plant. That is the best description. Many Crakairians are eaters of only vegetables.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Then I’m in.” She opened her mouth, and he popped a piece inside, watching intently as she chewed.

It was gummy, almost like bread dough, and the texture was vaguely like a marshmallow with fibrous strands running through it. It had smelled fishy, and it tasted as it had smelled, though barely a hint of seafood. The sweeter taste burst on her tongue and made her belly rumble in anticipation.

“It’s good,” she said after swallowing.

Kral’s shoulders relaxed. “Yes. I am pleased.” He fed her another bite and ate some himself. They finished the plate, and he got up and returned it to the kitchen, coming back into the room with something the size of his chest that resembled a sponge.

“Dessert?” she asked, more hopeful than she should be. Was it wrong of her to miss ice cream?

He stared down the object. “This is my improvised boodler.”

“Ah, the emulsion. I’m…looking forward to it. What do I have to do?”

“You will lie on your back and let me handle everything.”

Sounded sexy, but she had a feeling it wasn’t.

Taking his pillow, she tossed it behind her and lay down, putting her head on the fluffy surface.

He crouched down by her feet.

“What’s the purpose of an emulsion?” she asked.

“I will tell you in a story. Long ago a queen of the Vikir promised to wed whoever could make her aching feet happy.”

“I can understand that,” Mila said with a slight smile on her face. “Without happy feet, you’re not going anywhere.”

Mila could swear Kral released a soft snort, but she couldn’t be certain as she’d closed her eyes.

“What did she do to make her feet unhappy?” Mila asked. “If I had my guess, she was on them all day, performing queenly duties.”

“This is true.”

“I assume someone used a boodler to make her feet happy.” There was a movie about feet being happy, but she couldn’t remember the name.

“You are ahead of me. If I may finish.” He said it in all seriousness, but humor lightened his voice.

“Oh, sorry.” She waved her hand grandly. No, queenly. “Please continue.”

“Males came from all over, eager to win the heart of the Vikir queen.”

“The way to a woman’s heart is through her feet.”

He chuckled. “It is so.” He removed her shoes. “The first to arrive had no imagination.”

“He wasn’t inventive like you.”

Kral placed a fist against his chest. “Unlike me.”

“If she’d seen you, her feet would’ve been singing.”

“I will make your feet sing.”

“Do it.” She closed her eyes again so she could fully sink into the story.

“This first male to arrive was also a Crakairian prince. More males arrived, and it was announced that each would be given one chance to please the Vikir queen. If they failed, they would be banished.”

“Seems drastic over unhappy feet.”

“It was the way of the Vikir.”

“What happened?”

Kral’s fingers teased the bottom of Mila’s foot, and her laughter burst out.

“The Crakairian prince chose to massage her feet with wildarn fat,” he said.

“Sounds…pleasant.” And stinky. She didn’t know what a wildarn was, but the idea of a creature’s fat being rubbed into her feet made her cringe.

Kral lifted Mila’s left foot and started rubbing. He was using some sort of cream, or…

“Is that wildarn fat?” The words burst out of her.

“I have had to improvise.”

Maybe not wildarn. “What kind of fat are you using?”

“An oil I found in the kitchen.”

So, that was okay. He was using vegetable oil, or so she told herself.

“That feels nice,” she said, wiggling her butt on the floor as he rubbed and stroked from her heel to her toes. He repeated the massage on her other foot. By then, all of her skin was tingling, and she was ready to drag him down the hall to the bed for another round.

“Unfortunately, the Crakairian prince’s massage did not make the queen’s feet happy, and he was banished. Each male who had presented himself at the castle did something similar, using tickling devices…” Kral glided something silky along the bottom of Mila’s right foot, and she jolted and squirmed.

“Stop!” she said, her voice full of laughter.

“See? You understand. It takes a special technique to make feet happy.”

“In comes the boodler,” she said with a smile. “Another prince?”

“This time, it was a simple Vikir warrior such as me.”

“You’re anything but simple, sweetheart.”

He bared his fangs. “You are also not simple, my heart’s sweetness.”

“You’re saying the Vikir warrior brought along a boodler. How did he know it would work?”

“He didn’t. The boodler came with him by accident. Boodlers are peculiar creatures. When they bond with a mate, it is for life.”

“I think I see where this is going.” She adjusted the pillow under her head and peeked at Kral through half-closed eyes. Kral had dragged the sponge closer to her feet, but it wasn’t a boodler as there were none to be had. How was he going to make this odd thing work?

“The boodler had locked onto the warrior,” Kral said. “It was in love, and it wished to remain with the male always.”

“I feel bad for the boodler.”

“Never fear, the story has a happy ending.”

“That is the point. Happy feet. But what about the boodler?”

He grunted. “As I said, do not worry about the boodler.”

“This sounds like reverse harem.”

“What is this reverse harem?” Kral growled.

“One woman with multiple men.”

“There will be no reverse harems for us.”

Did he sound jealous? “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good.”

“How did all of them find their happy ending?” she asked.

“The warrior came prepared to use a special emollient he’d tapped from the rare cineberr tree found deep within the forest. But the boodler ate the emollient before our warrior could apply it to the queen’s feet.”

“And…?”

“Its belly full, the boodler fell asleep. Unsure what he could do, as it was his turn to be presented to the queen and he worried the boodler would wake and interrupt, the Vikir warrior carried the boodler into the queen’s parlor and over to where she reclined on a lounger.

Kral told a fascinating story, but Mila was worried about what the sponge was going to do to her feet.

As he spoke, Kral lifted one of her feet and then the other, and tucked them inside the sponge. At first, nothing happened.

“The warrior laid the boodler on the bed near the queen’s feet and, before he could scrape out the remains of his cineberr emollient from the jar, the boodler had shifted, tucking its elongating body around her feet.”

Mila hummed and sighed and…

Something was gliding across her feet like she’d placed them into a pool of very soft sand covered with water. The sand gave and swirled around her skin, a sensation that was vaguely sensual. Mila’s moan slipped out.

“That is exactly what the queen said.” Kral moved around beside her and braced himself over her while the sponge did its gliding-massaging thing with her feet.

Kral kissed her, slow and with plenty of heat. The feeling sunk through to her bones, and she moaned again.

He sat back on his heels. “And there you have it. My story—and my courtship—is finished. Now you must tell me, my mate, because I need to know. Are your feet happy?”

“All of me is happy.”

“Then there is only one thing left to do.”

“Can we get to the fucking?” she said, only half-joking.

He lifted her hand and kissed it. “Will you be my forever mate?”

She nodded, a huge grin on her face. “Yes. I’m yours, happy feet and all.”

Standing, he lifted her off the floor. “Yes. Now it is time for the fucking.”

Yay. She couldn’t wait to feel him rising over her… Her rising over him… From behind. Against the wall. And any other way he wanted to do it. She intended for both of them to be completely sated before they reached Crakair.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she grinned. “Have your way with me, dude, because I plan to do the same.”

He’d turned toward the hall when alarms flashed overhead.

Oh, shit.

The ship shuddered.

Shouts rang out in the hall.

Kral’s gaze met hers. “Our ship has been boarded by raiders.”

Eighteen

Kral

With the raiders attacking, his sole interest was in protecting Mila.

Chee-chee shrieked and raced past them. When he reached the hall, he rushed toward the bridge.

Shouts erupted, telling Kral the meerdreg was taking on the force alone.

“Chee!” Mila whimpered.

Soon, the raiders would find him and Mila. Kral had no doubt that was who they were. They often traveled in this sector, which was why Kral had engaged the full shields before he’d started their meal.

How had they gotten around the barrier?

He opened the cabinet where he’d stuffed the wae-lyn and yanked it out.

“Hide here,” he said to Mila.

Her panicked gaze met his. “I want to stand at your back.” She rushed around him and pawed through the drawers, pulling a device used to bury a screw in a metal frame. Brandishing it, she returned to his side. “Hiding won’t do me any good. They’ll search the ship. They’ll find me. If I’m stuffed in a cabinet, I won’t be able to defend myself. They’ll stun me before I can stab them.”

He hated that her reasoning was sound. He wanted her safe, but it seemed there was no safety to be found anywhere. Her life would be forfeit until they reached his Vikir village.

“I will fight them.” He strode toward the door. “Remain here with your driver of the screws.”

She scowled but stayed beside the cabinets. As he peered into the hall, seeing no one but hearing whoever it was rifling around on the bridge, she scooted over to hover at his back.

“You did not stay where I suggested,” he said softly. How could he have assumed anything else?

“You can command all you want, but I’m my own person. If I want to fight, I will.” Her chin lifted, and her steely gaze met his.

“I only want to protect you,” he said with a sigh.

“I understand. But you won’t be safe out there alone, fighting who knows how many raiders.” Tears pooled in her eyes, but she feverishly wiped them away. “I’m worried about you.”

That crushed him. Other than his aunt and a good friend, no one had worried about him since his parents were alive. His village…they cared, but he was their leader, not a friend. Not someone to laugh with.

Unlike Mila. Despite all the hardships, she had made his life fun.

“I need to be able to move freely,” he said softly in as reasonable a tone as possible when he could hear the footsteps of raiders moving down the hall. Fortunately, they would not be able to bring many on board. They’d have to move in single file. Others could be on the bridge, or they could have latched a small craft onto this one and attacked. Kral’s guess was they were looking for goods. Maybe dinars.

Hostages.

Hostage, that is. They’d eliminate him.

Mila was the true prize.

“I’ll stay out of your way,” she said, her body sagging. She stuffed her feet into her shoes. “I know I should hide here, but I want to be with you, facing them together.”

“All right. But remain behind me and give me free movement.”

She nodded sharply and tightened her hand on her weapon. “Any advice?”

“Be careful. Don’t put yourself at risk.”

She snorted. “How much riskier could this get?”

He growled, wishing he could see them through this. But he would defend her to the death.

His mate. They had not had enough time.

After staring into her eyes and committing her face to memory, he opened the door to the hall fully and moved outside. Tricarns engaged him immediately. Odd to find them in this quadrant. The one-eyed, tall, spotted-furred aliens lived on a small planet in the Vendant sector. They weren’t known to travel far.

The Tricarn in the lead swung his jazer Kral’s way, and he deflected it with his sword. His sekairs shot darts, and one scored a hit on the lead’s neck. The Tricarnian dropped to the ground, writhing as the poison reached his veins. He’d be dead within seclars.

Kral stepped over the leader and engaged the second while a third tried to get past him to Mila.

A grunt behind made him shoot a glance over his shoulder. Mila grappled with a Tricarn who held a strand of rope. He spun her around, trying to tie her wrists. But she kneed him in the groin, and he dropped to his knees with a wail.

Pride in how she yet again handled herself burst through Kral. She would make an awesome Vikir, and he was honored to stand by her side.

A jazer blade skimmed down Kral’s arm, and he hissed. Spinning back to the Tricarns who kept coming, pouring from the airlock as if in never-ending supply, he darted his sword forward, taking down the next in line.

Three and then four Tricarns lost their lives to Kral’s blade, and five behind them to his sekairs.

Meanwhile, Mila hit the Tricarn over the head with her weapon, and the male dropped to her feet, his eye glazing.

She spun and, with a grim smile sent Kral’s way, leaped onto a Tricarn coming down the hall from the bedroom.

While keeping an eye on Mila, Kral kept fighting Tricarns until no more appeared from the airlock to challenge him.

His sword arm lowered, and he huffed, his breathing ragged. His muscles ached. His leg…Heille, his leg was killing him.

“Are you okay?” Mila asked, coming up behind him. “You’re…limping. I want to look at your leg in a professional manner. I know I was just an assistant, but I learned a lot from the therapists.”

“I will let you do whatever you will with me.”

She gave him a watery smile. “That was scary. What happens next?”

Turning, he found the Tricarns she’d disarmed tied with the rope they had planned to use on her.

Another swore and glared at Mila. The third lay on his back with his mouth slack and his eyes closed. Unconscious or dead, and he didn’t care which.

Kral stepped over and around Tricarns to reach the awake male’s side, and stooped down.

“Why?” he asked, his gaze meeting the male’s single deep green eye.

“We are starving,” the male said bitterly. “Plague and war have killed many, but those living have nothing to eat.”

“Why not approach the Crakairian government for help?”

The male puffed his chest. “We are a proud people.”

“Not too proud to become raiders.”

The Tricarn’s gaze flicked to Mila. “When the payment is high enough, a male will do almost anything to keep his people from starving.”

“Someone paid you to take Mila.” Kral’s words came out as a statement. There was no question.

The pieces of this were starting to fall together, and he didn’t like the image they were creating.

Was there a connection? His naanans flared out in agitation. He didn’t have time to think about this.

“Do you have droids on board your ship?” he asked the Tricarn.

The male nodded.

“Then I will not kill you.” If Mila was not here, Kral wasn’t sure he would be this kind, but she was already staring in horror at the carnage Kral had left in the hall. Her lower lip trembled, but she shored herself up, stiffening as she leaned against the wall.

Her gaze met his. “They were here for me.”

The Tricarn laughed. “Seems that way, doesn’t it, but…”

What wasn’t he saying?

Kral leaned close. “Tell me everything or…” He let the thought hang in the air between them. He wasn’t opposed to ending this male’s life, and the Tricarn knew it. It was written in the fear-filled slant of his solitary eye.

The male grappled with something in his mouth.

Kral frowned.

When the Tricarn bit down hard, Kral knew. He wrangled with the male’s jaw, trying to dislodge the poison pill the male had just bitten.

“Too late,” the male said, slurring his words already. “You lose.” His green gaze settled on Mila. “Would have enjoyed mating with one such as her but…” He coughed, a raspy sound that brought up green blood that dribbled from the Tricarn’s mouth. “The gods will reward me…” More coughing. “In the next life.” He flicked his wrist, and a dart flew to the unconscious male, hitting him in the throat. The Tricarn sucked in a hitching breath.

More poison.

Kral snarled in frustration. “Tell me who sent you.”

“You think we only wanted her.” The Tricarn’s eye started to glaze over. “Our true mission was to kill you.”

“Why?” Kral snarled. “And who sent you?”

The Tricarn bared his fangs but stopped breathing.

Nineteen

Mila

She rushed down the hall to the bathroom while Kral took care of the bodies.

The bodies.

She’d added to her kill list, and she wasn’t sure what she thought about that. At the time, while adrenaline surged through her, she hadn’t cared. It was kill or be captured. Kill or watch Kral fall in front of her. No question about what she’d had to do.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t scarred by her actions. Reflection was a bitch.

The toilet stood in the corner, a pedestal with mechanical arms that groped the person peeing. Would it latch onto her head if she hung over it to throw up?

No time to find out but the present.

But while she dry heaved, nothing rose to grab onto her. She sat back on her butt and couldn’t stop trembling. After killing a few guys herself and sort of watching while Kral took care of the others, she should be used to death by now.

She’d never forget the image of them wheeling Dad out with a sheet over his face.

Opening her eyes, she stared at the blood on her hands. Green. Where had that come from?

The bodies.

“Get cleaned up,” she said to herself. “Wash it off. Make it go away.”

But where could she bathe? She rose and stared around. Surely the Al’kieern cleaned up every now and then. They hadn’t been stinky.

Tears trickled down her face. How much longer could she take this? She wasn’t a warrior or someone trained to go into battle.

She wanted peace. She needed to find some semblance of normal.

If she wasn’t half in love with Kral, she’d ask to go home. But where was her home now, when everything revolved around Kral?

Her future was with him, which meant she’d have to adjust.

She’d known things would change when she signed on for the matchmaking program. A woman would be stupid to assume she wouldn’t have to make major adjustments in her life to live with an alien man. Mila had been willing to do that. She still was, but that didn’t mean it was easy.

A tall cabinet stood in the corner and it had a big opaque door on the front, reminiscent of shower stalls back on Earth. Approaching it, she opened the door, finding a seemingly normal showerhead and dials that she assumed would adjust the temperature. Water? Who the hell knew?

She twisted one of the dials and something vaguely water-looking came out of the head. When she dipped her hand beneath the spray, it felt silky.

It was clear. There was no smell.

Good enough for her.

She stripped and flung the clothing onto the floor, then stepped beneath the spray.

Her tears mixed with the liquid pulsing from overhead, and she sniffed, trying to stop herself from crying.

“You’re fine. Safe. Alive. So is Kral.” Her eyes stung, and she knew it wasn’t from the hot liquid pouring over her body.

She sagged into the wall and pressed her fist against her mouth.

Damn. Do. Not. Cry!

Shivers rushed through her even though the liquid was hot enough to fill the tiny space with steam.

How had she thought she could deal with this?

It’s only been days.

She’d been kidnapped, drugged, tied down onto a table while a blue-skinned guy experimented on her. While she’d escaped, she hadn’t truly been free. She’d had to eke out an existence by stealing food and moments in a janitor’s closet to get clean. She’d lived in stolen clothing, tucking extra sleeves around herself like belts.

Was it any wonder she was close to cracking?

She was strong. She’d see herself through this.

She just…couldn’t do it this moment.

Though she tried to stop them, she couldn’t keep her tears from falling. Her head pounded, and her pulse raged in her throat.

Her body ached. Her soul ached. Would she ever feel normal or safe again?

An alien world had won, if only for now. She’d been beaten. Splintered into fragments all over again.

“My mate,” Kral said softly from the other side of the clear door, and god it hurt to hear the kindness in his voice. “I…” He growled. “I am worried about you. It has been many minars, and you have not emerged. Are you…okay?”

Sometimes, it seemed that she’d never be okay. But with Kral holding out his hand, she just might.

The door cracked open.

“Mila. My mate.” His voice broke. “I…” Still wearing only his improvised garlong, he stepped underneath the spray with her. “This is not…”

“I know.”

He wasn’t pushing for sex. Hell, if he had wanted that, she already would have said yes. This was about comfort. Caring. Sharing a moment where both of them felt…shattered.

And maybe it was time to pick up the pieces and glue them back together again.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She sighed. Sinking against him, she let the tears flow. He rubbed her back and murmured silly things that meant nothing and everything. “It is okay. Truly. I am with you. We are safe.”

“What did you do with them?”

The bodies.

“They have been returned to their ship. The entire crew attacked and…”

They were dead.

He cleared his throat. “After removing some necessary supplies, I have programmed the droids to take the craft to Crakair.”

She didn’t need to know anything more, just that the one-eyed guys wouldn’t be trying to capture her or kill Kral again.

“Will more come?” she asked.

“I do not believe they will, but we will be on guard.”

So maybe they weren’t fully safe, but close.

“When we reach my clan, my people will protect you, surround you, and hold you in the shelter of their arms.”

“All I need is yours.” She looked up at him and pushed for a smile. It wasn’t easy, but it became truer the harder she tried.

He washed her hair, his fingers gliding through the strands until they squeaked. When his hands clinically cleaned the rest of her body, heat sparked deep inside her. Perhaps the fire between them had not been fully extinguished.

“We’re mates,” she said.

“We are, my mate.” His voice came out gravelly, enriched with emotion.

“From what I remember, you’d just proposed to me.”

“I had.” His arms tightened around her.

“I said yes.”

“You did.”

“I think it’s time to consummate our relationship, don’t you?”

Life. She needed to feel something. Anything. She wanted to fill the gaping maw inside her.

With the love building between them, she could build a bridge they could walk across to find a future.

Together.

Twenty

Kral

He hadn’t intended to make this sexual between them.

He’d only wanted to comfort her. In the hallway, when he and Mila stood surrounded by dead bodies, he’d seen the lines of horror on her face and knew she was close to cracking. She’d been incredibly brave. She’d fought at his side as well as any of his clansmen. But she wasn’t used to this life. Not like he was. It had nothing to do with someone being male or female or human or Crakairian, but about the life she’d come from and the world she’d stepped into.

From almost the minar she’d been matched with Kral, she’d been in danger.

After taking the bodies to the raider craft, he programmed the droids to guide the ship to Crakair.

Returning to the bridge, he found the meerdreg cowering in a cupboard on the bridge. He coaxed it out and sat in the Commander’s chair with the creature on his lap. While stroking its silky fur, Kral sent a message to Vork, telling him to expect the craft on Crakair within daelas. Then he’d left the sleeping meerdreg in the chair and walked down the hall on deadened feet. He’d stood outside the bathroom door, not knowing what to expect or how she’d behave. He pressed his forehead against the metal panel.

Mila’s sob reached his ears, and the soft, gutted sound ripped through him like laser fire.

Leaving her alone when she was upset was not an option.

He stepped inside the room prepared to offer his heart and the comfort of his arms. If she told him to leave, he would. All he wanted was to help her heal.

When nothing remained but her shudders, he took her hand and helped her step out of the washing chamber and onto a scrap of fabric lying on the floor outside.

“Let me,” he said when she reached for a drying cloth hung on a hook nearby.

While she stood passively, he wicked away the sheehera droplets from her body.

“You are brave,” he said. “Incredible. Amazing.”

“It was awful.” The words came out of her in a rush.

“It is,” he said softly, rubbing the cloth down her legs. She had gorgeous legs. He couldn’t help noticing.

“I was scared.”

“I was, too.” Lifting each of her feet, he dried them, gliding the material between her toes to absorb all the moisture. The emollient residue would soak into her skin and protect it. Well, that’s what the sluice spray did for scaled beings like Crakairians and the Al’kieern. He assumed it would do the same for humans.

“I didn’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” she said through chattering teeth.

“I felt the same.”

“You did?” she said softly. She’d been staring downward but now she looked up, her beautiful eyes with their long eyebashes shimmering with tears. Crakairians did not cry. He found the stars in her eyes both beautiful and heart-wrenching. He’d do everything to keep her from crying ever again.

She stepped toward him, and that was when it hit him she was completely naked. Something changed between them, taking them from comfort and sharing to need.

It was common after a battle to feel lust. Sex validated life and reminded the person they’d lived to fight another day.

“I want you,” she said. Her hand lifted. “We have a matebond, and I want to share everything with you. The good and the bad. I want to stand by your side whether it’s in sickness or with a sword in your hand.” A soft smile lifted on her face. “I want to have your babies.”

“Mila.” He didn’t think his heart could hurt any more than it did right now. She emptied him out and filled him back up with just a few words.

“Can we start that together, this moment?” she asked.

“Love.”

“Yes, love. It seems fast, and it’s fresh and new.” She took his hand and placed it in the center of her chest. “But it’s real, and it’s lasting. I’m not backing down. I won’t ask to return to Earth. All I want is to remain by your side for the time we have left, be it ten minutes or a full lifetime.”

He gathered her into his arms and held her. Held the two of them together. Nothing would ever tear them apart.

He swept her off her feet and carried her out of the bathing chamber and down the hall to the bedroom.

“I can walk,” she said with a laugh.

“Why should you?”

She linked her arms around his neck. “You know what? You’re right. Why should I walk when I have you to hold me and protect me?”

They were greeted by Chee-chee, who must have left the bridge and hobbled to the bedroom. The small meerdreg peeked above the covers.

When Kral lowered Mila onto the bed, the creature hopped over to her and pressed his furry face against her arm.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Chee,” Mila said, stroking his head and rubbing his back.

The meerdreg purred before hopping down and scooting down the hall.

“Poor guy,” Mila said. “There’s an Earth saying about going from the frying pan into the fire, and it seems Chee-chee did exactly that.”

Kral shut the bedroom door. He sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Mila’s hair. Damp from the sluice spray, it felt silky, and it gleamed from the emollient. He ached to bury his face in the soft strands.

When she held out her arms, and the sweetest smile bloomed on her face, he stepped toward his future.

Toward her.

Twenty-One

Mila

In a short time, she and Kral had laughed, cried—on her part, that is—and defended each other.

Was it too soon to be feeling love for this alien who sought to claim her as his own?

If it was, she didn’t care. Life was about living, and she wanted to know what it was like to be with someone she…

Okay, she loved him. Her friends would tell her it was too soon. That there was no way she could be certain of her feelings this fast. But deep in her heart, Mila knew.

This was more than a matebond. More than a match made back on Earth.

Kral was the one she’d waited all her life for. She refused to fight this feeling any longer.

“Love me,” she whispered as he braced himself over her.

“I will.” He groaned and kissed her, a touch that started sweet and tender but heated up fast, turning into liquid fire. It ignited her veins.

She moaned and arched herself up to touch him. Skin to scales… There was something deliciously sensual about rubbing herself against his slightly coarse skin.

His naanans stroked her shoulders and moved to her breasts.

“Your body is beautiful,” he murmured as he kissed along her jawline. His fangs grazed the skin on her neck as he moved lower, kissing along her collarbone. “I want to touch—taste—all of you.”

“I’m yours.”

His growl ripped between them as his mouth moved to her breasts.

While a few of his naanans trailed lower and teased her clit, he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked. With his fangs, he bit down gently, raising the heat inside her.

Heat swirled through her belly, and her mind took flight.

His tongue lathed her breast while his naanans teased the other. His fingers… Shit, his fingers delved between her legs. She was wet, and she felt no shame about it. She loved that she could be this turned on for her mate so quickly.

He spread her thighs and moved between them. “You smell like lust. Now I will make you smell like satisfaction.”

Smell? Momentary embarrassment shot through her, and she thought about closing her thighs. But hell, she wanted him. He wanted her. What could be wrong with that?

“Let me see you spread out for me as a feast,” he said.

“If you’re hungry, I think that slug thing is still lying on the dining room floor.”

“I want this. You.” His fingers glided along her slit then dipped inside. He pulled them out and licked them off. “Mmm.” His rumble of pleasure tickled her thighs.

His naanans, glided up her belly and stroked her breasts, and another latched onto her clit. The low hum sunk into her bones and spread through her, making her body ignite. He was touching her everywhere, all at the same time.

While his fingers sunk inside her, pumping, he licked her clit.

She bucked beneath him, eager for what he could do with his mouth but even more eager for what he could do with his cock.

“Kral,” she said.

He lifted his head, but while his tongue might have stopped stroking her clit, his fingers kept pushing inside her, and his naanans sucked her nipples. He was driving her closer to the edge, but she didn’t want to tumble over the side alone.

“Do you like this?” he said. “Too much or do you want more?”

“Always more, “she breathed.

He rose over her and centered his cock at her entrance. Big and thick, it stretched her wide.

She spread her legs, but he took her ankles and looped them up above his shoulders as he inched inside. The stretch was exquisite, a subtle sting because she’d never been with anyone so big before, yet a burn so blissful, she worried she’d come before he’d seated himself deep inside.

And she wanted that. She needed to be with him when he pounded into her.

Pulling out, he rolled her over onto her belly and lowered himself down her body. He lifted her hips and spread her legs wide. His tongue stroked from her clit to her opening, where he paused and delved deep, the slit on the end of his tongue gliding across her G-spot.

She jerked and then pressed backward, her head buried in the bedding. A moan erupted from deep inside her.

“Fuck,” she gasped. “Kral!”

His tongue slipped out, and he rose over her, holding her hips steady. His cock pressed against her entrance, probing. Vibrating. The humming sensation sunk through her. Her clit was on fire.

He pushed inside farther, and the vibrations quaked against her inner walls. Backing out, he pressed himself forward fast, burying his full length deep within her.

She gasped and jerked her head up. “Kral. Fuck, that feels awesome.”

“Do you like this?” he asked, pulling out and driving himself deep inside again.

“Yes. Yes!”

“Do you want me to go slowly…” He demonstrated, gliding in and out of her with his cock vibrating against the soft tissue inside her. “Or fast?” He jerked out and plunged deep inside, burying himself to the hilt. Then again, over and over while she gasped and shrieked and called his name.

His pace backed off again, and he leaned over her. While his fingers played with her clit, pinching and rubbing, his naanans glided around to her front. Two latched onto her nipples and tugged. Lightning shot from her breasts to her groin, and she released a high-pitched moan.

“Yes,” he growled in her ear. “More. I want to hear you scream.” His fangs bit down on her neck, almost breaking the delicate skin.

She rocked against him while he pumped. The slight pinch at her neck was echoed by the intense stretch as her body accommodated his length and girth.

They moved together, and the heat built between them.

“Tell me what you want, my mate,” he whispered in her ear. “Tell me.”

“Faster, Kral. I want it faster.”

“Then you shall have it.” His fingers tightened on her hips, and he held her steady as he plunged into her, his pace so fast, she couldn’t keep up. All she could do was fist the covers, bury her face in the pillow, and hold on.

Fire rose inside her and as his naanans rolled her nipples, she crashed, her gasp of bliss rocking through her.

He went faster while her body shuddered around his. Muscles tightening, he buried his face in her neck. “Mila. Fuck. You’re…” His hips shot forward, and he slammed against her, his solid rod growing thicker and harder. “Fuck.…”

With a groan, he came, his cock jerking inside her. His body shook and trembled, spending himself inside her.

Huffing, he lowered himself gently on top of her, a solid mass of alien male.

His weight felt wonderful. His cock, still somewhat solid, twitched and subtly vibrated.

With a heady groan, he eased himself over and onto his side, taking her along with him, keeping them connected while tucking her snug against the front of his body. His arms encircled her, and his face was buried in her hair.

“You are perfect,” he said, kissing her neck.

“That was…” Her voice came out breathy, because his cock was growing inside her all over again.

She should be sore. Worn out after the pounding he’d just delivered, but she could feel the answering heat building within her all over again.

He shifted forward, burying himself fully as his fingers stroked one of her breasts.

His naanans took over, tweaking her nipples, while he lifted her leg to give himself deeper access.

“Kral,” she whispered.

“Mila,” he said. Pulling out of her, he turned her onto her back. He climbed between her thighs and went down on her, sucking her clit. He must be tasting himself mixed in with her wetness, but he just groaned out his pleasure.

As her body tightened, poised to splinter into a thousand fragments, he rose over her. He lifted her legs and placed them on his shoulders, then eased inside her.

He rocked against her, slow and deep. A pace that drove her into a frenzy.

They came together, gasping each other’s names, then fell onto the sheets together, sated.

Twenty-Two

Kral

Mila slept, but Kral couldn’t find rest.

Sexually, he was the most satisfied he’d been in his life. Mila was everything he could hope for in a mate.

Emotionally, he was filled to the top. For the first time since his parents died, he had someone who loved him solely for himself and not for what he could offer them as a leader or the enforcer of his clan. His aunt had done what she could to make him feel welcome, but she’d had other children. They needed her the most.

He also couldn’t sleep because he was worried. He couldn’t stop thinking about the Tricarn raider’s words before he killed himself.

Rising, Kral crossed the room, not bothering to dress. He eased out into the hall and left the door cracked so he would hear if Mila wakened.

Then he strode to the bridge and sank down into the Commander’s chair. After he’d assured himself the ship was still on track to reach Crakair in four daelas and that the cloaking and full alert systems were engaged, he kicked up his feet and watched the stars blur past the windows.

If only he could make some sense out of what felt like a series of random incidents.

The Tricarn had said he was paid to kill Kral. That was the bottom line. Knowing that made Kral look back at what had happened since he’d started tracking Mila.

After he’d transferred over from his spacecraft to where Mila was bathing, they’d left to escape. Mila had seen two males standing in the hall with the Al’kieern. She’d been convinced they were Crakairians, and he believed her.

Who were they and were they somehow involved?

Before he and Mila could transfer to his ship, it had exploded. He’d thought the Al’kieerns had shot it out of the sky with a missile, that they’d traced his transfer and were eager to destroy all evidence he’d been there and prevent Mila from escaping. But then the space station had been programmed to detonate itself. It made no sense for the Al’kieern to do this; space stations were exceedingly expensive, and the one in orbit over Yarris had a mission that was not completed.

Had the two Crakairians played a role in the station’s destruction?

When Kral tied the explosions and the recent Tricarn attack on this ship with the intent not just to capture Mila but to kill Kral, it seemed all three events must be connected.

Who wanted to kill Kral?

As far as he knew, he had no enemies.

He growled. None of this made sense.

Once they reached Crakair, he could discuss this with Vork. No need to call him on the ship’s com now. His friend could enlist the government to start an investigation that might dig up some clues. Until then, Kral would remain vigilant.

Footsteps padded down the hall, and Mila appeared at the doorway. She wore only her shirt, and the hem skimmed the top of her thighs. Chee-chee clung to her neck, and the creature chittered a greeting when it saw Kral.

If someone had told Kral he would someday be friends with a meerdreg, he would have laughed. Yet here he was, grateful the little beastie had decided to be a part of their lives.

Mila climbed onto Kral’s lap and lay back, facing the windows. The meerdreg scooted off her lap and rushed from the room. It returned with chunks of wae-lyn—Kral had cooked extra and left it in the kitchen—and jumped up into the other seat. After curling around in a circle, it settled onto the cushion with a sigh. It stared out the window while eating the meat.

“Tell me about our home,” Mila said. “You mentioned a few things in the video you sent, and we talked somewhat on the space station, but it’s hard to imagine it. Can you paint me a picture?”

He loved that she already considered his home hers. “The Vikir live high in the Ikeline Mountains and build our houses among the trees.”

“Have the Vikir always done this?”

“Ages ago, it is said our people lived deep below the ground, in caverns. Some say there are still Vikir living far beneath my village, practicing the old ways.”

“That’s cool. Have you explored and found any of the other Vikir?”

“When I was a youngling, I spent many daelas wandering through the caves near our home, but while I found traces of people other than those I’d grown up with, I did not find their home.”

“I can’t imagine living in a place where there’s no sunshine.”

“The old ones tell tales of creatures that generate luminescent lights, that the original Vikir used these lights to grow plants and brighten their homes.”

“It sounds cool. Maybe we can look for them sometime.”

“I would be happy to take you on a tour of the caves, and we can see what we find.”

Chee-chee hopped off the chair and hobbled down the hall.

“Imagine running into someone who lives the same way your ancestors used to,” Mila said. She pointed to a comet blazing across the heavens.

Kral couldn’t imagine. He enjoyed his modern life in his village and couldn’t picture living in the traditional ways he’d heard about while growing up.

“You said you’re the leader of your clan,” she said.

“My parents died in the fire ten lunairs ago, and I assumed leadership of the clan as soon as I’d healed from my fall.”

She eased off his lap. “Here I am, lounging around on you all the time when you’re still sore from your injury. Tell me about it if you can.”

He stared forward, past her shoulder, unable to meet her eyes. “There was a fire in our home.”

“How did it start?”

His growl ripped through the room. “They said it was an accident. That my mother had left something cooking in the kitchen, but I cannot believe that was true. She was always careful. We live among the trees and would be stupid to be careless with fire.”

“Do you think someone set the fire?”

“No, but…” A frown took over his face. He’d never considered it might not have been an accident. But who would benefit from their death? “I cannot imagine anything like that happened.” It would be foolish to think someone had murdered his parents. What would they gain?

“You weren’t burned,” Mila said, dragging his mind away from the heat, the smoke, and the cries of pain.

“My father lifted me and threw me out a window.”

“You were injured in the fall.” Her fingers carefully traced along his thigh that had fractured. “Here.” She stopped at the spot that pained him the most. “Here. And here.”

How did she know?

“Massage can help rebuild muscle,” she said. “Was the fracture pinned?”

He shook his head. “My aunt said they were clean breaks that would heal well on their own.”

“She’s a doctor?”

“Her healing skills are known far and wide.”

“Then she must be right.” Mila smiled. “With work, we can strengthen your leg. There are some exercises I can show you, and I’ll massage your leg to decrease the inflammation.”

“I am grateful for anything that will help me regain the full function of my leg.”

“That’s the goal.”

He tugged her close and up onto his lap again, wrapping his arms around her. “I want you close. You are not hurting me.”

“Let me know. Please.”

“I will.”

“So after your parents died, you became the leader at seventeen. Wow.”

“It is a hereditary role.”

“What if you were a girl?”

“I would not have fucked you.” His chuckle slipped out. He loved that he could feel joy in this minar. “But if I had been a girl, I would still be leader.”

“And…if we have a child, that boy or girl will lead after you.” She didn’t look frightened by this idea, just reserved, as if she would wait to see what this meant before judging the impact on their children.

“Yes.”

“I bet you’re a good leader.”

“I like to think so.”

“What sort of role does a leader play in your clan?”

“A large variety of things. For example, I am asked to make decisions when there is conflict, and I manage our clan’s wealth derived from jewels we mine from the mountains. The most common corlire is deep blue, like the sea, and very rarely, we find corlire in pink with green swirls.” He held up her right hand. “When we marry, I will present you with the finest cut corlire ring and crown, jewelry worn only by the leader’s family.”

“I’m not a fancy person, but I’d be honored to wear your clan’s jewels.”

“We hold festivals with each season, and that is when you will wear the crown. I have one that matches. But the ring is the mark of royalty, and you may wear it all the time.”

“Wow. Is the ring made of blue or pink stones?”

“The ring is set with a blue stone in the center and the pink in a circle around it. My mother wore the ring for years.” It had been locked up in a cabinet at his aunt’s home, and she told Kral she would keep it safe until Kral was ready to gift it to a mate. He was grateful his aunt had survived the sickness.

After so many of his clan had died, he had not thought he’d find a mate. Now she sat in his lap, snuggling close. When he closed his eyes, he could see the bliss on her face as they came together. He wanted her all over again.

“We’ll marry, you said.” Excitement rang in her voice. “What’s the ceremony like?”

“There are still a few of the female elders alive in my clan, and they will help prepare you for the ceremony. It will take place soon after we arrive.”

She released a low laugh. “I like how you think. No long engagement.”

“My clan will rejoice in claiming you.”

“I never thought I’d be borrowed royalty.”

He lifted her hand and kissed it. “Never borrowed. You are my mate. What I have is yours.”

Rising, she shut the door to the bridge. She returned and climbed onto his lap, spreading her legs around his waist. Her shirt rode up and his cock surged when he noted she wore nothing underneath.

“Mila,” he groaned. Leaning forward, he traced her jawline with kisses. He nibbled on her earlobe, and she moaned.

His naanans stroked her arms. He tugged her shirt up and over her head and tossed it on the floor, giving his naanans access to her breasts.

“Love what you’re wearing,” she said in a silky voice that thrummed through his veins like molten lava. Her fingers trailed down his chest and when they teased across his abs, his laughter snorted out. “Ticklish? Yay!”

“Why…yay?” He wasn’t exactly sure what yay meant.

“Yay because I like knowing something about you few others do. Like you being ticklish.” She glided a fingertip along each groove in his abdomen, and he couldn’t hold back. His body shook with laughter, nearly knocking her off his lap. Only his arm going around her waist held her in place.

“I’m fallin’ for you,” she said with a smirk. She wiggled in his lap, rubbing herself against him.

“Are you ticklish?” he asked.

“Nope. Not at all. Not even a little.”

Huh. He trailed his fingers down her spine, and she jolted forward.

“You’re cheating,” she said in a mock-serious tone.

“Like this?” He inched along her waist.

She snorted and squirmed on his lap. “Stop it!”

He laughed, and hers joined in until they were both smiling. At each other and with their situation.

This petite Earthling female had brought joy back into his life. She made every minar they were together fun. Perhaps he didn’t have to be Kral the leader, Kral the enforcer, and Kral the stoic any longer.

“I’m so happy I applied to be a mail-order bride of Crakair,” she said with a big grin. Her fingers stroked his cock, which felt like a steel bar pressing against his abs. “Otherwise, I would have missed out on you.”

He bucked his hips up toward her, savoring her touch. Her fingers drove him out of his mind. “You would have missed out on this, too.” He teased between her legs, finding her clit and rubbing. Pinching it, he made her squirm.

Pleasure shone on her face, and she tipped her head back and moaned. “That feels incredible.”

His mouth sought her nipple, and he stroked his tongue along the rigid surface.

“Yes.” She rocked forward, seeking his hand and his mouth. “Don’t stop.”

“I will never stop.”

Her lips flirted upward. “Never?”

“Well, I may need to pause in between bouts.”

“Kral,” she sighed as his fingers slid inside her. Heille, she was wet. He wanted—needed to drown in this wetness.

He lifted her up and centered himself at her core.

While she held onto his shoulders, she shifted, driving herself down on top of him.

They both moaned.

She lifted herself and sank back down. “This is incredible. Don’t let it stop. Please.”

He would do everything within his power to hold on tight and ride her until she shrieked his name.

While she rose up and dropped back down, rocking against him, he pumped into her. His naanans savored her breasts, tweaking and pinching.

He played with her clit, because he knew it drove her wild.

And heille, he loved his wild Earthling bride.

Their breathing grew ragged as they moved together, cresting the peak of each wave.

Until they crashed together on the shore.

Twenty-Three

Mila

They arrived at the spaceport.

After landing the stolen spacecraft and disembarking the ship, they were surrounded by the Crakairian military. Talk about intimidating. Each guy was universally over seven-feet-tall and had green, scaled skin. Naanans flared out from some of their heads, while others had secured them in either a braid or with a band of leather at the back of their necks. They all shouted at once, some in broken English, showing that while they had translators, the devices hadn’t gotten fully up to speed yet. Others spoke as smoothly as Earthlings.

Chee-chee clung to Mila’s neck and released one shriek.

Stunned, the Crakairians stared. A few pointed. One backed up.

Right. Kral had explained to Mila why he’d been so cautious about Chee. A meerdreg’s claws could inject a toxin to put their prey asleep within minars.

Mila’s dad hadn’t raised a woman who cowered behind a male.

Snuggling Chee-chee and taking care of his splinted leg, she proudly strode beside Kral, ignoring the whispers. When a Crakairian male stepped forward, bowed, and introduced himself as Commander Vork, she shook his hand, plus that of the other high-up military dudes clustered around him. It was all she could do not to grin as she took in their frowns and mumbles about the unexpected gesture. Surely they’d shaken hands with other Earthlings before.

Maybe not. She doubted many of these guys had ever met an Earth woman. The Crakairian government’s initial Earth delegation had been made up of Prince Axil and his entourage, plus a few Elders and Council members. Prince Axil had married Julia Chandler. As one of the first matches, and marrying a famous Crakairian, her face had been on all the TV news programs. They had a baby, now, named Alicia.

“You are well?” Commander Vork asked, studying her face.

“I am, thanks.” She leaned against Kral. “I’ve got a great guy here, and he has kept me healthy.”

Kral flashed his teeth.

“The Council and I would like to ask you both a few questions,” the Commander said. “This is merely a formality. Kral gave us the vital information daelas ago. After that, you will be welcome to leave.” He nodded to Kral. “The other ship arrived as expected, and we have discovered some interesting information in the computer banks.”

“Fill me in later?” Kral said. His hand tightened on Mila’s. “My mate and I still have many denjars to travel before we reach our home.”

“Of course,” Vork said. “I will be in touch.”

They followed the delegation to a room with a long table and numerous chairs and sat.

After explaining everything that had happened and answering any questions, the Commander stood. “You are free to go. Do you have transportation arranged yet, Kral?”

“I do not.”

“Allow me?” At Kral’s nod, Vork lifted his hand and his assistant scurried from the room. He turned to Mila. “On behalf of the Crakairian government, I apologize for what you have been through.”

“Thanks. But it’s not your fault.”

“After recent events, we should have taken more care.” His spine stiffened, and a few of his naanans floated upward. “We have made arrangements to escort all future brides from Earth and we, in cooperation with the Earth governments, are providing heightened security in that part of the galaxy to ensure that no one is kidnapped directly from your home world.”

“I appreciate it.” At least no one else would have to worry about being taken captive or sold as a breeder.

Commander Vork gave her a formal bow, but then his lips curved in a fang-gleaming smile. He was not only a nice guy, he was hot. Almost as hot as Kral.

The Councilmen and Elders shuffled from the room and she and the two Crakairian males followed.

Lily was waiting with a male who must be her new mate, Jorg, near the main entrance and after handing Chee-chee to Kral, the two women rushed together and squealed. They hugged and cried, and then leaned back in each other’s arms while their Crakairian males wrung their hands, unable to provide comfort but obviously eager to do so.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Lily exclaimed. “I’ve been a wreck since I woke up on one of Crakair’s moons, trapped in a cage.” She introduced Jorg, who bowed, and then explained how Jorg had rescued her and brought her home, and that Kral and Wulf had stopped by on their way to the spaceport. “We haven’t heard from Wulf yet, but Jorg is sure Wulf will find Taylor.”

Her eyes met Jorg’s, and if Mila didn’t have Kral, her heart would ache with envy.

“Will Vork send someone to Yarris?” Mila asked Kral.

He nodded. “He already has. I imagine we will hear something soon.”

Mila gnawed on her lower lip, but she and Lily hugged again.

She took Chee-chee from Kral and introduced him to Lily, who cooed at the little monkey and checked out its splinted leg.

Back on Earth, Lily had worked at an animal shelter. “Looks great, Mila. I couldn’t have done better. Two to three weeks with the splint should do it.”

“Thanks.”

They walked out onto the platform to wait for the transport Vork had arranged. Even though Lily whispered an explanation, Mila wasn’t sure she’d ever get over the height of the platform or the fact that there was no rail to keep anyone from tumbling off.

“Once you get settled, and Tay’s…” Lily’s eyes filled. “She’s got to be okay. Wulf will find her and bring her home, right?”

Mila linked arms with Lily. “She will. We’ve got to trust that.”

Pulling back, Lily nodded through her tears.

“When she’s safe, we’ll plan a bunch of weddings,” Lily said. Her hands twisted together. “It’s going to be one big party after another.”

“I can’t wait.” Mila grinned, though her smile was a mix of happy and sad. She was excited to make her and Kral’s relationship permanent, but until Taylor was safe on Crakair, how could she? A piece of her heart was still missing.

“He will find her. Soon,” Kral said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “I have full confidence in him.”

A vehicle with military insignia pulled up to the platform.

“This is our ride,” Kral said. “Normally, it would take a full daela to reach my village, but Commander Vork has arranged for a special aircraft to take us. Now we will arrive within the denjar.”

“Less than an hour?” Lily said with envy, though she smiled. “Jorg and I are taking the slow route. We’ve…” Her laugh came out a bit high-pitched. “You won’t believe it, but we rode to the spaceport on a dragon.”

Mila’s eyes widened. “Not a real dragon?” She looked to Kral for confirmation, and he nodded.

“A draquier,” Kral said. “Jorg’s neighbor, Bryk, raises them. They are a more traditional form of transport.”

“It must be cool to ride on a dragon,” Mila said with a touch of envy. “And scary.”

“It’s something else,” Lily said. “We’ll come out for your wedding on a draquier, and you’ll be able to see for yourself.”

Mila couldn’t imagine. “I can’t wait.”

After more hugs, she and Kral got into the craft, and the vehicle took off.

Chee-chee settled on the seat beside her and soon fell asleep.

As they flew over the city, Mila couldn’t stop gawking. “It’s gorgeous.” Each building had been meticulously crafted. The glass gleamed, and the stone had been polished until it winked sunshine. Small parks were dotted throughout the city, and trees lined the streets below.

Other aircraft zipped underneath them, traveling along invisible air roads. Mila hoped they’d return this way again someday so she could explore the city.

Kral’s chest puffed. “We are very proud of our capital, Tri’Arteele.”

“What’s the population?”

“Of Crakair, millions, but for Tri’Arteele, a few hundred thousand.”

“And your village?”

“The Vikir have many villages within the mountains, but my clan is made up of a few thousand males and too few females.”

There was no holding back her sadness. “The disease took so many people. The loss of life will haunt all of us for generations.”

They left the city behind and traveled over the countryside. Fields with rows of produce were interspersed with clusters of blue-leaved trees and fenced-in pastures where big pale green, six-legged creatures grazed.

In the distance, the mountain range loomed, the peaks dusted with what looked like snow. “I can’t get over it. Light green, cow-like creatures, and the tree leaves are blue.” She grinned at Kral, who watched her with a slight smile on his face. “Are the pink and purple colors I see flowers?” She assumed so.

“The tree leaves change color as it gets colder, to pink and purple, though I imagine you also see flowers. Crakairians pride themselves on their gardens. One daela soon, I will take you to Jorg’s home. He is a gardener as well as a tracker.”

“What’s a tracker?”

“He finds lost things. Crakairians, most of the time.”

“Yet you came after me.”

He bared his fangs. “I insisted. I wanted to locate and rescue my mate, though I welcomed Jorg’s suggestions.” Lifting her hand, he linked their fingers and kissed her knuckles.

“I’m glad you came for me.” She winked. “And I’m glad you fell into my bath.”

He kissed her, slow and deep, and fire licked through her veins. One hour wasn’t much time for some fun stuff. Did she dare?

When she opened her eyes, she caught another vehicle zipping past them, coming from the other direction.

Nope. No sexy times in the shuttlecraft.

Grumbling, she turned to stare out the window again. “Back on Earth, in the colder climates, our leaves turn orange, red, and yellow before they fall off. New growth, in the spring, is green.”

He shook his head. “I cannot imagine how beautiful that must be.”

“Maybe someday, we’ll visit Earth, and you can see for yourself.”

“Someday.”

A day that may or may not come. For now, bride exchanges were encouraged, but regular visas were not granted for tourist visits to either planet.

By the time they reached the Ikeline Mountains, it was mid-afternoon, and the sun’s orange beams sliced across the sky.

Kral leaned forward, and excitement lit up his face. “Soon, I will show you our home.”

She leaned into his shoulder as the vehicle flew over a lush forest. Ahead, she spied an open field with a circular stone platform.

The aircraft landed like a helicopter, and the door lifted with a whoosh. They climbed out, Kral hefting her bag from Earth onto his back. She hadn’t brought much, just comfy clothing, a bunch of pictures of her and her dad, her digital reader, her favorite coffee mug, and a few journals and decent pens, because she loved to write down her thoughts before bed each night. Well, and ketchup, the most important item. She couldn’t wait for Kral to try it.

Holding Chee-chee on her hip, she looked around, expecting to find houses, but not seeing anything yet. A dense mesh of forest surrounded them, thick and a bit gloomy. She wasn’t nervous. She trusted Kral. But…

“This way,” he said, baring his fangs. She could tell by the concern on his face he’d read her confusion. “You will be happy.”

She winked at him. “What about my feet?”

“I am going to make sure all of you is happy. Soon.”

Yes. Her body hummed already. After all, it had been hours since they’d had sex. She was almost going through Kral withdrawal. “You’ve got a bed, right?”

“You will see.”

“As long as there’s some sort of flat surface—even one with moveable memory foam—and you promise to massage my feet with a real boodler soon, I’m in.”

He dropped the bag and, taking care of Chee-chee, swept her off her feet, spinning her around until she was dizzy and giggling like a teenager.

“Kral!” She socked his arm. “Put me down. You’re going to hurt your leg.”

“My leg is feeling much better already, thanks to your care.” His steps slowed, and his mouth dropped to meet hers.

Sparks flew between them and as he lowered her feet to the ground, but he kept kissing her, showing her how much she meant to him with his mouth and his arms, plus his naanans teasing along her back.

“Here are you,” a creaky voice said from behind Mila. “I have been waiting since word came from Tri’Arteele.”

Mila and Kral broke apart, and the smile they gave each other contained a promise.

The second they were alone…

Mila turned, but her smile wavered when she found a full contingent of Crakairians—dressed in furs and leather outfits—staring at them.

An older woman scowled at Mila.

Twenty-Four

Kral

Kral stepped forward with an easy grin on his face. “Aunt.” He held her frail shoulders and kissed her weathered cheek. “You look well.”

“You also, nephew.” The smile she gave him warmed his heart. This woman had nursed him back to health after the fire and then given him a home even after he had reached maturity. She’d guided him since he assumed leadership of the clan, and he’d often sought out her opinion when he had to make a big decision. “How your leg is?”

Her translator was not fully functioning yet. It would need time to acclimate before the English translation would be seamless.

“Better every day,” he said. “My mate is a therapist of the physical, and she is helping me.” His leg still ached but less, and even Mila had commented on his smoother gait.

His Aunt Riella’s gaze fell on Mila, and her face softened. “Ah, mate to be is her? Find her, you did! So lovely.”

He held up his hand, showing her the symbol on his palm, and her breath caught.

“Happened it did?” She tipped her head back and shrieked, the way many females expressed happiness on Crakair. “Praise be. A matebond. And a female of alien race is. Nephew…” The skin around her eyes crinkled. “Pleased for you, I am.” She edged him aside. “See her, I must.”

Mila shot him a concerned glance, but a hesitant smile rose on her face as Riella strode toward his mate.

“Welcome,” Riella said. She blinked quickly at the meerdreg and took a step backward. “What that is?”

“This is Chee-chee,” Mila said calmly. “He’s my friend.”

“Crakairians not friends with meerdregs are.” Riella’s gaze spun to Kral. “Claws…”

“Chee’s sweet,” Mila said carefully. “I can’t imagine he’d hurt anyone.”

Kral could tell she was nervous about insulting his aunt, but Riella loved everyone. She’d never take offense.

“See we shall.” With a pert nod, Riella glanced over her shoulder at Kral’s two male cousins lingering by the woods. “Sons. For the Selection you must enter! Imagine. Matebonds! Then someday, grandmother, I will be.” She rubbed Mila’s arm. “Welcome. Welcome.”

Mila’s smile rose fully, and her posture loosened. “Thank you.”

His cousins bared their fangs, and Hantir’s predatory gaze dropped down Mila’s body.

Kral’s cousins strode forward, and Josik braced Kral’s shoulders and bared his fangs in welcome. Hantir did the same.

“Too long has it been since seeing you I have,” Josik said. He dipped his head at Mila. “Welcome.”

“Nice to meet you.” Mila beamed, jostling Chee-chee to her other hip. She held out her hand, and Josik took it, his surprised gaze darting to Kral.

They would get used to Mila’s charming ways.

Kral studied Hantir as he stepped forward and shook Mila’s hand. Hantir’s attention lingered on Mila more than Kral liked.

While Kral and Josik had always been friends, he had never gotten along well with Hantir, though Kral had consistently tried. His sekairs bristled at Hantir’s greedy gaze, but he made himself back down. This was family. His cousin was without a mate. It was only natural Hantir would be attracted to the first eligible female to arrive at their clan.

But Mila was Kral’s, and he would fight to the death to keep her.

Riella swept her hand toward her sons. “My sons, Josik and Hantir. Good younglings they are.”

Hantir grumbled about the youngling comment, but kissed his mother’s cheek. Turning, he sniffed the air and bared his fangs. “No bond with Earthling? Still free for take.” He moved closer to Mila, who stepped backward.

Kral took her hand and tugged her into his side, partly to show her he was here for her but also because her hand had slid to the kitchen knife she wore in a sheath on her belt. If Hantir was not careful, she’d poke him.

Josik frowned at his brother, and there was no missing the warning in his eyes.

Mila lifted her free hand, showing off the symbol. “While it’s nice to meet you, Hantir, I’m afraid you’ll have to apply for the Selection like everyone else.” It was likely only Kral noticed her shudder. “Perhaps the computer will match you with an Earth mate.” She leaned into Kral’s side, whispering. “Perhaps not.” She smiled brightly up at him and lifted her voice. “Where’s your house? I’d love to get settled in. Wash my hands. Unwind.”

“Show you, I will,” Riella said, revealing her fangs. “Almost daughter to me, now mated to my nephew you are.” She held out her hand. “Come. Come. Go to village together we will.”

Mila looked Kral’s way, and he wanted to insist he would show her everything, but as an Elder, Riella’s word held sway. Besides, Kral was often busy with his leadership duties, and he hated the idea of Mila staying in their home alone. She would need friends, and who better than his beloved aunt? She was family, and family watched out for each other.

He spied someone waiting just inside the woods and beckoned her forward.

His childhood friend, Sereel, stepped their way, a hesitant smile on her face. Her gaze darted to Riella, and she stilled before moving closer, her long, dark teal naanans swaying across her back.

“Ah Sereel. A new friend you must meet,” Riella said. “Linger in the woods, one must not do. A Vikir proud you must be.”

Sereel came closer, but her gaze fell. “Pleased I am to meet you,” she said to Mila in a hesitant voice. She flashed her fangs at Kral, and he dipped his head her way. He’d loved Sereel from the moment she was born to his parents’ good friends. Five years younger than him, he’d treated her like an adored younger sister as he’d had no siblings himself. Their parents had hoped they would matebond, but he had never seen her as more than a friend, and she felt the same.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” Mila held out her hand, and Sereel carefully took it. Her gaze shot to Kral’s, and it was clear she didn’t know what to do with the gesture. “Maybe you could walk with me to the village?”

Riella frowned. “Me. Go with you, I—“

“That is a good idea,” Kral said, dipping his head toward Sereel. Closer to Mila’s age, perhaps Sereel would make a better close friend than his aunt.

Sereel’s attention darted to Josik before falling on Mila. “Yes, I would like that.”

Kral didn’t miss the way Josik watched Sereel. Finally. Sereel had adored Josik for years. Had he finally seen the kind person who had been in front of him all this time?

While Sereel exclaimed about the meerdreg and Mila showed the creature off, the two women walked slowly forward, entering the forest on the well-worn trail. They chattered as they walked, and Sereel’s laughter rang out.

“You have done well,” Riella said softly to Kral in Crakairian. Her arm went around his waist for a brief hug. “I am grateful the match has resulted in a matebond. Perhaps now my sons will consider the Selection for themselves.”

“Perhaps.” Kral had his doubts whether Hantir would qualify. Josik, yes, but if he was wise, he’d ask Sereel about courtship. Hantir would need references—and a job—and he had never seemed eager to work for anything in life, including a mate.

“No matter.” Riella hugged Kral’s arm. “You are home safe and you have brought our village a lovely mate. I hope she is soon with child, your heir.”

Kral hadn’t thought that far ahead, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because they had spent so much time running from the Al’kieern and then getting to know each other. Was he greedy to want time with his mate before they had children?

Although…He could picture a strong youngling son with Mila’s blue eyes and chestnut-colored naanans. Or a daughter with Mila’s silky hair and Kral’s dark eyes. Either or both would be welcome.

One thing was clear.

Mila had brought his clan hope.

Twenty-Five

Mila

Sereel led Mila along a wide trail through the woods.

“A meerdreg,” Sereel said in awe. “Thought who would have?”

“He’s very friendly.” Mila leaned closer to Sereel, who froze when Chee-chee chirped. “He won’t claw you, I promise. You can pat him if you’d like.”

Sereel carefully stroked Chee-chee’s back, and the meerdreg purred. He leaned forward, holding his four arms toward Sereel. Her eyes widened, and she gulped, but she took the creature from Mila, only releasing a cheep herself when Chee-chee wrapped his arms around Sereel’s neck.

“Claws no harm?” Sereel said with a wince. Her hand rose, and she hesitated before stroking Chee’s head. The meerdreg’s chest rumbled with happiness, and he nuzzled closer, which made Sereel laugh. “Like this meerdreg I do.”

Mila grinned. “Me, too. When I found him, he had a sore leg. I splinted it, and it’s healing. Soon, he’ll be running around everywhere.”

Sereel’s eyes widened even further, as if she wasn’t sure if she was terrified or thrilled by the prospect.

“Kral good male is,” Sereel said softly as they moved through the woods. In the forest around them, birds called and insects buzzed. Flowers bloomed in every color of the rainbow, contrasting nicely with the blue leaves on the huge trees they passed. “Honest, Kral is. Fair, as well. See, you will.”

“I believe you,” Mila said, not hiding her grin. “He’s the best. I’m so happy I was matched with him.”

Mila had seen the affection between Kral and Sereel, and while she hadn’t felt jealous, she wasn’t sure what their relationship might be.

“Best you than…” She cut herself off and stared at the ground for a moment before looking up again to bare her fangs. “Already, care for Kral you do. I see. Good, this is. Like a brother to me, he is.”

“You and he…” Damn, now Mila had said it.

“Oh! No.” Sereel darted a look back at the others walking behind them. “Josik,” she sighed with longing. “Someday see me, I hope.”

So that’s how it was. Maybe Mila could play matchmaker…

“You and Kral, younglings many you will make, and auntie I will be,” Sereel said with another baring of her fangs.

Heat rose into Mila’s face. She and Kral hadn’t talked about children, though the matchmaking agreement with Earth stated the woman must be willing to give birth to up to three children. After that, it was up to the couple if they wanted to have more. She could easily picture a tall son with naanans. How much of her genetics would show in their children? Or would they be pure Crakair? She’d be happy with any children and hoped they’d be healthy.

“Too kind, he is,” Sereel added with another glance over her shoulder. Her fingers tightened on the belt of the supple leather dress she wore.

“Is it possible for someone to be too kind?”

“Times, yes.” Sereel voice lowered, and she leaned close to Mila. “Care, you must take. Some—”

“Sereel,” Riella said pleasantly, coming up behind them. “Help me you must with feast we will hold. Celebrate Kral’s safe return and his mate we must. Tonight, I will host. Many will come.”

“Yes,” Sereel said, dipping her head toward the older woman who seemed to be the clan matriarch.

Riella’s twinkling gaze fell on Mila. “Hope I do that eat you like. Food much.”

“I love food.” Mila sincerely hoped their translators got up to speed soon. She could understand what they said as long as they spoke slowly, but if they started talking fast, she’d be lost. She felt like she was conversing with a pack of Yodas. “What sort of dishes can I expect at the feast?” She turned slightly to include Riella and Josik in the conversation. Hantir, she ignored. “Thank you so much for doing this. It’s an honor to be here, and I’m looking forward to the feast.”

“Sweet, she is,” Riella said, beaming up at Kral who walked beside her.

Kral’s cousins paced behind them. Josik watched Sereel. Hantir dragged his gaze down Mila’s body, and goosebumps lifted on her skin.

Jerk alert. No matter where a woman went, she always ran into a sneering, gaping dude.

As if he thought she was looking at him, Hantir flashed his fangs.

When Kral smiled, Mila’s knees went weak. With Hantir? Not so much. Creepy, he was. Avoid him, she would do.

Shit, now she was thinking in broken English. She tapped her translator implanted behind her ear, hoping that would urge it along, because the problem was either on their end or hers. She’d been told to expect something like this, but it was a bit disconcerting. She hadn’t noticed this when she met Kral.

As for Hantir, she could only hope Kral’s slimy cousin didn’t visit often, though the odds were poor from what she’d seen so far. Kral had mentioned there were only a few thousand people in his clan. They’d probably bump into each other all the time.

So far, Riella and Sereel seemed nice. After growing up without a mom around, it would be awesome to have other women in her life. She could tell Riella adored Kral, and she was hosting a big welcome for Mila.

They stopped at the base of a tree with a diameter that had to be at least twenty-five feet. The only trees she’d seen this big were during a hiking trip among the California redwoods. Around the tree, the ground had been well tamped down, almost as if someone cleared the area with an industrial weed whacker.

“See you later, I will?” Josik said with a bow to Mila. His longing gaze flicked to Sereel.

Mila definitely needed to play matchmaker. They were a matebond match waiting to happen.

Josik and Kral braced shoulders again, then Josik loped away into the forest.

“We’re…here?” Mila asked. She looked around and saw no houses, but maybe they were camouflaged to blend in with the forest around them?

“Up, go we,” Sereel said, her lips curling into a teasing smile. She clapped her hands. “Kral secret has kept! Surprised you shall be.”

Mila was surprised already. Up?

“How do we get…up?” she asked. And please, let there be handrails wherever they went. She didn’t mind heights, but did they truly live in the treetops?

She took in a deep breath and released it, determined to withhold judgment until she’d seen her new home. Kral loved it. So would she.

“Ages past, climb we did,” Sereel said.

“How?” Mila walked around the tree but didn’t see any handholds or way up unless she clung to the bark.

“Clever,” Sereel said. “Gone, old ways are.”

Riella smiled and chatted with Kral.

Hantir lurked and leered. Really, didn’t he have a job to get to?

“Why not live on the ground?” Mila asked.

“Dangerous, it is,” Sereel said, her smile faltering. Her gaze spanned the surrounding forest, but if something watched them, Mila didn’t sense anything. But this was a new world, with new creatures. If the Vikirs lived in the trees, they had a valid reason.

“You have no cuts?” Riella asked, her concerned gaze skimming Mila.

Oh, yeah. She was a healer.

Mila blinked and spoke slowly. “No. I don’t.” Why ask about cuts?

“Good. Safe you will be,” Riella said with a reassuring nod.

Okay…

Everyone crowded closer to the base of the tree, and Riella held up one arm.

Tipping her head back, Mila tried to see what awaited her above, but leaves obscured the treetop. No ropes hung for her to grab onto and, sadly, she didn’t spy a stairway dropping down to meet her.

Sereel handed Chee-chee to Mila before pulling a tiny metal tube from her pocket and bringing one end to her lips. With a puff and a wiggle of her fingers over three holes, she created a short melody.

Kral moved up and wrapped his arms around Mila as if he sensed how unsettled she felt. She wasn’t truly afraid of what might happen next, but everything was new and different. It was normal to feel a little uneasy about all this.

Chee-chee stared up, drawing her attention in that direction again.

Long vines descended.

“Someone sent them?” she asked Kral.

“The tree.”

“The tree sent the vines?” She must be mistaken.

“We have a relationship with the home trees. You will see. Every evening, we play the music they need to grow strong and they, in exchange, give us limbs for homes.” One of his arms lifted while the other turned her to face him and tightened around her waist. He leaned close to her ear. “Hold on.” A vine encircled his wrist, and with a tug, they were lifted off the ground.

Mila gulped and fisted the front of his shirt.

Chee-chee chirped.

Kral chuckled as she clung to him while around them, his family also rose into the air, lifted by the vines.

They were deposited on a broad, smooth branch extending far into the upper branches of the tree.

Kral’s arm loosened as Mila looked around.

“Wow. This is gorgeous,” she said softly.

Kral kissed her. “Welcome home, my love.”

Twenty-Six

Kral

When Hantir moved to follow him and Mila home, Kral lifted one ridged eyebrow.

Hantir’s gaze dropped to his feet, and he backed away. He bowed and slunk in the other direction, toward his residence, without another word.

“Feast I will prepare for,” Riella said, seemingly unaware of Hantir’s actions. She grabbed Mila’s shoulders and gave her a kiss on each cheek. “Again welcome, new niece. See you at feast, I shall.”

Mila smiled, bemused, and when Sereel stepped forward to kiss her cheeks as well, Mila returned the favor.

As his aunt and friend took the vine bridge connecting this platform to another tree, Mila watched. “This place is amazing. And you live here, in the trees?” She snorted. “I thought we’d arrive and find regular homes like I remember from Earth. That’s what I saw in the city and in the countryside as we traveled here.”

“Are you disappointed?” What if she was? Could he live in another way? He would try, because he wanted her to be happy.

“Not at all.” Her easy smile made him see he had nothing to worry about.

“You will enjoy living in the sky,” he said, putting an arm around her waist. “I will show you our home, and you will be happy.” He bared his fangs in a teasing smile. He wasn’t as “cocky” as he behaved. Sometimes, he acted that way to bring on Mila’s smile. “Your feet, too.”

“Show me,” she said eagerly. Her eyes sparkled. “I want to see it all.”

He led her in the other direction, across a rope bridge, this one spanning a long stretch.

She gulped. “How far up are we?”

“One-quarter klek.”

“Which means nothing to me.” Gripping the rail with one hand, the other keeping Chee-chee tucked close to her side, she looked down. “I’d say we’re at least forty, fifty feet up. Why so high off the ground and not, say, twenty feet? Is it tradition or…?”

“Long ago, the Vikir built homes in the trees to find safety from creatures who hunt on the ground but cannot climb trees.”

She shivered. “What kind of creatures are we talking about?”

“The dangerous one live deeper in the mountains. They rarely come to this area, and only then when they are drawn by the scent of blood.”

“Is that what your aunt meant when she asked if I had cuts?”

He nodded. “Any injury is bound quickly. The scent of blood stirs their hunger.”

Wasn’t that lovely? Mila shuddered but shoved aside her unease. Kral wouldn’t bring her here if it wasn’t safe. “I’ll avoid getting cut, then.” As she stared around, she sighed with happiness. “Despite the blood-scenting creatures and the awe-inspiring plunge to the ground, this place is incredible. I love it already.”

His shoulders loosened. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d feared she’d find this way of life too different after what she was used to on Earth. That was partly why he hadn’t shared exactly where his people lived. He’d heard humans lived much like Vork did in the city, and that wasn’t the life for Kral. He’d hoped Mila would see his home and love it as much as he did.

“Let me show you our home,” he said, taking her hand. He led her along the bridge to a platform connecting ten bridges spanning out like spokes on a wheel.

“I’m going to get lost,” she said with a laugh as she followed him across another bridge to another platform. “How many bridges are there here?”

“Too many to count. Remember, there are over two thousand Vikir in my clan. Each family has a private dwelling, and each family has built their home in their individual tree.”

“It’s amazing.” She gawked around. “The flowers are gorgeous. The leaves are stunning. And you…” She jumped up and gave him a quick kiss, making the bridge sway when she landed. “You’re the best of all.”

He wasn’t sure his chest could contain all the feelings inside.

“What’s that flower called?” she asked, pointing.

“Creeping chloey vine.” His voice came out husky with emotion. This woman…his woman. He couldn’t imagine being without her. “It…blooms at dusk.”

“Does it get cold here?”

“In winter, we need to wear thicker furs, and we do get snow, but it melts once the sun rises.” He pointed to the distant mountain range peeking through the trees. “At the higher elevations, once it starts snowing late fall, the snow sticks until spring.”

“Like on Earth in the northern parts of my country.”

When they approached his residence, he watched her face.

After the fire, he’d lived with his aunt until he’d built himself a house in this tree. Scars from the fire still remained a few levels below Kral’s home, where his father had built the home for Kral’s mother.

When Kral’s father pushed him out the window to save him from the fire, Kral had fallen to the platform below, breaking his leg in three places.

He’d never forgive himself for not waking in time to get his parents out. They said his mother died of smoke inhalation, that she wasn’t aware of a thing, but his father had known. After saving Kral, he’d burned to death trying to get to Kral’s mother.

Kral had found living in the same tree he’d grown up in…bittersweet. He swore he heard his mother calling his name, and more often than not, he’d hear a sound and turn to ask his father something, only to find he was alone in the room. But he took comfort in feeling them near.

Silly, but sometimes he spoke to them, and he swore they listened.

He stopped halfway across the bridge and tugged Mila against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “I built this home with my own hands,” he whispered in her ear. “I dreamed of someday sharing it with a mate.” Emotion clogged his voice. “With you.”

“Kral.” She turned in his arms and rose onto her toes to kiss him. “I can’t wait to see it. Show me?”

He led her the rest of the way and stopped at the door. “There is an Earth tradition Lily shared with me.”

“Which one?” she said with a laugh. “We have a lot of traditions.”

“I want to bring in a tree and decorate it during the winter, for your Chrestmiss.”

“Kral. That would be wonderful! We can sing carols and string popcorn, and I’ll stuff a stocking for you.”

“Why would you stuff my stocking?”

“You’ll see.” She winked at him. “Christmas is my favorite holiday.”

He smacked his forehead with his palm. “Of course. Chrissmass.”

“Sort of.” She smiled and looked around. “Which Earth tradition do you plan to honor right now?”

He swept her off her feet and into his arms. After nudging open the front door with his foot, he stepped inside. “I am carrying you over the holdthresh.”

Twenty-Seven

Mila

Mila wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled as big as she could. After Kral whispered about this being the same tree where he’d grown up, she’d felt his pain like a knife through her heart.

His voice had broken. Kral, the guy she’d fallen head over heels for, was hurting, and there wasn’t much she could do about it except hug him and show him she cared.

She understood loss, having nursed her dad when he was sick, only to watch him die while she sat at his bedside, holding his hand. At least she’d been able to say goodbye. That comfort had been taken from Kral.

But this moment was for living, not mourning.

And her big, hot, alien fiancé was carrying her over the holdthresh. She’d fill him in on the right word later. Or not. It didn’t matter. How often would they discuss thresholds?

“Am I supposed to put you down?” He asked as he stood inside the small entryway.

A quick look around showed three doors off the short hall. The one to the left led to a living room area with hand-hewn chairs covered with squishy-looking, colorful cushions. Bright and cheery. A thick fur rug lay in front of a fireplace along one wall and, okay, yeah, she was eager to lounge on the fur, in front of a crackling fire. With Kral, of course.

The ceilings were high and made up of beams covered with a tan material she didn’t recognize.

“I think you’re supposed to carry me off to your bedroom and ravish me,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Would you? Please?” She was overdue for ravishment.

“Is that part of the Earth tradition?”

She tightened her arms around his shoulders. “No idea, but it sounds like we should make it our tradition, right?”

“Right.” He strode forward and swept her through the door ahead. A short, curved hall beyond led to a bright room with cabinets, indicating a kitchen.

“How did you build all this in a treetop?” she asked, her jaw dropping further whenever she looked around.

“Some of our home is built within the tree itself.”

“And that doesn’t kill the tree?” They were huge, but how could they live if their insides were…scooped out?

“The insides have a wide, natural channel. We Vikir have a relationship with our trees. They allow us to build on their shoulders and within them, and in exchange…”

“What do you give them in exchange?”

“Music. You will see tonight.”

“That’s vague. Will you give me a better hint?” She teased his naanans, and he released a muffled groan.

“No more hints.” He nudged his head to the right. “There is a small bathing chamber behind that door. Most of us use the larger zither pools nearby, and I will show you tomorrow.”

Bathing with the fishies? She couldn’t wait. Maybe. But if Crakairian women enjoyed the experience, so would Mila. She was determined to become a Vikir as soon as possible, boodlers included.

“The next door on the left wall leads to a small study or…” He ducked his face and fumbled with the knob.

“Or…?”

“It could also be a room for a youngling.”

“Ah. Let’s start that ravishment and see what we can do about creating a youngling.”

“Mila,” he breathed.

“I want your children.”

“Same-sies.”

She laughed. He was picking up English slang quickly.

After opening the door, he took her into a big bedroom built within the center of the tree.

She tipped her head back and her mouth dropped open. “Wow. And you built all this yourself?”

“With Josik’s help.”

There was no true ceiling, just a dome of glass—or what she believed was glass—at the top, where the tree opened up to the sky. Late-day sunlight slanted through the windows, chasing away the shadows.

“It’s gorgeous.” She stared up at him, and seeing the lines of grief on his face wrenched her insides sideways. “If you want, we can go to the living room and talk. All that ravishment talk is a tease. You’re in pain, and I want to help you feel better.”

His face lightened, and he seemed to shrug off his sadness. “Are you suggesting I lose my chance at ravishment? Never.” He bared his fangs, and his eyes sparkled with happiness. “So many nights I dreamed of sharing this room with my mate, and now I will.”

He kicked the door shut and crossed the room to lower her carefully onto the bed.

As she ditched her clothing fast, he stripped, tossing aside his shoes and the pants and shirt he’d been given by Vork at the spaceport.

He tumbled down onto the bed beside her and, growling, nuzzled her neck and wrapped his arms around her. “At last, I have you where I want you. In my bed and in my arms.” He lifted his head and bared his fangs, looking boyish and cocky, all at the same time. “And in my heart.”

“Kral. I love you.”

His smile fell, replaced by a look of pure satisfaction. The black in his eyes eclipsed the surrounding blue band, and he pressed his face into her neck. “Mila.” His heavy, gruff tone made her chest ache.

“I hope it’s okay to tell you that. We’ve had what some people call a whirlwind relationship. It’s been fast and hot, but to me, it feels real.”

“You…” He shook his head. “I…You—we—mean so much to me.”

“This is the beginning of our lives together, here in your—our—home.”

“I want to kiss you and love you forever.”

She smirked. “Then let’s start that now.”

He growled again and kissed her, his mouth heavy on hers. His body rose over hers, but he braced himself on his strong forearms so as not to crush her.

She loved the heat that exploded inside her whenever they touched. She was wet for him already, and when he lifted his head, she could tell he knew, because he gave her another cocky grin.

His lips smoothed as he lowered himself down her body. “Let me give you your first orgasm in our home.” When he looked up, his eyes smoldered. “I want to taste it on my tongue, feel it beneath my fingers, and hear it when you scream my name.”

If he kept up the steamy conversation, she was going to come from his words alone. But she didn’t want that. She wanted to fall apart with him pumping into her. Although, she’d be happy with a welcome home orgasm since he’d offered.

Parting her legs, he closed his eyes and inhaled. “You smell fantastic. Like spice and musk and desire for me. There is no headier scent.”

Some girls would’ve pinched their legs together as embarrassment flooded their faces. Not Mila. She bent her knees to give him easier access. There was no place in their bed for embarrassment. She wanted to savor every moment, each sigh and groan they created together.

He licked her, and she bucked beneath him, wanting more.

With a chuckle, he kept licking, lathing her opening and clit with his forked, slightly scratchy tongue.

She thrashed her head and fisted the blankets. Shit, she was gonna come right away.

No, no. Hold back. She wanted to feel it forever, not spend it fast. Her body jerked, refusing her mind’s command, and she shuddered.

“Yes, love,” he said, his fingers stroking her and a naanan vibrating on her clit. “Like that. Give it to me.”

She rode the wave to the shore as he rose over her.

Lifting her legs, he pushed himself inside her, the exquisite stretch he delivered as exciting as if this was their first time together.

He lowered himself down onto his forearms and kissed her while moving. His thrusts, slow and deep, sparked a fire inside her all over again.

They moved with their gazes locked, heat growing until their cries echoed in the room.

As she built to another orgasm, he rose and lifted her legs over his shoulders, then slammed into her until they crested the peak and crashed down the other side together.

While he rained kisses on her face and neck, she laughed, because it tickled.

She must have dozed, because a scratching sound on the front door woke her.

“Kral?” Hantir called. “Kral?”

“We will ignore him,” Kral said softly.

Could they do it for the rest of their lives?

“He knows we’re here,” Mila said with a sigh. “Shit, he probably knows what we’re doing.”

“What else would a newly mated couple do but fuck?”

“Good point, but—”

Hantir scratched on the door again. “Kral? Sorry I am to bother you, but…”

“Maybe he just wants to tell you something quick.” Mila tapped his side. “Go listen and then come back to bed.” She wiggled her eyebrows and pretended to leer.

He frowned as if he was worried she’d gotten something in her eye.

So much for her suggestive technique; it needed work.

“I am sure it is nothing,” he said softly.

“Kral?” Hantir said. “Message I have my mother from.”

“I love my aunt,” Kral said. “But sometimes…” Grumbling, he levered himself off the bed. He wrapped a wide strip of leather around his legs and waist and suddenly wore a decent loincloth. Leaving the bedroom, he stalked into the hall. Their low voices reached Mila as she rolled onto her side and snuggled the covers. If Kral took too long, she’d fall asleep again. But then he could wake her up…

He returned to the room moments later. “I have to leave. I am sorry.”

Frowning, she turned to face him. “Is everything okay?”

“Two males have come to blows about a felled wildarn. As leader of my clan, it is my role to intervene.” He tugged on his pants and pulled a shirt from the closet. “I do not believe this can wait until tomorrow.”

She sat up. “Will you be gone long? Maybe I could go with you.” While she didn’t mind waiting here alone, there was no time like the present to meet those living in the village. She had no idea what a wildarn was, but she would learn.

He leaned over her and gave her a lingering kiss. “Stay here. Maybe take a nap? We have been running and fighting for what feels like forever. I will settle this and return quickly.” When he wiggled his thick eyebrows, she smiled. He had known what she’d meant when she tried a suggestive leer.

After he left, locking the door behind him, she dozed. He was right; she was tired. For the first time, she could fully relax and let sleep drag her away. Even while traveling here, she’d only half-slept, afraid other pirates would attack. Too many bad things had happened for her to fully relax her guard.

She dreamed someone was calling her name…

…And woke to a scratch at the door.

“Mila?” Riella called. “There are you?”

Here was she.

Feeling a twinge of shame for mocking Kral’s kind aunt, even if it was only in her mind, she rose from the bed and dressed quickly before striding out into the hall.

“Mila?” Riella scratched on the panel again.

“Coming.” She unlocked the door and swung it open.

Chee-chee scampered up behind her and peered through the opening. He cheeped when he saw Riella.

“Ah, you are there,” she said, her fangs flashing.

“Yup. I am.” Mila pressed for a smile. A few minutes of sleep was not enough. She wanted to climb back under the covers with Chee-chee.

“Feast it is time for,” Riella said.

“Already?” Mila peered past the other woman. “I thought Kral would come back for me, and we’d go together.”

“Meet there, he say.” Riella’s lips thinned. “Wildarn argument hot. Males.” She shook her head and bared her fangs at Mila again. “Understand, you do.”

“I do.” Leave it to guys to fight about…whatever a wildarn was. Maybe something like a goat. Or a car, though there didn’t seem to be anything car-like in the Vikir village. Unless they parked them…in the bushes. “Let me put something else on before we leave.”

“Yes,” Riella said, nudging her way inside. “Help, I do.” She lifted a cloth bag she’d slung over her arm. “Dress I bring. Dress I make.”

“You brought me a dress you made yourself? That’s sweet of you.”

“New niece!”

In no time, Mila wore a soft leather dress similar to the one Sereel had worn earlier. As light and comfortable as cotton, the skirt flared a bit when Mila twirled around for Chee-chee, who sat on the bed chirping.

“Beautiful,” Riella said. “Now, ready you are.”

In the hall, Riella turned to Mila before she could lift Chee-chee to bring him along with her.

“Meerdreg here stay?” She patted Chee’s head. “Others frighten.”

“Maybe I should introduce him to everyone slowly?” She stroked the monkey who clung to her neck. “But it might be best to do it all at once. He won’t attack, and they’ll see he’s friendly.”

Riella shook her head, and her dull gray naanans drifted forward across her shoulders. “Introduce Vikir slow.”

“Oh, you mean bring him around to little groups so they can get used to him a few at a time.”

As she dipped her head, Riella smiled. “Yes.”

After nudging Chee-chee inside and shutting the door, Mila followed Riella across the bridge to the spoked platform where Riella lifted the tiny flute she wore on a chain around her neck. Mila would have to ask Kral for one and get him to teach her the tune.

Vines took them to the ground, and boy, traveling like this was going to take some getting used to. Sheltered in Kral’s arms, the ride up had been an adventure. Descending with only a band of the plant around her wrist—and no knowledge yet of why the vines were willing to perform the task—had almost freaked her out. She was never happier than when her feet were planted solidly on the forest floor.

“Way this,” Riella said with a smile, waving for Mila to follow. The older woman stepped onto a narrow path that meandered in the general direction of the mountains.

“Where is the feast going to be held?” Mila asked, admiring the huge purple flowers blooming on bushes to her right. She’d ask Sereel to teach her about the local flora and fauna before she touched anything, but she was eager to learn what was edible and what might make a nice arrangement for the kitchen table. Assuming she had a kitchen table.

“Feast in clearing.” Riella gestured upward. “Moons. Light. Wonder. Food good.”

“Sounds like my idea of a fun evening. Will there be music?”

“Vikir music. Sweet your ears for.”

Mila hoped the translators caught up soon because these conversations were wonky.

They meandered along the path for about ten minutes. Sweat trickled down Mila’s brow, and the cool, comfy leather dress started to rub in all the wrong places. So much for wanting to fit in. She’d be a gleaming mess by the time they reached the meadow.

“How much farther?” she asked Riella.

“Long far,” Riella called out, cheery. She held a branch back for Mila to pass and waved her arm toward a hill ahead of them. “There up.”

Mila trudged ahead, grateful they were almost at the party.

Weird how she didn’t hear any other Vikir. She should be hearing voices and music by now.

When she reached the top of the hill, she found nothing but a grassy knoll and an endless expanse of forest stretching for as far as she could see. Beyond the woods, craggy mountains reached for the sky.

“Are you sure we came the right way?” Mila asked, turning to Riella.

Riella held a big knife.

She lunged toward Mila.

Twenty-Eight

Kral

By the time he’d finished settling the argument between the two clansmales, at least a denjar had passed.

He hurried toward his home, eager to see his mate. Wake her and kiss her. Climb into bed with her before they had to get ready for the feast in her honor.

But when he opened his front door and called out her name, only silence greeted him. That, and Chee-chee’s frantic cries.

Do not panic.

He had no reason to be frightened for Mila. This was his village, his clan, and his home. She was safe here.

Or was she?

When he found the bedroom empty, and the clothing she’d worn earlier lying on the floor, his worry turned into a blazing fire. He slammed through the house, seeking her, but finding nothing but a silence that ate at his bones.

“Mila?” he shouted.

Chee-chee shrieked in the hall, and he rushed out to find the meerdreg trying to pry the front door open.

“Where is she?” he said, yanking the panel wide.

The meerdreg hobbled through the opening and started across the bridge, only to stop and turn to Kral. “Cheep!”

“Take me to Mila?” Kral shouted.

“Cheep.”

Grabbing the sword he’d left by the door, he slid it into the sheath. He assured himself he still had his knives, and then he took off after the meerdreg.

He ran into Josik as he was crossing the bridge.

Josik bared his fangs in welcome. “I was—”

“Come with me?” Kral said, his eyes stinging and his lungs raging. Nearly frantic with fear, he would welcome a clear mind. “Mila…”

With a frown, Josik’s gaze darted to Kral’s front door. “She—“

“Is not there. She is gone.”

“Gone? Where?”

“I do not know, but Chee-chee does.” He nudged his chin toward the meerdreg pacing on the opposite platform.

“We will find her,” Josik vowed. He spun and rushed toward the meerdreg.

Josik called vines, and they were transported to the ground in two seclars.

Kral and Josik followed the meerdreg into the forest. He ached to yell Mila’s name, but her disappearance sent chills up his spine. If someone had taken her, he didn’t want to alert them to his presence. His heart beat like the drums of Krikiere his people used for death marches, a heavy thud that made it difficult to breathe.

Let her be alive. Please.

His eyes stung again, and he swiped at them. Crakairians did not cry. Yet he couldn’t stop the wetness from trickling down his face.

Had he found her only to lose her? Letting her go was not an option. He would not let fate steal his family all over again.

The meerdreg tired, and Kral scooped it up. The creature wrapped his arms around Kral’s neck, and pointed a claw forward.

Josik nodded grimly and tightened his grip on the short sword he’d pulled from the sheath on his back.

The rage of Kral’s Vikir ancestors filled his soul, eager to whet his blade on whoever thought to harm his mate.

Two sets of tracks trod on the path. One he recognized as the heel print of Mila’s Earthling shoe.

The other? The subtle step of a fellow Vikir’s footwear. Someone from his clan had taken her into the woods, and as much as he’d like to think this was harmless, he knew in his gut whoever was with her did this with foul intent.

It was a stretch for him to think it, but was this person also involved in everything that had happened since the moment Mila had been taken?

The connection he’d sought may lie in his hands soon. The explosion of his ship. The space station. The pirates sent to kill him and Mila.

And now this. If it was connected, how and why?

When he approached a hill, he heard grunts and a cry of pain.

Josik lifted his free hand and tipped his head, listening. A look of pure puzzlement filled his face, followed by an expression of horror.

What did he see?

Kral lowered Chee-chee to the ground and, with his sword in his hand, stormed up the hill with Josik right behind.

“No,” Josik cried.

Riella swiped a blade across Mila’s uplifted forearm while Mila slashed out with her knife.

With a suck in of her belly, Riella danced to the side and darted her blade out again.

“Mother, no!” Josik yelled, but Riella kept rushing toward Mila, her blade slicing through the air.

“Yes,” Hantir yelled from opposite Josik and Kral. “Hurry.” He ran toward Josik with his sword raised. Would the older brother kill Josik?

The two males came together with a crash of swords.

Chee-chee leaped around Kral and scurried across the clearing. Before Kral could pull a knife and throw it at his aunt’s back, the meerdreg flung himself onto Riella.

His claws sunk in deeply.

Riella reared back, shrieking. The blade dropped from her hand as she spun, trying to dislodge the meerdreg.

The creature held on, its toxin pouring from its claws into Riella.

She stumbled and her legs gave out. With a shudder, she toppled to the ground.

As Kral reached Mila and gathered her into his arms, the meerdreg scampered over and stopped in front of them, barely hindered by the splint on its leg. “Cheep!”

Kral ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt and bound Mila’s wound while the two males continued to fight.

Josik had mock-battled with Kral many times, and it was clear he was the better swordfighter. In minars, he’d disarmed his brother and had him on his knees, begging for forgiveness.

“It was not me,” Hantir said, shooting a dark look Riella’s way. “Mother’s idea was this.”

“Why?” Kral asked. “I don’t understand.”

“You have a mate,” Hantir said bitterly.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Kral yelled.

Riella lay motionless, staring toward the sky, the meerdreg toxin keeping her from moving. In the wild, the meerdregs would then eat their prey without fear of the being fighting back.

“A mate will bear young,” Hantir said. His gaze fell on Mila. “And I would no longer be your heir.”

“Why should that matter?” Kral asked, his heart burning from the pain of his aunt’s betrayal. “I could live for many yaros. You might never inherit leadership of the clan.”

“I was supposed to inherit yaros ago. Mother was waiting for another chance.”

The fire.

“She killed them,” Josik burst out. “Your parents, my beloved aunt and uncle! Murdered!” He flung out the hilt of his sword, hitting Hantir in the head and knocking him unconscious. Then he tightened his grip on the weapon and stomped toward his mother.

“Don’t,” Kral said.

“It is my right as her blood.”

“I don’t think she intended to kill me, Josik,” Mila said, surprisingly calm. Kral was a wreck. His stupid eyes kept seeping. “For some reason, she seemed more interested in wounding me.” Her mouth formed a circle. “Oh. If I was wounded, I’d bleed and draw…” She stared toward the forest. “The creatures…”

If she’d drawn them to her, Mila would have been ripped apart alive.

“I wish to deal with this,” Josik said. He stopped in front of Kral and dropped to one knee, bowing his head. “Please, leader. Let me give justice.”

“I will,” Kral said, placing his hand on Josik’s shoulder. As a blood relative, it was Josik’s right to handle this. “Let us…”

“Take Mila home,” Josik said, pain leaching into his voice. “I will…” He blinked fast. “I will…” A shudder rippled through his chest. “Thank you.”

Mila laid her head on Kral’s shoulder, and he tipped his to connect them. He needed her comfort now more than ever.

“Why did she wait so long to try to kill you?” Mila asked. “You said it has been ten years since the fire.”

Josik stood. “I…” He sighed. “When you were fourteen yaros, and the wildarn stampeded, nearly trampling you, I suspected something was amiss, but I told myself I must be mistaken.”

No. Kral could not believe this. “Krikitts chased them.”

“So Hantir said.” Josik’s angry gaze fell on his brother. “But did they? And then…”

Kral held up his hand. “I cannot bear to hear more.” He’d had more than his share of near misses during the past ten yaros but had attributed them to a busy, active life. What if some or all the “accidents” and unusual happenings had been caused by his aunt and cousin?

“Hantir was on the space station,” Kral bit out. Mila must have seen his cousin from the back. Too bad Kral had not been the one to look out into the hall.

“He left here shortly after you did,” Josik said. “He told me he was meeting with a friend, but I assume now he went after you.”

“Do you think he programmed the space station to self-destruct?” Mila said.

Kral shrugged, but inside, he knew. “Someone blew up my ship. And then the space station. Pirates attacked…”

Josik’s lips thinned, and he sent a look of pure hatred Hantir’s way. “I deeply apologize.” He placed his fist against his chest. “But I will give you justice. Please. Leave me with them. I will…”

Kral nodded and stood. He sheathed his sword and offered his hand to Mila to help her stand.

“Come on, Chee,” Mila said, scooping up the meerdreg. She glanced at Riella. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the power this little guy possesses in his claws.”

“I am grateful he is our friend,” Kral said.

“Can we go home, now?” Mila said. “I…I think I’d like to lie down. Or lounge around in a hammock, if you have one.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and led her off the hill and into the forest, leaving Riella and Hantir to whatever fate Josik chose to deliver.

It was the way of the Vikir. Be true to those around you or face the consequences of your bad judgment. He did not envy Josik, and his chest ached at what his cousin must do.

The betrayal would haunt both Kral and Josik for the rest of their lives.

But with each step, Kral’s mood lightened.

It was over.

One day soon, he’d have to process all that had happened, because locking the feelings up inside would do him no good.

For the first time since before his parents died, he felt as if he had a solid future, one with his mate, Mila.

“You said a…hamrock? I do not have a hamrock, my mate,” he said, wondering what a hamrock was. The “rock” part made it sound hard, but if Mila was interested, he would look into them. Could he order one from Earth?

She glanced up at him and while shadows lurked in her eyes, the smile she gave him warmed his bones. They loosened, making walking easier.

“Hammock. No rock. And I think we can make one,” she said. “We seem to have a lot of vines dangling around.”

“I will help.”

“Tell you what,” she said. Taking his hand, she squeezed his fingers as they started walking down the path again. “I’ll figure it out and, one day, we’ll lounge on a hammock together.”

Stopping on the path, he cupped her beautiful face and gave her a kiss that promised a full future.

His voice echoed hers. “Together.”

Twenty-Nine

Ten Days Later - MILA

Sereel rushed in through the front door of Mila and Kral’s home. “He is coming!” Giggling, she carefully shut the panel and leap-frogged toward where Mila waited in the doorway of the living room. “Hide!”

Mila grinned and gave the other woman a quick hug and a whispered thank you as she passed and entered the living room. Sereel had volunteered to be their guard, watching for Kral, who had been waylaid by Josik and led on a wild goose chase to keep him out of the house while Mila got everything ready.

Smoothing her dress—a supple, pale blue leather and made with Sereel’s help—Mila plastered a casual expression on her face. Behind her, she caught the muffled sounds of her friends hiding. She’d invited her friend, Lily, plus Lily’s sister, Sadie. Sadie had also invited a few of the other Earth women she’d met since arriving on Crakair.

A baby cooed, the Crown Prince and an Earth woman’s daughter. Sadly, there were no babies in the Vikir village, though Mila suspected… Well, she didn’t know for sure yet. It wasn’t like she could pick up a test somewhere local and pee on the strip.

But she suspected. She hadn’t told Kral yet, but planned to tonight. He’d be thrilled. She was thrilled. She couldn’t stop dreaming about what their baby would look like. The best of them both. His cocky manner and her spunk, or her excitement for life and his stoic demeanor. It didn’t matter.

Footsteps approached beyond the door, and she backed inside the living room. She jumped onto the sofa and sprawled, kicking her feet up and placing her digital reader on her lap. Yup, that was her, reading a good alien romance, her favorite.

The door opened and closed.

“Are you sure this type of harvest will benefit the village?” Josik asked, overly loud. He was trying to cue her in, but he knew Sereel was watching. Nice of him to give her warning, however.

The light pad of the two males’ footsteps approached the doorway.

In keeping with an ancient Vikir custom, Josik had taken his brother and mother to the desert beyond the plains of Dunare and left them with enough provisions to survive one week. Banished, they were told their lives would be forfeit if they showed up in any Vikir village. Kral said they’d travel into the desert, looking for a rumored oasis. As long as Mila never saw them again, she didn’t want to know what became of them.

Kral smiled as he entered the living room. “My mate.” No matter how many times he said it, a thrill still shot through her. She had a feeling she’d always feel this way. Pausing, his brow furrowed as he stared at the Happy Birthday banner she’d hung. “What is—”

“Surprise!” Everyone leaped up from behind their hiding spots.

While their friends cheered and clapped, Mila stood and cleared her throat. Damn, her hands were trembling. Sweat had broken out on her spine as the voices died down and everyone turned to her. What if she messed this up?

“Kral?” she said hoarsely.

He tilted his head and narrowed his gaze on her face as if he hoped to figure out what was going on. “Yes?”

Before her nerves failed her, she launched into the song his mother had sung on his birthday. Sereel had taught her, and she’d practiced over the past week.

She sang it in Crakairian.

Pretty bird, silly bird.

Chirping in the morning.

Chee-chee chirped, and a few of the others chuckled.

Mila picked the monkey up as she sang, and the creature wrapped his arms around her neck.

Pretty bird, beautiful bird.

Wakes the youngling without warning.

She knew she’d fumbled the pronunciation of a few of the words, but when Kral turned and rushed from the room, her heart fell. What had she done wrong?

Around her, the cheers died down to dead silence.

Tears stung in Mila’s eyes, and her gaze met Sereel’s, who shrugged.

Mila took off after Kral, rushing from the living room and finding him leaning against the wall in the kitchen.

His hands covered his face.

She stood beside him, trying not to bawl. “I screwed it up, didn’t I?” Her voice came out croaky. Could she go back in time and not sing the song? She’d hurt him. Reminded him of the parents he’d lost. She’d—

“You did everything right,” he said with the weight of the world coming through in his words.

She wiped her eyes, not ashamed to show her feelings. “Then why…”

His hands dropped, and her breath caught to find his eyes glistening.

“You’re crying,” she said.

“Crakairians do not cry.”

“Okay. Then…your eyes are…seeping…something.” Tears. Come on, they were tears.

“Mila.” He gathered her in his arms and held her close. “You…I do not know what to say.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Her heart ached, and her body felt numb. But this wasn’t about her. If he was sad, she wanted to help him. “I can ask everyone to leave. We can—”

“That is not it at all,” he said. Cupping her face, he gave her a lingering kiss. “You have made me very happy.”

Her mood lightened. “Then these are good tears.”

He nodded.

“I’m glad you’re happy.” Her smile grew, and she couldn’t help it. Their ongoing joke came out. “How about your feet?”

Nuzzling her neck, he growled. “Since this is my birthday, I will expect you to emulse my feet tonight.”

“That’s not how it goes. I’m the queen, and you’re my mighty Vikir warrior, eager to kiss my feet and make them happy.”

He bared his fangs, enjoying her teasing.

“I’d like to emulse your entire body,” she said in all seriousness. “But I’ll skip the boodler and use…you know.”

He kissed her again. “About your song…”

“Your mother’s song. I’ve been practicing. I wanted it to be perfect.”

“And it was. You could not have done anything that would make me happier than I was at that moment.” His gaze turned toward the living room. “This party. I didn’t expect anything like it. You said we were having dinner alone tonight.”

“Instead, I invited the entire crew.” She held out her hand. “They wanted to be with you on your special day. Want to join them?”

“Yes, let us go celebrate.”

He put his arm around her shoulders as they walked down the hall and into the living room.

“Surprise,” everyone cheered again, then their laughter filled the room.

All the Earth women, plus the baby in the Crown Prince’s wife, Julia’s arms, formed a line in front of Kral and sang the birthday song.

He bared his fangs all through it and kept wiping his eyes.

Seeping. Sure.

After they’d finished, Kral went around greeting everyone with Mila at his side.

Crown Prince Axil had his arm around Julia. When the baby saw Mila holding Chee-chee, the little girl bared her tiny fangs and kicked her feet. She cooed as her deep auburn naanans fluttered around her head.

Chee-chee leaped from Mila’s arms and into Axil’s. The Crown Prince’s eyebrows lifted and his hands hesitated, but he was soon stroking the monkey’s back. “This…meerdreg. I never believed they could be tamed.”

Mila shrugged. “I believe he tamed me, not the other way around.”

“I cannot believe you are here,” Kral said. “How did you hide your arrival?”

“You can thank Vork for bringing us all here,” Axil said, smiling at the tall Crakairian Commander standing to their side with his mate, Evie.

Evie grinned, and her hand lightly touched her baby bump. “Vork borrowed,” she made air quotes, “a shuttle and picked everyone up for the party. He parked beyond the village, and we all tiptoed here while Josik kept you busy.”

Kral shook his head at Josik, who flashed his fangs. His gaze met Sereel’s, and her blonde naanans flipped up before settling around her shoulders. Mila was convinced they’d be matebonded soon.

“I did a good job of convincing you we had a jinjin crop issue,” Josik said, adding to Mila. “I led him around the fields, telling him it was this one…no, the next…and then another, never quite remembering where the problem might lie.”

“Awesome,” Evie said. “That must have been a lot of fun.”

Sereel joined them and reached out to hold the baby. “Can I hold her?”

“You’re sure?” Julia asked, carefully placing the infant in Sereel’s arms. Julia pushed stray hairs off her face. “If she’s too heavy, you just—”

“Not at all,” Sereel said, kissing the baby’s cheek. “You are the sweetest little girl, you little contrea bud.”

The baby squealed, a mix of Crakairian happiness mixed with good old Earth laughter.

Sereel took the child to the sofa, and Josik followed. He sat beside her and had the baby giggling within seclars. The couple bared their fangs at each other, and Sereel’s squeal rang out.

Crown Prince Axil and Vork each took turns exchanging the Crakairian version of bro hugs with Kral.

But when he and Mila moved to speak with a few others, Lily clapped her hands.

“Hey, everyone,” she said with a big grin. Her arm swept toward the table nearby that Mila had set up after Josik stole Kral away, and it contained a mix of Earth and Crakairian foods. Pot luck and Lily had organized it. “If you’ll all grab a plate, it’s time for—”

“Excuse me, Lillian,” Lily’s former protocol droid said. The machine lived with them, which Mila found strange, but they acted as if the droid was family. “I believe it is my place to speak up?”

“You think so, huh?” Lily said with raised eyebrows, but a smile teased across her lips. “You didn’t do it all. I helped.”

“You did,” the droid said somewhat graciously. Its gaze fell on the table. “You made…the vegetation with…drip.”

“Dip.”

The droid tipped its head. “Dip?”

“It’s called veggies and dip. Not drip.”

“I see. I cannot imagine why.” A look of pure puzzlement filled its mechanical face.

Mila’s lips twitched, and she smiled at Thea, another Earth woman and Julia’s best friend, who came over to stand beside her.

“That droid is something else,” Mila said. “Quirky and formal, but a hell of a lot of fun.”

“I’m going to ask my mate, Gaje, to give me a droid for Christmas,” Thea said. “If that’s even possible.”

Gaje came up behind Thea and put his arms around her waist, his fingers stroking across her big belly. Their baby was due any daela. “What do you hope is possible, my love?”

“The droid.”

“What about the TX75 droid?”

“Can I have one?” Thea asked. She turned in Gaje’s arms and rose onto her toes to kiss him. “We can buy one, can’t we?”

“There are many palace droids,” Gaje said, bemused. “Why would we need to buy a protocol droid?”

“This one is a lot of fun.” Thea pouted. “But it was just a thought.”

“Why don’t we ask the palace staff if they have an older TX model they’re decommissioning. We can utilize its services if you would like.”

“Great idea,” Lily said. “Think of it as giving a nice droid a forever home.”

“We’ve got a few youngling draquiers we’ll be seeking homes for soon,” Lily’s sister, Sadie, said, joining them. “If you’re looking to give out some happily ever afters.”

Weld, Sadie’s stepson, came over to her and hopped back and forth on his toes. He might only be eight yaros old, but he was nearly Sadie’s height. “Mom. Mom.”

Sadie tweaked one of the boy’s naanans. “What’s up?”

“The trees. They are up as are we.” He smirked and glanced toward the ceiling. “But I was wondering if I could run across the bridges. If I had my dirt bike…”

She winced. “No way are we bringing a dirt bike here to race across the bridges.” Pausing, she blinked. “Although…”

“No,” Bryk, Sadie’s mate said. He placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “You are welcome to walk, and I stress walk, among the treetops, but you may not run.”

“Awwww,” Weld said. “Please?”

Mila smiled. “I’m sure the other Vikir won’t—”

“Don’t give him any ideas,” Sadie whispered near Mila’s ear. “Or next thing you know, he’ll find a small wildarn and gallop that along the bridges.” She nudged her head toward the door and nodded to Weld. “Go play if you want, but don’t go too far.”

“Ok-ay,” Weld said, dragging his feet toward the door. “Woulda been more fun with a bike.” He left, the front door banging closed behind him.

Mila had worried about feeling alone on Crakair but instead, she had more friends than she’d had back on Earth. Her days were spent running, fulfilling the duties of the clan’s mate, and she knew life would keep getting better.

“Would you like to get something to eat?” she asked Kral. At his nod, she led him to the table overseen by the droid who stirred dishes and tweaked the arrangement of finger sandwiches, making sure they lined up to form a perfect star.

When they reached the end of the table, she moved around him and lifted the cover off the last dish. “Voila!”

Their friends crowded around them with grins on their faces, watching Kral’s reaction.

“You made my favorite dish,” he said. Turning slightly away, he wiped his eyes again.

“I…” Damn, she hoped it tasted okay. She’d gotten the recipe from one of the Elders, who’d made it many times with Kral’s mom. But what if Mila hadn’t gotten the spices right?

Kral dished up a big serving. Noticing everyone staring, he bared his fangs. “I cannot thank you all enough for coming here today to celebrate my day.”

“I hope it’s a special day,” Mila said, leaning against his arm.

“It cannot get better.”

“Sure it will,” Lily said. “We’ve got a wildarn-shaped piñata to crack open!”

Kral leaned close to Mila. “What is a piñata?”

“A paper mache creature stuffed with candy. Weld is going to love it.”

“Why would one wish to stuff a creature with candy?”

She grinned. “So you can whack it with a stick and break it.”

“And this is a joyful birthday tradition on Earth?” He sounded pained, and she wondered if he pictured them whacking a real wildarn. Nope. No way. Only a fake one.

“You get first hit,” she teased.

“I…look forward to it.”

She watched while he popped a bite of the special dish into his mouth. When he closed his eyes and didn’t open them back up, she worried he hated it. Grinding up various kinds of bark and combining them into the perfect combination hadn’t been easy. She’d made the dish seven times before the snooty Elder pronounced it acceptable.

“Mila,” he said. He lowered his plate onto a table and took both her hands, turning her to face him. “You, my mate, are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Awww,” Lily said. She snuggled into her mate, Jorg. “They’re so cute together.” They kissed, and Mila was glad all over again that her friend was safe.

“The dish is okay?” she asked.

“It is as good as my mother used to make.”

Her heart stung. Hell, her eyes stung. She was going to bawl in front of their friends, and that wouldn’t do.

“I want to show you your birthday present,” she said, tugging him to the door. She called out over her shoulder. “Everyone? We’ll be back in a few. Feel welcome to enjoy the food and drink and…wait for us for the piñata!”

Out in the hall, she pulled a strip of supple leather from her pocket. “You’re going to have to bend down while I put this on.”

He studied the leather. “What will you do with that?”

“Blindfold you.” She winked.

“What will you do to me while I am blindfolded?” His eyes sparkled.

Her voice deepened. “What would you like me to do to you while you’re blindfolded?”

He growled near her ear. “Many things.”

“Later,” she said in a husky voice. “Definitely later.” She had so many lovely ideas, and she’d try them all out with Kral.

He bent down, and she tied the band over his eyes. She led him down the hall and through the kitchen. He’d built a small deck off the room, and Mila had spent every second she had to make Kral his gift.

Her dad always said good things come in threes, and she was determined to prove it today.

The song.

The favorite dish.

And…

Tugging him close, she turned him around to stand beside her. “You trust me?”

“Always.” He said it without hesitation, and her damn eyes filled with tears all over again.

“Then take a leap of faith.”

He chuckled. “Off the edge of our deck?”

“No, dude. Take a leap with me.”

“Lead, my mate, and I will follow.”

She tugged him backward and into the hammock.

As he wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck, she grinned.

One kick off the post mounted on the deck, and they swayed, secure in their future together.

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Amazon

Look for WULF, Book 5 in the

Mail-Order Brides of Crakair Series,

on Amazon.

If you’d like to read a sneak peek of both AXIL and WULF, turn the page …

About the Author

Ava Ross fell for men with unusual features when she first watched Star Wars, where alien creatures have gone mainstream. She lives in New England with her husband (who is sadly not an alien, though he is still cute in his own way), her kids, and a few assorted pets.

Books by Ava

MAIL-ORDER BRIDES OF CRAKAIR

AXIL (Axil & Julia), Book 0, a novella

VORK (Vork & Evie), Book 1

BRYK (Bryk & Sadie), Book 2

JORG (Jorg & Lily), Book 3

KRAL (Kral & Mila), Book 4

WULF (Wulf & Taylor), Book 5

LYEL (Lyel & Isi), Book 6

Here

STOLEN & SEDUCED ANTHOLOGY

GAJE (Gaje & Thea), Book 0.5, a novella

set in the Crakairian world

Find it here.

WULF

He’s a rough Vikir alien warrior.

She’s a mostly proper librarian.

Can a green-scaled alien and

an Earthling woman find love together

in the stars?

After she’s kidnapped by blue-skinned aliens, Taylor escapes and bails from the space station in a shuttle she has no clue how to drive. She crash lands on a nearby planet made up mostly of jungle. Once she finds her way off the planet, she’s determined to return to Earth. Until Wulf, her Crakairian “mate” comes to her rescue. He says he won’t fight her if she wants to return home, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to change her mind. He’s gruff and scaly and much too tempting. And his kisses? If she could keep her hands off him, she might be able to think straight. But with jungle creatures trying to eat them, going home might not be an option.

As head of his Vikir clan’s warrior school, Wulf is scarred and unrefined, the exact opposite of his sweet female mate who speaks in a sophisticated manner and loves books. When she insists she wants to return to Earth, he decides to show her what she’ll be missing, even if he can only do this in a rough and bumbling way. But with jungle creatures hunting them, their biggest challenge will be escaping the planet.

If you’d like to read the first chapter,

turn the page…

Chapter One

Taylor

Taylor was going to kill the four-armed, blue alien jerk poking her in the spine.

“Go, you,” he grunted, gouging her with his Taser stick.

As she stumbled down the hallway, she shoved her hair off her face and peered around, taking in the smooth metal walls and tiled floor that hummed beneath her feet. The ambiance reminded her of when she’d boarded the star cruiser that would take her from Earth to Crakair. The one blue-skinned alien guys had boarded to kidnap her and her two friends. “Are we on some sort of space ship?”

“Talk, do not.”

Another jab of his stick made her breath woof out.

If he did it again, she was going to spin on her high heel and smack him. Some people might think librarians were serene and gentle, that they did all they could to avoid confrontation, but they hadn’t met Taylor. Yes, she came across calm and proper on the outside, but inside, she simmered, waiting for the right moment to boil over.

They passed a series of windows, and she slowed to look out. Forget her earlier idea. Long metal posts extended from the craft and small, round, pods that could be ships or satellite stations, hung in space. This wasn’t a spaceship; it was a space station.

About a week ago, and this was only a guess on her part based on when the aliens brought food, she’d woken inside a small room, strapped to a table.

An evil blue alien with big needles had poked and prodded her, thankfully knocking her out for most of it. Jokes about alien probes were the laugh of the party until reality set in and creepy blue guys gouged at your skin with sharp objects.

They’d released her restraints periodically so she could take care of business in the bucket sitting in one corner, only to tie her to the table for the rest of the time, as if they worried she’d escape. Truly, she would have bailed all the way to Earth if she could hijack a shuttle.

A few moments ago, she’d woken to find this particular blue-skinned guy standing beside her stretcher, feverishly ripping at the bindings keeping her ankles pinned to the table. She’d thought—for all of about ten seconds—he was freeing her. Until he’d latched onto her arm and yanked her off the thin mattress so quickly, she’d tumbled onto the floor.

Sitting on her butt with her back pressed against the stretcher, she’d braced her aching elbow against her belly. “Fuck off, asshole.”

“Up, you get.” He’d kicked her in the thigh. “No hole of ass. No fuck.”

That was reassuring.

Hauling her up off the floor, he’d half dragged her out into the hall, and when he’d brandished the taser stick in her face, she’d decided to do what he asked.

For now. But just watch out, jerk. One distracted moment, and she’d attack.

A few tears leaked from her eyes, but she sniffed and ignored them. Studies showed people cried when they were subjected to tense situations. Being kidnapped, knocked out by a lightning stick, poked and prodded for who knows what nefarious purpose, and then tied up each night was enough to make a girl weep. She’d earned these tears.

“Go. Quiet, you be,” he said, driving her away from the windows.

“Why are you talking like that?” she asked, her heels click-click-clicking down the hall. As she moved, she cursed the shoes she’d been wearing when she was kidnapped. That would teach her not to insist on wearing a tee, comfy lounge pants, and sneakers instead of the hot-pink juglier dress her protocol droid had insisted on. The stupid gown was snug from the waist down to her calves, making it impossible to run. And the loose, floaty top kept drooping forward, threatening to show off the fact she’d gone braless.

“Escape, we do,” he said as if making friendly conversation. That idea was negated faster than she could appreciate it. “Hostage, you are. Go!” He stabbed her spine again.

With a growl, she picked up her pace, shuffling her feet along the tiled floor as fast as she could. “What do you mean by hostage?”

They reached the end of the hall, and he pushed her through a door and onto a stairwell.

“Down,” he barked, and she scurried in that direction, hoping her legs didn’t trip her up and send her tumbling.

“Talk like this, all of us do,” he said.

This wasn’t worth quizzing him about. Maybe he watched a lot of Star Wars and saw himself as Yoda.

Where was a lightsaber when she needed one? Actually, she needed Princess Leia to storm the space station and rescue her.

Instead, the hand she’d been dealt included a skinny blue guy, plus a useless dress and heels.

“Scream, you will not,” he said.

As if he could control it? If she wanted to scream, she sure as hell would. “Why do you need a hostage?”

“Yarris, I will go. Take you with, I do.”

She didn’t know where Yarris was, but the take you with part made her pause. “Why?”

“Escape, I will do.”

“Escape? From what I can tell, you’re free already,” she said over her shoulder. The lucky guy had wings and could avoid the Stairmaster workout she was now being subjected to. He floated behind her, urging her on. “What’s keeping you from getting out of here on your own?”

“Release me, they will not.”

“Ah.” Anxiety crawled through her belly on razor-sharp claws as she figured it out. “You’re going to use me as a shield so they don’t harm you during your escape attempt.”

“Go!” He thrust the black stick toward her.

She wasn’t sure she could withstand another blow like the one she’d taken the second day she was here, when she’d kicked the alien “doctor,” and he’d retaliated. Her skull pounded in sympathy, reminding her she liked her brain matter unscrambled.

If only she had taken karate instead of basket weaving at the local Y. Then she’d be able to grab the stick from his hand and show him how Earth women probed jerks.

That’s what Francis Mandreth, adventurer extraordinaire and Taylor’s favorite fictional character, did whenever she got into tough situations. She snarled and acted. Being a librarian meant Taylor got first dibs on new books before they hit the shelves, and Francis Mandreth thrillers were worth staying up late to finish. Maybe she’d take a cue from Francis and look at this as an adventure. Easy to say when Francis toured the pyramids, stumbling over mummies with a hot guy at her side, while Taylor got…

Blue guy.

They exited the stairwell, out into yet another hallway. At the alien’s urging, she rushed through the corridor and turned left at an intersection. Taylor went as fast as her skirt would allow, but she was winded. Okay, she was wheezing. So what if she enjoyed sitting more than running around the library? Somebody had to man—woman—the front desk, and after the University made budget cuts, she couldn’t hire a work study student to do the job.

She struggled to keep ahead of the alien. Some shield she was. She wanted to protest, tell him to slow the H-E double hockey sticks down, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t listen.

Partway down a final hall, he dragged her into an alcove. A few beeps on a panel, and a door whooshed open. He shoved her inside and followed. After the door had closed, air puffed in around them. Another door opened, and when she stepped out of the tiny antechamber, Taylor found herself in what looked like a taxi station for alien spaceships.

“One that there,” the blue guy said, pushing her toward a ship.

While she scurried in that direction, he flew toward a bank of computers and pushed a bunch of buttons.

With a whoosh, a panel lifted on the side of the shiny blue-silver capsule at the front of the line.

“In,” he said, flying back over to her.

“We haven’t seen anyone,” she said. “You don’t need a hostage. Let me go!” She could find a place to hide and then look for her friends. Were they on the space station, too?

“Shoot, they will,” he said, poking her spine. “Die, I will not.”

“Do you really think they’ll care one way or the other about me?”

Wait. Whoever ran this space station would shoot at them? Her belly flipped. She was going to be blasted from the sky. Why, oh why, had she let her mom talk her into applying for the Extraterrestrial Matchmaker Service?

Oh, yeah. Babies. Taylor wanted lots of babies.

The alien dragged her through the door, and as it closed and latched behind them with a dull thud, he took her down a hall to a tiny room on the end with a big window, a panel with a bunch of dials, and two big chairs.

“Sit,” he said, shoving her down onto a hard metal seat. He dragged straps from behind her and bound her in place in four-point restraints, then did something behind her with the bindings.

“What are you doing?” she asked, cricking her neck around.

“Make sure no leave you do.”

“You’re tying me to the chair?”

“No escape.” Peering up at her, he sneered. “Never escape.”

“Where do you think I’m going to go, asshole? We’re in space.”

He frowned before he shook his head and straightened. “One cannot hole in ass be.”

“Suits you, buddy.” She struggled against the bindings, but he’d pinned her too well.

He rounded her chair and sat in the other, where he strapped himself in. Leaning forward, he pressed some buttons on the console. The vehicle trembled and then shifted ahead with a few jerks.

“Maybe you should hire a driver?” she said.

He ignored her.

“Where are you taking me?” she half-shrieked. So much for mimicking brave Francis Mandreth. She’d reverted back to plain old librarian Taylor already.

“Noisy, you are.”

He hadn’t seen anything yet. “Irritating, you are. Tell me where you’re taking me.”

The vehicle moved forward, and a hole opened in the wall ahead, revealing stars and endless black space.

The alien pointed to the hole. “To Yarris we go.”

“You mentioned that before. Where is Yarris?”

“Home new yours.”

Home? She didn’t like this. Not one bit. “Take me back to the Crakairian star cruiser, and I’ll make sure they reward you.” Perhaps. They’d pay a ransom to free her, wouldn’t they?

Wulf would. Maybe. Damn, she hoped so. But how could she know? She hadn’t met him yet. He might find it easy to forget her.

“Yarris, go we. No star cruiser.”

“I don’t want to go to Yarris.”

He scowled before returning his attention to his driving, which was a good thing. He had a lead foot, and he was touchy with the wheel. Sadly, in this way, Taylor was also not like Francis. Bile churned in her belly as motion sickness took hold. Vomiting would not make this situation better. It they lost gravity, it would float around the cabin.

With a whine of the engines, the vehicle shot out through the hole, the end of one wing banging against the side of the opening. The alien maneuvered the craft around and pointed it toward a distant planet that looked nothing like Earth. Thankfully, the vehicle leveled off and stopped jerking in all directions.

This was not the fun adventure Taylor had looked forward to when she’d signed up to be a mail-order bride.

Over a year ago, a mysterious ailment had swept through the galaxy, killing most of the women on the distant planet, Crakair, and the men on Earth. Then a ping from Crakair was picked up with an invitation to share resources. At first, the Earthlings freaked. Establish communication with an alien planet? No way! But a contingent of Crakairians arrived, including their Crown Prince, and the governments on Earth had warmed to the idea.

The Crakairians came bearing treaties and advanced technology. Security systems to protect Earth from other, unfriendly planets. As Taylor had recently discovered, there were hostile worlds out here. The Crakairians gave Earth technology that pushed them into a new future.

Then the Crakairian government proposed something astonishing. Crakairians and humans were genetically compatible; why not arrange a few marriages? That was when the Earth-to-Crakair Extraterrestrial Matchmaking Service had been born. At first, Earth women laughed. I mean, who’d want to travel to Crakair as a mail-order bride to marry a tall, green alien groom?

A few brave women volunteered and most of the matches worked out. The guys were hot, sweet, and, rumor had it, awesome lovers. This was a chance to have a marriage and family, something nearly impossible back on Earth.

Taylor had joined the most recent group. By now, she should have arrived on Crakair and met her groom, Wulf. If things worked out and she didn’t choose to return to Earth after the ten-day trial period, they would have proceeded with their relationship.

What would Wulf do now? For all she knew, he’d given up on her and ordered a new mail-order bride from Earth.

She shouldn’t feel jealous. He wasn’t hers—yet. But she did. Especially after watching the sweet video he’d sent her, where he talked about how he’d cherish her and treat her fairly. She’d read the kindness in his dark eyes. Swoon.

Deep in her heart, she’d looked forward to meeting and getting to know him. Hell, even having sex with him if they’d connected. She’d had hope for her future. So much for that idea. Her dreams had been burned to ashes.

Like it mattered now? She and her alien kidnapper were barreling toward a planet Earthlings had never heard of. She’d die there.

Meeting Wulf was no longer an option.

A few more tweaks on the dash by the blue guy, and the vehicle picked up speed.

When a voice crackled through the speaker, he jumped and darted a panicked glance her way. Someone spoke again, but Taylor couldn’t understand. The blue guy’s gaze met hers, and he cackled.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Shoot us, they will not.” He sagged back in the chair, settled his four arms on the armrests, and propped his heels up on the dash.

Lucky her to avoid being blasted to smithereens only to wind up stranded with a blue guy on a distant planet. “What are you going to do to me when we land?”

“Sell.”

“I’m not for sale.”

He cackled again and tweaked more dials. The ship shifted course, though still aiming for the planet below.

Yarris grew bigger and bigger until it filled the entire window in front of them.

She didn’t know what to do. At the library, she’d ruled. When she’d asked someone—politely—to do something, they’d done it. If someone was loud or rude, she would ask them to leave and they’d march out the front door.

That life had not prepared her for this moment, and the realization burned through her like her grannie’s hot sauce. Sure, with her friends, Taylor was bold. Much to chatty, actually, if she was being honest with herself. But inside, Taylor was still the shy girl on the school bus who’d been too afraid to say a peep because that might draw the attention of bullies.

For the first time since the aliens attacked the ship and kidnapped her, she was truly frightened. Over the past week, she’d survived on adrenaline, fear, and bravado, the trademarks that made her a solid librarian. Throughout the past week, she’d maintained a scrap of hope she’d be rescued.

Wulf would come for her, right? He’d felt the same connection she had when they were matched.

Her chest ached, and she rubbed it, but the ache wouldn’t go away. Because…

No one was ever going to find her on Yarris.

How could they? It wasn’t as if she could leave a bread crumb trail behind in the stars.

Her lower lip trembled, but she bit back her tears, refusing to let them fall. Fuck bravery. Fuck trying to turn herself into brave Francis Mandreth. Francis was fake, but so was Taylor.

But she hated giving the blue guy sitting beside her the satisfaction of seeing her weep.

Stiffening her spine and sniffing back her tears, she remained stoic as the ship hurtled toward Yarris and the end of her dreams.

When they entered the outer atmosphere, the shake of the ship rattled her teeth. She clutched the armrests, grateful she’d been strapped down. Otherwise, she worried she’d be projected through the windscreen. The ship bucked, a beast trying to free itself from restraints. A bang rang out, and she tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling. The fact that there were no dents surprised her.

“What was that?” she asked, her voice shaking as badly as her body.

“Silence!” He leaned forward and banged on the dials.

“Don’t break the ship,” Taylor said hoarsely. “You’ll mess things up and make us crash.”

“Assholed up already, it is,” he snarled. “Crash, we will.”

“What do you mean we’re going to crash?” She flicked her hand at the controls. “Drive this wreck. Land us on the planet.” To think she’d been worried about what might happen tomorrow or the next day when it appeared her life would be over in about twelve seconds.

The ship rushed closer to the planet, and the blurs of blue and green merged into a mass of green, purple, and light pink. Which was land and which was water?

“Drive, cannot do.” He lifted his hands in the air and shook them, but then flopped them onto his thighs.

“What do you mean? You grab the wheel—wherever that is, and you steer this thing. You land us on the freakin’ planet!”

He shrugged. “Useless, you are.”

“It’s not my fault. You’re the one who kidnapped me from the kidnappers and tried to escape to Yarris.”

“Over, it is.”

Not if she had any say in it. “So much for selling me in a yard sale. In case you didn’t know, I didn’t volunteer for this mission.” Her hands hurt from gripping the armrests. “What can we do?”

“Nothing.” His head dropped, and he curled forward.

“Try, damn you.”

He didn’t move. He didn’t flinch when she leaned sideways and smacked his arm.

“Great. Give up, why don’t you?” she said through tears of frustration. “Like that’ll help.” Looking around, she tried to find something that would indicate how to drive this thing, but none of the dials were labeled, and she didn’t see a stick shift or anything that might give her control. She might talk a lot and cry more than she should, but she also hated letting fate take the wheel.

When she turned back to the window, she gulped. Fate had already decided.

The ground rushed up too fast. Was it good she was strapped down and would never get free? That would keep her from smacking against the windshield on impact, right? During Safety Week at the library, they’d showed older—okay, very old—films for the kids who hung out in the afternoons until their parents got home from work. One of the films highlighted the importance of wearing a seatbelt.

Taylor was about to experience what happened when a vehicle going a billion miles an hour impacted with a planet. The end result pictures in the film hadn’t been pretty, and those vehicles had only been going fifty-five miles per hour. She’d had to shut the film off before it finished. Kids had run from the room to vomit. Let me tell you, she’d mailed it back to the company, telling them never to suggest that film for children again.

As she began to make out trees, mountains, and rivers, she broke out in a cold sweat. This was it. Her life would end on a world far from Earth. No one would mourn her loss.

Her mom… Did she know Taylor had been kidnapped? Tay could picture her mother waiting by the phone for the call saying her daughter was safe.

The call would never come. How long before everyone gave up on her?

Her pants rang out in the small cabin yet she’d barely moved. Her heart rattled behind her ribcage. Breathing normally was not an option. Her brain had shut down. Saliva pooled in her mouth, and bile crept up her throat. She was going to hurl and even the threat of the loss of gravity couldn’t stop it.

The ground rushed closer.

With a jarring roar, they made impact, hitting hard then skimming along the surface, taking out trees and bushes with their clumsy passage. Flipping up and over boulders, they smacked down on the other side. The ship spun to the right and then tumbled end over end so many times, Taylor lost count.

Her head snapped left and right and her gaze blurred.

She let loose a scream.

Beside her, the blue alien groaned, though the sound barely reached her through the screaming crunch of metal giving way to unforgiving ground.

With a thud that thrust her forward against her restraints, the ship came to a stop and… Lights out.

Taylor woke dangling from the straps pinning her to the chair.

Was the ship upside down? No, it was on its side and Taylor hung upside down. Time to thank the alien for pinning her to the chair.

“Blue guy?” she croaked.

No sound reached her other than a humming buzz, dull thuds, and bird calls, which made no sense. The rumble of the spaceship had gone silent.

Twisting her head, she peered in the direction where the blue alien had been sitting. He should be below her, maybe still bent forward like people were pictured in airplane brochures, the fliers you were supposed to study as the stewards stood in the front of the plane and did their spiel about who should get the oxygen mask first.

Pain arced down her spine as she shifted around, but she had to see how the alien was doing.

Holy shit. No chair. No blue alien sitting beside her.

“Blue guy?” Panic bubbled up in her voice. What the hell…?

Warm, balmy air swirled through the tiny cabin, drawing her attention to the big window. She couldn’t hold back her gasp.

Light poured in where the glass had been. Something vaguely resembling a dragonfly, except it was the size of a housecat, buzzed past her head. It flitted around the cabin before zipping back outside.

Taylor’s jaw dropped permanently.

Beyond where the glass should be, a profusion of plants made up of blue, green, and purple grew so thickly, her gaze couldn’t penetrate more than five feet. Had they crashed in a jungle?

The plants shifted in rhythmic jolts as if the earth moved beneath them or a marching band was coming their way.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Her skin prickled, and her heart leaped up in her throat. Taylor had seen Jurassic Park.

Frying pan? Meet fire.

Why hadn’t she quizzed the blue guy about Yarris while she’d had the chance?

Where the hell was he, anyway? He’d kidnapped her from her kidnappers and bailed the moment they hit the planet, taking his chair along with him.

Stains on the wall below where he should be drew her eye, and she squinted, trying to interpret the spatter. Dusky and gleaming, they reminded her of the aftereffect of an explosion.

A quick brush of her hands on her body proved she had no obvious injury. So where had the blood…

Thump.

Closer. Louder.

Scarier.

Oh. She gulped and held her breath until her lungs ached. Don’t move. Don’t make a freakin’ sound.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Something roared near the window opening, it’s growling voice slamming across Taylor like a tsunami. Her mouth went dry as she scrunched in her chair, trying to make herself as small as possible.

A purplish arm the length and width of a kayak and with two-foot long claws, shot inside the small capsule. It raked through the rubble and pulled back, dragging wires and computer parts outside along with it.

“Blue guy?” she whispered. Please, please, please. If only he was here with a laser pistol in his hand.

No blue guy. No laser. Taylor pawed at her legs and around the chair, but found nothing she could use to cut herself free.

Her heart blasted up into her throat as the thumps came closer.

She wasn’t a hostage any longer. Taylor had become bait, a lure dangling from a fishing line.

In true, maiden in distress fashion, Taylor whimpered, barely holding back her scream.

Grunts erupted outside. Of course. Whatever had come closer had invited neighbors to the feast.

The owner of the clawed kayak arm, a creature made up of six legs and scaled, deep purple skin, lowered itself onto the ground in front of where the window used to be. It peered inside the cabin with a solitary, gleaming yellow eye, and its attention fixed on her.

As it reached inside to extract her like she’d used a pick to pull meat from a lobster claw, she yelped.

“Haiii!” someone yelled.

Taylor’s eyes widened when a tall green dude dressed in tight black pants and what looked like a fur shirt leaped from the top of the ship and landed on the beast’s back.

The green, alien guy hefted a sword up and, with a grunt, drove the blade down through the creature’s head.

If you’d like to read Wulf & Taylor’s story,

you can find it on Amazon.

Turn the page for a peek at

AXIL, the complete story that started it all.

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AXIL

It isn’t every day an Earth woman

is chosen to be a

mail-order bride for a hulking beast of an extraterrestrial race.

En route to meeting her alien fiancé for the first time, Julia gets lost inside the lower corridors of the alien starship. When she slams into a grease-spattered alien and he grabs her, she does what any self-respecting Earth girl would do—she stabs him. He flings her over her his shoulder, hauls her to his room, and tosses her onto his bed. Then he kisses her.

No puny Earth female should dare to assault him, yet this one challenges him at every turn. He wants her, and he’s used to taking whatever he wants. When she signals for him to kiss her, what’s a hot-blooded alien to do? He climbs over her and captures her mouth with his own.

An Earth woman and an alien beast of a man collide on a starship bound for the planet, Crakair. Will the seven foot tall, pissed off alien warrior release her or take her as his bride?

Axil is a novella in the Mail-Order Brides of Crakair Series. This standalone story has on-the-page heat, hot aliens who look and act alien, a guaranteed happily ever after, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

Turn the page for the first chapter…

Chapter One

Julia

Tonight, Julia would meet her fiancé for the first time. Leave it to her to get lost within the depths of the alien spaceship fifteen minutes before the formal introduction ceremony between the Earth mail-order brides and their Crakairian grooms.

Her best friend, Thea, skittered beside her, gaping around at the dimly lit gray metal halls they’d been rushing through for so long even Julia could no longer tell which way was up and which way was down.

“You sure this is the right way?” Thea asked.

“At this point, who knows?” Julia cringed. “I’m sorry. I messed up. They’re going to be pissed off at us, aren’t they?”

Dressed in formal gowns sent to them by the Crakairian government—which were too damn long—they hurried down a hall that led to another, only to find themselves at an intersection with four more halls. Right or left?

Julia growled and flung her hands up into the air, then snatched at the rolls of the dress she’d tucked underneath her belt. Safety pins hadn’t been enough. How tall were Crakairian women, anyway?

“They’re going to think we stood them up,” Thea said. She released a high-pitched, nervous giggle.

“They’ll wait.” Julia paused in the next intersection before leading them down a ramp to a floor below. If only she could find an elevator, assuming the ship had elevators. “It’s not like they have many choices.”

“Maybe in my case they do. I mean, I’m marrying a regular guy, assuming scaled alien guys who are seven feet tall and have muscles on their muscles can be considered a regular guy. I imagine he will wait. But your guy?” Her dark eyebrows lifted, and her brown eyes gleamed. “Your situation is a bit…different.” She gave Julia a short curtsy. “My queen.”

“My fiancé is the Crown Prince of Crakair, not the King.” Julia stopped to study a diagram affixed to the wall, but while the you are here arrow pointed to this location, she couldn’t figure out how to get from here to the ballroom where the formal reception was supposed to take place.

“Okay, then,” Thea said, releasing another nervous snort. “All hail the Princess of Crakair.”

Maybe? Julia’s future title hadn’t been explained to her yet. A lot of this hadn’t been explained to her yet.

A year ago, a mysterious disease had swept through the galaxy, killing most of the women on the planet Crakair and the men on Earth. In a quest to continue their species, the Crakairian council had sent messages into the stars, seeking brides. One of their pings connected with Earth.

Attack! That’s what the people on Earth had thought, and they’d scrambled to prepare for an alien invasion. But when Earth’s tentative reply reached the Crakairians, the council Elders sent a delegation, and an agreement was formed. Mail-order brides from Earth would be sent to Crakair to become mates for eager Crakairian grooms.

When the idea was presented to the public, Earthlings had laughed. Until pictures of the available men arrived.

Yes, they had appendages jutting off their heads that resembled thick dreadlocks—called naanans—and the guys were universally green and had scaled skin. But they provided Earth women a chance to have a family outside of artificial insemination.

Julia and Thea had applied and been accepted in the first group of five women. Julia was intrigued, nervous, and a bit excited to see what came next. And now she could be blowing her chance with her alien fiancé.

A bang behind them made Julia skitter forward. Her breathing came fast and her heart bolted up into her throat. While it was silly, Julia felt better with her jackknife in her hand. She flicked the blade free.

“What was that sound behind us?” Thea whispered, her wide-eyed gaze meeting Julia’s.

Julia’s hand tightened on the grip of her blade. “I’m not sure I want to find out.” She snagged Thea’s arm and they jogged forward.

Her skin crawled with goosebumps. Who knew what kind of creatures they’d find wandering around in the basement of the ship?

Overhead, the lights flickered.

“Oh, jeez. Oh, jeez.” Thea’s voice rose to a screech.

“Run!”

They bolted forward and turned right.

Julia smacked into a rock-solid wall of green muscle. Hands grabbed her forearms and held tight. She gaped up at the super-tall, scaly alien male holding onto her. Grease speckled his face and clothing. A mechanic? If so, his helper stood beside him, his hands securing Thea, who stared up at him with her mouth ajar.

“Holy hell,” Thea whispered.

The alien holding Julia studied her face before he gave her a short bow. “Dreafillar.”

“Let me go.” Julia wrangled in the mechanic’s grip, but his hands tightened.

When he tried to tug her closer, she shrieked. Her arm rushed forward, and she stabbed him with her knife.

As he grunted, her knees quaked and horror rose from her belly, threatening to burst from her throat.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” she blubbered as blood pooled in a growing circle on his white shirt. “I’m a nurse. I don’t usually…stab people. Her gaze followed the blood as it trickled down the leg of his black leather pants.

He frowned at the knife still clutched in her hand. Prying it from her fingers, he tossed it aside. He latched onto her wrists again, unbalancing her, and she tumbled forward into his arms. He hefted her up and flopped her over his shoulder.

While Thea wiggled and screamed, the other alien dude did the same with Julia’s friend.

“Damn you, let me go,” Julia yelled. She kicked and flailed.

The alien smacked her butt.

Oh, my freakin’ no.

“What did you just do?” she bellowed. “What did you just do!?”

The males parted, the other guy striding down the corridor they’d come from while Julia’s alien carried her in the opposite direction. He pressed a button beside a door and the metal panel swept open. Stepping inside, he grunted something she didn’t understand, and the small room shuddered. The door opened again, and the alien stepped out, still carrying her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

She pummeled his back with her fists. “I said put me down!”

His hand smacked her butt again, harder, and he barked out a command. While it didn’t translate, she also didn’t want his big palm landing on her ass again.

Maybe. She’d never thought that was her kind of kink, but who the hell knew?

She must be out of her mind to be thinking about sexy times with an alien who was abducting her.

But come on, her inner demon said. He’s kinda hot. Actually, this whole situation is kinda hot.

Julia fanned her flaming face.

He has muscles on his muscles.

Grease-covered muscles. Julia had a fiancé. She didn’t need a quickie with a hot alien handyman. She was saving her quickies for Axil, her intended, though she hoped he’d be up for more than a few quickies. Julia preferred longies.

The alien strode down a hall with better lighting and shinier walls.

He’s got cool, thick dreads, the inner demon girl said.

One of the appendages stroked across Julia’s ass.

She shouldn’t be turned on by this.

Like, can you help it? demon girl shouted. Steamy alien abduction is your secret catnip.

“Shut the fuck up,” Julia hissed. So she read every single alien abduction book she could get her hands on. That didn’t mean she wanted to act them out.

“Yes, fucking,” the guy said.

You spoke aloud, her demon said, not me.

“You are me!” When Julia growled, the alien did too, the rumble of his chest rising up and teasing her belly.

His palm glided across her ass again, and he murmured something too low for her to understand.

Back on Earth, she’d had a translator implanted behind her ear, but had been told it might take time for the device to learn her speech patterns and perform with accuracy. They’d be able to communicate, but it would initially sound rough.

She’d planned to get her translator up to speed with her alien fiancé.

Stopping at a door, he entered a series of numbers in a keypad and the panel swooshed open. He stepped inside and locked things up.

Turning, he tossed her onto a bed on the side of the small room.

Climbing up and over her, he braced his legs on either side of her thighs. When she slapped at him, he grabbed and pinned her hands over her head.

With a guttural grunt, his full, hard length pressed down on top of her.

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