Joyzal’s Prize

Michele Mills

Contents

Summary

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Epilogue

Newsletter

Acknowledgments

Rayzor’s One

Excerpt

About the Author

Also by Michele Mills

Summary

He’s found his mate and he’s keeping her.

Jacole is supposed to leave in the morning to start training at Quantico. Instead she’s been kidnapped by asshole space pirates who are about to sell her and the other women they’ve captured as sex slaves to the highest bidder. Oh hell, no. Jacole vows they’ll soon realize they’ve caught the wrong damn human. She organizes a mutiny to take down the f*kers who’ve kidnapped them…but the plan is interrupted when someone blows a hole in the side of the ship.

A seven foot tall lethal warrior emerges from the rubble with a weapon in each clawed hand. Jacole is speechless before this display of manly glory. This Bounty Hunter is easily the handsomest man (alien) she’s ever seen. Her panties are instantly wet. He touches her, kisses her, throws her on his ship and claims her, and vows she’s the female he’s waited all his life to find. His Bride!

What the hell?

Well, he might be a lover like no other and an aggressive and driven male she could actually…admire, but Jacole doesn’t do forever. In order to earn her love, he has to earn her trust.

Copyright © 2017 by Michele Mills. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to michelemillswrites@gmail.com

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Cover art by Meljean Brook

Edited by Aquila Editing

To Laurann Dohner and R Lee Smith whose kickass science fiction romance inspired me to write my own.

Chapter One

Jacole sat on her side of the cage and listened to the eerie, echoing splat of water on the metal surface. Strange considering she was on the cargo bay of a spaceship. You’d think they’d have leaky pipes worked out by now. Lizard Lady, her cell mate and fellow prisoner in this hellhole situation, caught her gaze for a moment and then turned her iridescent green head, staring off into the middle distance.

Jacole fisted her hands, digging her nails into her palms. “Crap,” she muttered.

It was fucking hard to devise and coordinate a decent escape plan when she couldn’t talk with the other prisoner in her own damn cell. And forget trying to communicate with the females in the other cages scattered around the cargo bay either. The asshole space pirates had a rock-solid plan—kidnap females of varying species from all over the universe, throw them together during transport, and never worry about an organized resistance because the women couldn’t fucking talk to each other.

Or, well, she couldn’t talk to anyone else. She’d heard whispers from some of the other cages, noises that sounded like speech patterns. Or maybe it was crying and whimpering. She couldn’t be sure.

Oh hell. She turned her head back toward her “roommate.” Giving up would get her nowhere. She had to communicate with the female who was now slumped next to her on the filthy floor of their shared prison cell. At least she assumed Lizard Lady was a female. There were twin swells that looked suspiciously like breasts on its green, scaly chest, and it seemed delicate despite the abnormally long limbs and clawed toes. Basically, this alien looked humanoid, a very pretty and brilliantly colored lizard of similar size and weight to a human female.

Their communication so far had consisted of grunts, head nods and hand gestures. Jacole was hoping for something more. Maybe they could at least learn each other’s names. That would be a good start. She caught Lizard Lady’s cool gaze again and pressed her hand against her chest. “My name is Jacole. Juh-col,” she sounded out slowly. “Jacole Walker. What is your name?”

Lizard Lady tapped her own chest and hissed in response.

Jacole dropped her hand and shook her head.

I can’t understand a word this woman is saying. I don’t speak hiss.

Lizard Lady let out a sharp puff of air and looked away, obviously annoyed at their lack of communication.

Who was she kidding? She’d tried this before and it hadn’t worked—tried pointing at objects and repeating the name, but each time Lizard Lady hissed, Jacole became further frustrated. She couldn’t physically form the other woman’s language with her own mouth, or vice versa. Everything Lizard Lady said sounded to her ears like one long hiss. No pauses, no deviation in tone, nothing to distinguish words or patterns to emulate. The two of them were going to have to create some sort of sign language to understand one another; they’d have to do the Annie Sullivan-Helen Keller in Miracle Worker routine in order to finally converse. Fuck. She should’ve taken American Sign Language instead of French in college. That would’ve come in handy right now.

And what sucked was Jacole could understand every word the freak-ass alien space pirates who’d captured them said to her just fine. She glanced at the group of guards who stood nearby and glared at them with every ounce of energy left in her body, wishing laser beams could magically shoot out of her eyes and decimate them all. They’d kidnapped her in the middle of the night from her cozy apartment, and when she awoke in this filthy cage and the aliens had spoken, she’d found she could understand what they said to her. The movement of their lips didn’t perfectly coordinate with the language she was hearing, sort of like listening to closed captioning on TV. They must’ve implanted some sort of translator device into her head so she could understand their language, but the females they’d penned up like cattle were left on their own when it came to understanding each other. The guards had only bothered to implant the language they used.

So, unable to communicate with her fellow prisoners and not wanting to chat with the evil guards, Jacole sat brooding on the floor of the cage, hour after hour, day after day, analyzing minutiae and trying to figure out how to get the fuck out of there…because she had to get the fuck outta there.

She returned to watching the guards, which was her favorite pastime. Try to figure out the guards: Level Ten. They’d make an error eventually, and when they did, she’d be ready, because she knew every fucking thing they did, every tiny routine.

The aliens that’d kidnapped her weren’t all male. A few of them were female, which always angered her more. Some of the guards that rotated in and out of the cargo bay were tall, thin, and purple. And not a pretty purple, but a dark, malignant purple, like a scab or a wound. But they weren’t all the same species. There was one alien that was green but otherwise looked very human and a few others that looked like giant insects. They all wore a mismatch of clothing with bits of light armor. This wasn’t a tight, professional military organization. They seemed more like the dregs of whatever societies they’d come from. She’d dubbed them “space pirates” —the alien equivalent of a low-level street gang, drug dealers, or maybe even slavers. The guards’ favorite pastime was boasting to each other about the fortune they were going to make selling this particular group of women to the highest bidder as sex slaves. Apparently this was a special sale.

She took another deep breath and slumped against the bars, resting her head and lifting her chin, trying to get comfortable, which was impossible when you felt, looked, and smelled like crap. Holy shit. She was living out the plot of a sci-fi horror movie. The cute pajamas she’d been wearing when she’d been snatched were now tattered and filthy. The first day she’d woken up in her cell, Jacole had immediately noticed the smell—it hit her like a million porta potties. She’d gagged; her nose and eyes watered. And she’d looked up, only to have Lizard Lady hiss at her with a forked tongue.

It had all been pretty hellish.

She’d scrambled to a far corner of her cell and cried and screamed until a purple alien had come by and given her a shot in the arm with some type of small pressure gun and she’d passed out again.

The second time she’d woken up she’d cried some more, but did so quietly, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down her face.

She’d always prided herself on her composure, on her resolve. Other women cried. Not Jacole. Jacole was hard as nails.

But yeah, being kidnapped by aliens broke her.

On that first day, Lizard Lady had kindly passed her a snack bar of some sort. Since she’d been starving, Jacole had tried to eat it. It was almost like eating dirt, but she was desperate, so she’d choked it down. There was water to drink and a bucket to piss and shit in. But at least she’d had Lizard Lady’s quiet presence there in the cage to help her through those first few days. That had been a plus. If she’d been alone things would’ve been a thousand times worse.

Loud language suddenly rang out, startling her. Each time that happened, it reminded her of high school classrooms, everyone quieting down to listen to announcements. The guards paused, pointed ears perked up. Jacole listened, too. It was just a notification from an alien voice of the changing of the guard. The aliens started moving. She turned and met Lizard Lady’s inquisitive gaze. She blinked, which meant a veil of film slowly slid down her large, bulbous eyes and back up. Jacole was getting used to it. It was actually kinda pretty.

Dammit, if only they could talk, plan…devise.

Jacole clenched her jaw and turned back, counting the other cells again, something she did on a daily basis. The alien cages were just standard-issue steel with bars and a locked door, nothing fancy or “alien” about them. There were fifteen cells with two or three females per cage. The aliens had captured a total of forty females. The spaceship hummed around them in its techno glory, and there was the constant clanking of boots on alien metal. Guttural announcements would sometimes be made. Since she knew every word, it helped her to understand the expected length of their trip and the aliens’ intentions. Still though, it was damn creepy.

And as a daily reminder of the terror of her situation, there were the screams and the shrieks and the crying when the male guards dragged a female out and raped her on the expansive floor of the cargo bay.

The raping started on Jacole’s second day in the hole. Four aliens pulled a female out of a cage nearest the entrance to the cargo bay. The woman was human-like but bald, and her skin was blue. They’d thrown her flailing, struggling body to the floor. Three of the guards held the thrashing female down and tore her pants off, and the fourth got busy setting himself in position for the rape. Jacole had rushed to the front of her cage, clutching the bars, white-knuckled, her eyes wet with the knowledge there wasn’t a damn thing she could do. This couldn’t possibly be happening, these aliens weren’t built the same, they weren’t really going to… But one of the guards looked like he was adjusting himself, pulling something out. He shoved between the woman’s legs and began thrusting. The woman let out a gurgled scream.

At that point Jacole had put her face in her hands and turned away, unable to watch, trying to give the woman some dignity. And the tears had started all over again. She’d cried the whole time, hearing it go on and on as the guards took turns with her. Damn motherfucking, aliens.

The guards hadn’t beaten the female. Hadn’t marked her, hadn’t killed her. Just used her, because why would they damage the commodity they were going to sell? And they continued to use the women in their captivity day after day. She heard them talking amongst themselves, chatting about trying out the goods before the final sale.

Assholes.

Monsters.

She watched as the day shift left and a new set of guards entered the cargo bay. She took a deep breath. The four rapists. The shift she dreaded the most. The morning shift had a few females and wasn’t as bad as the second shift. The second shift had the concentration of rapist pigs. It was all so fucking tragic. She heard the change in tone around her as the other females shifted in their cages, their eyes wild with fear as the four guards entered the cargo bay. How could she live like this, waiting for her turn to be raped, listening to other women being raped and not being able to do a damn thing about it? And then what was next? What would happen when they reached their destination, the new masters, the men they’d been sold to? Was this just a prelude to more horrors to come? Was this the calm before the storm?

In her mind she replayed the movie Roots, remembering how women had literally jumped to their death off slave ships crossing the ocean and drowned, preferring this end they’d chosen for themselves to the future of rape and slavery spread out before them. Jacole knew she wasn’t there yet. She still had hope that she could find a way out. Her life, her future, wasn’t out of her hands yet.

But when things got really bad, she pulled that idea out and petted it. For some strange reason, having that “out” in the back of her mind comforted her and helped her to go on.

She watched the aliens pick woman after woman for their daily sessions of gang rape. The females weren’t beaten or bleeding, but they sat in their cage afterwards crying, or sat stone cold like a statue.

Early on, a tall, foreboding alien had entered the cargo bay. She’d assumed he was the captain, the head of their fucked up organization. He’d spoken to them all in a booming voice, letting them know they’d all been sold and earmarked to the highest bidder. They were being delivered to their new masters, a race he called Hurlians. From the gasps and tears of the other females and the way Lizard Lady stiffened and looked scared as shit upon hearing these words, Jacole had surmised this was a bad thing. A really fucking bad thing.

She had to get the fuck out of there.

Her lips thinned. Today, finally, there was a ray of light. A tiny beacon of hope. The aliens had made a mistake.

Finally.

Jacole looked over at the cage next to hers, trying to make eye contact with the female next door. The female was humanoid, too, but with a sheen of tiny gray feathers that covered her back and the top of her chest. Bird Lady lay quiet this morning, nibbling on a meal bar with her beak mouth. She’d been gang raped two days ago, and her whole demeanor had changed from scared to pissed the fuck off. Jacole had noticed the guards had barely been able to keep Bird Lady down because she’d come out swinging—and there were four of them. In fact, the whole group hadn’t been able to rape her—she had a deadly kick. Only one of them had been able to finish before they’d given up, cussing, and shoved her back into her cage. Yeah, Bird Lady was Jacole’s go-to for escape. She was super strong. A total badass. Lizard Lady wasn’t too shabby, either; she looked like a woman who’d make it through Navy SEAL training. Most of the other females seemed to be trying to sleep off the worst of the imprisonment, or crying, but Jacole had to believe that given the chance they’d fight for their lives, too, with vicious zeal.

Really, this was a good group for a prison break and mutiny. They just needed opportunity. They had to get out of the cages and take over the ship. If they didn’t do this before they reached their destination, they were screwed. Literally.

And for Jacole, time was ticking because today was either her or Lizard Lady’s turn for the gang rape. It was obvious the guards were going down row by row, picking the next victim in an orderly fashion. Except when they got to a cell, it wasn’t apparent which female they’d pull out of the cage first. It could be the closest one by the door, or the female shoving herself into the farthest corner, or the one spitting and kicking. Totally random. Yesterday they’d raped the second female in Bird Lady’s cage, and there wasn’t a third, so yep, today it was either Jacole or Lizard Lady.

Jacole turned to Lizard Lady. She gestured to get her attention and showed her the shank she’d fashioned out of a tiny piece of mystery metal. A guard had accidentally dropped it after delivering their meal bars that morning, and Jacole had immediately reached a hand out through the bars, scooped it up, and slipped it into the folds of her clothes. The guard had heard the sound of something falling and had turned around immediately, scanning the area. Jacole had studiously stared in the other direction. The guard shrugged and moved on, and she’d blown out a breath and wanted to cheer like a madwoman. But she’d keep it all inside, escape plans buzzing in her head. She didn’t know what the small hand-size piece of metal was used for, but darn if it didn’t make a perfect shank.

Lizard Lady’s bulbous eyes widened at the sight of the tiny weapon. Her features curved into a malicious grin. She crossed her arms and leaned back. She jerked her chin, letting Jacole know it was on.

So the plan was ready. Jacole prayed Lizard Lady understood her part. They were going to jump one of the aliens at the same time and take his blaster away. Number one priority would be releasing Bird Lady, too, because she was so strong and Jacole figured she’d be a huge help. From what she’d gathered, there really weren’t that many aliens running this ship. She’d only seen nine. There were forty females. They could do this. This wasn’t some fully fitted military operation. The captives outnumbered the aliens. If they could break free and get to the bridge and hijack the ship… One of these females had to know at least the basics on how to fly them all home. Hell, maybe she could figure it out herself.

Chapter Two

Joyzal eyed the schematics of the slave ship projected on the holo-map in front of him. He’d accepted this mission from the Bounty Hunter Guild a moon cycle ago and stalked these assholes off and on ever since, waiting patiently for the perfect opportunity to attack. Patience was the number one personality trait required of a Bounty Hunter.

The warrior who waited reaped the most rewards.

He’d followed as the ship had landed on obscure planets, taking victims one by one, waiting to attack and grab his target because Krillian pirates never worked alone; they traveled in armadas of at least twenty ships. Today the ship carrying his target, Groogan Mar, the captain of the deadliest of the pirate ships, was in perfect position. It had peeled off from the main group and changed course. For the first time since Joyzal had been watching his prey, the ship that carried his target was now isolated, alone, without backup.

He tilted his head, examining the holo-map closely, touching parts to expand and zoom in for a closer look. “Here,” he said out loud. “This is the perfect entry point.” His own ship was cloaked in the latest Xylan slip drive technology. The pirates had no idea he was moving next to them, synchronizing with their velocity and latching on to the side of their ship. This was why he was the best, the number one Bounty Hunter in the four sectors. He was patient, but he also never went on a mission without a tight plan, thought out to the nearest nanco.

A chime began sounding at intervals, announcing the arrival of a vid message. Joyzal frowned. Fuck. This was bad timing.

“Incoming message from Melachine of Eighteen,” the computer informed him. “Do you accept?”

Joyzal cursed. His mother was the master of bad timing. “Yes,” he bit out, and continued working. He had to execute his carefully arranged boarding plan. There was no time to waste, even for Melachine. “I accept the message.”

The vid blinked to life in front of him. The familiar features of a mature female Xylan with royal pigment and noble bearing formed on the screen. “My son, I need you to return home immediately,” she declared.

Joyzal snorted as he moved to the other side of the bridge. “I’m in the middle of a mission,” he answered absently, his claws busy, still working the controls of the ship. There was a slight bump as he rode alongside the slave ship and attached the locking mechanism. This was his favorite part of boarding and capturing a target—the element of surprise. He’d arrived alongside the pirate ship, shields up, invisible to them, a silent predator ready to take down his prey. He grinned. They’d never know what hit them.

Her lips thinned. “Joyzal, this is of highest importance. I was able to convince the manager of the line of Claxa to introduce their youngest daughter to you to determine mating compatibility.”

He growled and slammed a fist into the wall as he walked away from the console. “By the gods!” he roared. “I’ve told you not to do this anymore.” He strode off the bridge and into his quarters. He glared at the vid screen, which had followed him and reappeared at his new location on the wall next to his bunk. “Why do you continue to set up mating compatibility tests for me?” he told his mother. “I told you to stop. I am done with these charades.”

She lifted her chin and met his gaze through the screen. “I want you to be happy. The only way for this to happen is for you to find your Bride. I will fight for your happiness until my last breath.”

He jerked open the Cabul, the tall cabinet all Xylans used to hold their most precious ceremonial tools and weapons. He pulled out his personal blade for closer-quarter fighting and slipped it into the holster at his hip. “You continue this because you want second-generation offspring to nurture.”

She smiled. “That too.”

He glanced again at her image but did not return her smile. Melachine’s biological offspring and mate were lost to her. Joyzal had assumed responsibility as her champion rotations ago and had gladly taken on the role of her adopted son. They’d grown close. But by the gods, she knew he’d long ago given up the idea that he would find his mate. He was finished with this idiocy. Let young men continue to play this game. He was done. “I am forty rotations, a Margol, and a Bounty Hunter,” he growled. “What line of good standing on Chronos would offer their daughter for consideration to an older, lighter-skinned warrior who does not live on Chronos?” He slammed the Cabul cabinet door closed. “You know there has to be something wrong with her for her family to offer her to someone of my standing. She must be an embarrassment to them and they’re trying to pawn her off on us. It isn’t worth trying. At my age the chances of finding a Bride are now slim to none. You know I have formally taken my name out of the mating database. It’s over.”

“I know, but Joyzal, this is diff—”

“No, Melachine,” he cut her off. “No,” he emphasized, and took a deep breath. “It is not different. This is the same as all the other times.” All the times he’d let a ray of hope creep into his heart only to have it torn away. Hope that possibly the female standing before him would be the one who was his life mate, his Bride, the female who would bear his offspring and start his line. He palmed the door to his room and strode down the hall to the cargo bay. He opened the side portal he’d already aligned to the other ship’s emergency escape hatch. The door slid open, creating a small space, exposing the portal to the pirate ship, which was locked. Joyzal began planting short range detonators on the other door.

The vid screen popped up again near his head. “Joyzal, please try one more time. What if this girl is your Bride?” Melachine urged.

He sighed. “I will not debate this with you. I am in the middle of a mission, and I won’t be returning for a minimum of two moon cycles.”

“Two moon cycles?” she exclaimed. “They won’t wait that long.”

He went around the corner to take cover.

“Joyzal? Joyzal, can you hear me? You must listen to me. The line of Claxa is strong. Their older daughters are already mated to high-ranking warriors. Their place in society is secure, and their youngest daughter has sufficient pigment. They won’t mind about your lack of—”

A blast thundered in the compartment.

“What was that?” Melachine gasped. “Are you all right? Joyzal?”

Joyzal eyed the hole he’d created in the side of the other ship, pleased with his work. This, he was good at. Being a Bounty Hunter, chasing down the scum of the universe and taking them in for extradition came naturally to him. He was number one in the Leaderboards, the best Bounty Hunter in the four sectors. The designation at times almost made up for his classification as Margol and his life-long treatment from other Xylan as a lower-status warrior lacking color, and a warrior without a Bride or a line.

Almost.

He turned and met Melachine’s gaze through the vid screen. Her eyes were wide and worried. He paused. “I am unhurt,” he reassured her.

“Joyzal.” The way she croaked his name…breaking with anguish, emotions, and conversations they had no time for at the moment.

“Melachine.” He tried to help her understand. “My life is not lost. I follow the true path of a Xylan warrior. I am a Bounty Hunter who has his claws full with many missions. I am number one on the Leaderboards. I take care of the manager of my line, I work hard, I—”

“But you are not happy,” she gritted, her face hard.

Her words hit him like a spear to the chest. Sometimes she seemed to enjoy sifting and poking at his most vulnerable parts. Why, he never understood. He slammed his palm on the console. “We will continue this conversation when I return,” he clipped. “Computer, discontinue vid.” She opened her mouth to speak, and the screen blacked out, effectively cutting her off.

He stood up and forced his mind back to the mission ahead, strapping on his black Hunter armor and his weapons. He grabbed an extra bag of smoking detonators to toss in the halls once he was inside the other ship. He would deal with his mother later. Finally, he strode around the corner and stepped through the demolished portal to capture the captain of the slave ship, his target, THX309.

Jacole leaned forward and glanced through the bars of her cage. The second shift of asshole guards clustered near the entrance to the cargo bay, talking and gesturing. Her heart rate skyrocketed. Her palms were sweaty. Lizard Lady paced the cell, speaking in hissed phrases, her clawed hands clenching and unclenching, eyes blazing.

It was strange, but waiting to be attacked by evil space pirates bent on gang rape seemed to take an eternity. She felt like shouting at them, “Get the fuck over here! Let’s get this party started already!”

Jacole and her cellmate were as ready as they were going to be. Lizard Lady had hissed a message to Bird Lady. The other women in the cargo bay were poised for action. These assholes weren’t going to know what hit them.

Finally, the guards strutted over, evil intent gleaming in their alien eyes.

Oh shit.

Lizard Lady met her gaze and gestured. Jacole nodded and assumed her position, the shank she’d created hidden in her hand. Lizard Lady took the opposite side of the cage. The lock clicked open. Up close, the guards were even more ferocious than she’d thought. Most were purple aliens, and they were all at least six feet five with wiry muscles that strengthened their thin forms. Their heads were large and hairless. Their round eyes glowed a demonic silver. Her heart beat in her ears like a drum. She licked her lips. This was it. Now or never.

A thundering blast rocked the ship.

The deck tilted. Jacole shrieked and fell against the bars of the cage. Shit, that hurt. She looked around and saw the guards were mobilized, snarling at each other, weapons out.

What the hell had happened?

The door to her cage was left wide open. Jacole stumbled out. She coughed through the haze. It was hard to see; there was smoke everywhere. But there was one guard, already down and sprawled on the floor. The mechanism for unlocking the doors to the cages, a metal “key” that beeped the lock open when tapped against the door, was next to the guard’s open hand. She bent down and picked it up. Lizard Lady hissed and gestured with an open claw. Jacole tossed her the key, and her new friend got to work. She watched Lizard Lady’s green form blink in and out of the fog quickly unlocking the cages, freeing the other prisoners.

Jacole paused. She was about to grab the guard’s weapon when she heard something. The distinct, heavy pounding of a single set of footsteps. Despite the sirens blaring, the screaming, the shouting—somehow she heard those footsteps. Or possibly it was a premonition.

Who was that? More space pirates? She glanced around. She needed to hurry and help get weapons and free the females while the guards were distracted… But she took a few steps forward and turned toward the entrance to the cargo bay again. She couldn’t stop staring and waiting.

Couldn’t stop.

Her eyes fixated on the doorway.

And her jaw dropped.

The smoke, which held a hint of flashing purple, haloed the entrance of a man’s sleek, black form—like a rockstar making an entrance on stage. He was amazingly tall, easily seven feet, and grim as hell. His skin was a golden brown and his hair long and caught in dreads that were tied back from his face. From the neck down he was covered in black, shiny armor, and he held a big, futuristic-looking gun in each clawed hand.

Yes, clawed hands.

Jacole sucked in a breath. Dear God. Who was that? He was fantastic. Right out of a movie. And he had streaks of gray at his temples. Oh wow, she was a sucker for a grown-ass man. She was so done with boys. Men who knew what they wanted and had the experience and balls to back up their decisions… Hot…damn hot.

The rockstar stepped over the debris and strode in like he owned the place. He lifted his weapons and fired at the guards. It was fucking epic.

The crowd of stunned females grouped behind the cages for cover during the gun fight. Jacole continued to stare at Rockstar, who was still returning fire and shooting down guards. She turned and grabbed Lizard Lady by the arm. “Who is that?” she shouted over the firefight and gestured to the enormous guy in black armor. Lizard Lady looked where she pointed, and her eyes widened. She hissed words Jacole couldn’t understand. Lizard Lady leaned over and hissed to Bird Lady, who could apparently understand her, and pointed to the new alien in black. Bird Lady looked over, her eyes round. Jacole noticed other women also stood there in shock, staring at the new alien.

Wow. Who was this guy?

One last guard was holed up behind a row of metal crates. It didn’t take long for Rockstar to dispatch him, too. Now that he’d killed all the guards, he looked around, scanning the area. Jacole held her breath. His eyes skimmed over her and the other females, barely noticing them. They seemed to be as important to him as the cages or the metal crates. Part of the scenery. Apparently satisfied there was no one left to return fire, Rockstar turned on a swift heel and strode out, his blaster pointed up.

When he left, Jacole felt a strange sense of loss. Which was silly, right?

By now the women were forming groups, speaking to each other in murmured tones. Jacole felt a stab of jealousy, wishing she could understand them. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to figure out what to do next. They’d been freed, which was terrific. But who was this new guy who’d come in and annihilated the bad guys? Was this an out-of-the-frying-pan-and-into-the-fire situation? So far the new alien appeared to be ignoring them—he’d swept in, killed the guards, and stormed back on out without a word to any of them. Where was he now? In the bridge? What was he going to do? Did he think he was in charge? Bird Lady and Lizard Lady were talking to each other. Jacole exhaled. Fuck, if only she could talk to them and get some answers.

Because she had so many questions. So. Many.

Jacole made eye contact with Lizard Lady and gestured to the door. Lizard Lady nodded back in agreement. Jacole turned and started out of the cargo bay. Might as well go and figure out what was happening. Standing around here, not being able to talk to anyone wasn’t going to get her anywhere or get any of those women any closer to returning home. She decided to follow Rockstar. He seemed to be where the action was happening.

In the hallway she could hear blaster fire again. She froze and noticed Lizard Lady was behind her, as was Bird Lady. She jerked her chin up at them. The three of them paused, and when she didn’t hear more sounds of battle, Jacole cautiously continued forward, her hand on the blaster she’d snagged from a dead guard on her way out. The other women had weapons now, too. The three of them went down one hallway and turned left, stepping over the bodies of a few more pirates. They reached what must be the bridge. The entrance was wide open. She peeked in. Rockstar was in there, standing over the inert form of the captain of the ship. All seven feet of him in glorious technicolor. Holy shit. Her heart beat furiously, and she swallowed hard. She had no idea what to do or say or if they would even be able to understand one another, but she pulled on the big-girl panties and started to step forward. A hand fell on her shoulder. She jumped and turned. Lizard Lady hissed at her and gestured for her to step back.

Oh, well…okay, then.

So Jacole stepped back.

Bird Lady nodded as she passed by and pointed for her to stay put. She went in first, then Lizard Lady. Jacole stayed behind, deciding to keep an eye on the corridor in case any of the space pirates weren’t actually dead.

Joyzal had the fucker laid out on the floor and tranquilized. He was here to extract the captain of this ship, a notorious slaver who’d killed and/or enslaved so many women and children across the four sectors he now had an exorbitant bounty on his head. Wealthy inhabitants of a variety of planets and species whose wives, sisters, and daughters had disappeared and later turned up dead at the hands of these slavers had banded together to contact the Bounty Hunter Guild. They’d offered to increase the size of the reward due to the fact these pirates slipped between many different sectors and there was no one military that could bring them to justice.

Rayzor of Twelve, Joyzal’s number one rival in the Bounty Hunter Leaderboards, had recently been forced into retirement, so Joyzal was offered this mission. And it was the biggest mission of his career, with the highest payout ever offered in Bounty Hunter history. This was the catch that would solidify forever his standing among Hunters and make his future one of choices rather than need.

He needed to drag the target over to his ship and get him into lockdown stasis for transport. He’d killed all of the subordinates on the ship because they interfered with the extraction of their captain, plus they were lazhul—beings without honor. These pirates, and their captain, were slavers who routinely stole and sold women and children to the highest bidders for sexual depravities. They deserved death as punishment. This assignment had no mission parameters—he could mete out punishment as he saw fit. He chose to not kill the target, who was wanted dead or alive. This particular lazhul needed to face punishment. Death was too easy.

Joyzal heard a noise and whipped his blaster around and aimed it at the doorway. He expected to find another pirate to kill. What he saw was worse. Far worse.

Women.

Females who looked like they’d been to hell and back at the hands of the slavers. He lowered his weapon. By the gods, what a mess.

He took a deep breath.

Yes, he’d known the chances were great that these slavers would be carrying women and children, but this wasn’t part of his mission. He wasn’t a peace or rescue organization. He was a Bounty Hunter. He hunted and extradited criminals law enforcement was unable to apprehend. That was where his job ended.

He’d seen them clustered out of the corner of his eye as he’d cleared the cargo bay and ignored their existence in the midst of battle, registering them as a non-threat, and moved on. But now two of the females were at the entrance to the bridge, and he could see a faint outline of a third behind them.

The females before him were of Maltovan and Creekan species. Both Xylan allies. They approached with heads bowed in respect, avoiding eye contact. Joyzal grunted, pleased with the proper formality of their deference, and decided to give them a moment of his time.

The Maltovan spoke first in formal Xylan, its feathers in smooth repose. “Warrior, we thank you for killing the pirates who kidnapped us. I can see by the insignia on your armor that you are a Bounty Hunter. We request assistance in returning to our home worlds.”

He clenched his jaw. “How many of you are there?”

“Forty,” the Creekan answered. “Forty females of varying species. There is even a human among us, an Earthling from the edge of the universe.”

Joyzal was surprised. In all his travels, he’d only met one other human. They were normally off-limits to citizens of the four sectors because their planet was protected under the Rare Indigenous Species Act.

He rolled his right shoulder, leveraging the bag of equipment into a better position. THX309 was restrained. He was ready to depart. “Remain on this ship,” he told the females. “The Bounty Hunter Guild has been watching this extraction on live feed. It was understood there might be civilians of high value. They will have already contacted the Xylan Imperial Fleet. I will return to my ship and remain close until help arrives.”

He picked up his target by the back of the neck brace he’d tied and dragged him past the two females and into the hallway, eager to put THX309 in lockdown stasis. Time to tie this mission up with a bow.

He passed by the third female in the corridor. He glanced at her and stopped. Stilled like a Rapior in the forest. He couldn’t believe the beauty before his eyes. He dropped his bag and his target and looked her up and down, taking in every amazing curve and soft angle. She was human, this much was obvious; she had the same extra appendage on her clawless hands and the lack of ridges on the forehead that Rayzor of Twelve’s human Bride had. But unlike Rayzor’s colorless human Bride, this female was dark as ancient night; she had the royal pigment that designated her as a Xylan of the highest order. He paused, unsure of the etiquette.

A human with royal pigment? He hadn’t known such a thing was possible.

She stood quietly, staring at him with the same wonder on her face he was sure was reflected on his own features. Her lack of ridges showed her emotions more clearly than a typical female’s. Her eyes were wide, her nose perfectly formed. Her skin glowed with vibrant color. He’d never been so close to a female of such high standing before. He decided to err on this side of the Scales of Xylan Law. Warriors were required to provide immediate assistance to females of royal pigment. It was the law.

Jacole bit her lip and devoured Rockstar with wide eyes, remaining silent as she pressed back against the wall and let him pass. Christ, he was handsome. She glanced down nervously at her clothes that smelled to high heaven and were stained with who knew what. She was a filthy, sweaty, disgusting mess and needed a shower, new clothes, and a toothbrush. In that order.

Please, God, don’t let him catch a whiff.

He started to pass her, dragging the tied-up space pirate captain behind him, and then he saw her. Rockstar met her eyes, and she felt a pleasant swooping in the bottom of her belly.

He’s gorgeous. If he fell off a cliff I’d jump after him just to save his handsome ass.

She couldn't believe she’d just thought that, but yeah, it was true. She was on an alien ship, dead people were lying in the hallway near her; she was starved and dirty, but she still had the wherewithal to swoon over a seven-foot-tall alien with ridges on his forehead and four fingers tipped with claws. But damn, he had the widest chest and the thickest thighs. And she’d never, ever forget how he’d stormed into that cargo bay and wiped the floor with those guards’ asses.

For that alone he deserved a medal.

He stopped and stared at her, checking her up and down. Her cheeks heated. He seemed to come to some sort of decision, because he dropped his captive and his bag to the ground and planted his feet in a wide stance. He turned to her and thumped a closed fist against his chest and nodded. “I am Joyzal of Six,” he announced in a deep, rumbly voice, speaking in pleasantly accented English. Then he went down on one knee before her, bowed his head, and intoned, “I place your honor before mine. How may I assist you?”

Her jaw dropped. “What?” she squeaked. Rockstar was on his knees before her? It was something out of a fantasy, like being offered help by a soldier in full dress uniform. Prince Charming holding out the glass slipper. “You want to assist me?” She paused. “Hold on. How in the hell do you know my language? Have you met other humans?”

He lifted his head and met her gaze. Her breath caught in her throat. She was trapped in the shining net of his bright hazel eyes. “Yes. I have met one other human and therefore have the appropriate translator installed,” he explained. “I understand and speak Human. I am surprised at your appearance. I thought all humans were colorless.”

“Not all humans have the same color skin, there are different kinds of us, from light to dark,” she explained quickly. “I’m so happy you speak my language. I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to talk to someone. Hey, you don’t need to be on the ground like that. Why in the heck would you place your honor or whatever before mine? Stand up,” she requested. “Please stand up.”

She offered him her hand to help him up. He looked at her, surprise clearly stamped on his features. “You offer me your touch?” he choked.

“Yes, I’m offering you a helping hand.” She wiggled her fingers, waiting for him to put a clawed hand out and clasp hers. Why was it such a big deal? She stiffened. Oh no. Maybe he didn’t want to touch her because he was worried about how dirty she was. She grimaced. Why didn’t she think of that before she put herself out there?

“I am honored,” he replied, his voice gruff.

She shrugged, puzzled by his strange response, and grasped his outstretched hand. His clawed fingers engulfed hers, but she still tried to tug and help him as he stood up and towered over her. She lifted her chin. Jacole found herself not caring one bit that he had ridges along his forehead or that he only seemed to have four fingers, all of which ended with claws. She loved how big he was. Her whole life she’d felt like an Amazon warrior woman. She’d been told often that she should play basketball or volleyball due to her height, but it had never interested her. And this alien, this man, he was so huge… She felt petite next to him, and that had never occurred in her entire life, and damn if she didn’t love it.

He continued to stand with her hand in his, and it felt…good. Really good. Warm. Like a current was flowing between them. Her pulse quickened. Something was happening. Something she couldn’t explain. Her nipples hardened. Warmth flooded between her thighs. She shifted restlessly from one foot to the other and licked her lips.

She lifted her chin again to meet his gaze. He stared at her intently, his eyes dark and heavy lidded with lust. His breath ragged, chest rising and falling. And still he grasped her hand as if his life depended on it.

He was feeling this, too? This gorgeous, hunk-a burnin’ alien love—this warrior who was every girl’s wet dream, wanted…her?

He jerked her close, pressing her against his hard, black armor, his arm around her waist like a steel band. She gasped at the sudden contact. He held her hand captive, pressed between their bodies. She felt the heat of his body and his breath on her neck. One arm went up and cupped her head. He slammed his lips down on hers, giving her the most thorough kiss of her life. He tongue delved between her open lips like a spark of energy. It was all so unexpected, so goddamn strange and epic at the same time; she felt outside of herself, as if she were watching Netflix: Kissed by Badass Alien Warrior. Season Premier.

He lifted his head and she stood there, swaying on her feet like a buoy caught in a storm. Didn’t he realize she was filthy, dirty and ragged? Apparently not.

He held her tighter to steady her. Her lips felt swollen from his kiss, her body on fire, her pussy wet and eager for his cock. She was shockingly turned on. Jacole supposed she should slap him, this alien she didn’t know, for taking such liberties, but damn, she felt practically drunk.

She’d offered him her touch.

Joyzal was stunned. A female of royal pigment offering to test mating compatibility? He’d been shocked to receive such an offer, even from a human. Normally a female of her stature and importance in Xylan society would be sheltered from meeting a male of his lower pigment caste, but even if an unmated female of royal pigment were to meet him by chance, she would take one look at him and deem his line unworthy. He knew this to be true, it had happened to him a hundred times before. Joyzal was considered Margol, the term used for Xylan-born afflicted with the disease of lighter pigment. He was not truly colorless, thank the gods, but he wasn’t dark enough to earn his way into the notice of the highest lines on Chronos. He’d tested often with females of his own caste, meeting with females who offered their touch, but had never met the right one. He’d become friendly with many of them, had kept in contact with them and their families. There had been honorable females, so perfect for him in every way, he’d been certain many would be the one…but it had never happened. He’d been disappointed hundreds of times, never finding his Bride. Because of this he’d learned to resign himself to the fact that he’d never experience the joys of a mate or offspring. He instead threw himself into his work.

But today, for the first time in his forty planet rotations, at a time and place he never expected and with a female of royal pigment who wasn’t even of his own species…his cock hardened.

At first he’d simply taken her offered hand and allowed his skin to touch hers because he hungered for such a thing. He was rarely allowed to touch an unfamiliar unmarried female who was mating compatible. He expected to feel joy, pleasure at their quick joining, at the pressure of warm skin against skin and then the disconnect and the impersonal nod, affirming their non-mating.

But when his hands joined with the human female, there was a spark. No, a bolt of thunder.

Joyzal had been told before what a true mating was like. It had been described to him by mated warriors. He’d been present in his youth at mating ceremonies, watching the vid of the mating rites. Males and females would stand up publicly and proclaim their joy over that first rush of mating lust. He’d always wondered what it would be like.

His heart began to thunder in his chest. His breath quickened. A surge ran through his veins, centering around the joining of their hands. Like a torrent rushing through his veins, his muscles, his two hearts, and throughout his dense bones. It swept through and lit up long-dead feelings. Xylan warriors didn’t experience lust or any need for sex until they met their mate. Males and females remained virgins until the moment they joined with their mate.

After briefly tasting her full lips, he stood there in shock, unable to process that it was actually happening. After all this time, he’d actually found his Bride.

His Be’Ih.

Melachine would be filled with joy.

Joyzal threw back his head and laughed.

His cock throbbed in the confines of his armor. He leaned in and pressed his nose against her throat and inhaled, sending her scent deep into his lungs. He growled at the rush of pure mating pheromones. Pre-cum leaked out of the top of his cock. He paused, holding her, trying to calm his raging body.

She was human. Joyzal used his suit to check her breathing, her pulse, and noted the dilation of her pupils. Oh yes, his Be’Ih wanted him as much as he wanted her. She was feeling this, too. She was his mate. His Bride. They were breeding compatible.

“Mine,” he snarled.

Her eyes flared. “What did you say?”

He had to touch her again. One kiss was not enough. The pulse point on her neck begged for his attention. His lips pressed against this delicacy. He licked her skin. She sighed.

With all the willpower of a hero of old, with every muscle and bone in his body, he managed to pull away from his Bride and not claim her right there on the floor of the slave ship. He had to wait. It was his duty to make this special for her. He couldn’t claim his Bride next to pools of blood and dead bodies. His honor forbade it.

He pulled back and held her by the shoulders. She blinked up at him, her eyes dark with need. He grinned. His Bride was having trouble controlling her rush of mating hormones. Females in their breeding cycle were known to ferociously demand immediate claiming. “I will make everything ready for you, my Bride. Meanwhile I’ll tranq you while I ready our ceremony so that you will not experience any discomfort.”

“What?” she gasped. And then he pressed the small tranq gun to her shoulder and she fell into his arms.

The two females he had spoken to earlier were staring at him. Their gaze moved to the Bride in his arms. Normally he barely noticed the looks, glances, or well, the very existence of any beings who were not Xylan, but their staring eyes made him feel…uncomfortable, which was unusual.

“She is my Bride,” he explained. They continued to stare. Did they not understand what he was saying? He’d switched from speaking the human language to speaking Xylan, which they’d understood earlier. “This human is my Bride. She is in her breeding cycle, and I will claim her immediately,” he clarified. “I have sedated her to keep her as comfortable as possible while I ready for our ceremony.” It was his responsibility to make their mating special for his Bride. He had much work to do back on the ship.

The females seemed to relax.

“I will dispose of THX309 and then return for my Bride.”

They nodded.

He needed to program the holo-deck to make ready for the mating ceremony and take his mate to the medical bay. Dark red, almost purple bruises marred her luminous skin. The space pirates had abused his Bride. They were lucky they were already dead.

Joyzal looked down longingly at the beautiful female in his arms. He carefully placed her on the floor, away from the bodies, in a comfortable position. “I will be taking her with me. She is leaving with me,” he added.

He grabbed THX309 by his restraints and dragged him to his ship.

Chapter Three

Jacole woke up in the woods, which was fucking bizarre considering she was certain she’d been knocked out by Rockstar on the alien slave ship.

She looked around ran her tongue across her teeth, startled to find them sparkly clean and her mouth perfectly fresh. She glanced down and noted she was clean all over. She touched her short, dark hair. Clean everywhere. She’d had her hair cut two days before her kidnapping, wanting a super-short, no-nonsense style, something she barely had to take care of while at Quantico, which, in light of recent events, had been a damn good decision. And she was wearing something different now. The torn and filthy pajamas she’d been originally kidnapped in and wearing for the last five days were gone, replaced by a long, V-necked tunic that she suspected belonged to Rockstar. She rubbed the hem between her fingers. It was made of a shiny black material, soft as silk but sturdy like denim. It fell to the top of her knees, and the V neck was so low it almost exposed her nipples. She lifted the collar and sniffed. Goddamn, that was his scent. Leather and sunshine and something else she couldn’t place but it was spectacular. Her nipples tightened and her pussy contracted from his smell alone.

Underneath the tunic she was totally naked.

She stood up, feeling perfectly fine, which was odd too considering her lack of sleep and food intake while she’d been imprisoned by evil space pirates. Shouldn’t she feel like crap and ready to pass out for a week?

What had happened to her?

She sucked in a deep breath and inhaled the scent of deep woods. Pine, fresh air. God, it was nice to smell clean air, out in the open and not cooped up in a cage or on a ship. She wiggled her toes, loving the feel of the grass and soil beneath her feet. She looked up at the stars and at the moonlit field of grass spread out before her.

What. The. Hell? Had she been taken back to Earth?

Jacole turned around in a circle, her heart beating fast. “Where am I?”

It was nighttime and she had no idea where she was. Was it a forest from her world, or another planet? Gray shafts of giant redwoods rose up around her, and in front of her a wide-open clearing broke through the dense constructs. Shit, she expected ewoks at any moment. Why was she here? Her equilibrium began to fade, and worry invaded her mind. And then she noticed something in the shadows. A form was approaching. Heavy footsteps crunched on the undergrowth.

Oh hell, it was him.

Rockstar.

He walked up close, no longer in that black armor. His chest was bare. Her breaths came in short bursts. She couldn’t take her eyes off the glorious six-pack of abs and that wall of manly chest.

A surge of wildness swept across her skin. A feeling of urgency and a need to escape. She began to shift from foot to foot, restless. But she wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t afraid of him. She just waited for the inevitable, waited for him to get close so she could find out what the fuck was going on.

He stopped in front of her, his face impassive. Her body lit up like a string of fairy lights.

Raindrops began to fall from the sky, splatting on her forehead and shoulders.

Oh, great.

“You may run,” he said clearly. His words held weight. They felt ominous.

“Run? Why the fuck would I want to run?” she answered through the sprinkling of rain.

But weirdly, she did want to run, which was fine considering back home she ran every day. At twenty-three, with her BA in Criminal Justice and a specialization in cybercrime, she’d been accepted to Quantico, so she’d been hardcore working out, making sure she was in the best shape of her life because she’d planned on killing it at Quantico and showing them she was number one in her class.

He stared at her with heated eyes, like a predator on the hunt. “Run, my Bride,” he ordered.

Bride?

Why the hell did he call her that? What kind of joke was this?

She stood there for a moment, sharp breaths heaving in and out of her chest. She’d wanted this man from the moment she’d seen him. Why not play his game?

The rain fell harder, wetting her face and hair. It was in her eyes and falling now in torrents. She turned and sprinted off into the night, making her way through the rainstorm, circling the edge of the clearing and then darting into the trees, thinking she could lose him that way by weaving in and out. Her bare feet only took her so far. And also she couldn’t see much. There was a full moon, but the ground in front of her was a complete mystery. Her feet began to squish into wet mud. And holy shit, it was hard to run barefoot in the forest. It hurt like hell.

Focus. Focus.

Behind her she could hear Rockstar grinding like a four-wheel drive; his feet pulverizing the forest floor. He was right the hell behind her. Dammit. She turned and darted across the field. This hadn’t been her original plan, cutting across this way, it was too wide open and exposed, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

What was weird was she wasn’t running because she was afraid. It was more like a challenge, like showing off. Look at me, try to catch me. Let me show you what I can do—how strong I am.

Her feet hit the damp grass of the field, a spiky wash of silvery green in the moonlight. Legs and arms moved sharp and precise, like an Olympic sprinter; her breaths came in short puffs. She couldn’t make this easy for him. He had to work for this. For her. Cold air burst in and out of her chest, her legs burned like hell, and her feet were killing her. If there was a sharp object on the ground, she’d stepped on it, but fuck if this stopped her—he wasn’t going to catch her. She’d show him how fast she could run.

Jacole wasn’t easy for any man, even an alien.

No way. No how.

She could hear his breaths. He was close. Closer.

Fuck.

His arm went around her waist like a band of steel. She shrieked, pissed off he’d caught her so quickly. If she’d been at home, at her track next to the lake, and if she’d been wearing her favorite Nike shoes…oh hell no—he’d still be chasing her.

Lightning flashed overhead, and thunder rolled across the sky, thumping along with the erratic beat of her heart. Rockstar grabbed her by the shoulders and whipped her around. He cupped her head in his palm and slammed his lips down on hers, just like before. A torrent of warm rain showered down. They were both soaked. She struggled and pounded closed fists against his wet chest, but his tongue swept into her mouth, and shit, it was wonderful. She melted into him. Soon they were kissing in the driving rain, desperate and groping, like two love-hungry teenagers.

No.

Instinct kicked in, telling her this was too easy for him. He had to earn it.

Jacole managed to break away, pushing him back. He stood there, staring at her with black eyes, gulping in great breaths of air, rivulets of water slashing down across his harsh face and washboard abs. Christ, he was gorgeous. Like an avenging angel. He began speaking to her again in his own language, which she could somehow understand. Yet it still made no sense. It sounded like a ritual, a ceremony, his wording so formal. And she had no idea what it meant.

Had he drugged her with that kiss? Because she’d felt outside of herself from the moment he dragged her into his arms and shoved his tongue in her mouth. Like a tsunami had hit and she hadn’t been the same. Her world had tilted on its axis. This was the man of her dreams, physically. No matter the fact that he wasn’t human. She still wanted him. She was incredibly turned on and wasn’t afraid. She just knew. This was a game that must be played.

This was meant to be hard for him. And oh, she could do hard.

Jacole grinned and leapt at him with a swift roundhouse kick to the chest that would have made her self-defense instructor damn proud. Unfortunately the alien was the Rock of Gibraltar and barely moved an inch. He grunted and grabbed her leg, using it to gain leverage, forcing her to the ground. Next thing she knew she was on her back, the wind knocked out of her, Rockstar on top, his hips wedged between her thighs. The tunic was now pushed up, exposing her naked pussy.

She closed her fist tight and threw a punch at his throat. He ducked his chin, and she made contact with his jaw. Jesus Christ, he was made of stone. Her hand throbbed with pain. Fuck, that hurt. She’d used everything she had for the blow, and he barely moved a millimeter. He was a machine, like the Terminator or something. His eyes darkened and his breaths quickened. Oh no, she’s turned him on more, hadn’t she? He grabbed both of her hands with one of his giant paws and had both her arms pinned above her head in a hot second.

She screamed in frustration. He was strong, so damn strong. Back home, she was taller than most men, louder, more powerful, dominating. Hell, she scared most men. There’d been a few who’d been brave enough to date her. She wasn’t a virgin. But it never worked out. They couldn’t deal with all that was her, so she’d always left, or they’d left first, and she never looked back. This alien, this Rockstar…she had to give him credit. He was the first man she’d met who was way more fucking dominating. And hell if it didn’t turn her on. She thought back to the boys she’d dated in high school and college, all of whom paled in comparison to this fierce male on top of her. His erection felt huge pressed against her thigh.

He was naked, naked, naked. Why hadn’t she noticed this before?

“Mine,” he snarled. He’d said that in the hallway on the slave ship, and she had the same reaction as before: Her pussy was drenched.

The rain was still falling, but softer now, and the night was warm, not ice cold. They’d landed on grass on a small rise, a space that was reasonably dry. She was buzzing with energy and lust. He let go of her hands and focused on pushing her thighs open. Two of his fingers drove into her hot, wet core. She threw her head back and gasped. “Oh, my God.”

His claws pumped inside of her, curving up into a perfect position. It felt so shocking, so good—the water on her face wasn’t only from the rain. He finally pulled his fingers out, and she watched in slow motion as he lifted his hand and licked her cream off his claws. A look of joy and wonder flashed across his face.

Holy shit. It was the hottest thing she’d ever seen

But that buzzing was still there, that feeling of restless energy, a need to escape, and she couldn’t make it go away yet. She tried to twist away. He was the hunter, and she was the prey. She needed to play out her role. As Jacole thrashed, the light rain caused the tunic she was wearing to plaster to her body. She started to slip out of his grasp, until hands grabbed her legs and dragged her down and pushed her onto her back again with her thighs spread open. Her struggles were but the work of a butterfly’s wings against rigid glass.

“Enough!” he roared.

She stilled. A growl rumbled in his chest. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, his fangs tracking against her mouth in the best way possible. “I have to taste you,” he told her.

“What? No.”

But he was already there, his head between her legs, his lips and his tongue delving into her pussy. Her fingers dug into his hair. Originally she meant to jerk him away, but he latched on to her clit with his mouth, and she was instead holding him right in place. Holy mother of God. His hands pushed her thighs further apart, giving him greater access. His tongue left her clit for a moment and plunged into her core. Her hips bucked.

She was moaning, unable to stop. His tongue was back at her clit now, running along the side in that perfect spot that she needed. Like an automatic push button to instant orgasm. She didn’t have to direct him, he just knew. Normally it took forever for a guy to get her off this way, but Rockstar had her on edge immediately. Her muscles tightened, and she felt it growing, more intense. She was panting now, almost scared of the orgasm looming larger and larger. He changed things up and started sucking her whole clit again, and she exploded, screaming as she came so hard she practically blacked out.

Her hands dropped out of his hair, and her arms fell to her sides as she lay there in the sprinkling rain, unable to speak, recovering from her earth-shattering orgasm. Rain fell on her face, on her chest, and she closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the visceral trifecta of water, earth, and primal male impulse.

After that, how could she fight him? He was amazing. The man was a magician.

And they weren’t even done.

He pulled up and pushed his hips between her splayed thighs. She felt his hard dick nudging at her entrance and smiled like a Cheshire Cat. Her skin felt alive and her legs restless. Her core practically wept to be plundered. Never, ever had she been this needy to be fucked. “Please,” she actually whimpered. “I need you.”

The moonlight allowed her to see the desire and hunger clearly stamped on his face. The rain tripped down the ridges on his forehead and slicked his hair back. He was a villain and a lover all rolled into one hot, delicious package. One of his arms braced on the ground next to her, and his other was guiding his cock. He paused before entering her and met her gaze, staring at her intently.

She lost her mind and bit at him, snapping her teeth because goddammit, she needed to be fucked and he was taking too long to get there. He covered her mouth with demanding lips and plunged into her, his length stabbing her with all of its glory. She broke off his kiss and screamed with equal amounts of pain and Oh My God Best Sex Ever as she was split wide open.

He filled her in places she didn’t realize had never been filled before. The discomfort was gone by his third stroke and instantly replaced with blinding pleasure. She shifted and wrapped her legs around his hips, digging her heels into his ass, helping him to pound deeper. Not much else in her life had ever felt as good as Rockstar sliding inside of her. He kissed her again, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his cock. Her arms locked behind his head, holding him so close they were practically one person.

Another orgasm lurked on the edge; its presence flickered across her stomach. She’d never had more than one orgasm with a guy before, and absolutely never without him touching her clit. But Rockstar was doing the impossible—she was about to come without so much as a brush on her clit, simply from the way his monster cock was pumping into her pussy. And they were about to come at the same time—like something straight out of a romance novel.

Tears choked her throat at the beauty of the intense wave of pleasure that crashed through her body. Her pussy fluttered and clenched around his cock. He let go of her mouth and roared as his hips jerked against her. He came, shooting warm come that pulsed inside her core.

Afterwards she licked his beautiful, corded neck and held him close. They were shrouded by the rain and the warm mist of the forest. She smiled faintly with exhaustion as her eyes closed.

Chapter Four

Joyzal woke up the next morning in his bunk without a care in the universe. As if he didn’t have any responsibilities…like a target in lockdown stasis to deliver to the Bounty Hunter Guild, mission data to complete, or routine maintenance checks to perform.

Fuck work.

Fuck everything.

All that mattered was this moment.

This female. His Bride.

His hand cupped a full, soft breast, and his hard cock pressed against her perfect ass. He curved closer to the female who meant the most to him in the universe and buried his nose in her hair and inhaled, drugged by her scent.

Last night he’d claimed this human. She’d offered her hand, her touch, initiating mating compatibility. The bolt of pure lust that had assailed his body had been a revelation. He’d claimed her, buried his cock in her hot pussy and released his seed in her womb, creating the start of his line. A faint smile spread across his face, testing unused muscles. Normally, unmated Margols did not smile. There was little reason to. But today was different. Finally, he had found his mate.

He’d waited for his Bride for what seemed an eternity. Most Xylans found their mates in the first quarter of their lifespan, and rarely after the age of forty. As he’d reached that dreaded milestone, Joyzal had grown more and more certain he would never find a Bride, never start his line. Each year he dug deeper into his isolated life. He’d thrown himself into his work, rechanneling energies other warriors used for mating and rearing of offspring. Instead he focused on achieving number one status on the Bounty Hunter Leaderboards. If he had no line, at least he had that.

And then he met this human, his Bride.

He tightened his arms around her. Their legs were entwined. She was softer than he imagined a Xylan female would be, no ridges or claws, not even scales or feathers, just plush skin. Her royal pigment was glorious. His lust inflamed just gazing at the dark tones of her rounded curves and muscular long legs. He growled in his chest, his shaft hardening painfully against her back. Her breasts, her ass, her pink pussy—all were made for him. He couldn’t believe he’d been blessed by the gods with such a female. And last night, when he’d touched her, his human had awakened for him. His Hunter suit had charted her physical reactions, letting him know she’d been as physically attracted, as enthralled with mating lust as he was.

He already knew humans were capable of procreating and mating with Xylan. Rayzor of Twelve, his main competitor on the Bounty Hunter Leaderboards, had recently taken a human as his Bride and retired to the agrarian planet Zamarian Prime. Rayzor of Thirteen was born only one planet rotation ago, confirming human and Xylan were mating compatible.

Rayzor’s Bride was colorless, but this human looked much like a Xylan female of royal pigment, but without the ridges on her forehead. And her hands. He admitted they were strange with the additional appendage and the lack of true claws. Humans were odd in their multitude of pigment ranges. Rayzor’s Bride was sadly devoid of pigment, and yet here was another human female shrouded in glorious royal pigment. How could they be so different? It was a puzzle. Although, his Bride’s royal pigment could prove to be a curse instead of a blessing. On Chronos, Margol and Xylans with royal pigment rarely mated. Dilution of pigment was avoided in Xylan culture. She might be human, but her royal pigment marked her as a Xylan of the highest order.

This was why he and his Bride would never return to Chronos.

She snored, and her breath caught; her body stiffened in his grasp. His Bride was awake. Unlike Xylan females who kept their hair long, his Bride had shorn her hair. It was a strange human custom, but it did expose more of her skin to his touch, which he enjoyed. He slid his hand along the slender column of her neck and spine. Her back was perfection. The curve that dipped and rose to form her ample buttocks was something he could examine for the rest of his life. He knew she was awake because she wiggled her ass against his throbbing cock. He growled, finding it difficult to not spend all over her back, marking her with his seed.

She turned in the bed, catching him with her hazel eyes—so Xylan and yet not. She moved to face him, the sheet covering only her breasts and leaving bare the curve of her hip and the length of her strong legs. She stared at him intently. Her breath quickened, her eyes lingered on his lips and lowered to his chest and widened at the sight of his swelling cock. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. She bit her lip and exhaled through her nose. He knew she was reliving the night before. His chest warmed at the knowledge that his Bride ached for him, too.

She caught his gaze. “Who are you?” she asked huskily. “What is your name? What happened?”

He reached out and cupped her face, sliding a claw along her smooth cheek as he answered her question. “I am Joyzal of Six. When I took you off the slave ship I brought you to the medical bay and had a diagnostic check performed to rid you of any ill effects of your kidnapping. At that time I had a universal translator implanted in your brain so you can understand Xylan and many other major languages spoken in the four sectors.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s perfect.” She leaned into his touch. “Of six? What does that mean? Is the number six your last name?”

“It means I am the sixth Joyzal of my line,” he answered with pride. He dropped his claw, reached for her small human hand and engulfed it with his own.

“Like a junior?” she responded, her smallest appendage absently stroking his hand. “So your father’s name is also Joyzal?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I don’t understand this term junior, but my father’s name was also Joyzal.” He felt the familiar stab of sadness at the reminder that his father, Joyzal of Five, was no longer alive. “I am an orphan. My line died with honor, fighting until their last breath, ensuring for eternity their place among the gods.” As a youth, he’d been the sole survivor of the Outpost Eighteen attack on Aytion in Sector Three. He had been taken back to Chronos and raised with respect and care as the offspring of a fearless and honorable line. But on Chronos he was also constantly reminded of his low pigment. He was Margol and nothing would change that. He chose to leave Chronos when he came of age and earned his license and joined the Bounty Hunter Union, working among other species on the edges of the four sectors, where the issue of his pigment rarely came up. As a Bounty Hunter, his worth came by his work and his accomplishments, not by the color of his skin.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jacole responded, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry your family is gone.” She knew exactly what it felt like to have no one. It wasn’t easy.

He remained silent, not answering, continuing to stare at her with every ounce of his being, as if his life depended upon monitoring her every movement. And he was naked. And aroused.

Holy fuck, this guy was hot.

“My name is Jacole,” she said, breaking the silence and changing the subject, trying to throw something out there to get the conversation going again. He obviously didn’t want to say more about his family.

He placed one hand possessively on her hip. She found herself basking in his heated gaze. She’d woken with his hard cock against her ass, and he’d fucked her senseless the night before, so she supposed there was no need to act like they were strangers.

She was doing her best to not fully stare at his penis, but she was finding it difficult. He was on his side, facing her, and his beautiful cock was stiff and right there, uncovered. When she’d first turned over, she’d only caught a glimpse of it before forcing herself to look away, but now her mind was consumed with penis, and all she wanted to do was climb on top of him and lick and touch him all over, discover all his corners and edges and feel that cock pounding inside of her again.

But on the other hand, she didn’t know a thing about this guy. She had to be smart and think with her mind instead of her pussy. But Christ, it was tough. This man had the physique of a sports phenom, combined with the edgy roughness of a Navy SEAL. And that gray hair at his temples… The testosterone was making her lightheaded.

She couldn’t believe this had happened. First, she’d been kidnapped by aliens and living in a cage on their slave ship. She’d been seconds away from starting a mutiny when this guy had stormed the ship and taken out the guards. And then he’d touched her and decided he wanted to chase her and fuck her in the forest. It was all too weird. Well, good weird, if she thought about the last part. Having a one-night stand with this guy was one thing she’d never forget. She’d take the memory of last night out and pet it for the rest of her life. That had been pretty darn spectacular. Her pussy was still deliciously sore from last night’s activities. Maybe they could have sex again, at least once more before their time was up.

He nodded. “I know your name.”

She crooked an eyebrow. Focus, girl. Focus. How did he know her name? She had to figure this guy out. Was this a one-night stand she’d regret for the rest of her life, or a night that would go down in history as the best sex ever? “You do? What, did you check up on me?”

“Yes, I did,” he answered without guile. “I am a Bounty Hunter. It is what I do.”

A Bounty Hunter? Well, that explained a lot. She would’ve done the same thing if she were in his shoes. It was smart thinking. She decided to let it go.

“What are you?” she asked. “I know you just said you’re a Bounty Hunter, but, um, what species are you? Like, for instance, I’m a human from Earth, and you are…?”

“I am Xylan,” he answered absently, because his hand on her hip had now migrated to her waist and was dangerously close to tugging off her sheet and then they’d be fucking again and she’d get no answers.

Focus, girl. Focus. Answers first, sex later.

“Xylan?”

“Yes. I come from a warrior race based on honor and loyalty.”

Okay, still not much to go on, but since he appeared to be a man of few words at the moment, she’d have to take what she could get.

His hand stilled, and he met her gaze, looking almost bashful, which was hard for a man to do when he had ridges on his forehead and two fangs peeking out from under his lip. “I know on Earth you were called Jacole Walker,” he said with a rumbly, deep voice. “As my Bride, it is my duty to offer you a nickname that only I will use, but…”

“But…what?”

“I want to call you Jacole.”

“Yeah, that’s my name. Why would that be wrong?” Bride? Had she heard right, had he called her his Bride like they were married or something? No… Why would he say that?

“It isn’t a name that only I chose.”

“I prefer you calling me by the name I gave to myself. I’m happy with that.”

He seemed satisfied with her answer. “You are, my mate, my heart,” he continued, saying the words slowly, as if the formation of that combination of letters was completely foreign to him. “I do not want to make a mistake.”

She leaned back a little. “You’re shitting me, aren’t you?” She was his heart? His mate? What?

“I don’t understand your words. Why are you referring to defecation?”

She snort-laughed and covered her mouth to hide her embarrassment over his response. “It’s just something we say sometimes on Earth. It means I think you’re playing me. Lying to me.”

He looked taken aback. “I don’t lie,” he said. “Well, I almost never lie,” he clarified.

She crooked an eyebrow. He almost never lied? That didn’t sound good. Oh great. Men were the same everywhere, weren’t they?

They were both quiet for a moment.

“Have you chosen a nickname for me?” he asked.

She had chosen a nickname for him. But how could she tell him it was Rockstar? Her face heated. What kind of nickname was that? There was no way in hell she was admitting the crush she’d had on him from the moment she’d seen him storming through the haze on the slave ship, a gun in each hand, mowing down the guards who’d raped the other woman, who had been about to rape her. And anyway, this was all too good to be true. A hot guy who claimed they were mates? Oh please, she wasn’t an idiot. She hadn’t been born yesterday. This wasn’t her first rodeo. Men, even aliens, said all kinds of things they didn’t mean when they were in bed, naked, with a hard cock. “Uh, no, I haven’t thought of one yet. I need some more time,” she answered.

His shoulders slumped. He looked visibly disappointed. It was time to change the subject. “Why were you on that ship?” she asked.

“I took on the assignment to extradite Groogan Mar, the captain of a notorious slave ship. The job came up, and I took it. There were few parameters.”

“Why? Why were you sent to capture them?”

“That band of slavers had kidnapped and sold so many females and their offspring to sex houses or private buyers that beings from several different species banded together to offer a price to the Bounty Hunter Guild to bring them to justice. The Hunter Guild posted the prize, and I took the assignment.”

“Why you?”

“Because I’m the best. They asked me first. I’m offered all jobs first. They only move down the list if I decline. I only take on the highest-paying jobs. I’m number one on the Hunter Leaderboards.”

“You’re the best Bounty Hunter?”

“Yes. If I’m going to do a job, I do it right,” he explained. “I’m the fastest, with the highest procurement ratio of any other Hunter.”

She stared at him for a moment, wondering if this was true or just a game he was playing. She had no way to confirm what he was saying. But his body language seemed open and honest. But to be truthful…she didn’t trust men. She’d never met a man who could be faithful and truthful in the confines of a relationship. Jacole liked men in general. They could be terrific co-workers and friends, but she’d learned to keep them at arm’s distance. One-night stands and nothing more. Anything else was a road to heartbreak hell.

She looked around. “Where are the other women?”

“Women?” he asked, obviously surprised by her abrupt change of subject. “What women?”

“The women I was captured with. The ones you were talking to on the bridge before…”

“The females on the ship?” He shrugged. “I called it into the Hunter Board and the Xylan Imperial Military command. Between the two, I am assuming that they are being dispersed to their home worlds and back to their families.”

“Oh.” She smiled. “That was nice of you.”

“Nice? What does that mean? There is no translation for that in Xylan.”

“It means you are a good man.”

He looked puzzled. “I still do not understand your words.”

She tried again. “You’re an honorable warrior?”

He smiled. The movement was so slow and seemed to spread across his face like molasses, she swore it was something he rarely did. Warmth spread in her chest at the thought that she was causing this, that he was gifting this to her and she was making him happy.

“So what is going on here?” she asked him. “You called in to help the other women and get them back to their homes, but you took me.” Again, her face heated, remembering how well he’d taken her. “What is going to happen to me? Are you going to be able to return me to Earth?”

“You are my Bride,” he answered, using that loaded term so lightly, as if that explained everything. “And no, even if you were not my Bride, I would not be able to return you to Earth. The Scales of Xylan Law now specify that all humans who have been exposed to technology are no longer allowed to return to their home planet.”

“Why?”

“Because Earth is primitive and is protected under the Rare Indigenous Species Act. If you returned, you could potentially spoil that planet’s natural development. Citizens of the four sectors are not allowed on Earth, and you are now automatically a citizen of the four sectors.”

“Oh.” She suspected this would happen. During all those days in her cell she’d had time to think of the ramifications of what was happening. She’d already mourned the loss of her world. Already cried that out. Cried and cried and cried. Her life had been good back home, with a bright future in front of her at the FBI. It still hurt to think of all she’d lost the night those pirate fuckers had snatched her from her apartment.

“And you’re my Bride. Your place is with your mate.”

She shook her head. “You’ve said that before. What does that mean to you? Does Bride mean the same thing it does on Earth? Because, um…” She almost couldn’t say it. It was too embarrassing. He’d be horrified if he knew she thought he was trying to say they were married. Because no way in hell could this man think this one-night stand was something more. Even on his planet, he must be worried about women making more of something that was obviously just lust. Gorgeous men like him weren’t forever. She’d never met a man who was interested in forever. They were mythical to her, like a unicorn.

“What does Bride mean on Xylan?” she asked. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but the term Bride on my planet means that we’re married. I’m sure you didn’t mean that.”

“If it means that we are mated for life, then yes, we are married.”

She sat up and clutched the sheet to her chest. “Wait, did you just say that you think we’re married?”

“You are my Bride,” he repeated.

Her jaw was wide open. She shut her mouth with a click. “We can’t be married. We didn’t even have a ceremony. When do you think we got married?”

“Last night I claimed you. I touched you, and my cock hardened for you.”

“Wait, I want to be clear. You do realize you’re telling me that you want to stay with me forever? Married on my planet means you are legally bound to the other person, that you become family and you stay together forever. Is that what you’re saying you want with me?”

“Yes.”

She sucked in a breath. She’d said it clear like that, laying it on thick, hoping to scare him away, get him to recant his words. But…

“You are my mate,” he repeated.

This couldn’t be true. This had to be a trick. Men didn’t say shit like this. Anger welled up inside of her. How dare he play games with her heart like this?

His Bride looked upset. Her eyes flashed. Her lips were pressed together, and a muscle ticked at her jaw. “What is wrong?” he asked. He wanted to pull her close and rub the hurt away from her expressive human features.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. She exhaled and dropped her hand. “You can’t be serious,” she muttered. Her eyes blinked back open.

“You are my Bride,” he answered, confused at her logic. “We are perfect for each other in every way. This is why we mated.”

She got off the bed, jerking the sheet around her. “We can’t be married. We barely know each other. You cannot possibly know if I’m perfect for you.” She waved a hand for emphasis. “You don’t know how annoying I am yet. And let me tell you, I’m pretty darn annoying. Most men can’t handle me.”

He stood up and looked down at her, allowing his hard cock to brush against the sheet that covered her stomach. She swallowed hard and lifted her chin to defiantly meet his gaze.

“I am not most men,” he growled. “I am a Xylan warrior.”

Her eyes drifted slowly down his chest and lingered on his cock. “This is true,” she whispered hoarsely.

He reached out, cupped her face and brushed a claw along the soft skin of her cheek. She shivered and leaned into his touch. His human Bride wanted him. Her body said yes, but her mind said no. He needed to convince her.

“You and I both know this won’t last. Don’t play with me by making promises you can’t keep. It’s okay for you to be honest. I want honesty. Let’s be upfront and give this a timeframe. Yes, I want you. Yes, I want to stay with you for now. I appreciate that you rescued me, but I’ve got a lot ahead of me, trying to figure out how to make my way in this new life. You can help me get started, I’d appreciate that. And maybe afterwards, we can remain friends. But…let’s not pretend this is something it isn’t. Okay?”

He snarled at her words, anger slicing through his fog of lust. “You are planning on leaving? That is impossible. You are my Bride; we are mated for life. Your future is with me.”

“On Earth most men do not mate for life,” she told him. “I’m sure there are some out there who do, but I bet you they’ve cheated on their wives at some point. I don’t believe in forever. It doesn’t exist. You’ll tire of me soon, find someone better, and I’ll be left behind. Let’s cut to the chase and be honest about this before it starts.”

He stared at her. How could she think he’d ever tire of her? She was his whole world. He reminded himself she wasn’t Xylan. He needed to make this clear for her. “I was a virgin last night.”

She rolled her eyes. “Again, you must be shitting me. You couldn’t possibly have been a virgin. I mean, look at you. And the way you…you were good at that.”

His chest expanded. “The sexual needs of Xylans remain dormant until the moment they meet their mate. My cock hardened for you and only you.”

“Wait, you’re being serious? Last night really was your first time? And your cock…got hard for me?”

“Yes. Only for you. I will only ever want you.”

“But I wasn’t a virgin.” She eyed him, waiting for his answer.

“You have had sex with other men of your species?”

“Yes…”

“You have a mate?” he growled.

“No. Oh God, no. But I’ve had sex with other men. Is this a problem for you?”

“No. But I will be the last man you have sex with. You are mine now.” He was still caught in the throes of initial mating, his body flooded with lust. And his Bride was in her breeding cycle. By the gods, how could he be expected to keep his claws off her? His cock was hard and insistent. He’d never experienced this overwhelming need to fuck. Fuck hard. Fuck often. He could spend a whole moon cycle with his cock joined in his Bride’s wet pussy. His hands shook as he wrapped an arm around her back. “I will remind you of our bond. Show you again how I am not playing.”

“Wh—”

He cupped her neck and took her lips in a disciplining kiss that brooked zero disobedience and sought to control her mind, body and inner gozul. She was his female. His mate. This human was resisting their bond and not allowing her heart to make the correct decision.

Unacceptable.

He’d never joined lips with a female before last night. During the claiming he’d fused his lips on his Bride’s mouth but couldn’t remember taking his time and instead feasted on other tempting parts of her body. He’d tasted her pussy before plunging his aching cock into her hot, wet core and releasing his seed. But this morning as he’d watched her talk, watched the way her lips moved, mesmerized by glimpses of her soft fangs, he’d wondered what she’d taste like there, too, and how her smooth teeth would feel against his sharp tips. During his life he’d often watched mated pairs kissing, lingering, locking their lips together in passion, always wondering if he’d ever have that joy for himself.

He lifted his other hand, dug his claws into her shorn hair, gripped her head and pulled her closer. She softened in his arms, and her lips opened for his possession. Her naked body pressed fully against his. Her fingers clung to his biceps. Their tongues tangled, and his fangs clashed with her smooth teeth, hot and wet.

A blast of sensations tore through his body as he kissed his Bride. He groaned against her lips. The pleasure was intense, like a bold of lightning. She tasted like his favorite treat, a banquet of things he found delicious. He’d waited all his life for this moment, and it was worth the wait. His Bride was addictive. He could taste this until his dying day. The enormous need frightened and delighted him at the same time.

The whole Xylan Imperial Army could come storming through his cargo bay and he wouldn’t notice.

He tilted his head for better access, kissing her with all the passion that had been pent up during his forty cycles. A passion only she had awakened. A passion she could not deny.

He could not get enough.

She kissed him back like her life depended upon his every breath. Her mouth was attached to his, and she was insatiable. He met every kiss, every moan, with one of his own. Need for need. Breath for breath.

He knew he should be gentle because his Bride was human. He needed to be careful of her weaker frame and tender skin, but he was too far gone. She smelled of sunrise at Zamarilla, and of the beach and the surf and that first day at half rotation when all the flowers bloom. Her soft curves and bare skin against his aching cock were a cruel treat that was about to have him spending his seed against her stomach. He wanted to kiss her and fuck her at the same time, like a raging cuzhul. The bunk was but a few feet away. The wall was closer… His Bride had reduced him to a warrior with the impulse control of a youth.

He lifted his head to suck in great breaths of air. Her head lolled back, and her eyes fluttered. She dropped in his grasp. He held her tighter, pressing her against his chest. “Your kiss is like a damn drug,” she mumbled.

Ferocious lust pounded in his veins. His fangs throbbed with the need to score her dark skin. He inhaled deeply. “I can smell your arousal,” he told her. He ripped the sheet out of her grasp and bared her naked body to his roving eyes. “Are you wet for me?” he growled.

“Yes…yes. I’m so wet.”

He needed to see and feel his Bride’s pleasure. He reached down and plunged two fingers into her beautiful pink pussy. She sighed with relief. She was ready for him. The cream between her legs coated his hand.

The wall was closer. He pulled his fingers out of his Bride’s core. He lifted her by the ass, walked them back a few steps and braced her against the wall.

He held her up easily with one hand, gripped his cock and showed it to her. “Look at me,” he ordered.

Her eyes widened. “You…you have ridges on your…like you have on your forehead.”

He grunted. “This is the last cock you will see, the only one you ever use. This cock is yours now, and your pussy is mine.”

He didn’t wait for her answer and spread her thighs apart with his hips. “Watch,” he told her. “Watch as I claim your pussy.”

She panted in anticipation. He grinned, happy to see his Bride caught in the storm of their initial mating hormones. He worked his way inside of her, and they both watched as her pussy slowly made way for his shaft. The fit was tight. It was one of the best moments of his life, second only to the moment he’d spilled his seed inside of her last night, creating their first offspring.

When his shaft bottomed out, he bent his head and took one of her soft human nipples into his mouth, sucking hard as he started sliding back and forth. “Yes,” she gasped. “Please, just like that. Oh God, those ridges, I can feel them…” She held on to his biceps, and he felt her pussy flutter around his shaft. A now familiar tingling raced up the base of his spine; his balls tightened in anticipation. He was close already. He bit on her nipple before he let go of her breast with a pop, lifted her higher against the wall and started to jerk his hips against hers, lifting her slightly with each thrust. Her head dropped back against the wall. He buried his face in her neck and breathed in her addictive scent.

“Oh, honey, I’m about to…”

He braced an arm against the wall and one under her ass as he pumped inside of her. Her pussy clamped down on his cock, and she screamed as her completion swept through her. At the same time, his own release struck, and his hips jerked as he jetted his seed into his Bride’s tight pussy, again and again. The pleasure so intense, his knees weakened.

He sagged against her warm figure, his body replete with the satisfaction of mating with his Bride and the attendant emotions that tightened his chest. One thought was foremost in his mind.

He was never letting her go.

Chapter Five

Holy shit, this alien was potent.

He was so dangerous in bed he needed to be classified—his status: Top Secret.

After he fucked her senseless, her new alien husband carefully carried her into the cleansing unit that was inside the small bathroom in his quarters and cleaned her. He easily swept her up in his arms, like she was light as a feather instead of six feet tall and dense as concrete. She’d squealed like a teenager, because this had never happened to her before in her life, having a man carry her in his arms. Her eyes watered over how goddamn romantic it was.

He placed her down gently in the stall of the shower, or cleansing unit as he called it, and turned the water on. She tried to clean herself, but he growled, letting her know this was his role as her mate. “Okay, okay,” she gasped. He washed her short hair and ran his clawed hands reverently over every part of her body, cleaning and roaming. He seemed to enjoy his role as her husband, his “mate,” as he called her. The whole thing was too strange.

How could she resist? Resistance was futile when it came to this man. His wet hair fell straight down his back in shiny waves of dark amber. Water cut across all of his dips and planes. The perfect definition at his hips was particularly mesmerizing, as was his cock with those amazing ridges that when inside of her felt like a vibrator specially crafted for her pleasure. It was hard again and begging for her attention.

On the slave ship, he’d touched her, deciding on the spot that she was his. From his first touch she’d been consumed with raging hormones like nothing she’d ever experienced. As a matter of fact, she could fuck him again. Climb on top of him right now. Which was kinda pathetic, and scary, too.

She’d never felt like this about any man. Not for the boyfriend who’d torn her heart out freshman year at college when she’d caught him cheating on her with her BFF. And also not for Roberto, the high school boyfriend she’d given her virginity to in the back of his truck, only to later realize she was part of his rotating harem of girlfriends.

None of these other boys were as remotely sexy as this giant male in the shower.

When Joyzal was done washing her, he turned on an air blower that instantly dried them both. It was a weird rush of wind like a whole-body blow dryer. Joyzal grinned at the shocked expression on her face as the air had blasted them both. One moment they’d been wet, and the next they were dry, no towels needed. Jacole was pleased with the results because strangely, when she looked into the mirror, her short hair was placed in perfectly arranged, gleaming curls and looked a little more Xylan.

Joyzal left her alone in the restroom so she could use the toilet. She giggled at all the buttons it had. Heated seat or gentle massage? She choose the heated seat and for air freshener to waft up during use. It was all pretty darn cool. She could get used to this. Afterwards, she stepped out of the restroom, naked as the day she was born, and Joyzal immediately handed her some clothes.

“This is all I have for you to wear at the moment. This ship has a clothing manufacturing device, but it is basic. I will purchase more for you when we return to Zamarilla,” he said before he walked into the restroom. She stood there alone for a minute, still awestruck by the vision of Joyzal’s beefy ass as he’d walked away and shut the door behind him. Because, wow, that image was a poster she could objectify every damn day.

She shook her head and reoriented on the here and now and checked out the clothes he’d given her. She unfolded a large blue tunic with a V neck and a pair of black billowy pants. She put them both on. The shirt went down almost to mid-thigh, and the pants were a bit long, but not bad. She liked how the pants were so light and silky. The top was substantial but still felt very soft, she didn’t have a bra and she was worried her girls were a little too “out there.” Oh well, what could she do about it? Nothing. She stepped into the pair of light boots that came with the outfit. Normally, shoe fitting consisted of her trying to shove her large feet into tiny shoes, feeling like Cinderella’s evil stepsisters, but these shoes fit perfectly.

Joyzal walked back in. “Do the clothes fit?”

“Yes,” she answered, grateful yet again to be clean and clothed properly after her ordeal on the slave ship. She’d never take a warm bed, shower, and a toilet for granted ever again.

A pleasant chime sounded throughout the ship. Jacole turned her head. “What is that?”

“There is an incoming vid message for Joyzal of Six,” the computer intoned. “From Melachine of Eighteen”

“Who?” Jacole asked.

Joyzal shook his head, and a rueful smile formed on his lips. “It’s my mother. She suffers from chronic bad timing.”

“What?” she sputtered. Jacole hadn’t imagined this badass warrior would have something so mundane happening in his life as taking calls from his mother. “Your mother is calling you? Are you kidding me?”

“No, I am not kidding you. And why would I make light of this situation? Also, Xylans do not lie,” he continued. “We are honorable. Other species tell untruths. Xylans always tell the truth, no matter the outcome. Truth is first in honor. Computer, tell Melachine that I will answer her call in a quarter rotation.”

“Confirmed.”

“Why is your mother calling you? Aren’t you supposed to be on a mission? And wait, I thought you said you were an orphan.”

“She is my adoptive mother,” he answered as he opened a drawer and took out a tunic and pants for himself. Both were black and similar to what she was wearing. “When I last spoke to Melachine, she was trying to set up mating compatibility with the youngest daughter of an esteemed line on Chronos. I told her no, and she was disappointed. She is calling from our home on Zamarilla—the home you and I will share.”

She froze. “You live with your mother?” Oh dear God, had she mated with the alien equivalent of a guy who was living in his mom’s basement?

“Yes,” he said as he pulled the tunic over his head, covering his magnificent chest. She did her best to ignore the gorgeous penis that was resting against his thighs. “All Xylans live in the same compound as their extended line. This is common. Is it not the same on your planet?”

She thought about it. “Well, yeah, I think a lot of people actually do live that way, with extended family. But a lot of people don’t. I lived alone.”

He nodded and pulled on his pants, covering that lovely ridged cock, a total eclipse of the sun. She forced herself to lift her chin and meet his gaze. “I also lived alone for many rotations,” he answered. “But I find it preferable to live with family.”

She stepped forward, put her hand on his forearm and gripped tightly. Her lips formed a thin line. “Wait. Do you want me in here while you talk to her? Do you want her to see me? How will she feel about this if she was trying to set you up with someone else?”

Joyzal chuckled and bent down to put on his own boots. “When Melachine finds out that you are my Bride, she will be the happiest of females.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” He stood up straight. “Follow me. We will speak to her on the bridge.”

Joyzal placed his palm on a square panel on the wall and the door to his room swished open. He escorted her out with a hand on the small of her back. As they walked down the hall, he reached down and enveloped her small hand with his big, rough claws. Warmth for this man heated within her chest. It wasn’t fair that he was so wonderful and yet in the end unattainable. She had to admit this was a man who she wished there was no end date for. But he was temporary. All men were. She needed to never forget that simple rule. It was the only way to save her heart.

Her mind flashed back to the shower they had taken together and the incredible sex. The emotions glowing in his eyes when his coarse shaft had pounded into her…

The door to the bridge swooshed open. A cool breeze brushed against her hot cheeks. She did her best to ignore the warmth that seemed to continuously flare between her thighs whenever she thought of her time with Joyzal. She was about to meet his mother. This was getting serious. And she didn’t know how she felt about that.

“Computer, turn on the vid screen,” he ordered. “We are ready to accept.”

A screen blinked on the wall next to them. An elegant Xylan female appeared before them, darker skinned than Joyzal and, in fact, darker than Jacole. Her skin glowed with a luminous sheen. Her hair was swept off her face and formed dark, gold-tinted, shiny rows over her shoulders. She was dressed in a blue blouse with extra fabric that crossed over her chest. There were creases around her eyes and gray near her temples. She had the same serious-looking ridges on her forehead as Joyzal, and when she lifted her hands Jacole saw the Xylan four claw-tipped fingers, except Melachine’s claws were painted the same color as her shirt.

Classy.

Joyzal stood directly in front of the vid screen, blocking his mother’s view of her as he spoke. “Good morning, Melachine.”

“Joyzal.” She nodded. “I know you said we would discuss this further upon your return, but—”

Their voices faded away. Jacole looked down at her own clothes. After seeing the way Melachine was put together, she couldn’t help feeling she wasn’t exactly dressed to meet her future mother-in-law. Even if she had zero trust in this relationship, this woman would still be a major player in her life for the foreseeable future. She needed to build a new life with these people and here she was, in clothes that were too big and looked like loungewear, no make-up, and no jewelry. Damn. She really wanted to make a good impression.

Joyzal stepped aside. Jacole looked up. “Mother, this is Jacole of One. She is my Bride.” Her heart warmed at the pride for her she heard in his voice.

She met Melachine’s gaze and smiled. “Actually, I’m named after my great-grandmother. She was the first Jacole. I’m the second.”

Joyzal grinned. “Mother, I reintroduce you to my Bride, Jacole of Two.”

“Your Bride?” his mother gasped. Her eyes were wide as they scanned up and down, examining every inch of Jacole. Her clawed hands went to the sides of her cheeks for a moment. She was practically bouncing with happiness. “Oh, she’s beautiful. Joyzal, your Bride is perfection. Your line will be strong. But…how…? Joyzal, where did you find a female of royal pigment to test for mating compatibility? You were on a mission. This is impossible…” she sputtered.

“She is human,” he answered patiently. “She’s not Xylan. If you look closely, you’ll see she is lacking ridges and claws. There was no need for her to be offered by her line. She doesn’t have a line on Chronos.”

“Human? What is that?”

“I’m an Earthling,” Jacole interrupted, hoping she could help to explain better. “I live, well, lived on the planet Earth until I was kidnapped by alien space pirates.”

“She was on the ship when I recovered my last target,” Joyzal confirmed.

“You rescued her? Is that why your hair is shorn? Is that because of your captivity, or do humans choose to do that to their hair?”

Jacole touched her short hair. “Um, I chose to do that.”

“Can it grow back if left alone?”

“Yes, it can.”

“Good.” Melachine smiled brightly. She looked toward Joyzal. “So you saw her and offered to put her honor before yours, of course.”

“Of course,” Joyzal answered, sounding annoyed she’d even asked. “I kneeled before her and spoke the appropriate offering as was expected of a warrior, and…she offered me her hand.” There was clear pride in his voice. He turned and met Jacole’s gaze, his eyes turning dark with passion. Her stomach swooped. Dear God, this man was hot. She was putty in his hands.

Melachine gasped again and looked back at Jacole, her hand at her neck, her eyes wet. “You did? You offered my son your hand for mating compatibility?”

“Yes…” Jacole answered. Shit, this offering of the hand thing had been big-time, hadn’t it? She’d had no idea when she put her hand out to help him up it had actually been a whole huge thing in Xylan mating rituals. She really needed to learn Xylan etiquette, fast. At this rate of failure, she’d be accidentally starting wars before she knew it. “To be truthful, because I’m human I had no idea when I offered him my hand that I was doing this testing for mating compatibility thing. I thought I was being nice and helping him off the floor. It is a human custom to offer a helping hand. It had nothing to do with mating.”

Melachine looked both confused and worried. “Joyzal, what does this mean?”

“She’s human. They do not mate like Xylans do. They can have many mates in one lifetime,” Joyzal growled, clearly angry at this thought.

“What? More than one mate?”

Oh fuck, not this again. “Humans marry. We can commit and have only one mate. But if the mate dies, or the mating turns wrong, we can have another mate. Also, we can test out many mates, um, before finding the right one.”

Melachine was quiet, her mouth open. Jacole had managed to shock her possible future mother-in-law. Great.

“Listen, it all worked out in the end though. I don’t mind that I’m here with Joyzal,” she told the both of them. “I’m happy that we’re spending time together and testing this mating thing.” How did she put this nicely in front of his mother and not admit they were busy having ferocious jungle sex that would make the ladies at Cosmopolitan magazine blush? And that she loved every goddamn minute of time she’d spent with this woman’s son? “We’re getting to know each other.”

Melachine narrowed her eyes. “Is my son Joyzal your one true mate?”

Shit, shit, shit! Now she was being put on the spot. Jacole looked at Joyzal and then back at his mother. Both were staring at her, waiting for her answer. She swallowed. Yes, she could lie. That would be the easy thing to do in this situation, tell them what they both wanted to hear. But she wasn’t a liar, and she wouldn’t start now. She’d always been a big believer in telling the unvarnished truth in any situation. She felt she owed that to people. Honesty always came first, no matter how painful. She took a deep breath and admitted the fear that was darkening her heart. “I don’t know. Like I said, I’m happy to be here with Joyzal. I’m happy we’re spending time together. I don’t want that to stop. I’m just—” she forced herself to speak the truth, “—not sure if it’s forever.”

Joyzal stiffened. Pain flashed in his eyes.

She felt like crap. “We’ve only just met,” she answered softly.

Melachine whimpered. “Not sure?”

Joyzal strode toward the screen. “Mother, we will talk again later.”

“Joyzal, you must do your best to convince her—”

“I will,” he said, cutting her off with a swipe of his hand on the red circle next to the screen.

He strode forward with a determined look on his hard face. Oh hell. Jacole shuffled back a few steps and connected with the unforgiving wall of the bridge. Her seven-foot-tall, badass alien Bounty Hunter husband pressed his body fully against hers and planted his palms on the wall on either side of her head. Holy shit, he was imposing. Her heart beat furiously, like it was about to tear out of her chest, her breath rapid and shallow. He bent forward, his nose almost touching hers.

She was able to look deep into his furious eyes as he spoke.

“Our mating is real. I have claimed you. You accepted my claim.”

She clenched her jaw. He was big, bad, and scary, but this didn’t mean he was in charge. No one was in charge of Jacole, except Jacole. “We’re dating, Joyzal. Dating. That’s what humans on Earth do when they first get to know each other.”

“We are not dating,” he spat, pronouncing it like dah-ting. “You accepted my claim when you chose to run. I set up our mating in the old way, on the holo-deck. You are my Bride.”

Holy shit, why hadn’t she asked about that? Where was her mind? They’d been running in a forest. Where did she think the forest had come from and why were they there? And then she’d woken up in his bed, just accepting that they weren’t in a forest any longer and were instead on his spaceship. Like that was a freaking everyday occurrence. This man was causing her to lose her mind. Her will was slipping away, and she was just trusting in him. She didn’t even know him. “What does it matter if I ran?”

“I repeated the words to you, the words of a Xylan mating ceremony, and told you to run, and then you chose to run. I chased you and caught you and—”

“That was a marriage ceremony? When I ran and you threw me to the ground and we made love, and you think that was our wedding?”

“Yes.” He looked at her intensely. “Jacole, you are my Bride. I have planted my seed in your womb. You carry my offspring. Last night we not only performed our mating ceremony, we also created the start of our line.”

She sucked in a breath. “What?”

“We mated instantly because the rush of mating hormones was too intense. When a warrior and his Bride test for mating compatibility and find themselves a match, they do not always instantly mate. Usually they can wait at least a few days, even a week or a moon cycle, to join in order to have time to organize their mating banquet. But in cases like ours, where the female is in her breeding cycle, the rush is too strong to deny, and the couple is allowed to mate immediately.”

She blinked. “I’m pregnant?”

“Yes, you carry our offspring, the start of our line. This is why my mother was troubled when you said you weren’t sure of forever. She understood that because we’d mated immediately, that means you were in your cycle.”

“She thinks I’m pregnant?” Jacole squeaked.

“She knows you’re pregnant.” He frowned. “As I know.”

She placed a hand over her lower stomach. “How can you know that? We had sex for the first time yesterday. Maybe it didn’t work. I thought having unprotected sex with you was okay because we weren’t even the same species, so I couldn’t get pregnant.” She turned her face away from his.

“Jacole…?”

“I can’t believe this.”

“It is the truth. You are carrying the start of our line.” He placed a hand over hers on her lower stomach and dropped his forehead to touch hers.

She was upset and stunned. No, shocked. Shocked to discover that she’d performed a marriage ceremony out there in that fake forest he’d created and that she was pregnant with his baby. But standing there, with him pressed close as he told her this news, with his hand and his head touching hers… That warmth that always seemed present when he was near spread across her chest again. Damn him.

“I’m…I’m just trying to wrap my brain around all of this.” She held on to the fabric of his shirt with both hands, holding on for dear life because she needed something with which to brace herself against the chaos of her new reality. Her life was spinning out of control since the moment the aliens kidnapped her, and it continued to escalate on a daily basis. “Not long ago I was at home, getting packed for training school at Quantico. And the next morning I wake up in a cage on a spaceship about to be sold off as a sex slave, and now I have an alien Bounty Hunter husband who is telling me I’m pregnant with his child. It’s a bit much.”

“You are not pleased?”

Was she? She’d actually been one of those women who didn’t plan out a future that included a husband and kids. Kids weren’t her thing, and she’d never seen herself as mother material. And with her mistrust of men, well, she figured that wasn’t her path. She’d decided to give her all to her career instead. And she’d been very happy with that decision.

She met his gaze. Joyzal stared at her with equal measures of fear and anger. Well, to be truthful, that was exactly how she felt, too. He’d taken her choice away. Maybe this was hot right now, but in a few months they could find out they weren’t right for each other at all, that they drove each other crazy, but then it would be too late. He would wish for a different mate, wish he’d never met her. She’d be stuck with him because she was carrying his baby and they were married, and to top it off she’d be living with him on a whole other freaking planet with no way to leave him, so there went her choice. Any choice. Ever.

He cupped her cheek with his claws. His lips brushed against hers. Oh, crap, that wasn’t fair. He was playing dirty. She was a complete sucker for his touch, his lips, his giant body pressed against hers making her feel small and delicate

“You’re human,” he said, almost as if he were reminding himself and not her.

“Yes, I’m human, so I don’t know how I feel,” she answered. “This whole Bride-I’m-pregnant-mating thing is completely new to me. I need time. Please, just give me time to process all of this, and then ask me about forever again. Just not right now.”

And then her stomach growled.

He nodded and let go of her, taking a step back. “I will give you time. You need to eat more than normal because you carry our offspring.” He took her hand. “Come, I will feed you.”

“Here, have some Tyaq. It will help.” He handed her a steaming mug of something that smelled like Starbucks during morning rush hour. She smiled at him with gratitude and took a sip.

“Damn, that’s some good stuff.” Her stomach growled again. After a week of living off of one meal replacement bar per day, she had to admit she was starving for some real food.

He winked at her and turned back to the food dispenser.

Winked. Joyzal of Six, badass Xylan warrior and number one Bounty Hunter in the four sectors winked at her. She remembered right then that he was as new to all this relationship stuff as she was. He’d said he’d been a virgin. He’d never kissed anyone but her. He’d never been on a date, never tried to make things work out with someone before. He didn’t know crap about all of this either and was just stumbling forward, trying to do his best. And Christ, his best was a thousand times better than her half-assed efforts.

He was washing her, giving her mind-blowing orgasms and already introducing her to his mother.

And in return she’d told him she wasn’t sure about their future.

Fuck.

But on the other hand, he’d knocked her up in order to keep her tied to him, hadn’t he? Oh hell, being kidnapped and not able to return to Earth and having to marry and live with aliens was fucking confusing.

Joyzal was busy getting breakfast ready. There was a machine that looked like a large microwave built into the wall of his quarters. He’d said it was a food dispenser and that it would make any food they wished, although it only made Xylan food, which totally sucked because she could really go for an egg-white frittata with spinach and tomatoes and some feta sprinkled on top.

“I’m starved,” she admitted. “The pirates don’t feed their prisoners well.”

His back stiffened. He turned around. “The captain is still in lockdown stasis. I can waken him and challenge him to an honor battle.”

She thought about that for a minute. “Nah, you need to turn him in. The ass-kicking you delivered on the ship was good for me.”

He nodded and lifted his chin toward the small table in his quarters. He slid two trays of food on the surface and then sat at the nearest chair. She was about to walk to the other chair when two hands wrapped on her waist and lifted her, light as a feather, onto his lap. She let out a squeak. Never in her life had she sat in a man’s lap before. She was six feet tall. She could crush small men. His head was above her, and his arms wrapped around her sides. She rested back against his buffed-out chest, delighted in this new situation.

He fed her, tearing off chunks of meat and offering them to her with his fingers. She opened her mouth, allowing him to put the mystery meat in her mouth. It melted on her tongue like the choicest piece of filet mignon. She sighed with relief.

“There are things you need to know about me,” she informed him between bites. “Things you should’ve asked before you knocked me up and got yourself stuck with the wrong mate.”

His ridges went up. “Xylan matings are never wrong.”

“Never?” she asked skeptically.

He paused. “They are rarely wrong. Most matings are happy couplings that last the life span of each person. If one dies, the mate that survives shuts down again and has no urge to mate with another. The survivor mourns the passing of their mate and returns to the existence they’d had before the mating.”

He put a piece of purple fruit in her mouth, cutting off her answer. “You do not have to worry. Our mating is correct. We will be right for each other. We fit together correctly.”

She looked up at him. “Listen, you need to know this, I don’t have many friends. Just some acquaintances and co-workers. I know people find me…intense.” He watched her, quiet, waiting for her to continue, so she did. “I’m always that person who goes too far. The one who does whatever is necessary to finish what I’ve committed myself to. And I do it the right way, whatever it is. I don’t lie, and I’m blunt. I don’t mind ordering people around when I feel others aren’t moving quick enough. Not everyone can handle all of this.” She waved a hand up and down, gesturing to herself. “And I’m sure as hell not changing.”

His ridges moved up as if he were crooking an eyebrow. “I do not require you to change. I enjoy you the way you are.”

“You say that now. Just you wait. Eventually you’ll want someone else. They all do.”

A growl rumbled in his chest as he fed her another piece of meat. She was starting to get full, which was a nice feeling after starving for a week in that cell.

He leaned back in his chair, both hands resting at her waist. “I also have few friends. Others dislike me because I insist on being first in everything. If I’m going to work for something, I work harder than any other warrior has ever worked. While others are sleeping, I work. When other warriors eat or mate with their Brides. I am working. Rayzor says I take the Xylan warrior ethic of competition to the extreme.”

“Rayzor?”

“He is my best friend.”

“You have a best friend? That’s better than me. I don’t have one anymore. I’ve never had a true best friend.”

“I am your new best friend.”

Oh hell, she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “Okay, but don’t say later I didn’t warn you.”

“Are you angry that you are no longer living on Earth?” he suddenly asked.

Surprised at the question, she paused. “Well…I suppose I’m not as angry as I could be. That’s because you weren’t the one who kidnapped me from my home world. The space pirates did that. You’re the guy who rescued us from the evil aliens and then paused to ask me if I needed help and realized I was your Bride. So in my eyes that makes you a hero. And even before you told me it was law, I’d figured already you couldn’t really return me to Earth, that I’d already seen too much. How could I just go back to my old life and forget everything I’d seen and learned here? But what does make me sad is I’m sure I’ve already been tagged as missing and most likely dead back on Earth and they’re freaking out searching for me. It upsets me, thinking of co-workers and extended family who are scared for me. I wish I could get a message to them that I’m fine…but, yeah there’s no way I can return now.”

In fact, she was very upset at the thought of everyone back home thinking she was dead and having to go through a funeral. At least she didn’t have much family. She’d never known her mom, who’d died of a drug overdose, and no one, not even her own mother, had known who her biological father was. Luckily for Jacole, her grandmother had stepped up to the plate and raised her.

She’d been prepared to throw her life, her skills, her passion, her everything into her future with the FBI and make that her family, her reason for living. But now that whole life was gone and she was suddenly married to an alien and expected to be a stay-at-home mom. Cold fear raced through her veins. Jacole knew a lot about law enforcement; she’d taken her role as someone who had vowed to keep others safe very seriously, but she knew jack shit about raising kids, cooking, cleaning or…relationships.

“I’m just warning you, I’m a terrible girlfriend, and I don’t trust men. I can’t cook, clean, or make anything cute. My hobby back on Earth was target practice at the shooting range and jogging or exercising at the gym. That should tell you a lot right there. And I don’t know one thing about kids. I’ve never changed a diaper in my life. Babies are a complete mystery to me, and in fact they’re kinda scary.”

He lifted a claw and ran his hand down her arm. His eyes glowed with emotions she was afraid to identify. “I am a Bounty Hunter. I also know nothing about offspring. I have never had a mate. My only close relationships are with my mother and Rayzor of Twelve. You and I will both learn how to be proper mates for each other together.”

“Are you afraid we’ll be bad parents?”

“I am happy to have the chance to try to be a parent to my offspring. We will learn how to raise offspring together. I will help you. And most importantly, Melachine will be there to help the both of us.”

Jacole laughed. They’d have backup. This was definitely a good thing. She looked down at his tray of untouched food. “Can I feed you now?”

He smiled. “Of course.”

Chapter Six

Joyzal watched his Bride as she went through his travel Cabul, the cabinet that held the ceremonial weapons all Xylan used in their daily lives. She touched each weapon with confidence. His human Bride was fierce, smart, and inquisitive. He could imagine her claiming her own personal blade, doing honor battles with other Xylan females and winning. Pride for his mate burned in his chest.

He showed her the invisible blade, to be kept secret until the time of stealth, the bone crusher, and the eye popper.

“How does this work?” she asked. He grinned and showed her how to wrap her fingers with the extra appendage into the gleaming curved handle of the Gansal, the blade used to slice the head off menan beasts during the winter festival.

She lifted the Gansal, showing him her correct hold. He smiled and nodded his satisfaction at her skills, his heart heavy.

Having her with him felt real; it was natural as his breath. With her at his side, he foresaw a future filled with love and honor.

But his Bride didn’t know if this was forever.

She was his. This female carried his offspring, the start of his line, in her womb. She seemed to understand that she wasn’t ever going back to Earth. If only he could discover how to teach her to believe in his loyalty and ensure her happiness, he would be gold.

After their tour of his travel Cabul, Joyzal walked his Bride back to the bridge. He immediately went to the screen on the wall where he constantly monitored his position on the Leaderboards. Jacole stood next to him. He scanned the lists, seeing which hunters had bid for which missions and where they were in reaching retrieval status. He saw that a new Bounty Hunter was rocketing up the positions but still had not achieved the level Joyzal enjoyed. He still held the number one position with a comfortable lead. He growled his pleasure.

“Why do you care so much about your status on the Leaderboards?” his Bride asked from behind him.

He whipped around. “Number one status is everything.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I always strive to be best. I am not competing for second place.”

She nodded. “I get it. I’m pretty competitive myself. I do everything one hundred percent. Go big or go home.”

He snorted. Go big or go home. He liked that.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

He nodded.

“When you’re finished with this mission, are we going back to your home?”

“Yes, we will go to Zamarilla. You will enjoy it there. I have a house at the top of a housing structure overlooking the beach. Zamarilla is a planet in the third sector that is full of jungles and mountain peaks and ocean. There is only one large city on the whole planet, and we live there. The population is mixed species, not all Xylan. The weather is mild. It is very different from Chronos, the planet where the majority of Xylans live. ”

“Sounds great,” she muttered.

He gave her a sharp glance.

“I will live there with Melachine and wait for you to come home while you will still work as a Bounty Hunter?”

“Yes,” he answered, and watched as she frowned and drifted away, busying herself with looking at the equipment on the bridge. He could sense she was upset but had no idea what was wrong.

He strode over to check on their progress on their return path to Zamarilla. Soon they would be in position to receive the transmission code to teleport THX309 and finalize this mission.

“Do you need to fix something?” she asked.

“No.” He stiffened, his hand gripping the console. He disliked it when anyone questioned the condition of his equipment. He would never leave on a mission without making sure everything was in position. “I have already run a diagnostic, and all systems are optimal.” He gestured for her to come closer so he could show her the rows of green lights, letting her know all systems were in perfect working order. “I do not fix things on this ship. That would be a waste of my time. My ship is new. The last thing I need on a mission is for my ship to break down. It’s not the fastest, nor does it have all the comforts you might be used to, but it has the latest in Xylan technology and is in perfect working condition.”

“I like that. Good business plan, Joyzal.”

He grunted. “Some of my peers prize speed over all else, or fire power. I prefer a ship that works.”

“I understand where you’re coming from. Back on Earth I had a ground vehicle I drove that took me from place to place. I got tired of the cars I had when I first started driving, the ones that might have been fast or cool but would break down constantly. I ended up leasing cars, trading them in every two years. That way I was always driving a new car with all the latest bells and whistles.”

“I plan on trading this ship for the newest model next planet rotation.”

She smiled and lifted her arm, palm first. Then she paused and dropped her hand. She looked away. He was stung with disappointment. His Bride had been about to join her hand with his, some type of human bonding gesture, and then had closed herself off again. He did not know how to convince her of his caring. She was his heart and his life. How did she not understand this? “I do not need to fix the ship, but I do need to contact the Hunter Guild and send a mission log. While I do that you can make yourself familiar with the ship,” he said. “This ship is yours now. What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine. We are one line.” He waved the tool in his hand around in a small circle. “Take some time to walk around and explore while I finish here.”

Joyzal was offering to let her roam the ship all by herself?

Actually, a little alone time would probably do her some good. She needed time to cool off and think about her future among the Xylan. Never in her life had she felt so much fear and desire for a man. She literally didn’t know what to do with it, or him. “You don’t mind if I open drawers and look inside?”

He’d already turned back to the console, focused on his work. On the bridge of his ship, Joyzal stood tall and confident. His chest broad, his legs firmly planted, and his feet in a wide stance. Just watching him like that, dominant and in control, made her hot and bothered. Thinking of what he could do with his sinful mouth and his big hands and his large, gorgeous cock… And yet he was always thinking of her needs and wishes, doing his best to take care of her and show her that she was his, in every way possible. Her chest tightened in a way she’d never felt before.

“No,” he gruffly replied over his shoulder. “I have no secrets from my Bride.”

Hmm… Well, okay then.

This was unusual. Men didn’t usually encourage her to riffle through their underwear drawer or go through their medicine cabinet. They usually were hiding something from her, a side of themselves, a way to keep things shallow. But this alien was giving her the keys to the kingdom, yet again proving to her he was unlike any man she’d ever met.

So she left him so he could get stuff done and went on a self tour, eager to get to know her new surroundings and to find anything to help her understand this man who was now her mate. She walked out of the bridge and looked to her left and then to the right, deciding which way to go first. The ship was indeed very new. It almost had a new car smell. Everything looked shiny clean, unlike the dark, shabby interior of the space pirate ship. There, the walls and floors were marked and scuffed. Here, the interior gleamed.

She realized she was able to read the signs. There was a map of the ship posted on the wall. She studied it and then continued with her plan to snoop, more confident of her location within each section of the ship. She passed the cargo bay, which was easily one fourth the size of the one on the pirate ship. She placed her hand on the pad to the right side of the door. It swished open. Good. The ship knew to accept her commands. It made her feel comfortable, like she really was welcome and that nothing was a secret or hidden.

In the cargo bay was Joyzal’s target, the captain of the pirate ship. His eyes were closed and he was held upright in a metal case that had a window to see his face. She’d only seen him that one time when he came to announce they would all be sold to the Hurlians, and mainly she’d just heard his voice during announcements. She knew Joyzal was going to turn the captain over to the Hunter Guild so that he could be brought to justice. Hopefully they’d throw him in the worst prison in the universe for the rest of his life.

She flipped him off. “Good riddance, asshole.” Then she turned on her heel and left.

Farther down the main hallway was the medical bay. She paused in front of the door, curious as hell. She had to check it out. The door swooshed open, and she stepped inside. Holy mother of God. It was small but mighty. There was a lounge chair that she could tell was the main examination and work area. It could only hold one patient at a time, but there were cabinets all over the walls that she was sure held equipment and supplies that would shock the hell outta her, but really, there weren’t as many medicines and tools as she would’ve thought. Mainly it was a chair and a wand. This must have been where Joyzal had taken her when she first arrived, to take away the effects of her time with the space pirates. She imagined him carrying her in here, dirty and exhausted, placing her on the chair and ordering the computer to care for her.

She walked in and touched the chair. Should she use it? Joyzal had said she was pregnant. Now was her chance to check if it was true. Not that she thought he was lying to her, but seeing it confirmed by the computer would sure make it real. She sat down on the chair, scared for a moment when it automatically reclined and equipment moved over her. She almost bolted out of the chair but forced herself to stay still.

“What procedure do you require?” The computer spoke to her in English. It was refreshing to hear her own language without needing the translator. She could get used to this technology quick.

She wasn’t sure exactly what to say, so finally, it just seemed okay to wing it. “Computer, perform diagnostic on Jacole of Two.”

“Confirmed.”

Thank God it worked. She leaned back into the chair, getting comfortable, placing her arms on the rests that were provided. The machines in the medical bay came to life and made a soft humming sound. Jacole tried to relax. It wasn’t painful, nothing was actually touching her. A wand ran over her body. The computer began to respond with a litany of information, most of which she already knew. It confirmed her blood type and her height and weight and rattled off a few other things about her medical history and then said, “Jacole of Two is pregnant.”

She exhaled and placed a hand on her lower stomach. Wow. It was true. “Computer, can you show a visual of my offspring?”

Immediately a three-dimensional ultrasound appeared before her. And there was her baby, not just a cluster of cells but already a tiny shape with an umbilical cord attached. She could hear the heart beating steadily.

Tears formed in her eyes. This was really happening. She was going to be a mother.

Her life had changed irrevocably.

The door to the medical bay swished open, and her new husband entered the room. “I told the computer to watch you, to let me know if you were in trouble or doing anything unusual,” he said.

She pointed at the screen. “That’s our baby.”

Joyzal glanced up. Jacole watched emotions play across his stern features. The ridges on his forehead were pronounced and kept his face less expressive that a human’s, but his eyes were mirrors into his soul. He walked over to stand next to her and took her hand in his. His Adam’s apple moved up and down as he watched his child for the first time. She squeezed his hand and stared at his profile, her heart heavy in her chest, wondering how in the hell she was going to be able to make this all work out in the end.

Chapter Seven

They only had a moment to take in the wondrous visual of their offspring before a proximity alarm blared throughout the ship. His Bride gasped with surprise.

“Come with me,” Joyzal shouted to her. She swung her legs over and stood up. He grabbed her hand. They ran down the hallway and reached the Bridge.

“Alert” the computer intoned. “A ship of unknown origin is approaching.”

“Show holo-map,” Joyzal ordered. He let go of his Bride’s hand as the map formed and grew in the space between them, showing their ship and another that was trailing behind in their direct path. He touched the image of the other ship, and it zoomed in and enlarged. He immediately recognized the insignia and designation.

Fucking pirates.

He threw back his head and roared out his anger, slamming his fist against the console. “When will they reach hailing range?” he snarled.

“Three minutes,” the computer answered.

“What is going on? Who is following us?” his Bride asked. She stepped around the map to stand closer to him.

“Krillian pirates. And where there is one, there will be many more.”

“Pirates?” Her jaw clenched and her eyes went hard. “Are these—?”

“Yes, these are the same pirates who stole you from your home world. They do not care about laws or the dignity of species and respect for women and children. I have their leader, Groogan Mar, on this ship. They must be here to retrieve him. I am surprised at their boldness. They will soon discover this is a mistake.”

“Alert. Long-range sensors detect one hundred ships,” the computer updated. “They are hailing.”

“Oh fuck,” his fierce Bride whispered.

Joyzal met her steady gaze. “We will stand together here on the Bridge so they can see that you are mine and that I am your champion.” He cupped her lovely, flat face with his claws and looked deep into her beautiful eyes. “I love you,” he proclaimed. “You are my beating heart. You and our offspring are the most important thing to me. I put your life before mine.”

He loved her? She stared at him with her jaw open because…no one, not even her grandmother who’d raised her, had ever said those words to her before. It hit her like a sledgehammer. She grabbed the edge of the console for support.

And she didn’t have a moment to process this or respond. A vid screen materialized before them, showing the image of a green alien dressed in the same ragtag clothes she’d seen the other pirates wear, like they’d stolen bits of military clothing and armor from soldiers and warriors all over the universe and didn’t care who knew.

“Bounty Hunter,” the green pirate snarled, “you will give us what we want or I have over one hundred ships with the firepower to blow you out of space.”

“You are too late. Groogan Mar has already been handed over to the Bounty Hunter Guild,” her husband answered. She glanced at him, impressed with his ability to lie so smoothly and on the fly.

“Groogan Mar?” The alien looked confused. Another alien leaned into the scene and whispered into the green pirate’s ear. He nodded and continued. “We do not care about Groogan Mar. He is dispensable. We are here for the human female.”

“What the fuck?” Jacole exclaimed. That was the last thing she expected to hear. Why would they send a one hundred ship armada just to retrieve her? That didn’t make one bit of sense. She turned and met her husband’s equally puzzled gaze.

Joyzal looked back at the pirate. “Why do you want my Bride?”

“Your Bride?” the pirate snorted. “Well, we want her anyway. She has been sold to a special Hurlian bidder who is willing to pay any price to have a human with royal pigment. We have intercepted the transport that was returning the other women we had also promised to the Hurlians. This human will make our sale complete. The human was the most valuable of all the women, the one who will make us the most money. We want her now. A transmission code has been sent. You will send the human female to this ship immediately or we will blast you from space. If we can’t have her, then we will kill you both and blame our lack of delivery on Bounty Hunter interference.”

“I am not giving up my Bride,” Joyzal stated.

“You have a quarter rotation to transport her to our ship or you will be blasted from space,” the pirate sneered. The screen went black.

Jacole took a deep breath, her mind made up. She knew what she had to do.

Her husband was already striding across the bridge, a man on a mission. “Joyzal?” He stopped and looked back at her. “I’m going with them,” she said.

His eyes blazed with anger. “You’re not.”

“I am. You and I both know there’s no other choice.”

“Jacole.” In two strides he was in front of her, gripping her shoulders. “You and my offspring are not leaving the safety of this ship.”

“It’s the only way. Don’t worry, I have a plan. I will only be with them for a short time and then I’ll be back. This is a way for all of us to come out of this safe and together. Trust me.”

A string of words flew out of his mouth that she supposed were Xylan curse words. He paused and stared at her, his nostrils flared.

She swallowed hard and forced a light tone into her voice and pasted on a fake smile. “You know what you can do for me while I’m gone? You can get me some Earth music. I’m never going to be able to make it on your world and in your life without my tunes. You hear me?”

“Earth music,” he repeated, confusion in his voice.

“Eighties music especially. My grandma listened to it all the time. She said it used to be my mom’s favorite, too. I love it.”

“Eighties music…” He trailed off.

“Some old LL Cool J. Beastie Boys. And Prince. Dear God, can’t get enough of Prince.”

“Jacole,” he growled.

“Computer,” she announced, cutting him off.

“How may I help you?” the computer asked in that perpetually cheerful voice.

She locked eyes with her mate as she spoke to the computer. “While I’m gone I want you to make sure Joyzal allows me to leave the ship and doesn’t follow me. Tranq him if you have to.”

Her husband snarled.

She held both of his clawed hands in her own. “Honey, I need you safe, waiting here, so I have something to fight to get back to. And I don’t need you to rescue me. I can take care of myself.”

His ridges went up an inch.

“I’m going in as a Trojan horse. It’ll be okay. I’ll be back. Now take me to the transporter room, quick before we run out of time.”

He didn’t know she had a plan. A risky plan, but a plan nonetheless.

And it would work.

It had to.

Chapter Eight

Exactly one hour later, Jacole found herself in basically the same position she’d been in before Joyzal had rescued her off the original pirate ship—locked up in a cage with Lizard Lady, in the exact same set-up as last time. Sadly, the space pirates had rounded up all the same women as before and put the prisoners back in their cages. Only the space ship was different, the cargo bay a little bit smaller. It was damn freaky how they’d managed to recreate the situation so exactly.

“So, how are we getting out of here this time?” Bird Lady asked from her cage next to theirs.

“I’m sure ‘royal pigment’ over here has a plan,” Lizard Lady quipped, pointing a claw at Jacole.

Jacole tried to hide her smile but couldn’t. She loved these women. And sweet baby Jesus, was it good to be able to understand every word they said. Too bad they kept meeting in bad situations. When this was all over she’d have these women over so they could formally introduce themselves, celebrate, and just hang out.

“As a matter of fact, I do have a plan,” Jacole answered. And thank God she did, because that would’ve been embarrassing if she hadn’t. She had her rep as a kickass human to maintain, after all.

She pulled a Xylan invisible blade and a tiny silver device out of her waistband. The pirates had found neither object when they’d patted her down.

Lizard Lady hissed with joy. “A Xylan detonator? You can blow this whole ship up, can’t you? Damn, humans are fierce. I need to meet more of your kind. Did your warrior give that to you?”

“I think he forgot I had it. He’d been showing me his Cabul earlier and arming me to the teeth, teaching me how everything worked. I think he forgot I still had these.”

“You are lucky to have a Xylan warrior as your mate,” Bird Lady sighed, and her eyelashes fluttered like she was talking about a movie star. “Xylans are feared because they mete out harsh punishment and have little patience for weaker species, but they have honor. And the reason why women all over the universe love Xylan males is because they never rape.”

“Never?” She hadn’t thought of that. But yeah, if Joyzal had said that Xylans only became sexually active when they meet their mate, then…

“It has never occurred. Xylans are physically unable to have sex with a being who is not their mate. For both male and female Xylan, their blood only runs hot for their mate. On their world and in their cities, there are areas where there is gambling and drinking and a black market for drugs and all the things that other cities have in their underworld, but there is no prostitution. None. They don’t even understand the concept. Because why would they? If you only physically respond to your mate, then there is no need for prostitutes. Because of this, the Xylans are highly respected. Especially by women.”

“Also, they’re big and, well…big.” Lizard Lady grinned.

“Nothing a woman couldn’t handle,” answered Bird Lady.

“Oh, please, I don’t want to hear it. I know about your planet,” answered Lizard Lady.

“What’s wrong with her planet?” Jacole asked.

“Nothing. She’s jealous. My planet is matriarchal, so the women are in charge and there are twice the amount of men as women. I am eager to return home because I was about to marry my two husbands and start a family.”

Jacole’s eyes widened. “Two husbands?” She tried to imagine trying to satisfy two Xylan warriors, and her mind short-circuited.

“Everyone has two husbands on my planet. It is normal. We have already tested compatibility—”

A small vid screen blinked into existence, cutting off Bird Lady’s story. “Jacole of Two? It is I, Melachine of Eighteen.”

What the fuck? “How were you able to do this?” Jacole hissed, looking furtively from side to side, scared out of her mind one of the pirates would show up and notice something as obvious as a vid cast on the wall.

Joyzal’s mother looked confused. “My dear, it was easy. These are only pirates after all. They aren’t Xylan.”

Well, she had a point. Jacole had noted that the other women in the cargo bay weren’t scared. The vibe was totally different this time. Everyone was fully clothed and looked fed and refreshed. None of the original pirates who had raped some of the women where here. They had all been killed by her husband, a thought that warmed her heart. This probably made the time penned in the cargo bay easier for the other women. But also, yeah, they all had almost a smug look on their faces. Like they were biding their time until they were outta there. They all definitely knew something she didn’t.

But still…“Easy? Melachine, there are hundreds of them on this ship. They have us. They’re taking us to their bidders. The other women and I have a plan, but we’re not sure if—”

Melachine rolled her eyes and snorted. “No, they’re not. And you do not need to worry about creating a plan to free yourselves. These pirates have a Xylan female of royal pigment on board their ship. No one harms a female Xylan of royal pigment.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Soon they will be space dust. Meanwhile, I need to speak to you about my son.”

Jacole’s mouth was open so wide she was sure she’d catch flies. “But…what? Joyzal? Why do we need to talk about Joyzal?” Her chest tightened. “Is he okay? Is something wrong?” Oh shit, maybe she shouldn’t have left him. She’d ended up having to order the computer to tranq him so she could get away because he’d refused to let her go. She felt bad for doing it, but it was the only way. If something happened to him in her absence, she’d never forgive herself.

“Just wait, all will be fixed. Joyzal is healthy and on his way, and the Imperial Fleet is not far behind. Now, can we talk about why I’m here? My son informed me you have trouble trusting him, that because you are human you don’t trust in the Xylan mating bond.”

Shock over this situation continued to roll in waves. “Wait, you’re here, talking to me while I’m in captivity on a pirate ship, just because you want to chitchat? You know you have a habit of showing up at the worst possible times, right?”

“So I’ve been told.” She smiled. “Now, answer my question. Is it true that you do not trust him?”

Jacole crossed her arms. “Yes, it’s true. But it has nothing to do with Joyzal. I’ve been burned so badly by men in my life, at this point I wouldn’t trust Jesus.”

“Who? Oh, never mind. I think I need to explain Xylan culture. I’m concerned my son didn’t do an effective job of this if you are worried about his fidelity.”

“Oh hell, I can’t talk to you about this, Melachine. The guards will be back any minute. This is crazy timing.” She glanced over and caught Lizard Lady’s mischievous gaze. Bitch. She was laughing at her. Jacole blew out a huff and continued. “This is hard for me. He does seem to be everything I’ve ever wanted. And because I’m pregnant, this whole subject is kinda moot, isn’t it? Of course I’m staying with him. But…”

“What worries you?”

“I don’t know if this is forever. I just don’t. How can I? We’ve only known each other for a day or two. And I don’t understand why this worries you or Joyzal. In the end it doesn’t matter what I think about that. I’m not leaving him. I’m here. Where else can I go?”

“What if you were given the option to go elsewhere? What if one day you found yourself able leave him? What if you took his offspring with you when you did?”

“Oh.” Melachine had a point. Suddenly Joyzal’s fears came through and hit her in the heart with stunning clarity.

“But I wouldn’t do that…” Or would she? If she was saying to him that this wasn’t forever, then what assurance did he have that she wouldn’t up and leave him and take his baby, too? “I mean, what the fuck,” she sputtered, suddenly feeling put on the spot. “I’ve never… Melachine, men don’t usually care about this shit. The men I knew would be overjoyed to hear I was down with being their temporary baby mama. And I’ve never had the mother of a guy I’m dating care enough to try and get to know me, to try and talk me into staying.”

Melachine looked confused. “I am the manager of my line. It is my duty to negotiate the satisfactory mating of my descendants. Joyzal is an orphan, as am I. My line is gone. I am alone. Without my mate or my offspring. Joyzal offered to become my champion and I am his manager. He is my adopted son. I will do whatever I can to see to the continuation of his line. Of our line. And isn’t it true that you are also an orphan?” she said gently.

Jacole took a deep breath, surprised at how that got to her. Her nose started to sting. “Yes, I am. I’m an orphan. My parents abandoned me, and my grandma raised me. Grandma Helen died last year.”

“Jacole, you are without a line. I would be honored to be your manager…your mother. You are Joyzal’s Bride. Therefore you have joined our line. But in order for this to work, you need to be able to assure my son that your bond is real. I need for you to look inside yourself and decide what you really want.”

Oh shit. This kind woman wanted to adopt her and make her part of the family. “Did Joyzal put you up to this?”

“He doesn’t know I’m here. He’d be very angry if he found out. He always thinks I meddle too much.” She smiled mischievously.

Jacole decided it was best to come clean with this woman. “Joyzal says he wants me, but what if a few years from now I annoy the hell outta him? What if he meets someone else he likes better? There are no assurances in life, Melachine. When I say I’m not sure about forever, I’m just trying to keep a loophole open for the both of us. For him. For that day when he wishes he could mate with someone else.”

“In the Xylan culture that day never comes. Did my son make it clear to you that a Xylan mating bond is physical?”

“He said that I am the only one for him. His first and his last. But Earth men say that, too…”

“No, this is different. You are his first and last. In fact, I fear for my son’s life. If you break the bond during the initial phase of mating, he will go insane and die. No one on Chronos will care about Joyzal’s wellbeing because he is Margol, but I will care.” Her voice broke. “I will care… He is an honorable warrior, a good Xylan. You would be lucky to have him as your mate.”

“What are you talking about? He would go insane if I left him right now? He never told me this…”

“He is focused on you, not on himself. This is the way of a Xylan warrior in initial mating.”

“Human,” Lizard Lady whispered. “The guards are entering the cargo bay. You two need to make this quick.”

“I am trying to talk you into staying not only because I care for him, but also because I think he would make you happy,” Melachine continued. “Joyzal will make an excellent champion for you. You cannot return to Earth. You know this. Now that you must live out your life in the four sectors, join our line. Accept this bond and see that it is your future.”

“What if Joyzal wants out of this?” she asked, determined to see this line of reasoning out to the bitter end.

“He will never want out. There is no need for an out. All Xylan lack sexual impulses until the moment they meet their mates. Their sexual feelings lie dormant. And once mates touch and bond, they can only physically have sex with their mate. Joyzal can only have sex with you. He will never feel lust for another. It does not exist in our species. Why then would he want to part from the one person in his life who he will mate with and share offspring with?”

Joyzal tried to tell her he was a virgin, but she hadn’t believed him. She hadn’t taken him seriously. He’d been so good with his hands, his lips… How could she have believed him? Damn, the man was a natural at sex. A phenom.

“He won’t ever cheat on me or want to divorce me?” It sounded like a fairy tale, so therefore too good to be true. Jacole had always known that deep down she was a woman of her word. If she ever took wedding vows, she damn well meant to keep them. She’d always planned on getting married only once in her life. She’d learned to view men as not being able to take those vows as seriously as she did. Men weren’t keepers. Women were strong and stayed, but when the going got tough, men got going. She’d never known her dad. Hell, her grandfather had left Grandma Helen for a woman down the street.

“I never thought I’d get married and have kids. I never thought I’d meet a man who could really make that commitment with me. A man I trusted to stay through thick and thin, to take that vow as seriously as I knew I would.”

“I think you are more Xylan than human,” Melachine laughed. “That is exactly how seriously all Xylans take mating vows. The mating bond is irrevocable. There is no leaving it.”

A blast rocked the ship.

Jacole gasped and turned her head to see the group of guards who’d recently entered the cargo bay now pulling out weapons and assuming defensive positions.

“Sounds like they’re here,” Melachine quipped.

“Who? Who is here?”

“The Xylan Military and the Bounty Hunter Union,” Melachine answered. “The space pirates signed their death warrant when they dared capture a Xylan female of royal pigment from her mate’s ship. And they took a high-level target away from the Bounty Hunters. I told you, they’re not very smart. Both the Xylans and the Bounty Hunters after them for retribution. Also, my son is here to bring you back.”

“But they didn’t take a high-level target away from the Bounty Hunters…”

Melachine winked. “My son is resourceful.”

There was smoke rolling into the cargo bay, very much like the purple haze used the last time her husband had done this. Melachine’s vid blinked out. Two large figures emerged from the vapor.

Lizard Lady had already managed to unlock their cage. Jacole stepped out and gawked at her husband, the number one Bounty Hunter in the four sectors.

Joyzal was there to rescue her? And he’d brought reinforcements. Standing next to him was another badass Xylan warrior. A man slightly shorter than Joyzal, with darker skin. It had to be his friend, Rayzor. Tears pricked her eyes. Joyzal was such a good man. But also an idiot. He could get killed, and dammit, she didn’t need his help.

Lizard Lady was unlocking the women from their cages again. Bird Lady was helping.

This was just like the last time her Bounty Hunter husband had saved them all, except this time he had back-up, and the two of them were kicking serious space pirate ass. There were many more pirates on this ship than last time, but it was obvious that Joyzal and Rayzor were an unbeatable team. They smeared pirate ass across the cargo bay. It was fabulous.

She’d sought cover with the other women in the corner, behind the cages, waiting for the fire fight to pass. When the last pirate had been mowed down her husband turned his head and pegged her with a furious gaze. Uh oh. He strode over, his blaster dangling from one claw, sweat dripping off the ridges of his forehead.

Lizard Lady chuckled from beside her and jabbed her in the side with an elbow. “Looks like you’re in trouble,” she hissed. “I’m happy it’s you and not me.”

He grabbed her hand and growled into her ear. “I will punish you later. Come with me, we are leaving.”

He dragged her away. She didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to her friends. The two warriors exchanged chin lifts and then they were striding out of the cargo bay and down a hall to an access tunnel with a ragged portal that had been blown out. She stepped over the debris and through the opening that was aligned with her husband’s ship. In a matter of steps she was no longer a prisoner and she was back where she’d started. It almost felt like being home. She took a deep breath and smiled. Well shit, she had to admit that was certainly easier than her own escape plan.

Chapter Nine

“Let’s get the fuck away from here,” the other Bounty Hunter immediately growled.

The two ships were joined together in order to create the opening they’d passed through. Joyzal’s friend pressed his hand over a device embedded in the wall and a force field of some sort shimmered over the opening they’d created in the side of the slave ship. It made Jacole happy to see that the ship they’d just left wouldn’t have a gaping hole. After all, her friends were still aboard the slaver until the Bounty Hunter Guild and the Xylan Imperial Fleet finished their rescue operation. The door to Joyzal’s ship slid closed with a heavy clang.

“Ships detached,” the computer confirmed.

Her husband began to stride toward the bridge. “Good now we will—”

“Incoming vid for Joyzal of Six from Melachine,” the computer interrupted.

“Oh fuck, she has the worst timing,” Joyzal snarled. He began striding faster, as if he were running away from something. “We need to get out of here, fast, before Rayzor is found on this ship by either the Imperial Fleet or the Bounty Hunter Guild.”

She smiled at the new guy. This was Joyzal’s best friend who’d arrived to help him out. That was cool.

He returned her gaze, eyed her up and down and gave Joyzal a sharp glance. “Your Bride is a female of royal pigment. How did this happen?”

“I rescued her from the space pirates. She’s human, the same as your Bride. Hold on, we’re going into slip drive,” he answered as he sat at the controls and touched a few buttons, and Jacole felt a tingling in her belly as the ship went into slip drive.

Rayzor looked over Joyzal’s shoulder, studying the control panel. He snorted. “If you had a faster ship, we could be ahead of the Imperial Fleet by now,” Rayzor remarked.

“At least I have a ship that works. It must feel odd to you, not having to stop every rotation to fix something.”

“This ship is so slow the Imperial Fleet will impound it as dead weight.”

“If you would shut your trap, I could concentrate and get on with it.”

Joyzal glared at Rayzor with a look so threatening, Jacole took a step back. Wow, she was seeing a side of her man she’d never seen before. The scary Xylan her new friends had told her about. No wonder other races feared the Xylan. They really were mean motherfuckers, weren’t they?

“If I came back I could take your number one place on the Leaderboard today.”

Jacole sucked in a breath. Jeez, that was harsh. She’d only known Joyzal for a short time, but even she knew that his status on the Leaderboard meant everything to him.

Joyzal roared. He threw himself forward like a Super Bowl linebacker and plowed into Rayzor. Their gigantic bodies smashed against the wall of the bridge. She couldn’t help the small squeak of surprise that flew out of her mouth. The space wasn’t that big, but she did her best to stand on the opposite corner, with a console in between her and the two raging brutes.

Rayzor snarled and grappled and it was on. The two warriors were going at it hand to hand, no holds barred, right in the middle of their escape from the Imperial Fleet and with an incoming message blinking. Apparently these two felt there was always time for a good fight. Jacole winced when Rayzor threw a punch into Joyzal’s midsection that she knew had to hurt like hell.

She could still hear the insistent chime of the incoming vid over the battle raging on the bridge, and the holo-map displayed the lights of the mass of the Imperial Fleet moving closer and closer. The chime sounded again. “Come on, you guys. Let’s not fight. We don’t have time—”

Rayzor gave a mighty heave and pushed Joyzal off of him. Her husband bounced against the adjacent wall, his back connecting with the blinking light for the incoming vid. “Oh shit,” Jacole whispered. “You guys, you guys, the video.” She tried to warn them, but they didn’t hear her, too caught up in their fight. The contact caused a large screen to blink to life, forming a picture of Melachine on the wall.

Oh great, Melachine was going to see the chaos on the bridge. Could this get any crazier?

The two men stumbled directly in front of the vid screen, so intent on their fight they were unaware of their new audience. Both were gulping in deep breaths, sweat beading on the ridges of their foreheads, their hair wild, cuts on their faces. Joyzal lifted his right fist to—

“Rayzor?” Melachine gasped. “Rayzor? My son, is that you?”

Jacole looked at Melachine’s image, startled. Her son? Why was she calling Rayzor her son? Joyzal was her son, not Rayzor. Both warriors froze mid-fight and turned their heads toward the screen. Everything suddenly became very, very quiet.

“Rayzor?” Melachine asked again, her voice choked with emotion. Tears rolled from her eyes. Her right hand reached out as if she could touch him.

“Mother?” Rayzor responded. He let go of Joyzal and stumbled closer to the screen. “Mother?” His voice cracked. “I have not heard your voice in ten planet rotations.”

Melachine was openly weeping.

“Oh my God,” Jacole whispered. Tears formed in her eyes. None of this made any sense. Wasn’t Melachine, Joyzal’s mother? These two weren’t brothers, were they? Joyzal would’ve told her if Rayzor was his brother.

“Mother…” Rayzor said again softly. He looked like a man who desperately wanted to reach out and grab his mother and smother her with all the hugs. “Mother,” he said louder as the urgency of their situation clearly dawned on him. “Mother, the Imperial Fleet is close. How…? Why are you here? Are you in need of assistance? Are you unwell?”

“I am well taken care of,” she sniffed, and lifted her chin toward Joyzal. “Joyzal is my champion. I am the manager of his line.”

Rayzor whipped around and stared slack-jawed at his friend. “You are my mother’s champion?”

Joyzal met Rayzor’s gaze and exhaled. He lifted a closed fist and tapped it against his chest. “Rayzor of Twelve, your mother has been taken care of with honor. She has been in this warrior’s charge for the last ten years, since the first day of her banishment. You have no cause to worry about her health or welfare.”

Jacole watched Rayzor’s jaw clench and the ridges on his brow grow deeper. He sucked in a final breath, visibly trying to gain control of his emotions.

She felt her own nose sting and tears prick her eyes. She bit her lip. For ten years—ten fucking years—her man had secretly taken on the role of caretaker for Melachine, Rayzor’s mother, not once telling Rayzor or Melachine about the other, keeping it secret for all this time for their own safety.

Suddenly her new life in the four sectors clicked into place like a puzzle. She could literally hear links snapping together. This part and that part, all that had been disparate—it sewed itself together into one large quilt of certainty.

Oh hell, fuck this “royal pigment” thing. Fuck her worries that Joyzal wasn’t a man who could do forever. In actuality, it had been her. She was the wimp who wasn’t ready for forever. This man was pure gold. She wasn’t worthy of him. She needed to snap him up, hold on tight, and never let him go. Her doubt cleared instantly like clouds after a storm. All that remained were clear skies on the horizon and sun shining sparkly and bright.

Joyzal was her mate, and she loved him more than she’d ever loved anyone or anything in her whole life.

Her heart grew three times its size that day. Just like the Grinch.

“Joyzal,” she whispered.

He tried to meet her gaze, but Rayzor approached and cupped his hand behind Joyzal’s neck. He brought Joyzal in for a man-hug, both of their foreheads tipped forward and touching. “I place your honor before mine,” Rayzor vowed to his friend. “If your line ever needs my assistance…”

“You have already done that for me,” Joyzal answered thickly. “You are here, helping me rescue my Bride.”

Rayzor nodded and stepped back. “Wherever, whenever you need me, I am by your side.” He straightened and pounded his chest with a closed fist. “We are brothers now. Your line is my line.”

Joyzal pounded his own chest, returning the gesture, and agreed, “Your line is my line.”

“Rayzor?” Melachine asked. “Have you started your line…?”

He turned toward her. “Yes. I have a mate. My Bride is also human. My line is complete. Rayzor of Thirteen arrived four moon cycles ago.”

She gave him a watery smile. “I am happy for you, my son.”

Her heart broke for Rayzor. For chrissake, he had a wife and a child, so that meant Melachine had a grandchild she’d never met. How heartbreaking. Jacole made a vow to herself that she would join Joyzal in this. She would help in any way she could. Not because it was a burden that must be dealt with, but out of love and caring. Joyzal was an orphan, and this was the family he’d created for himself. Well, she was also an orphan now. This would be her family, too.

“Kayzon?” Rayzor questioned, looking between both Melachine and Joyzal.

“I don’t know where your brother is,” Melachine answered. “I didn’t know until this moment that Joyzal has known you all this time. That you are friends…” She met Joyzal’s gaze. “Joyzal, do you know where Kayzon is?”

Joyzal shook his head. “No, I don’t. I know as much as Rayzor knows, that your son is also a Bounty Hunter, working on the opposite side of the four sectors. I have not seen him. Because your mate, Kroga of Seventy-Five was a traitor, the Xylan Government took a harsh stance and locked all information concerning your line. I was unable to find mention of their location in the database. I am sorry for your pain, Melachine. You know why I can never speak to you of your sons.”

“I know,” she agreed. “My eyes are greedy, taking in the sight of my beautiful offspring. I feel joy at the start of his line. I understand that after this moment I will order the computer to erase this message. There must be no trace. No contact. Joyzal will continue to tell me nothing, and he will tell you nothing. This is for the good of our line as a whole. This will keep us all safe and alive. If the Imperial Fleet or Council discovered our contact…”

“Yes, it would be a disaster. I agree with the necessity of this plan,” Rayzor responded.

“The Imperial Fleet will reach hailing distance in five minutes,” the computer reported.

“I love you, my son,” Melachine said. “I will cherish this time.”

“I love you,” Rayzor told her.

“Joyzal, remember, you are both my sons. I have always known you have the instinct of a warrior of old. Today my confidence in you was rewarded.”

The screen went black. The two warriors were quiet, their heads bowed.

“We have to find somewhere to hide Rayzor before the Imperial Army gets here,” Jacole reluctantly reminded them. “Remember, Rayzor shouldn’t be on this mission. You guys said he doesn’t have a Hunter license anymore…”

The two warriors blinked out of their inertia. Rayzor looked over at Joyzal and said casually, “I’ll take the transporter.”

Joyzal straightened. “That’ll work.”

The two warriors started walking to the door of the bridge. Joyzal moved close to her and guided her forward with one hand lightly touching her back. They all walked quietly together to the transporter room, which was lined up next to the medical bay and the holo-deck. It took mere seconds for Joyzal to tap in the code and for Rayzor to instantly disappear off the ship.

“I don’t even understand you two,” she told Joyzal. “All of that fighting and he could’ve just taken the transporter home?”

Joyzal shrugged. “Rayzor hates using the transporter. Always has. He thinks it’s a death trap.”

“Is it?”

Joyzal paused. “On older ships, yes. On my new ship? No.”

She stepped forward and slid both of her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his chest. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, and she could feel his chin resting on top of her head. She sighed with contentment.

“Let me get this straight,” she said. “You took on Rayzor’s mother as your mother for all these years, never telling either of them about the other in order to keep them both safe?”

“Yes.”

He was so fucking loyal he made George Washington look disloyal. She tightened her arms around his waist, trying to hug him harder. “What would have happened if the Imperial Fleet discovered them communicating?”

“Immediate execution, for both of them.”

“Oh.”

“And why were they Banished in the first place?”

“Because Rayzor’s father is a traitor to Xylan. His punishment was banishment of his line for two generations.”

“Rayzor and his brother and Melachine weren’t involved?”

“No, they were innocent.”

“That sucks. It’s terrible that they have to pay for what he did.”

“I agree.”

“Incoming message for Jacole of Two,” the computer interrupted.

Joyzal cursed. He let go and stepped gently out of her embrace.

“For me?” she asked. Because, really, who would be calling her? She didn’t know anyone out here in outer space. “Who is it?”

“A representative from the Imperial Xylan Fleet,” Joyzal muttered. “They’ve found us.”

“Why do they want to talk to me? Shouldn’t they want to talk to you? This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Oh, it makes perfect sense,” he answered, his jaws tight. He exhaled and stroked her arm. “This,” he said, gently pressing a claw into her skin for emphasis. “It’s about this. They are here because they know of your royal pigment. The Bounty Hunter Guild has had time to review the recording of my mission to extract THX309. By now they’ve noted that a female of royal pigment was aboard my ship. I made a notation in my log that I mated with one of the rescued females. They know that female is you.” He lifted his chin and spoke louder. “Computer, allow message. Play the vid here,” he ordered.

“Confirmed.”

The screen blinked to life.

Jacole couldn’t believe what she saw before her. This guy was amazing. A handsome, dark-skinned Xylan warrior appeared on the screen. He was darker than Melachine, darker than Rayzor. His skin had a shine to it that seemed to suck in and yet reflect the surrounding light. Even with her limited knowledge of Xylan and their customs, Jacole could tell this man was someone very important. His bearing was noble, his clothes screamed money. Who was this guy?

The man scanned Joyzal, looking him up and down and obviously finding her husband wanting. “Margol,” he sniffed.

Joyzal growled.

Jacole was annoyed at this disrespect toward her husband.

The warrior paused to meet her gaze with his own striking, hazel-colored eyes, highlighted with sparks of gold. “I am Zhoryan of Eighty-Two,” he told her with a small bow of his head. “I am the Imperial Warlord of Sector One. I place your honor before mine,” he intoned.

Oh hell. Even she knew what that meant. Jacole bit her lip. Joyzal grabbed the hilt of his blade. “Jacole of Two is my Bride,” he snarled. “She carries my offspring. You have no claim here. There is no need for you to make this offer.”

The warlord raised a brow, which lifted his carefully defined ridges with hints of silver in between. Christ, the man was amazing. She could study him all day.

The warlord glared at her husband. “A Margol has no business mating with a Xylan female of royal pigment,” he said to Joyzal. “This is a mistake that must be rectified immediately. You found her while on a mission. This is a loophole in the mating ritual that will be closed. She was not formally presented to you by the champion and manager of her line for mating compatibility. You know it is Xylan custom for lines to remain pure. I am here to take this female home to Chronos and reunite her with her line.”

The warlord directed his next words to her again. “Do not worry. The mating of a female of royal pigment to a Margol is not considered legally binding. You have the right to break your mating bond if you so choose and to terminate any resulting pregnancy.”

Joyzal made a noise. She looked over at him and saw a man about to come undone. He looked like he was literally about to explode. He pulled out his blade. “My Bride is not going to Chronos, and my offspring will not be terminated. I will die here today fighting the whole damn Imperial Fleet before I let that happen.”

The warlord locked eyes with Joyzal. “Warrior, you are dishonored. A Margol who forces mating compatibility on females of royal pigment are the lowest type of scum. I promise you will die a slow and miserable death. I will kill you myself before the madness takes you.”

“I did not force mating compatibility on Jacole of Two. I would never touch a female of royal pigment without a formal offer. She offered herself to me.”

“You lie!” the warlord shouted.

Joyzal possessively cupped his hand around the back of Jacole’s neck, drawing her into his side. “This Bride is mine. I have claimed her and planted my seed in her womb. I have pounded my shaft in her core many times, and she screamed out her pleasure. You have no rights here.”

Her cheeks heated as embarrassment rushed through her like a river. “I think I’ve finally made up my mind,” she said quickly, interrupting their argument. Jeez, Xylans liked to yell and fight a lot, didn’t they? And dear God, if Joyzal said one more word to anyone about her screaming orgasms, she was going to lay him out.

They both looked at her quizzically. Joyzal’s eyes were wild, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. He dropped his hand from behind her neck. She placed a comforting palm on his forearm.

“You are not leaving,” he snarled.

“No, I’m not,” she agreed. “I’m not leaving.” She turned and met the gaze of the warlord, who looked ready to jump out of the screen and start World War III with her new husband. “First, I want to thank you for your offer,” she told him in a placating tone. “I appreciate the fact that you’re trying to help me. Your offer would have been exactly what I needed if I were actually in trouble here, so again, I appreciate how you’re trying to help. But the thing you’re both forgetting, and I don’t know how, is that I’m not Xylan, I’m human. I’m an Earthling. An Earthling who happens to have dark skin that looks like royal pigment, I guess, to the both of you. So, because I’m not Xylan, the Scales of Xylan Law and your rules about females with royal pigment don’t apply to me.”

The warlord’s mouth opened and then shut. He appeared to be thinking about that. “You are of royal pigment…” He trailed off. “I will call in a Judge to handle this dispute,” he decided.

“No, no, please, there is no need. Let me make this easy for you. What my mate says is true, I did offer my hand to him to test mating compatibility. It was my choice, my idea. I made the offer. All me. He is innocent. He didn’t force mating compatibility. And know this…I want to stay with Joyzal. I am his Bride. I carry his offspring. I choose Joyzal of Six.”

“You choose to remain the Bride of Joyzal of Six?” he asked, clearly confused.

“Yes.” She nodded.

The warlord looked angry again, the metallic threads in the ridges on his forehead becoming more pronounced. “Female, you are under duress. Confused. You do not understand your rights. No female of royal pigment chooses to mate with a…” He waved a clawed hand at Joyzal. “A Margol,” he spat. “You couldn’t possibly have offered to test with this half-color. He must have forced compatibility on you, which is a crime. I will bring the Judge and a counselor to consult with you. You need help. Again, female, I place my honor before yours.”

She lifted her chin and raised her voice. “No, thank you. I am fine. I choose Joyzal. Don’t forget I am actually human. I don’t care about the rules you have in your culture about a Xylan with royal pigment. Therefore I don’t care if he’s Margol. I don’t even know what that means. I like his skin color. I think he’s beautiful the way he is. I’m excited to see our offspring, to see a child who looks like Joyzal.”

“You think this Margol is beautiful the way he is?” the warlord responded, incredulous.

Joyzal took her by the shoulders and pushed her behind him. He stood in front of her, assuring that his was the only image in the vid screen. The only thing the warlord could now see. “Zhoryan of Eighty-Two my Bride has made her decision. All decisions made by Brides are final. You have to accept that she has made her choice, and she chooses me. I have properly claimed her with a customary mating ritual and filled her with my offspring, and she has verbally declared in front of witnesses that she chooses to join my line and accepts me as her mate. The declaration has been recorded. Our mating is now legally binding. She is human and not Xylan, therefore my designation as Margol has no weight in this mating. You placed your honor before hers, as is required by law, and she declined your help. You have done all that needs to be done in this instance. Your services are no longer necessary.” Joyzal swiped his hand across the circular red light and cut off the vid feed. The screen went dark and then blinked out of sight.

Jacole let out a sigh of relief. “Do you think that’s going to work, or—”

Joyzal turned with a growl and grabbed her with one arm. He backed her up against the wall with a thud and cupped her face with his hands. He kissed her with harsh lips, wet and hot, cutting off anything else she had to say. She opened to him, wrapping her arms back around his waist, melting into him. His tongue dove into her mouth, and she sucked, wanting him as close as was humanly—or not humanly—possible. Everything else around them disappeared. It was just the two of them. She fisted his shirt, tugging it up so she could run her hands all over his ridiculously tight abs. He let go and broke their kiss for a moment, taking in deep gulps of air, and tugged his tunic off over his head. Then he was back, diving into her, holding her tight, naked male chest pressed against her. They were kissing again as if their lives depended upon it. His hands went under her tunic and grabbed her breasts, cupping them and pinching her nipples. Her knees went weak.

His hands roamed down her sides and back and cupped her buttocks. He groaned against her lips.

She broke off the kiss. “You’re mine, Joy,” she croaked out. “Mine.”

He licked her neck. “Is that the nickname you have chosen for me?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes. It means you are the joy of my life.” Okay, maybe that was a bit hokey and all kinds of corny, but dammit he was the joy of her life. He was.

“I’m fucking you now. I can’t wait.”

He held on to her, swung her around and walked her to the center of the bridge. His hand pressed against her back, pushing her over the console. She grabbed on to the edge for stability. He tore off her pants in record time, just ripped them right the hell off. Jesus, the man was freakishly strong. She gasped as air blew across her exposed ass and pussy. Her warrior wasn’t messing around when he said he needed to fuck her. When he said now, he meant now.

He grabbed her ass, squeezed, and slapped a hand on her cheek, spanking her. “Goddamn, I love your ass.”

Jacole grinned. She knew she had a nice ass. Large, but not too large, round, firm, high. Accentuated by a small waist. Basically, she considered it her best feature.

His claws dug into her ass cheeks, and she moaned at the exquisite sensation of pain and pleasure. “I’m about to fuck you hard, but first, time for your punishment.”

“My what?”

The stinging slap had her body humming with need. She realized he’d been toying with her. That first spank had been light. This one was rough.

“From now on you will follow my orders.” He slapped her again, his open palm targeting the area nearest her core. It hurt so good. She moaned in response. “You will not—” slap, slap “—risk the life of our offspring or the life of my mate again—” slap.

“I promise,” she squealed. “I won’t do it again.”

She was dizzy with need. His fingers dug into her core, feeling how embarrassingly wet she already was. Her ass was burning, and it turned her on more. She could hear the sound of his fingers moving around in the slick heat. He leaned down and licked her ass. Oh fuck, her warrior was dirty.

“I love you,” she whispered.

His response was the prodding of his cock at her entrance. “Spread your legs.”

She did as she was told, trembling with anticipation. He leaned over her from behind and shoved in, balls deep. Oh God, her body was on fire. She pushed back against him, helping him to go even deeper. His fangs scored her shoulder as he clamped down on her, holding her steady as he began to fuck her hard from behind. He was so thick, and those ridges…she could feel them in spots she didn’t know existed. He was like a real-life vibrator made exactly to her specifications. It was unreal. He grunted as he continued to thrust harder, deeper, sending her spiraling in a fog of pleasure and erotic eye candy.

He reached around and began fingering her clit. That was all it took. It sent her over the edge, and she came harder and longer than she ever had in her life. Her husband slammed into her one last time, his hips against her ass, and stilled, roaring as he came inside of her, spurting hot cum and telling her how much he loved her.

Two hours later they were both worn out from two more rounds of hot sex. First in the shower, where she initiated Joyzal into the wonderful world of blowjobs, and later, there was a slow and languid round on his bed, where they stared deeply into each other’s eyes as he slowly slid in and out of her. It was beautiful.

Now they were in his bunk, cuddling, and Jacole couldn’t remember a happier moment in her life. But there was something that was bothering her. One thing she needed to know.

“I’m confused about something,” she said, her fingers trailing across the silky yet hard skin on his wide chest.

“Hmm…”

“When we return to your home planet, you don’t have to retire from being a Bounty Hunter just because you’ve found your Bride, right?”

He shook his head. “No, I will continue to bid for missions.”

“You told me earlier that Rayzor is with his Bride on Zamarian Prime because he’d been forced into retirement.”

“This is true, but he and his Bride enjoy their retirement. He was ready to devote his time to his line and his farm, which is becoming a profitable business with the help of his new Bride.”

Jacole allowed a look of horror to pass across her face. “Sorry, but retirement from Bounty Hunting, or some armed service or law enforcement, and leaving to live on a quiet farm sounds like living hell to me. I’m only twenty-three. I had a big career ahead of me back home. I’d planned on being an FBI agent, working for Earth government and moving up the ranks and one day being in charge of the whole damn place.”

Joyzal chuckled. She knew he loved it when she talked bold like that. He got her.

He pulled her in close and wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “You want to be a Bounty Hunter, too?”

She smiled and bit her lip. “Hell yes! We can work together.”

“This is acceptable.”

“It’s okay in Xylan culture if females work?”

“Of course. Females work outside of the compound on Chronos and elsewhere. It is common. Melachine will be happy to assist.”

“Thank you for that. For understanding.”

“Of course I understand. It is what I want, too. It will be easier to maintain my number one status on the Leaderboards if my Bride works with me.”

“Go big or go home,” she told him, and put her palm out. They high-fived over that statement.

He suddenly turned very serious. “You don’t wish that I were human, that we were living on Earth?”

“I love you just the way you are. You don’t secretly wish I was Xylan and not human?”

“Your beauty is breathtaking. Each time another warrior sees my claim on you he will burn with jealousy.”

“And you love that?”

“Hell yes.” He copied her favorite saying. “Earlier I received the transmission code to send THX309 to the Bounty Hunter Guild and my payment. To celebrate we should go on a honeymoon.”

“Xylans have honeymoons?”

“No, but humans do, and I think it’s a good custom. One we should adopt.”

“You looked up Earth customs?”

“Of course. I wanted to make my Bride happy. Also, I have a gift for you.”

“You do?” She clapped. Actually clapped, like a little kid. Jeez. She was a sucker for surprise gifts.

He stood up off the bunk and walked over and opened a drawer. He lifted a small object that fit in the palm of his hand. It looked like… Her fingers covered her mouth. “Oh, is that…?” It couldn’t be. He came back to the bunk and sat down beside her. Seven feet of naked, buffed-out badass alien warrior. Her stomach fluttered. This would never get old.

“You said to find eighties music,” he said.” I ordered the computer to research what that meant. It made this for you. It is a simulation of an Earth music device and it is loaded with this eighties music you requested.” He pointed at the earbuds. “These are so you can listen to it privately.”

Tears formed in her eyes.

He handed it to her. “I also added Xylan war chants.”

“Of course you did,” she giggled, and threw herself in his arms. “I love you.”

He held on to her tight. “You are my life, my love, my future. I will love you always, my Bride.”

Damn, she was lucky to have this man.

Epilogue

Thank God for Melachine.

This was Jacole’s favorite litany because really, she didn’t know what she would’ve done without the guidance of that lovely woman.

Melachine and the Xylan midwife had helped her give birth in a maternity ward so freaking high tech and clean it made hospitals in the U.S. look like hovels. The delivery had been painless because they had the best painkillers ever created. Joyzal had been right by her side, holding her hand, urging her to push. She’d sworn there had been tears in his eyes when he watched baby Joy make her way into the world.

But when she’d started packing to leave the maternity ward to go back home, she’d felt an overwhelming sense of fear and anxiety. How could the nurses let her leave? Didn’t they know she didn’t know a damn thing about taking care of a baby?

But Melachine had been there every step of the way. And Joyzal was right, Melachine had raised two sons and knew all the ropes. She showed the both of them how to change diapers, how to feed Joy, how to comfort her when she cried, how to arrange nap times. All the things. And with the three of them there in the home, dividing up caretaking for the baby, it wasn’t as hard as Jacole had thought it would be.

She often found herself sitting with her baby in her arms, feeding her and staring at her tiny little face, petting her little clawed hands and wondering how she’d ever gotten so damn lucky.

The house they lived in was great. There were two separate master bedrooms, on either side of the house so they all had their own space and Jacole never had to worry that she was screaming too loud while coming or that Joyzal was making too much noise banging the bed against the wall while fucking her. Although, since they had the baby and her bedroom was next door, they did have to quiet down so as not to wake her. In fact, she’d been right there in the room with them for the first two months of her life.

So for the first year and a half of her time on Zamarilla, Jacole stayed home. There had been so much to do and learn, and she’d wanted to spend every moment with her baby. But finally, after watching her husband go on a few missions without her, she was ready to fly the coop. Time to get back to business. Crimes were being committed and criminals needed to be caught and she had to be out there making sure it happened.

Before she’d given birth to baby Joy, Jacole immediately started training to pass the test for her Bounty Hunter license. After two months of intense training and three fails and a final fourth pass, Jacole got her license. It took longer than it had for Joyzal, who boasted he’d passed on his first try, with one of the fastest times ever recorded, second only to Rayzor’s time. Of course. But hey, she was human, female, smaller than the two of them, new to this whole thing, and she’d been freaking pregnant. She was damn proud she’d passed before her pregnancy had progressed to the point where it would’ve been moot until her little girl was born. It calmed her down, hanging out at home with Melachine and the baby while Joyzal left on missions, knowing that one day, she’d be out there with him, too.

Melachine was awesome. Because of Melachine, Jacole could work with zero guilt knowing her baby was receiving excellent care and she could vid call and see her at any time. Meanwhile, there were bad guys to apprehend and people to save. She couldn’t believe how much her life had changed. Last year she was living in an apartment in Detroit, packing to leave for Quantico to start a career in the FBI, thinking she’d be single (with the occasional hook-up) and career-minded for the rest of her life. And she’d been happy with that. Her future had been bright. Motherhood and family weren’t on her agenda. They weren’t things she was specifically avoiding, but not something she was seeking out either. The FBI was going to be her family. And look at her now. With a husband, a daughter, and an amazing mother-in-law who treated her like family. Her eyes teared up as she looked down at her baby. She’d found new family, here on the other side of the universe with the Xylans, and she couldn’t be happier.

“Here, let me have her. You two need to go,” Melachine said, a benevolent smile on her face.

They were all standing on the roof of their penthouse in a high-rise facing the beach on Zamarilla. The whole town reminded Jacole of pictures she’d seen of Rio de Janeiro. Green jungle, mountain peaks, and stunning ocean with a dense city of high-rises and buildings cupped in a small alcove of natural beauty on all sides. Behind them, on the landing pad, was Joyzal’s newest ship. He’d named it The Royal, a tongue-in-cheek reference to her royal pigment.

They’d only be gone for a week. Joyzal was doing his best to bid on shorter missions so they could spend more time together with their line.

Jacole kissed her baby girl and inhaled her sweet scent before handing her over. Melachine would take care of Joy as well as she would, if not better. Joyzal cupped Joy’s head with his claw. His eyes softened on his little girl, the start of his line. He kissed the tiny ridges on her forehead and stepped back.

Jacole warmly kissed her mother-in-law on the cheek. Kissed her baby one more time and turned and grabbed her husband’s hand. The two of them walked into the ship together.

She had tears in her eyes. She wanted this. She needed this. But leaving her baby was hard. She met Joyzal’s troubled gaze, and she saw that it was hard for him, too.

As soon as the door closed behind them, she spoke up. “Computer, play eighties music. Janet Jackson.”

The computer started blasting her favorite song, the music thumping throughout the ship.

Her husband shook his head and grinned at her. He took the controls and manually guided the ship off the landing pad. Jacole waved to Melachine through the expansive window on the bridge. Melachine waved back then picked up Joy’s tiny hand and moved the baby’s arm as if she were waving goodbye, too. Jacole laughed.

“Prepare for slip drive,” her husband yelled over the beat of the music.

She sat down, buckled in and tapped her fingers on the arm rest.

Joyzal glanced at her, checking to make sure she was all locked in. “I love you,” she mouthed. He smiled back, and she felt the familiar prickly feeling in her stomach as the slip drive was engaged. And they were off.

THE END

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Acknowledgments

Thank you to Melissa King, @dirtybookchick and @Kaetrin for beta reading Rayzor’s One with a fine tooth comb. Your suggestions and stamp of approval meant the world to me. You jump-started my confidence in this series, which was more precious to me than a Grande Praline Chestnut Latte (and that’s sayin’ a lot).

And to Eagle, my eagle-eyed editor (pun intended) who catches all of my mistakes, which are many, and takes my manuscripts from a mess of misplaced commas and run-on sentences and transforms them into something clean and presentable. Without your critique and friendship I am lost. *insert gif of soccer mom hugging a Bald Eagle*

Thank you Maria Rose at All About Romance for championing this series from day one. And a special thanks to Jolanda Love, Ene Alexandra, Alyssa Higley Fogg, Tracey Slater, Miranda Rodriguez and the readers, reviewers and bloggers who have taken the time to buy, read and/or review this newbie author. Every time someone clicks one of my books and reads it, I am flooded with gratitude. This will never get old.

Thank you Melissa Blue for your savvy suggestions - because of you I didn’t fall flat on my face! And to Lexxi Callahan, the blurb whisperer, I can hardly wait until we can fangirl over Kristen Ashley together in Denver!

And of course (how could I forget?) - Meljean Brook, the magician who makes my life complete. The artist who creates my amazing covers and teasers. You are my hero. Your friendship and support have sustained me. (For the love of Aquaman!) Girl, you rock!

Rayzor’s One

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Rayzor of Twelve, a lonely, banished Xylan warrior and the number one Bounty Hunter in the four sectors, is determined to follow his mission parameters. He must extract his target, the genocidal maniac THX238, from a primitive planet called earth with zero human casualties.

His plan unfolds with precision, until a human female gets in the way.

Rebecca doesn’t understand what the hell is happening. One moment she’s scared and alone in the spooky forest. Then a seven foot tall badass alien warrior is gazing at her with dark passion, his clawed hands touching her reverently. He’s kissing her, claiming her and saying, his voice hoarse with emotion—that she is his Bride.

His Bride? Wtf?

This stranger is swoon-worthy, but…She doesn’t know his name, or what species he is and he’s kidnapped her, thrown her on his goddamn space ship and now she’s speeding away from earth to parts unknown. And he expects her to fall into his arms?

Oh hell, no.

Continue reading for an excerpt…

Excerpt

Rebecca blinked. “What?” It was hard to hear over the thumping music. She must’ve heard wrong, because there was no way—

“You heard me. If you’re not gonna give me some head, you can get the hell outta my car and walk home, bitch.”

She stared at him, pissed off like no one had been pissed off in the history of pissed off.

He’d actually said that to her. He’d fucking said it. And in front of his two friends in the backseat, who were grinning ear to ear, snort-laughing and loving every minute of her discomfort. She clenched her fists. How dare he? Who died and made him king? “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. I wouldn’t touch your dick now if it was gold-plated and the last dick on Earth.”

Yes, Rebecca knew she had a bit of a potty mouth, and a temper, but usually she kept that all bottled inside. But holy crap, this guy had turned into such a piece of shit. She couldn’t hold back.

Eric’s handsome features twisted into a mask of rage. The funny jock she’d agreed to go on a date with that night had been replaced with this selfish, misogynistic freak show in the driver’s seat, whose priority in life seemed to be getting a blowjob. And if that didn’t happen, look out. He turned from Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde.

Eric gave her the evil eye and jerked the steering wheel over. The car skidded to a halt at the side of the road. He slammed the gear into park, turned and pointed. “Get your ass out of my car.”

The couple in the backseat cackled at her predicament.

A headache pricked at her temples. God, if only she’d been bold enough to ask someone at the party for a landline to call for a taxi, none of this would be happening. She’d be at home, in her pajamas, watching reruns of Buffy. Not here, stuck with these assholes.

“But…” She glanced through the car window at the dense forest and pitch-black nightscape that surrounded them. She was thrilled at the idea of getting away from these jerks. Except… “Go where?” she asked.

“I don’t give a fuck. You’re walking home. Now get out.”

So, she got out of the car. What else could she do?

The chill in the mountain air nipped at her arms and legs. Her cute silver sandals crunched on the asphalt. She slammed the car door shut behind her, trying to think of a really biting parting shot to yell through the open window, the perfect remark to cut him with, but Eric barely waited for the door to connect before punching the gas on his sleek new sports car. He pealed out of sight without a backward glance. The car lights blinked and disappeared around the bend in the road. Silence descended, and Rebecca’s stomach sank like Titanic in the cold North Sea.

She stood there slack-jawed for a moment. Her heart pounded in her chest like she’d just run the mile. It took a good five minutes for the enormity of it all to sink in.

What the hell? Did that really happen? Had she really been dumped like trash, alone, past midnight, in the middle of nowhere?

And holy shit, she’d left her purse on the floorboard of Eric’s car.

She inhaled the crisp pine scent, trying to calm her nerves and not panic. Calm, calm, calm. Rebecca looked all around—at the road stretching ahead, the big fucking trees, the stars in the endless sky, and took another deep breath. Well, at least there was a full moon, so there was a bit of light. She glanced down, yanked her cell phone out of her pocket and tapped on the screen…and of course there was no 4G out here. Because, of course.

Motherfucker.

Her nose started to sting.

Rebecca bit the inside of her cheek and examined the curve of the road and the dark trees on either side. Well, she could crash through the forest, which would be stupid, or instead she could walk along the side of the road. A car might drive by that maybe she could flag down, or at the very least she might find a tiny town, a house, or a minimart. She’d seen those occasionally on the way up but had no clue how far away they were.

She exhaled.

Road it was.

So, she tucked her cell back in her pocket and walked forward, because at least she was doing something that didn’t involve getting hopelessly lost. Cold wind blew against her bare legs, rustling the miniskirt she’d worn that evening. She tightened her paper-thin cardigan around her torso. It was spring. Nice in the daytime, but chilly at night, especially up here in the mountains. And wow, these weren’t some pretend mountains, these were the real deal, the mountains John Muir had backpacked. She guesstimated Yosemite was only about an hour away.

And she wasn’t even remotely dressed for this trek in the wilderness, let alone on the potholed pavement at the side of the road.

Fucking shit.

Rebecca sullenly kicked a small branch out of her way and continued trudging forward on her walk of shame, her desperate path back to civilization. It was freakishly quiet out here, in sharp contrast to the party she’d left earlier and the loud music pulsing in Eric’s car. Out here she could hear the wind brushing through the trees, the hoot of an owl…and that was about it. It would be nice if she weren’t so upset.

“Why?” she yelled out to no one, shaking a fist at the glittering stars in the nighttime sky. “Why?” She choked off a sob, determined not to cry. If she cried, those assholes won.

What kind of sense did it make for them to dump her on the side of the road? She was alone; she could get hurt out here. And no one would know. She’d never be found.

And all because she’d refused to put Eric’s dick in her mouth?

Really?

For that, she’d been literally kicked to the curb. They’d slowed down and pushed her out, laughing like a pack of hyenas. She barely knew any of them. Eric had sat near her in psych class all semester. He’d asked her out a couple of times and she’d kept putting him off, but he was persistent. Finally, she’d agreed. Eric was handsome and on the basketball team, great on paper. Right? Why not give him a chance? What harm was one date? Looking back on it, she should’ve gone with her initial gut reaction of nope, bit of a jerk. But, trying to be nice, she’d given in.

Big mistake.

He’d invited her to a party in the mountains—a two-hour drive away. “It’s slamming. Everyone goes there. You’ll love it,” he’d said.

She wasn’t sure, but he was very convincing.

And, well, sometimes Rebecca worried she was boring.

She never drank, did drugs, or went out to any college parties or functions. Ever. She wasn’t a people person. She liked animals, especially horses. Horses, she could understand. People, not so much. This was why she was studying to become a large-animal veterinarian. But she’d decided she needed to put in more effort to make friends considering she usually kept to herself and hadn’t made a single new friend since moving away to college.

So she went out with Eric and the couple he’d brought along.

Two point five seconds after she’d stepped into the raucous party with Eric and his friends, Rebecca had known it was all a huge mistake. It wasn’t her scene at all. She wanted nothing more than to get away from the pounding music and crush of people. And when Eric had pushed her against a wall in a dark hallway and shoved his beer-soaked tongue down her throat, she’d rebuffed his advances.

And from that point on, things had gone from bad to worse.

Now here she was, walking along a backwoods road, nothing to guide her except the pale light of the full moon. And she was pissed off and embarrassed, a mess of nasty emotions all knotting inside.

And then she heard the noise.

About the Author

Michele Mills lives in California and leads a life of quiet, G rated desperation with her husband and two sons. In an attempt at a fulfilling, R rated inner life that does not include Disney movies and Nickelodeon; Michele reads and writes filthy romance and, well...filthy romance. And she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

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Twitter: @mills_michele

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Kill For You: August 2017