Hunted by the Alien Prince

by A. M. Griffin

  The planet sat close to its sun and had once been too hot to be habitable. The owners of Turolois, whose identities remained guarded, had invested untold amounts of credits to turn it into a huge gaming facility. To make it work, the owners had built a dome that covered the entire planet.

  That dome, which protected the planet’s surface from the radiation of the sun, also had the benefit of allowing the game attendants to control the weather and environment in each arena.

  “I would prefer if you were out before Level Three. The prey will be more aggressive and willing to kill you to maintain their freedom, and the hunters won’t have any qualms in doing whatever’s necessary to claim a particular prey.”

  “I’m not worried about the prey. They’re humans, remember?”

  “I guess I’m not too worried about them either. I’ve met a human before. The poor thing sniveled and hid behind its mate’s back our entire meeting. I highly doubt if a human could do you harm. I’m more worried about the other hunters. In Level Three, hunters are allowed to kill. I have no doubt about your skill. I just don’t want to test it for sport.”

  “I wouldn’t want to leave this life knowing Mxolisi was your second,” Themba joked.

  “Please don’t,” Melisizwe agreed between laughs. “Don’t worry about us here. Engross yourself in The Hunt. When I participated, it was as though my spirit was one with our ancestors. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before, and I doubt I’ll ever experience anything remotely as thrilling.”

  “Although I doubt I’ll be able to push the upcoming union from my head, it’ll be nice to give in to my primal urges for once.”

  “I know.” Melisizwe blew out a breath. “This will be a good reprieve from palace life. I’ve already talked to the game warden’s assistant, and since you’re my heir and because I’ve already participated in The Hunt, he’s given me concessions to contact you while you’re on Turolois. Our conversations will be monitored though, I don’t like that, but I think I might die of boredom if I don’t have anyone to talk to besides Mxolisi.”

  Some of the tension in Themba’s shoulders eased. Maybe that was all he’d needed to hear. Everything would be fine while he took a short break.

  “When you return you’ll be ready to bond with Chikondi.”

  And just like that, the weight of the Kingdom settled back over him.

  Chapter Three

  A heart-stopping alarm sounded. Payton scrambled from her sleeping bag. Jack’s eyes were round and panicked. All the others were quickly waking up.

  Screech! Screech! Screech!

  Mike’s coming to get me.

  Mike wasn’t there, but there was no ignoring the impending doom that rained down on her like a summer storm.

  Ben was already up and stalking the perimeter of their camp. His muscles flexed and hands balled into fists. He surveyed the area, keeping his eyes trained for anything that came through the trees and his way.

  Esme ran over to him. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

  Payton could barely hear her over the alarm blasting her eardrums.

  Ben didn’t turn toward her, his attention focused firmly on the tree lines. “Dunno, but whatever is going on here has officially started. We need to go.”

  Payton didn’t question him. She pushed an icon on her wristband and the sleeping bag folded to an unbelievably small size. She picked it up and stored it in her wristband.

  “B-but why do we have to leave? Can we stay to see what happens?” Esme begged.

  Ben turned around. His eyes were sharp and assessing. He nodded toward Esme’s neck. “Your collar has yellow lines on it.”

  Payton glanced at the others in their group. All of the collars had yellow stripes going down them. Yellow means go?

  Ben’s gaze continued to scan the area. “Everyone get your things together. That sound is our cue to go.”

  Yesenia stuffed her bottle of half-empty vodka into her purse and looped it over her shoulder. “Do you think we’re able to get past the markers now? I seriously don’t want to get shocked like Spencer.”

  After some testing with their wristbands yesterday, they’d discovered the ground underneath their feet wasn’t filled with dirt. Instead, there was an intricate system of travel pods that propelled along tracks. At the time, the pods didn’t take them past the orange markers set around the campground. Payton hoped that now it would take her far away from whatever madness was about to happen.

  And madness was coming. She could feel it deep in her bones. Her arms had erupted in goosebumps and the back of her neck tingled.

  Something was coming for them and her gut told her whatever was out there would be ten times worse than Mike.

  “One way to find out!” Payton clutched Jack’s dog collar and pressed the icon for a pod on her wristband.

  “No! Wait!” Ben reached out, but it was too late. Payton and Jack fell into a circular pod and were whisked away.

  THEMBA TOOK A DEEP breath in, filling his lungs to capacity then exhaled slowly. His mind was dark and empty. His thoughts focused on nothing but controlling his breathing. He was on his knees, hands flat on his thighs. They felt rough against his bare skin. Years of training in hand-to-hand combat with various weapons had wiped all softness from them.

  His butt rested against his heels, and his tail lay on the ground between his feet. With his head bowed, his long hair fanned his face, tickling the sides of his cheeks.

  In and out. In and out.

  A tingling sensation began on his nose. Then it turned into an itch.

  Mind clear. Itch forgotten.

  He took in another breath, then released.

  The itch persisted.

  And persisted.

  Not able to ignore it anymore, he scratched. Then returned his hand to his thigh.

  When he was younger, the itch wouldn’t have bothered him at all. He would’ve forgotten all about it and stayed in the Ipakethe meditation position for hours at a time.

  If his calculations were correct, he’d taken the position not even a full hour ago.

  When the alarm, signifying the first day of The Hunt, rang and the war cries from the other hunters resonated outside his door, making his adrenalin spike, he’d wanted to join them and get caught up in the thrill. It had taken all of his resolve not to open the door of his suite and do just that.

  What Themba needed was a calm and clear mind. Although The Hunt was often referred to as a game, it was anything but. One slip outside the lodge, and he could die. While there weren’t any animals in the Level One arena that could harm him, there were other ways of dying, mainly running across treacherous terrain without having his wits about him.

  “Take your time. Assess your surroundings. You don’t have to worry about tracking prey on your first day. Any you find right away won’t be worth your trouble anyway. You’ll want to hunt Level Two prey. That’s where your skill will be tested.”

  It had been Melisizwe’s voice in his head that had stopped Themba short. He’d immediately stripped and dropped to his knees to meditate.

  Melisizwe was right. There was no need for Themba to run out with the others. Mentally he wasn’t in the right headspace and as trained as he was, he knew how easily he could get hurt by not paying attention to even the minutest detail.

  Some unsavory hunters would be roaming the jungle with him. He’d given them all a thorough assessment when he’d boarded the vessel transporting them from the space station to Turolois’ surface. He wouldn’t run out there carelessly.

  Besides, waiting to join The Hunt meant he didn’t have to worry about the opportunistic hunters following him. Melisizwe told him about the hunters who didn’t work as hard in The Hunt but latched onto those who did. After landing, Themba figured out who they were quick. One section of the facility led to the cheaper communal area and the other section led to the executive suites. A handful of hunters watched who went where when the group split.

  Themba would deal with them la
ter.

  Once he was shown to his private suite, he’d prowled through the rooms. His nerves made him hypersensitive and edgy. Excitement was in the air and played with his instincts. He’d wanted to bring up the prey camp on the hologram and watch them as they slept. It was one of the perks of the executive package. He hadn’t though. Instead, he’d chosen to be surprised by the prey he would hunt.

  Prey.

  There was something inherently wrong with calling another sentient being “prey,” no matter how juvenile they were. But that wasn’t the term he’d given them. He was sure the name had been given to the unwilling participants many generations ago.

  The itch returned.

  Son of a vyolth whore.

  Themba scratched his nose and opened his eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking about The Hunt long enough to achieve a full relaxation state.

  “When you return you’ll be ready to bond with Chikondi.”

  His brother’s voice once again wiggled its way into Themba’s head.

  When Melisizwe had asked Themba to take Chikondi as a mate, Themba agreed without hesitation. This union was important to his Kgosi’s vision to not only make the bu Kumkani Kingdom the greatest on Ipakethe but to also have Ipakethe recognized as a planet with ample trade, services, and tourist destinations to offer. And although Themba understood how necessary this union was for his people, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d lost something valuable in his compliance.

  When he’d agreed to mate with Chikondi, he’d effectively snuffed out any hope of ever finding his true lifemate. Chikondi had also agreed to mate with someone who wasn’t her true lifemate which revealed how much both families wanted this union. Ngonyamas mated for life though only a small percentage ever found the other half to their soul. While many passed through a lifetime without finding their true lifemate, that didn’t stop them from dreaming of the day when they would finally meet.

  Themba had willingly and proudly given up on finding his. His Kgosi and his Kingdom counted on him.

  Thoughts of lifemates suddenly turned his anxious mood to somber. It wasn’t like he had a good chance of finding his true lifemate anyway. His duties in the palace kept him far too busy. If Themba thought about it—which he often did—he would much rather mate with someone who could bring prosperity to his kingdom, than a random female who might not contribute at all. True lifemate or not.

  It was easier to have relationships with his own kind who understood that love was precious and reserved for one. Most off-worlders couldn’t understand that. Even though he explained the nature of things, off-worlder females always took it upon themselves to try to convince him that he could fall in love with them. It always ended the same. Disastrous.

  As a past lover had once told him, “Why would I give my heart to you when I know that you could never love me the same in return?”

  Themba took a deep breath and pushed all thoughts of lifemates from his mind. The whole reason he was on Turolois was to forget about all of that bonding business for a little while.

  He stood with a grunt. How was he going to stay focused and keep his wits about him out there when he couldn’t finish a simple meditation ritual?

  He tried to see the positive in the situation. He’d done what he set out to do. Somewhat. He hadn’t given in to the urge to rush out of the lodge with the others. That in itself had taken considerable restraint to rein in his instincts and prove his self-control.

  Now it was time to forget about his duties at home and enjoy the last measure of freedom he would have. Once he bonded with Chikondi, he wouldn’t ever participate in something as freeing as The Hunt again.

  Satisfied with his resolution, Themba snatched his clothes from the bed and dressed. For the first day, he’d opted for a two-piece, form-fitting microfiber outfit that would blend well with the gaming arena. He twisted his thick hair into a single braid down his back and raised the hood which conformed instantly to his head.

  He glanced at himself in the mirror. The bulky collar all hunters wore had been clipped on his neck at the space station and was evident under his clothes. The comlink he’d been temporarily issued in exchange for his personal one was heavy on his wrist. His had been a more sleek design compared to this base model.

  Themba couldn’t believe he was about to join the famous hunt. Before Melisizwe had participated, they’d both heard whispers of such a place. When pressed, all talk about it was shut down. The Hunt wasn’t something discussed during royal events or dinners with dignitaries. It was spoken of in hushed tones in unsavory places. He’d honestly thought it had been made up and exaggerated over the years. A lie born from an overactive imagination.

  As he stared at himself in the mirror, Themba could feel the primal song awakening. His skin became a deeper shade of red as his heart pounded and adrenalin laced blood rushed through him. He needed this. He’d tried to deny it at first and had wanted to stay on Ipakethe to help Melisizwe negotiate the bonding contract, but he was now glad Melisizwe had forced him to come.

  Themba threw the small bag he’d packed on his back and exited his suite. His boots were silent against the floor as he made his way through the eerily quiet hallways. His heart continued to slam against his chest and anticipation thrummed through his body.

  The lodge door stood open. As he approached, the air changed from crisp and cool to hot and muggy. The lodge had all the technological advancements of a high-end hotel, including a controlled air system. Outside the door, a sea of green filled with trees, overgrown bushes, and crawling vines awaited. Birds called out to other birds and animals shrilled.

  He stepped outside and took a minute to take in a deep breath, letting his senses get used to the foreign smells. Once he had time to explore, he would be able to place and catalogue most of them in his mind.

  Themba sniffed at the air again. The scent of the other hunters was strong. They’d divided, but most took the Northern and Eastern routes. The West was behind him. To travel that way, he would have to go around the expansive lodge. That wouldn’t stop a hunter if there was prey in that direction.

  The wind blew from the North East, stagnant and thick. In its wake were pungent smells of sweetness, sweat, urine, and feces. He didn’t know how humans smelled, but his gut told him the scent that tickled his nose came from the camp the prey had been sequestered in for the past three days. Now he understood why everyone headed in that direction.

  After the morning alarm, when the prey realized they weren’t bound to the camp anymore, they would’ve scurried off to hide in the jungle. As the hunt progressed, some might venture to the West of the arena, but for now, he would have it all to himself.

  Decision made, Themba made his way West. He followed a well-worn path, wild-life teemed with excitement. Some of the more curious animals chanced a glance at him. Before long, he ventured off the beaten path to fight his way through areas that had been protected by disuse and time.

  His slow gait sped up to a run, then he was jumping and climbing. Melisizwe had warned him that running free was exhilarating, but nothing could’ve prepared Themba for this.

  He pushed his claws from his fingertips and dug them into a tree, propelling high. Wings fluttered as birds voiced their displeasure and launched into the air to get out of his way. When Themba reached the top, he paused to catch his breath and to rest his upper body. He swept his gaze across the treetops. It was plush jungle as far as he could see. Without another hunter around, it was like he owned it all.

  How large was this arena? How long would it take him to get from one side to the next running at top speed? A day? Two?

  A family of drel monkeys sat grouped together on the tree next to him and watched him with suspicion. They were poised to run and hide if he decided to disturb the perch they rested on. If only his royal court could see him now. Their always serious second in command, running through the jungle and climbing trees without abandon, they wouldn’t believe it.

  Themba threw his head back and laughed.<
br />
  The drel monkeys jumped up and down on the branch and screamed at him.

  “Fine. Little monkeys. I’ll leave you be.”

  Themba dropped down, one branch at a time until he reached the bottom, then he took off again. The early morning quickly led to late afternoon. Although there wasn’t a reason to make his way back to the lodge, he was entertaining the idea when a breeze sent the most tantalizing scent his way; musky, sweet and salty.

  He immediately stopped and sniffed again. He liked it. The aroma was pleasing to his nose. Perhaps it came from a nearby plant or animal? He pulled a lungful of air in and held it there, committing the scent to memory.

  He glanced at his comlink. There was still time left in the game. The idea of returning to the lodge was forgotten. When the alarm rang, signifying the off-limit hours, a pod would pick him up and take him back.

  While prey could call a pod a defined number of times to escape a hunter, hunters didn’t have the same luxury. The pods were only available when the evening alarm sounded. If for some reason, the hunter didn’t access their pod, they would be severely punished via their collar. Themba made a mental note to be on the ground, and not in a tree when his evening came to an end.

  For now, he chose to follow the scent that caused his insides to flutter.

  It didn’t take long to come across a female. She was the same height as the females of his species but didn’t quite have the muscle definition in her arms and legs as they did. But what she did have was on full display. Her clothing didn’t cover much of her body.

  Her brown hair was pulled away from her face and held tight with a binding. It hung down her back in wet waves. Her features were made of smooth lines and soft angles. Her nose was pronounced, and her lips full.

  Like the picture he’d viewed, she had only two breasts. They were large and seemed in the way and cumbersome. But even so, Themba longed for a better look and wouldn’t mind feeling them under his palms. They strained under the tight sleeveless shirt he guessed had once been clean and white. Her nipples jutted through the flimsy material.