The Zoran's Bride (Scifi Alien Romance) (Barbarian Brides)

by Luna Hunter

  “What the—” I growl as I rise to my feet, my knees still weak. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

  “Come on,” the Czar says, licking his lips. “Give in! Let the chi take you! Enjoy what I’m offering you! Partake!”

  I quickly dress myself, sliding the armor back on my oiled up frame. I can’t believe that this Czar drugged me to force his slaves to mate with me.

  I feel guilty and dirty. My body belongs to Sarah, and no one else. With pure rage coursing through my veins I run up the steps and grab the Czar by this throat.

  “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now, you sick fuck,” I growl.

  “Because,” he wheezes, “you’ll never see your human again. Look.”

  The door opens and Sarah is led into the room by Terula, the Nezdek lord. My mate is wearing a white, see-through robe, leaving little to the imagination. She’s still wearing her underwear underneath, but all of her round, perfect curves are visible for all to see.

  A big, metallic collar sits around her neck, with a red light pulsing menacingly on it.

  She looks up at me with those big, baby-blue eyes of hers, and my heart just breaks.

  I drop the Czar down into his throne. Fuck.

  “I’ve put a collar on her,” the Czar sneers. “One you won’t break so easily, like that bitch’s S’eu. This collar will kill her when you try to break it open… or whenever I want you to. Speaking of that Suuna whore…”

  He claps his hands, and S’eu is carried into the room by two Nezdek guards. She’s struggling and fighting as hard as she can, but the two guards are simply too strong for her. Her clothing has been stripped away, her body bruised.

  “Sit down,” the Czar says, “and let us continue our discussion.”

  I am defenseless. The Czar has found my weakness, the chink in my armor, and he’s ruthlessly exploiting it.

  “Come here,” the Czar orders S’eu.

  Our Suuna friend stops resisting when she sees the bomb-collar around Sarah’s neck. With her head hanging low in defeat she approaches.

  “Rub my feet while I explain to our friend what he has to do for me,” the Czar snarls.

  S’eu swallows the lump in her throat before kneeling down. I’ve never felt more castrated in my life.

  “I must say, you puzzle me, Zoran,” the Czar says. “You have four willing, naked Suuna bitches at your disposal, yet you refuse my generous offers. Why? You are famed for your sexual prowess. I figured a beast like yourself would enjoy himself. In fact, I was looking forward to seeing you in action.”

  The sick fuck thinks of me a beast, a sexual monster that would grow insatiable at the first sight of tits. I wish I could show him how much of a beast I can be by tearing his head straight from his body.

  “Though, your human is rather… interesting. Come closer, darling.”

  Sarah tentatively moves forwards. Terror grips my stomach, and my fists ball up. If he touches her, I will snap.

  The Czar looks at me and grins.

  “Something troubling you, Zoran?”

  I’ve never felt a hatred this strong. If my eyes could shoot fire, the Nezdek lord would be smoldering pile of ash.

  He raises his hand to touch Sarah, but when he sees the muscles in my arms trembling, my fingers itching to strike him, he lowers his hand again.

  “Ah, so you are capable of anger… good. I have a mission for you, Zoran. You remember Emir Mowsir? One of the so-called leaders of that rag-tag group of lion-men. The Asir. I heard you bumped into him.”

  “I remember,” I growl.

  “Good. He’s the sole supplier of chi, and he’s twisting my arm for it. I want you to kill him.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Kill him. My men aren’t able to get near him, but you’re an outsider. Do that, and I’ll let your human go.”

  He grabs Sarah’s wrist and pulls her onto his lap, wrapping his bony arm around her waist. I rise to my feet instantly, raising my fist, ready to pound him into dust.

  “Relax,” he snarls, showing me a remote with an ominous red button on it. “Strike me and your human dies a most grisly death.”

  Countless thoughts run through my head as I stand there, my fist raised, every muscle, every tendon, every fiber of my being urging me to strike him down… but my heart won’t let me.

  I have to save Sarah’s life, no matter the cost.

  Yet, at the same time, I cannot take an innocent man’s life. Mowsir has done nothing to wrong me — I can’t save one life by taking another.

  But, I can’t watch Sarah die for me either.

  My soul feels like it’s being torn in two. Either road I walk down will leave me broken.

  “Don’t do it,” Sarah says.

  I look up. She’s staring right at me with those beautiful, icy-blue eyes of hers.

  “Don’t kill in my name.”

  She swallows the lump in her throat.

  “I’d rather die,” she continues.

  The Czar has got a wide smile on his ghostly face.

  “What a conundrum,” he laughs. “Your girl, or your soul… which one will you choose, Zoran?”

  “Neither.”

  The Czar blinks at me. “What do you mean? You have to choose.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” I say.

  “I’ll kill your mate!” he says, agitated that I’m not playing by his rules. “I’ll blow her head off!”

  I look at Sarah, hoping that she’ll understand, that she’ll forgive me.

  “Take me instead,” I say. “I have enough death on my hands. I’ve begun to change… and you’re not sending me down that path again.”

  The Czar rolls his eyes. “What a bore you are, Zoran,” he sighs. “You are supposed to be a fabled warrior, a sex magnet, a merciless killer. You’re none of those things! You can’t get it up for my slaves, you won’t kill on my command… what a waste of time. Bah.”

  He claps his hands and Erran strides back into the room, flanked by guards, and the alien lord snaps to attention.

  I scour the room for anything I can use as a weapon. If they intend to execute us on the spot, they’ve got another thing coming. I’ll rip them apart with my bare hands if I need to.

  “Take these two to the pit,” the Czar says. “I tire of them. Perhaps they can bring us some entertainment in death.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Erran responds.

  The gladiator pit?

  We may just survive this after all. Bloodsport is my speciality.

  16

  Sarah

  The sharp end of a weapon pokes in my back as the Nezdek guards shuffle us down a cramped, dark, damp hallway. Perhaps I ought to be terrified, but in truth, I feel nothing but relief.

  When Kazim left to see the Czar, I feared I was never going to see him again. And when Terula came into my room, chained me and forced me to wear this white gown, I was certain I’d spend the rest of my days in chains, serving some disgusting alien noble, mourning my one true love…

  But that’s not what happened. We are not out of the woods just yet, but for the moment, we’re alive, and we’re together.

  That’s all that matters to me right now.

  I reach out for Kazim’s hand, but he jerks his hand away.

  “Sorry,” he growls, avoiding my eyes.

  “For what?” I whisper.

  “For this,” he says. “For getting us both killed.”

  I grab his hand and interlock my fingers with his before he can pull away.

  “You just saved me from that creep! And if anyone got us into this mess, it’s Captain Ferguson,” I whisper back.

  Donovan fucking Ferguson. The next time I’m seeing him, I’m slapping him so hard he’ll never forget it. If I ever see him again. I’m not quite sure what ‘the pit’ actually means, but I do know it’s not going to be a picnic. If Donovan wasn’t so stubborn, if he hadn’t ignored Kazim’s or my warnings, if he hadn’t burned through all of our fuel in some crazy gambit, I wouldn
’t be about to fight for my life in some alien gladiator pit for a bunch of slaver savages!

  Still, I have Kazim by my side. Things could be worse.

  The path we’re on leads us deeper and deeper underground. I stumble around in the dark, nearly tripping over my own feet. Even the glowing moss that provides the only illumination in these caves doesn’t grow down here.

  Suddenly, the guards halt, and I walk straight into Kazim’s back, bumping my nose into his golden-plated armor. It’s a shame it’s so dark I can’t see it properly, because even though it belongs to the Nezdek, it looks absolutely gorgeous on his imposing blue frame.

  I hear a metal lock turning, and a door creak. The next moment I’m shoved into a dark, damp cellar. Kazim catches me before I hit the ground.

  “Enjoy the view,” Erran sneers.

  The lock turns once more, and the footsteps die away.

  We’re alone.

  “Where are we?”

  “Some kind of cell,” Kazim growls. “Awaiting the big fight, I assume.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. Fighting is not my forte. I’m more of a lover. Actually, I hadn’t done much loving until I met this growly, blue warrior… and I’m in no way close to being done with that, either.

  However, this moist cellar does not inspire much romance.

  “What do you think will happen?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know,” Kazim responds. “I don’t know what they’ll throw at us… but it’ll get ugly.”

  “Aren’t you a fighter?”

  A silence falls.

  “I was,” Kazim responds.

  My eyes are starting to adjust to the darkness. I still can’t see much, but I can make out the Zoran’s tall shape. He’s sitting on a rickety bench, holding his head in his hands. I stumble towards him and sit down on his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  “Did I make a mistake?” he asks.

  His voice, normally so decisive, so certain, is shaking, and filled with doubt. I’ve never heard him be so vulnerable.

  “I should have done what he asked,” he continues. “I could have saved you.”

  “I’m still here, aren’t I?” I respond. “You did save me.”

  “For now,” he says bitterly. “We don’t know what’s coming.”

  “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. We’re a team. We’ve got this.”

  Kazim glances up, and I kiss his forehead.

  “Do you mean that?”

  “Every word of it.”

  “How can you be so calm? We went from the frying pan into the fire.”

  “Because I have you, and that’s all that matters to me.”

  Kazim looks up at me. I can just about detect his radiant, purple eyes.

  “You do realize we are facing a nearly certain death, right?”

  “I do. I think. Granted, it’s possible I’m in a state of shock… but I’m taking things as they come. We’re in a bad situation, I realize that, but there’s no sense stressing about it now. We’ve got to keep a clear head and focus.”

  My fingers run small circles on the back of his neck. I intend to savor every second that we do get to spend together. We can worry when we’re dead.

  “I never want you to kill in my name, Kazim. I grew up without a father, and I don’t wish that on anybody else. I’d rather die, and I mean every word of that. I think what you did what tremendously courageous, standing up to the Czar like that.”

  “He could have killed you,” he growls. “I could have lost you!”

  “He could have killed me even if you did his bidding,” I answer. “Why would he give up his bargaining position? If you committed one murder for him, he would have demanded another, and another. It would never end.”

  My mate falls silent.

  “A psychopath like him doesn’t play by any rules but his own. By refusing to play along, you took the power away from him.”

  “Where has it gotten us?” Kazim responds.

  I tilt his chin up and place a kiss on his lips.

  “It’s gotten us together,” I say. “And if I die by your side, I’ll be happy. You’re a fierce warrior — I know you try to hide it from me, but your scars tell me more than enough. I’ve taken a few self-defense classes. Granted, my training has been more about fending off intoxicated guys than fighting alien monsters, but it’s something. We’ve got this. And if not… well, I intend to die with my back straight, no matter what these bastards throw at us. I won’t give them the pleasure of watching me beg, or plead, or grovel.”

  Kazim’s lips pull up into a wide smile.

  “Spoken like a true warrior,” he says. “Where has this side of you been all along?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, and I can’t help but laugh. I never knew I could give a speech like that. Sometimes the thought of going outside to do groceries terrifies me, and yet here I am, about to enter an alien fighting pit with nothing but grim determination.

  “You should be captain of the Spearhead,” he says. “You’re a natural leader, Sarah.”

  “Put in a good word with command for me when we get back, then.”

  “It’s a promise.” He smiles.

  Footsteps down the hall bring our special moment to an abrupt halt.

  It’s time.

  17

  Kazim

  “Fresh meat, eh?”

  A bare-chested Nezdek man looks up at us. A circle has been painted on his chest with ink, covering up his many scars, while his white hair is tied up in a ponytail.

  “And in the Czar’s armor, to boot! Big shot, are you?”

  “Not quite,” I growl. “What is this place?”

  The Nezdek guards have transported us from our cell to this large room. There’s a fire pit in the middle, around which men stand huddled. Some have a grim, determined look in their eyes, while others are shaking like a leaf. Several carry weapons — swords, axes, spears — while others have nothing but their fists. They all have different, alien symbols painted on their chests.

  “What do you think?” the man says. “Welcome to hell.”

  Sarah is standing behind me, her body pressed closely against mine, her hands circling around my waist.

  I hear a chanting in the distance, the sound of thousands of feet stomping the ground rhythmically. The room itself shakes, dust and pebbles falling from the ceiling.

  “They’re hungry,” the Nezdek warrior says. “You ready to give the crowd what they want?”

  “What do they want?”

  “Why, death of course,” the man laughs. “The bloodier the better. They want to see you die. To see your guts split open, to watch your Zoran blood stain the ground. That’s what they want. The question is, are you going to give it to them?”

  “No chance in hell,” I growl.

  “Good,” the Nezdek man says.

  He cleans his sword methodically, making sure its good as new. It’s curved, like a scimitar, and the handle is as golden as my armor.

  “Of course, I won’t leave anything left alive for you. You’re dead last, Zoran.”

  A squadron of guards enters the room, opening the metal fence.

  “Matzo of House Orsak,” a soldier reads from a scroll.

  One of the men around the pit vomits, and the rest of the warriors laugh.

  “Strength!” they all chant in unison, beating their fists on their chests. “Honor!”

  The man stumbles forward, and to the hilarity of the men, nearly forgets his spear. The soldiers grab him by the shoulders and push him through the gates, with his knees still buckling. A few moments later, the crowd cheers.

  He’s dead meat.

  “About to meet his maker,” the Nezdek man says. “Fool.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The Nezdek man squints at me. “You really have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, huh?”

  “Enlighten me, then.”

  “Ah, what the hell. Why not. You, my Zoran friend, have arrived on Archon just in time
to find yourself a contestant in the yearly Games. It is simply called ‘the Games’, for everyone knows what it means: The most important event of the year.”

  “Why are you talking to the aliens, Pala?” one of the men around the fire shouts.

  “They might as well know why they’re about to die,” he responds, which solicits another round of laughter from the warriors.

  “Don’t mind them,” Pala says, turning back to me. “Now, where was I? Right, the Games. As you may have noticed, each one of us carries a symbol.”

  He points at he circle of ink on his chest.

  “These are the signs of all the Nezdek houses, the noble families. Each one selects a warrior to fight on their behalf. Some volunteer, in search of glory and goodwill, and some are convinced… or pressed… into taking part. For the families it’s an easy way to get rid of the black sheep of the family. I get the idea you’re part of the latter category, Zoran.”

  Sarah’s grip on my waist tightens.

  “Who do we fight?” I ask. “Each other?”

  The Nezdek laughs. “By the Nao, no. We fight monsters. Beasts from the depths — or from outer space.”

  He continues polishing his blade, until it’s so clean I can see my own reflection in it.

  “Most die,” he says casually, “if you’re lucky. Some are merely gravely wounded.”

  He points at the many scars on his chest.

  “Varran,” he says. “Got me good, but I’m back. This time I won’t make the same mistake.”

  “What does the winner get?” I ask.

  The man raises his eyebrows. “The winner? You misunderstand, alien. There is no winner of the games. There’s only the question of how you will lose: Badly or barely.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s because you are not from here. For us Nezdek, life is struggle. We were born from the depths of Archon, a cold, dark, desolated planet. We barely have enough food to feed us, barely have enough air to breathe. By Nao, we cannot even survive on the surface of our home planet! This situation has instilled in us a certain… disregard for life, which you may have noticed. We understand that life is brutal and short, and our games celebrate that. It’s an unfair battle. It’s meant to be. There are only losers. It is why we are so ruthless — and successful.”

  “So you signed up for your own death?”