by Cynthia Sax
Passionate by Moonbeam
Cynthia Sax
Book 4 in the Alien Abductions series.
Vern has dedicated himself to healing his people, seeking to prove his worth. He faces an uphill battle to claim Winona, a human astrobiologist. While Vern’s days are filled with hard work, his nights are spent engaging in steamy online encounters with his lusty human.
He tells himself he can wait to touch her, taste her, love her…until enemy forces attack Earth. Now Vern will do anything to keep her safe. He will defy his Rulers, storm across a carnage-filled battlefield, take Win in every way a woman can be taken.
A Romantica® futuristic erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Passionate by Moonbeam
Cynthia Sax
Chapter One
“I need your help,” Storm, Win’s best friend, relayed, her beautiful face displayed on the computer screen.
“My time is yours, friend.” Win raised her glass of cheap white wine, her bare feet propped up on the dented desk. Alcohol was always required after any meeting with the Royal Astronomical Society of Canada, the jokes about her chosen specialty, alien sexuality and reproduction, driving her to drink.
“Be serious.” Storm rolled her big green eyes. “Remember how I trekked to Moonbeam to meet with my source?” The investigative reporter’s image flickered.
“Yep.” Win slapped the top of her screen. The flickering didn’t stop. “That was the guy who thought he was a leader of some alien planet.” She frowned, searching her memory for details. “The Silans, wasn’t it?” Storm nodded, her auburn curls bouncing against her cheeks. “He told you they were abducting human women from tiny Northern Ontario towns to repopulate their planet.” She laughed. “That was a great story. Very sexy.”
“That wasn’t a story.” Storm leaned closer to the camera, her face filling the screen. “The Silans exist and Ary…” Her eyes softened. “Ary is one of their rulers. He loves me, Win. I’m his druzka, his mate, and he took me home to his planet.”
Win couldn’t have heard her friend correctly. “I must be drunk after half a glass of wine.” She turned the bottle and examined the label. “What is in this stuff?”
“This isn’t the alcohol talking.” Storm pursed her pretty pink lips.
If the aliens abducted any woman, their number one choice would be her stunning friend. Win took another gulp of the wine, wincing at the harsh taste.
“The Silans are real.” Her friend clung to her tall tale. “You said it was possible.”
“That is the problem.” Win held up her right index finger. Wine sloshed over the edge of her glass, landing dangerously close to the keyboard. “I said it was possible and I am a hack scientist.” She waved her finger. “I’m losing my funding. Did I mention that? That last scam was the final straw.” She lowered her voice, imitating the head of the committee. “I’m an embarrassment to the scientific community.”
“This will redeem you,” Storm insisted. “You’re arranging contact with an alien species.”
“Am I?” Win poured more wine into her glass.
“You are,” her friend confirmed. “That’s the help I need. The Silans want to meet with our leaders and negotiate a treaty, trading their protection for mates.”
“They want women so they can reproduce.” Win studied the liquid in her glass. The wine appeared normal, the color light. “Do you know how genetically similar two species have to be to produce fertile offspring? Pretty damn similar.” She answered her own question. “We’d need the same chromosomes, the same genetic make-up.”
Storm frowned, her forehead furrowing with thought lines.
“Then there’s the impossibility of space travel.” Win swirled her wine, creating a mini alcohol tornado in the glass. “The nearest galaxy is twenty-five-thousand light years away from Earth and your Silan buddy is claiming his planet is even farther than that.”
“He isn’t claiming Sila is farther,” Storm retorted. “It is farther. The Silans exist. I’ve talked to them, touched them, tasted one of them.” Her eyes glowed.
“I wish I could believe you.” Win swallowed another mouthful of the foul wine. “But I’ve spent my entire life chasing that dream, only to end up broke and alone, ridiculed by the scientists I admire.” She gazed at the far wall of her one-room basement bachelor apartment, seeing her dismal future in the cracked drywall. “I’m tired, Storm, so very tired.”
“You’re drunk and depressed and not thinking rationally.” Storm nibbled her bottom lip. “If I found someone who could answer your questions, would you talk with him?”
“Someone?” Win met her gaze via the screen. “What about your mysterious Ary?”
Her friend grimaced. “He’s a Ruler. Rulers are very busy and science isn’t their strong suit. The Silans are divided into statuses. Rulers rule. Warriors fight. Talkers talk.” Her face flushes. “I think you need a Fixer. They fix everything. They must have knowledge about how things work. Hold on for a bit.” She ducked out of view.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Win leaned back in her chair, cradling her glass of wine. “I’ve got nothing else to do. Space was my only hobby and my career is over.” Silver metallic wall panels and a funky modern chair filled the screen.
Moments passed. “No,” a deep sexy voice rumbled and erotic shivers skittered down Win’s spine. “The other Fixers are not needed. I will answer all of Fixer Winona Tilsdale’s queries.” Boot heels rang on wire mesh floor.
The following murmurs were too low for Win to decipher. She turned up the volume on her speakers.
“I will satisfy her, Talker Storm Nazwisko,” the voice replied. “She will believe.”
“Good. Because we need her,” Storm muttered. “Win will do what is best for both of our species and she’ll know who is most open to the idea of life on other planets.”
Win frowned. Storm really believes in this fantasy. Doubts began to form, hope blossoming to life inside her. Could these aliens be the real deal?
“If you want to successfully negotiate this treaty, to protect your mates, we should first approach humans favorable to our cause,” Win’s friend explained. “We’ll win them over and then tackle the general public.”
“I am familiar with this means of negotiation,” the male admitted. “You will perform the necessary introductory information exchange.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Storm plunked her tiny ass down on the chair seat, her face pink. “Win, Fixer Vern Zajac will answer your questions. Fixer Vern Zajac.”
A very large male in a blue flight suit bumped his chair against Storm’s. Win narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t see his face but his hands appeared green and blue and ridged.
Storm tilted her head back, casting a hard glance upward. “Fixer Vern Zajac, this is Doctor Winona Tilsdale, my friend. Behave.” She moved out of view.
“You will not find fault in my behavior, Talker Storm Nazwisko.” The owner of the seductive voice reached out with his colorful fingers and adjusted the camera. The lens scanned a massive cloth-covered chest, broad shoulders, a strangely formed blue-and-green neck and settled upon a multihued, strikingly primitive face.
Win sucked in her breath, her body reacting immediately to his overwhelming maleness, her nipples tightening and her pussy moistening. He’s the alien of my hottest dreams. Ridges cascaded down Vern’s bald head, his brightly colored skin pulling tight over the protective internal armor. As he gazed at her, his blue-and-green eyes swirled, a hypnotizing kaleidoscope of pigment.
He was large, very, very large. Win wasn’t a small woman. Some men might say her curves were overly abundant. This male could easily lift her. She’d never seen anyone as massive as he was.
Win’s mouth dried. “D-d-does A
ry look like you?”
Storm chuckled off screen. Vern’s lips flattened and his eyes swirled faster. “Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko is mated to Talker Storm Nazwisko. His appearance has no bearing on the treaty or on our conversation.”
Win licked her parched lips. “If he looks like you, I can understand why Storm wants to believe in him. You’re one hot alien, so big and so…big.” Her normally extensive vocabulary had been reduced to a handful of words.
Vern’s lips lifted. “Do not damage yourself about my size.” His gaze dropped to her breasts and her nipples pressed against her faded T-shirt, her curves aching for his touch. “We are compatible.”
“Barely.” Storm stood behind Vern. “Silans and humans are barely compatible. I’ll leave the two of you to talk science.” She stressed the word, her voice lilting with laughter. “Win, I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll discuss the arrangements for the first meeting. Vern, behave.” She patted his shoulder.
Win straightened in her chair. She didn’t like Storm touching Vern, her alien.
My alien? She drained her glass, the alcohol warming her belly. Vern didn’t belong to her. He could have his choice of females.
Storm’s light tread echoed through the computer speakers. Win gazed at Vern. Vern gazed back at her, his hungry expression relaying a sexual need she wanted to satisfy.
Instant lust wasn’t an unusual occurrence. It allowed animals to mate quickly, efficiently, perpetuating their lineage. She suspected, however, her feelings were deeper, more permanent.
“You had queries requiring answers?” Vern prompted.
“Ah…yes.” She swallowed hard, forcing herself to concentrate on science, on her first love. “Storm mentioned that Sila is situated several galaxies away from Earth. That’s impossible. To travel here would take thousands of lifetimes.”
Vern smiled. “It is impossible for your primitive culture.”
“My primitive culture?” Win scowled at him. “Are you referring to the primitive culture you’re asking to save your people?”
He chuckled, the sound low and deep and arousing. “Even primitive cultures have potential for greatness. You have not mastered space travel because you view distance as linear, a straight line with no variations.”
Win listened to his detailed answer, watching his lips move and his eyes sparkle. She asked more questions. He responded patiently, thoroughly, logically, overturning some of the rules she’d built her world around.
His ridges created interesting shadows on his face and his coloring changed with his emotions, becoming more blue when he spoke passionately. Vern focused on her and only her, his attention heady, sexy, stimulating.
Win shifted in her chair and stroked the stem of her glass with her fingers, touching the crystal as she wished to touch him, the male she now believed to be an alien. He tracked her movements with his unusual eyes and his voice deepened, the rumble curling her toes.
This was the best drunken fantasy she’d ever had.
* * * * *
Many Earth hours later, Fixer Vern Zajac remained in the single-ass support positioned in front of the mid-sized viewscreen. He was transfixed by his druzka’s abundance of brown curls, her tranquil brown eyes, her moving mouth and ready laugh. Every container of beverage added more pink pigment to her full cheeks.
“So you’re saying you have huge Earth simulators and you train for months to claim your human mates?” She gestured with her hands, the liquid in her clear container spilling on her fingers.
“We train for our entire lifetimes,” Vern corrected. He had trained with all of his heart, body and soul to earn the right to claim Fixer Winona Tilsdale. He wasn’t yet worthy of that honor, that permission having been denied him.
His Win set the clear container down on a flat support. “And some of this training is sexual? You have sexual intercourse with your virtual human females?” She pulled her thin chest covering away from her gorgeous breasts.
“Yes, we perfect our fucking.” His hard spicka pressed against the fabric of his flight suit. “We will please our mates in all ways.”
“I bet you will please them.” Her husky voice caused his spicka to vibrate faster. “If you’re compatible.” She issued that statement as a challenge.
“We are compatible.” He leaned forward, wishing he could touch her, hold her, taste her. Would she smell as good as she appeared?
“I’m a big girl.” His Win lifted her chest covering, dragging the fabric over her head. “With big appetites.” She released her secondary breast covering, revealing succulent expanses of white curves and tight pink nipples. He had never seen a being as beautiful as his female. “I require a big male to please me.”
“Is your body temperature excessive, druzka?” Vern murmured.
His Win unfastened her ass covering. “Yes, I’m hot.” She removed the garment, revealing more skin, her body pleasingly round and soft. “And I’m a bit drunk, Vern.”
“I am not Vern.” He yanked on his flight suit, freeing his body. “We are mates. You are my Win. I am your Vern.”
“Hmmm…” She wiggled out of her ass covering, uncovering her brown private hair, her full thighs. “I like your chest, my Vern. Are you ridged all over?” She licked her bottom lip, her pink flesh glistening with moisture. “I’m asking purely out of scientific curiosity, of course.” She met his gaze. “Alien sexuality is my job.”
“You are a Fixer.” Vern shed his flight suit completely and adjusted the visual relay system, showing his mate his entire form. “A primitive Fixer,” he teased.
“I’m feeling primitive.” Her gaze lowered to his spicka, her expression growing even more soft, more appealing. “You are ridged all over, my Vern. And you vibrate.” She moaned again, rubbing her thighs together, the sound tormenting Vern. “Your penis would feel so good in my vagina.”
Vern frowned. “We learned different human words. This is my cock.” He gripped the base of his spicka. “When we fuck, my cock will fill your pussy.”
“You think you can fill this?” His Win hooked her legs over her arm supports, opening her body completely to his perusal. Moisture glistened on her pink folds, her clit exposed, her entrance empty and agonizingly small.
“I will fill you, my Win.” She’d be tight around him. Vern pumped his spicka with hard, severe strokes, captivated by his human mate’s lush body. Her hips were wide, her breasts full, not a sharp angle in her form.
“Oh boy.” She dropped her head back and strummed her pale fingers over her wetness. “I’m so drunk and so needy. The room is spinning and I’m masturbating in front of an alien.” She peered closer to the screen. “Are you really an alien, my Vern?”
“I am a Silan.” He lifted his chin proudly.
“You’re my alien.” His Win smiled sleepily, her mouth perfectly formed for sucking his spicka. For her, he’d be an alien. Vern worked his shaft faster, a bead of seed forming on his tip.
“I should be recording this.” His mate dipped two of her tiny fingers into her entrance, stretching herself open. “I’m a scientist, you know.” She slurred her words. “An astrobiologist.” She plunged her fingers into her pussy, matching his rhythm. “A great astrobiologist would document this, study it later.”
“They watch us.” Vern flicked his gaze upward. “I will send you the documentation you require.” He gripped his spicka more securely.
“You’re already recording this.” She widened her smile, displaying blunt white teeth. “You must be a great Fixer, my Vern.”
An unexplainable heat spread across Vern’s chest. When she gazed at him, he felt as though he was a great Fixer, worthy of a mate, worthy of her.
His Win added a third finger, diving in and out of her wet entrance, rubbing her thumb over her clit. She moaned and writhed, stunningly uninhibited, her thighs shaking, and Vern fought to maintain control, sliding his fingers over his shaft ridges, his spicka vibrating more and more.
“Touch your testes for me,” she commanded.
/> “Balls is the Earth word we know.” He cupped his varles with one hand and rolled them with his fingers, his passion escalating. “I will spill my seed soon.” He searched his mind for the proper phrase. “I will come.”
“Yes.” His Win lifted her beautiful hips, her head thrown back, her lips parted. “Come for me.” She panted, her sex sounds stripping his restraint. “Splatter your alien seed all over my screen.”
Her instructions were impossible to follow as her screen was positioned galaxies away from him. Vern growled with frustration.
“Make that noise again, my Vern.” She arched, thrusting her fingers into her tight little pussy, her wetness speckling her thighs. He complied, able to satisfy this order, and she trembled, her breasts moving enticingly.
“Yes,” his Win shouted. “Yes.” She flung her body upward, glorious and wild and his, her release causing damage he had no desire to fix.
“Yes,” Vern roared, bucking upward. Hot jets of cum pumped from his spicka, arcing in the cool air, splattering on the metal mesh floor. He came by his hand as he had for his entire lifetime, yet he was no longer solitary. His druzka, seated on a single-ass support on her blue-and-white planet, was with him, her face pink with satisfaction, her gaze unfocussed.
“My Vern?” Her voice permeated his very being.
“Yes, my Win,” he murmured, the tension easing from his shoulders.
“I’m sleepy.” She yawned, displaying her exotic teeth and cute little tongue. “But I’m scared to close my eyes. I don’t want you to disappear, to be a figment of my drunken mind.” Her eyelashes fluttered. “What if you’re not here when I wake up?”
“I will remain, druzka,” he assured her. “When your sun rises, I will contact you on this communications system.”
“Will you?” His Win gazed at him as though he had granted her ownership of Sila. “Promise?”
“I give you my word,” Vern vowed. “I will contact you every planet rotation until our life spans permanently merge.”
