Mate Abduction (Alien Abduction Book 9)

by Eve Langlais

  “Idiot.” Pantariste snorted. “You’ll take Ishtara with you.”

  Another of her teachers, but much younger than the rest, Ishtara sometimes hung out with Clarabelle. She liked to think they were friends. Having her along would help a lot.

  “What do I do if I find a place that has everything we need?” Clarabelle asked.

  “Send word that we might inform your sisters. They shall have the choice to join you.”

  Clarabelle wanted to do cartwheels. Instead she wrapped her arms around Pantariste and exclaimed, “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. This quest of yours might end in failure, which is why you will not tell anyone about it.”

  “Not even my sisters?”

  “Could they handle the disappointment?”

  Clarabelle realized that she couldn’t raise their hopes and then possibly dash them. “I won’t say a word.”

  Pantariste waved. “Off with you before I change my mind.”

  She ran before that could happen. It took her only a few minutes to pack but longer to say goodbye to her sisters. She hugged them and when asked where she was going would only say that she was going on a voyage with Ishtara to space. Which, needless to say, caused some jealousy.

  It was especially hard for her to lie to her best friend, Betty.

  “There’s something you’re not telling me,” Betty accused.

  Clarabelle clasped her sister’s hands. “I’ll send you messages.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise,” she said, hugging her best friend.

  Then it was on to sweet and shy Sade, who looked lost as she hugged herself, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. A fragile soul, she’d not adapted well to the violence and fighting on Zonia.

  “Don’t let them walk all over you,” Clarabelle reminded softly.

  Sade sighed. “I wish I could be more like you. Fearless. Adventuring.”

  “One day you’ll have a grand adventure of your own,” Clarabelle declared.

  Sade snorted. “Ha. Next thing you’ll be saying I’ll find a husband.”

  “You never know. Louisa found two.”

  “Bring back a couple,” was Katrina’s demand. “We can share.”

  Which spawned some good-natured arguing, with Josee declaring she didn’t need a man to satisfy her.

  Clarabelle skipped out the door before they could see her tears. It was harder than expected to leave them, especially without telling the truth. Did they suspect her story was a lie?

  It didn’t matter. She owed them. She couldn’t fail.

  The cavern where the ships were kept retained its rocky ceiling, though it was sprayed with a clear coat of something that made it crack-proof. It could withstand a direct blast from most weapons capable of firing in space. She’d declined a live demonstration.

  It was freaking huge and could hold up to fifty ships. It was buzzing with activity, most of the scurrying bodies small and orange, their four arms and a tail making them quick with tools. They swarmed over the ships, fixing things and jabbering in a strange language.

  The Zonians among them appeared gigantic, and yet everyone got along. The business arrangement with the Psalandrs saw both sides winning.

  Only one ship wasn’t crawling with mechanics. She aimed for it. The gangplank extended from the bottom, and her boots clanked on it as she boarded the ship.

  And paused, feeling a little dizzy. She braced herself and swallowed hard. This was it. She was really doing this, leaving her home, her family.

  Oh shit.

  Deep breath.

  Fear was but an emotion, and she could control it. She reminded herself that people flew on these ships all the time.

  Some didn’t return.

  Most did, with wondrous stories.

  Her turn to leave and discover what was out there.

  Her nerves steadied, and she stepped past the embarkation chamber. A fancy term for the tiny room that could seal shut and spit you into space. She remembered the movies on Earth.

  The hall proved smooth walled, like the ceiling, which extended to about ten feet. It was tall enough and wide enough for a Zonian. She traced her fingers over the paneling with its almost imperceptible seams. Fine work. The Psalandrs, of course. The Zonians had no patience or time to build ships, but they had the wealth to buy them. Protection, food, and other things were given to the orange mechanics, and in return, they built and maintained the technology.

  “Stop petting the walls and get in here,” Ishtara’s voice barked from a speaker.

  To the casual observer, she might sound angry. All the Zonians spoke in that same manner. In the beginning, Clarabelle had mistaken it for them being mean. She knew now that Pantariste and the others would lay down their lives for her and anyone they considered family.

  Entering the bridge, she found Ishtara sitting in the command seat.

  A yellow gaze fixed on her, and the beak smirked. “There you are. Taking your lazy time. Don’t look so impatient to me. Perhaps you don’t really want to go on this trip, caw?”

  “Just because I didn’t run all the way here doesn’t mean I’m not pumped about this mission.”

  “Mission!” Ishtara snorted. “I believe Katrina would call it a booty call, given we are hunting for breeding stock.”

  “That’s a rather nasty way of putting it.”

  Her indignation had Ishtara grinning. “Would you prefer I call your males dinner?”

  “Not funny, Ish,” she grumbled as she tossed her pack on the floor and sat in her seat. She’d stow it later.

  “You know, if it’s human males you need, then we could pop into the Obsidian market and see what we can bid on.”

  “We,” Clarabelle enunciated, “don’t want slaves. We want boyfriends.” The word didn’t really translate despite the emitter embedded inside her ear.

  “Why would you be friends with a male?” The very idea flummoxed Ishtara.

  “Because they’re fun to talk to. They make you feel special when they flirt. Sometimes it’s nice to just cuddle.”

  “If you wish for hugs, I will give you one that you won’t forget.” Ishtara cracked her knuckles, and Clarabelle waved her off before she could break some bones.

  “I don’t want a hug from you. Or my sisters.”

  “Only from a male? Why?”

  “Because it’s different. Nice. When you cuddle with someone you care about, it’s special and makes you feel warm inside.” She struggled to explain something she barely understood herself. It had been a while since her time on Earth. “I want to find a companion. A human one that will understand me. Not a slave or someone whose sperm I’m going to take before I ditch him. I—I mean we,” she hastily corrected, “want a real chance for a connection on an emotional level. Maybe if we meet the right guy we’ll have a kid with them, although I’m not going to be the one staying home. If I end up with a baby daddy, he could take care of the runt.”

  “You’d share the raising of progeny with a male?” Ishtara sounded aghast. “You’ll ruin them. What if the male’s weakness is passed on?”

  “But that’s just it. On Earth, men and women are basically equal.” For the most part. There were some inequalities still, but nothing like the drastic difference she’d experienced since going to space. Space-travelling aliens were not as progressive as expected.

  “On Earth, mayhap this impossibility occurs, but you are here, on Zonia.”

  “Yeah, but we’re not Zonian.” She probably shouldn’t have shouted it.

  “Obviously.” The yellow gaze flicked up and down. “Very well, you have convinced me. Let us go find you some pale-skinned, penile-possessing companions.”

  Clarabelle wanted to bang her head off the console at the less-than-eloquent description. But she had no time for annoyance, as they soon left the planet side bay and were airborne. She didn’t have a window to look out, but she did have a screen, and she watched avidly as they left the surface of the planet, a ball of browns
and yellows with some toxic green for water. An alien world with a few too many suns. They left it behind to coast among the stars.

  Holy crap, she’d done it. She was on a quest to find the orphans a new home. Despite Pantariste’s, and even Ishtara’s, less-than-enthusiastic responses, she hoped to soon be able to provide her sisters with coordinates for a planet where they would thrive.

  Her optimism didn’t last.

  Two

  His hope faded.

  Thyos stood at the base of the clan tree, the symbol of their strength. Its branches spread wide, the bark white. The last of its leaves clung valiantly. A pang struck as he stared up the dying monument that refused to flourish despite all his efforts. It had been several seasons since it produced seeds. Not since his father died. As if the tree of life mourned his passing.

  Or so Thyos liked to believe. According to his mother, the falling leaves and the lack of seeds were all his fault because he’d not yet mated.

  In order for a clan tree to thrive, its leader needed to be wedded and at least attempting to breed the next generation. Practicing with his hand didn’t count.

  It should be noted Thyos was more than willing to bind himself to someone. He just couldn’t seem to find himself a mate. Not for lack of trying.

  As he pursued the available options, which weren’t as many as previous generations, a sickness having taken many females of mating age, he found himself discouraged. Could it be he’d failed to recognize the bond that indicated he’d found his sykyrah? His fated one.

  Everyone had a perfect match. Most could take their time to find it. Thyos didn’t have that luxury if he wanted to remain clan leader.

  He placed his hand on the bark, the flesh moist and pulsing. He closed his eyes and hoped for a sign. A gentle breeze to give him direction. Even the projection of a word or the name of the one he sought.

  Surely his mate existed somewhere on this planet. Or had she died before they found the cure to the illness that took only the females? Was he to be the last leader of his clan? Destined to die childless and alone among the ruins of a once great legacy?

  Never.

  He pushed away from the tree and glared at it. “I’m doing my best.”

  And failing. Meaning he failed all who relied on him. A leader without his sykyrah translated into a clan with no future. No one understood why the bond was needed, only that without it the paired couples within that tribe couldn’t procreate. All because the tree refused to seed.

  “Would you at least give me a direction? A name would be nice,” he drawled sarcastically.

  “You do realize the tree can’t speak.” The amused statement had him transferring his scowl to Karymma, the clan’s shaman and the voice for the goddess Karma.

  Karymma stopped before him, her long gray robes almost touching the ground, the sleeves hiding her hands, the cowl casting her features in shadow.

  “I don’t know what else it expects me to do.” He waved a hand at the life tree. “I’ve searched this entire planet looking for my mate. She doesn’t exist.” Or she’d perished before he found her. If that were the case, then they were doomed. Best he begin the process of parceling off his tribespeople before the tree withered and died.

  “Fear not, Thyos the Brave, she exists.” The voice of the shaman changed, and suddenly he no longer spoke with Karymma. The goddess visited through her mortal conduit. That didn’t make his irritation any less.

  “Where?” he growled. “I’ve paid a visit to every clan on the planet. More than once.” Had the scars to prove it, given a few of them weren’t on pleasant terms with his tribe.

  “Your chosen is not of any clan,” the goddess stated.

  That was rather specific. His brows lifted. “If she’s not with any of the clans, then where? Why is she hiding?” And did this mean his goddess thought to pair him with a coward? Because only a weakling would attempt to circumvent fate.

  “She isn’t hiding. She is simply not here.” Karymma pointed to the sky. “Your bride is up there.”

  He glanced upward and couldn’t help but frown as he saw the vast wingspan of the flesh-rending tarodact, the four limbs beating as it soared on a hot wind. “I’m not mating with a bird.”

  “Don’t be foolish. I mean your mate isn’t on this planet.”

  The rebuke brought an even deeper frown. “Then which planet?” Because, in this solar system alone, another eight were inhabited, and only two of them had peace treaties with his at the moment.

  “Do you really expect me to just give you the answer?”

  As he glanced at Karymma, he blinked. For a moment he perceived two people, one being the old woman from his village, the other young and fresh faced, beautiful and dangerous. His goddess. Another blink and she was gone.

  “Given I am running out of time, a plain answer would be helpful, yes.” Because he never did do well at solving riddles.

  “How about a hint? She’s not from your star system. As a matter of fact, she comes from far, far away.”

  The implication was not lost on him. “You expect me to marry a non-blood?” His lip curled. “As if I’d taint the family line.”

  “You do not have a choice.”

  His stubborn side rose. He didn’t care if the goddess spoke. “I refuse to believe that. You must be mistaken.” His rebuke amounted to blasphemy. No one gainsaid the goddess. Even if she chose to speak through the shaman. It was expected he would listen. Obey.

  “Insolence.” The word emerged on a soft exhalation, and yet it lashed him with icy pellets.

  His breath frosted, as did Karymma’s skin. From the frozen statue stepped his goddess, in the flesh, the heat of her radiating and yet not dispelling the chill in his veins.

  Even he wasn’t so dumb as to remain standing. He hit the ground on one knee. “My goddess does me honor.”

  She snorted, and the icy sensation vanished. “You are utterly insolent yet endearing anyhow. Rise, my warrior.”

  Thyos stood and tucked his hands behind his back. “I apologize for my rudeness, Goddess.”

  “Apology accepted. Mostly because you will have a difficult task.” Karma perused him. “A good thing you’re pretty, or this might not work. Your mate will be more stubborn than you.”

  “You know of her?”

  “Enough to discern the difficulties. You are very different.”

  “She’s an alien, then?” he asked, hoping he’d misunderstood.

  “If you go back enough generations, you come from the same seed but have changed along the way. Which is a good thing because we must look beyond our world to others if we are to bring strength and vitality back to this world.” She trailed her fingers on the bark of the tree, and where she touched, the white-gray bark turned a dark brown. A few leaves budded.

  She gave it a hint of life. Gave him a little more time.

  He appreciated it, but still, an alien as his mate? “My mother will not be pleased.” She tended to be a strong proponent of pure bloodlines.

  “Your mother will obey. As will you.”

  Thyos struggled to agree. To hand over the fate of his future to a goddess who could be capricious. History clearly showed that sometimes her intervention led to sorrow—for the losers in the wars she started. The winners all adored her while the losers tried to regain her favor.

  “Is there not someone else?”

  “Enough arguing. You can keep wandering, looking uselessly on this world, or you can face the truth and the future.”

  “Let’s say I believe you. How am I supposed to find my mate?” Far, far away sounded like the start to a fantasy story.

  “The hand of fate will guide you.”

  “It better guide me accurately. There are millions of planets and stars. Where would I even start my search?

  “That’s just it. You don’t need to search. Part of the magic of the mating bond is the guarantee you’ll find her.” Karma beamed as if that were the best answer ever.

  Not even close. He couldn’t hel
p a sarcastic, “Will this magic also give me a ship and a reason to leave?” Because their hangar currently sat empty. Their few ships already out on missions.

  “Have faith.”

  In the blink of one eye and the next, the goddess was gone and Karymma swayed in place, a beatific smile on her face that turned to a sharp rebuke when he didn’t move fast enough for her liking.

  “You heard our goddess. Go find your intended.”

  “How about she finds me?” he grumbled as he headed back to his home, a village in the province of Qhryce.

  As he trod the familiar path, he thought over what his goddess said. Could he truly find his mate and save not only his future but that of his tribe?

  Hard to believe given, as he entered the village, he couldn’t help but notice the signs of even more abandonment. The longer he went without fulfilling his duties, the more his people absconded in the night. He couldn’t blame the couples who didn’t want to wait any longer to breed.

  It shamed him that the once powerful tribe he’d inherited had weakened all because he failed. Failed to find his sykyrah.

  And now Karma claimed his mate wasn’t even here. That he’d have to leave to find her. Hard to accomplish without a vessel.

  “Thyos, about time you showed up.” Kryx, his friend and acting second-in-command, strode out of the door to Thyos’s ever-evolving habitat.

  Thyos’s grandfather had begun the process, sculpting a patch of lahpee—a living rock that literally grew and could be coaxed into forms. It resulted in homes sculpted to their needs. By the truly adept, it became pieces of structural art. Currently the formation boasted three stories with sloped windows, sturdy balconies, and a fireplace that rose through the middle and heated the entire home.

  He’d looked forward to adding another floor when he found his mate and expanded his family. Instead, this place would crumble into ruin when the bond died out with him.

  He tried to not dwell on it. “What are you doing here? I thought you were on a scouting trip.” Anything to avoid a matchmaking mother, which used to be his mother’s enjoyment, too. Now she sighed loudly and often about how she’d never have any grandchildren to spoil.