Brocke: Alien Warlord's Conquest (Scifi Surprise Pregnancy Alien Military Romance)

by Vi Voxley

  Well, when you put it like that… it’s still a fucking death trap.

  Despite that, Cora sat behind Brocke on the speeder. She was terrified of the bikes, but as the warrior told her to wrap her hands around him and hold, Cora thought it wasn’t all bad.

  The bike sped into the dawn outside, heading for the embassy, but Cora hardly noticed. What was the possibility of crashing horribly compared to being pressed against the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen?

  Chapter Four

  Brocke

  The city was waking around them as he drove.

  Brocke kept the speed of the bike normal for the sake of the Terran female, but she still clung to him like a lifeline. It was obvious she didn’t like the speeders, whereas he very much liked feeling her against him.

  As soon as he’d stepped into that room, he’d been attracted to her, more so than to any other female before her. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what about her drew him in, but there was a magnetism to her he couldn’t deny.

  It was odd but welcome. Long, long years in Gomor had dulled him to interaction with people who weren’t his prisoners. He wasn’t going to tell her that, but Brocke hadn’t been sure what he was going to do before he saw Cora. She possessed information he needed, and usually, the guardian was very good at getting people to tell him what he wanted.

  Yet, one look at those pretty hazel eyes and he had chosen the more pleasant way, even if she didn’t appreciate it. That was the innate feeling of safety he’d been told about. Cora thought that just because she wore Union colors, she didn’t have to fear anything.

  That was incorrect. Gaiya was the outpost of the Corgan realms, but it was still wild and dangerous to outsiders, regardless of what the Galactic Union wanted to believe.

  He told her none of that, instead allowing himself to enjoy the way her body pressed against his, pulling his attention away from the road.

  As he came to a lurching stop in front of the embassy, Cora stumbled off the bike as soon as it came to a full halt. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she took deep breaths, supporting herself on the wall, then glaring at him with the same endearing spirit he’d seen flare up before.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to get us both killed,” she said, and there was a small tremor in her voice.

  “I take it you don’t like my bike,” he said, dismounting.

  Cora was glaring at him again, and Brocke found it sexier than any lustful look a woman had ever given him.

  “Yes,” she said dryly. “It’s totally unreasonable to hate things that could flip over at light speed and make jelly out of both of us.”

  “Light speed,” he repeated.

  She seemed momentarily taken aback, an almost apologetic look on her face.

  “It was a joke. Gods, how dumb do you think I am? All I’m saying is that I wish you guys at least used helmets or something.”

  Brocke felt a smirk tugging his lips upward.

  “It would obscure my vision,” he said, walking to the building with her following. “A warrior needs to be aware of his surroundings at all times.”

  “So they keep telling me,” Cora sighed, but she looked considerably happier now that they both had their feet firmly on the ground again. “Anyway, it’s fine. I don’t like them, never will, but I will deal if it means we catch our man faster.”

  Brocke nodded. As they approached the embassy lobby, Cora gave him a warning look. He wondered if she knew how few people in the whole realm would have dared to do that – suddenly block his path and stare him down.

  It should have bothered him, torn at his pride, but he found it amusing. He never would have guessed how refreshing it was not to be horrifying to someone.

  Not that Cora didn’t fear him. He had seen her shrink back from him like she thought he was going to cut her throat right then and there, but it was a natural discomfort instead of a cultivated terror. She was afraid of him because he was stronger, faster, and more powerful than her. Not because he was some formless nightmare in the darkness, an object of almost existential dread.

  Letting her get away with talking freely to him was a small price to pay for that rarity.

  “Look,” Cora was saying. “I know who you are. I suppose you could open all the doors with only your name, but this is the Union embassy. I know my people, and they don’t like to be rough-handled by those who are supposed to be allies. Could you let me do the talking?”

  “What if we need something they don’t want to give?” he asked.

  She beamed at him, absolutely gorgeous in the light of the dawning day. Her short, curly red hair looked like flames dancing around her beautiful face. The hazel eyes were bright with joy. Brocke had to resist a strong urge to pull her supple body into his arms right at that moment.

  “Then you’ll see that asking people works too,” she said and walked away with purposeful steps.

  He watched her go for a moment, loving the view of her skintight uniform over her delicious body, thinking he’d never met a woman like that before. Then he followed.

  The Union’s embassy was already busy at such an early hour. Terrans, and Corgans, and more than likely a few half-breeds were walking around, conducting their business, but most of them stared at him freely.

  Brocke was used to drawing looks, but Cora seemed annoyed by the attention. He supposed it didn’t help that they were seen together, bringing light upon their task.

  It turned out that her name opened doors just as easily, at least in there. Ambassador Swann had promised her full cooperation when it came to catching Condor, and they weren’t questioned at any point during their climb to the top of the building. Brocke received nods from other Corgan warriors, and Cora greeted a few clerks by name.

  In fact, their passing through the embassy was entirely uneventful, but the roof made up for all that calm immediately.

  He followed her to the top of the building, hearing her curse as soon as she saw the emptiness up there.

  “It’s gone,” she stated, annoyed. “This is not possible.”

  They both walked around the area, but it was nothing but a round, open space with no places to hide. Experimentally, Brocke checked the roof with a device on his wrist meant to find cloaking devices of all kinds, infinitely useful in Gomor.

  He found nothing.

  “Your people,” he said. “Could they have taken the bodies?”

  “They most certainly did,” Cora said, and there was a bitter disappointment in her voice. “But they would never have cleaned up the place like this – with nothing else to find, no tests to conduct. The name is gone too.”

  “Condor’s name?”

  “Yeah,” Cora said, pointing to a small area that still smelled of blood. “It was right there, just like at every location where we’ve found a body. This is all wrong. It’s too clean.”

  He waited while she walked around the roof, looking for any sign of the ones who’d taken all traces of the evidence that might have been left behind.

  “The man last night,” she said, musing to herself more than addressing him. “He was probably here to collect the body, but we intervened. So something must have happened yesterday. And later his accomplices came and finished the job when he didn’t come back.”

  She’d quickly briefed him about the events of the day before.

  “I think I might be the cause of that,” Brocke said, prompting her to look up questioningly. “Condor has been gone for a few days now. He must have reached his allies and told them to stop leaving me clues. He knows I’m after him.”

  He could practically see ideas connecting in Cora’s mind.

  “All these murders,” she said. “They were an offering like I thought? His allies, followers, or whatever you call them. Killing half-breeds to show him they supported his insanity.”

  She was on her feet again, pacing around the roof, her eyes burning with excitement and anger.

  “That’s why there was a new one after so much s
ilence. They thought he was gone for good, but then he came back. And they got all excited and wanted to make a big show for him, but Condor wasn’t happy they’d painted his name all over Gaiya, and he told them to remove the evidence.”

  As she spoke, her words sounded true to Brocke. He had kept an eye on the murders even in Gomor, but when Cora told him some of the more horrendous details, he knew he’d made the right choice by letting Condor go. The priest would draw all his followers in, and Brocke could take them all down at once.

  “Think,” he told Cora, seeing the way she frowned at her lost crime scene. “You saw the last body before it was taken. Do you have any idea where it was from? You said the priestess confirmed he didn’t die here.”

  “Yes. He drowned,” Cora said, sighing. “But I don’t know where. Half of Gaiya is ocean; the coastline alone is more ground than anyone could ever search. And it doesn’t even have to be there, he could have drowned in a fucking puddle for all I know.”

  She was quiet for a long while, until she looked up again, pursing her mouth sadly.

  “I know what I need to figure this out, but it won’t be pretty –” she was saying, but Brocke had seen something across her shoulder.

  “Get inside!” he roared. “Now!”

  Cora turned just in time to see the fighter make its first pass over them, guns blazing. Brocke knocked her out of the way at the last second, feeling the hot blast brush against his thigh as he nearly took the hit himself. Cora was on her feet instantly without protest, dashing for the door, but it didn’t open for her.

  “It’s locked!” she called back, her eyes full of disbelief.

  As Brocke faced down the fighter coming for another round, wishing he hadn’t left his rifle with the speeder, Cora pulled her transmitter out.

  “Embassy security,” she screamed, “we are being shot at on the roof! Where are you?”

  Brocke looked at the fighter. It was very clear that the only thing keeping them alive was being able to predict the course it was going to take. The roof wasn’t that big, and aiming at such speed was difficult, meaning it could only shoot at a straight line with not much room to change the direction without turning around completely.

  Running for her, Brocke never took his eyes off the fighter, pulling Cora away from the door and with him.

  “Trust me,” he said when her mouth opened to ask something, more than likely whether he was setting them both up as targets.

  With one hand around her, he waited as the fighter came back for another round. Calculating flight vectors was a risky move considering how small the roof was, but there was nowhere else to go. Down below, Brocke could hear the sounds of bay doors opening as the embassy disembarked its own fighters.

  He waited until the last moment before throwing both himself and Cora on the ground again to make sure the fighter didn’t have time to adjust course. The superheated air rolled over them like a wave, but they were both still alive. He and Cora got up, the transmitter still in her hand as the enemy fighter turned again.

  “Stay back,” he warned her as it approached for the third attempt.

  This time, knowing it was about to be chased down, the fighter came in slow and steady to make sure it hit, but Brocke was ready. He offered himself up as an easy target so it would pass on Cora. Brocke knew he could jump out of the way, but he had no intention of doing so.

  Whoever was shooting at them was too valuable to be allowed to die or escape.

  Brocke heard Cora’s astonished gasp even over the roar of the fighter engines as instead of jumping away, he pulled one sword free from the sheaths on his back and backed to the edge of the roof. The fighter came in firing, but avoiding getting hit was easy enough. Jumping on top of it, embedding the sword into the hard metal of the fighter was much more difficult.

  “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” he heard Cora scream to the embassy ships as the enemy fighter realized it had picked up a passenger.

  It tried to shake him off, but Brocke jammed the other sword right next to the first and held on. The embassy fighters had caught up too, keeping the enemy firmly in their sights, not letting it slip away from them with warning fire, outmaneuvering it.

  The rush of air was punishing as the fighters danced in Eborat’s sky, no doubt drawing a lot of attention Brocke didn’t need, but there was nothing to be done. Brocke needed the pilot to talk and answer some serious questions.

  It was hard to do in mid-air, though. Brocke pulled one blade free to jab it into the front panel of the fighter before snatching it back again and repeating the motion, closer to the pilot’s head this time.

  The hint was clear enough, and the fighter began to slowly return to the embassy where Brocke could see Cora waiting. It was a perilous journey with the other fighters keeping a watchful eye on them. The enemy pilot was clearly uneasy, looking for any way to bolt or to shake him off, but Brocke made sure the man felt the cold steel of his blades against his neck every few seconds.

  As the pilot landed under the watchful eyes of the embassy fighters, Brocke slid off the vessel and opened the hatch immediately, dragging the man out of the cockpit and dropping him on the ground. He held his newest prisoner at sword point as Cora rushed to him.

  “That was the most incredible and the most reckless thing I’ve ever seen,” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with admiration. “I thought you were insane before, but now I know it.”

  Brocke smirked in response.

  “I’m a Corgan warrior,” he said, nodding his head in agreement. “I think that goes without saying.”

  “We need to question him,” Cora said, pointing to the man lying on his stomach on the roof. “And I think it’s better if I’m there to witness it.”

  There was a warning hint in her tone, and it sent a strange surge of regret through Brocke. It was obvious she’d heard rumors about him – some of which were true – but he didn’t want her to have those images before her eyes when she thought of him. For some reason, it was important to him that Cora didn’t see him as a monster, the nightmare that lurked in the night.

  “Very well,” he said.

  As he dragged the struggling man along, Cora gave him a serious look.

  “One more thing,” she said, walking to the door that was now open as embassy security came to clean up the mess. “That door was locked from the inside. I am absolutely sure that I left it open.”

  Brocke nodded grimly.

  “I know,” he said. “The same occurred to me. This now marks the third time the embassy misses someone on their own roof. Someone is intentionally sabotaging their security, keeping them blind, or leading them to believe nothing’s wrong.”

  “It can’t be the Ambassador,” Cora said at once. “She wouldn’t…”

  “I don’t think it’s her, but she needs to find out who it is. Terran or Corgan, it doesn’t matter. There is a traitor in the embassy.”

  Cora’s face was very pale as she nodded.

  “Yes,” she said very quietly. “And I think I know now how Condor’s allies found their victims.”

  Chapter Five

  Cora

  She felt very weird about inviting Brocke into her home, but it made sense to have him close. It seemed their mission was already known to Condor, and there was safety to be found in numbers.

  Usually, it would have been Cora protecting a witness or an informant, but this time she was clearly the one being protected.

  And, Cora reminded herself, it doesn’t have to be weird if I don’t make it so. So there’s a gorgeous man in my quarters, what’s the worst that could happen?

  Her treacherous mind kept parading images of the best that could happen before her eyes. They were so graphic Cora felt herself blushing slightly at a few. She hadn’t known it was her undying wish to be fucked seven days into next week until she couldn’t walk, but it appeared to be so.

  It definitely didn’t help her work, but Cora pushed her dirty thoughts to the background the best she could.

  Br
ocke was looking around her quarters in the Militant’s living facilities. The building was a two-storied house not far from the embassy meant for the Union’s officers. Cora had three nice rooms to herself, but she suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious about them. She had never seen a Corgan warrior’s rooms.

  What do they even look like? They have to sleep at some point, right?

  For some reason, Cora could only imagine two possibilities: they would be amazingly lavish, decorated with war trophies and weapon racks, or extremely Spartan, with little more than a bed and a place to hone their swords.

  She watched Brocke check her security measures, thinking that he looked terribly out of place in her little world. There was something about her stuff – the memorabilia she’d brought with her from Terra, and her attempts to make the place homier – that made the six foot five warrior stand out in the middle of it all.

  “Do you want anything?” she asked, feeling a level of awkwardness she hadn’t felt in a while. “I don’t know if warriors drink.”

  Brocke gave her an amused look that sent a shiver down Cora’s spine.

  “If we did, would you have Corgan alcohol in your home?” he asked.

  “I might,” Cora shot back, shuffling around and looking for her impulsively purchased secret stash that she had never thought would actually come in handy. “Condor is a headache.”

  She found the huge bottle in the corner of one of her cupboards. A surge of gratitude went through Cora. She had bought the sample after Ashby said Corgan alcohol worked wonders on Terrans and if that wasn't a challenge, Cora didn't know what was.

  So she'd went out and gotten some, but never ended up taking a sip. Cora didn't think she was the drinking alone type, but now she had company.

  Brocke ended up accepting a mug of the best brew Gaiya had to offer – according to the guy who'd sold it to Cora, anyway – and poured her a glass as well. The warlord sat down opposite of her behind Cora's work station, looking at the map of Gaiya she brought up on the console built into the table. Cora began entering the information she’d gotten from the embassy as well as bringing up the readings from the orbital platform.