Claimed by the Alien Chief: A sci fi alien romance (Zocrone of the Seven Galaxies Book 1)

by Sloane Meyers

  He couldn’t help it. He’d never seen another creature as beautiful as her. She was similar in shape to a Zocrone female, but exotically different, too. She was shorter than the average Zocrone, but her breasts were larger. Her lips were fuller, as were her curves. And her eyes. Oh, how they lit up when she was excited. Daxar’s own eyes were the typical fog gray color of a Zocronian, and like most Zocronians, his eyes grew darker when he was angry, going completely black. But the way Nova’s eyes changed was far more subtle. The color stayed the same, and yet somehow the eyes changed. It’s like you could read her emotions in her eyes. Daxar had dreamed of those eyes last night, and for a brief moment in his dreams, she had been his. There had been no rules keeping him from claiming her as his. Waking up had felt like a nightmare.

  You are Chief. You could change the rules. The rules are all in your head, anyway.

  Daxar pounded a fist on the table in frustration. A few tables away, a startled Zocronian girl jumped at the sound. She turned, probably to scold him for being unnecessarily loud. But when she saw who it was, she turned around without another word. She obviously wasn’t interested in questioning the Chief.

  No one questions the Chief. It was true. He could change the rules however he wanted to, and no one would question him. But he had worked so hard to earn their trust. He had made Zocrone safe. He had proven that, although he wasn’t as great of a leader as his father had been, he was at least competent. No one would ever forget the mistakes of Daxar’s past, but surely they could see that he had learned from them. That he took his duties as Chief seriously.

  He could not throw away what little respect he had earned just because a woman had caught his eye. Even if she did happen to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And he had seen a lot of women. He used to travel a lot more when he was a bit younger, and he knew that the Seven Galaxies had plenty of beautiful women to offer. But none of them came even close to matching Nova.

  But since Nova was off limits, Daxar was here at Black Hole Brews, trying to act like he wasn’t angry at the whole Galaxy, and like he could care less if he ever saw Nova again. Never mind the fact that, if he was honest with himself, he would have to admit that he was wishing with all his heart that she would walk through the front door of the bar right now, just so he could see her again. He had sworn to himself that he would avoid her, and wouldn’t deliberately cross paths with her. But surely, if he was sitting at one of his usual spots, minding his own business, and she just happened to show up, then he couldn’t be blamed for that.

  Daxar growled and took another sip of his drink. Who was he kidding? There was no way she was going to show up here. He’d made it pretty clear that he didn’t want her in Zocrone. She and her crew were probably holed up in their apartments, hiding away from everyone and counting down the days until they could get out of this hell hole. They probably wanted to be gone even more than Daxar wanted them gone.

  Except I don’t want Nova gone. I want her here, forever.

  Daxar let his head fall into his hands. This was not going well. Perhaps he was the one who should go home and hide out. If he was such a mess that even his best friends had given up trying to reason with him, then things had gotten pretty bad. Jarmuk, Toryx, and Kromin were never afraid to get in his face about anything. Everyone else in town might respectfully tiptoe around when Chief Daxar was in one of his moods, but not those three. They’d grown up with him, and to them he was still just the kid they’d climbed up to the top of the dome with, laughing as monkeys swung past. The boys would all ignore their parents, who would try to call them over and over on their e-assistants.

  I used to take chances.

  And look where those chances had gotten him as a teenager. He’d nearly wiped out Zocrone with one single mistake. He was Chief now, and he could not afford to take chances. Chances were for people who had nothing to lose, and Daxar had everything to lose. His decisions put the lives of every single Zocronian on the line. With authority came great responsibility.

  Daxar sighed and raised his head from his hands again. He needed to either stop moping or go home. He shouldn’t let his people see him like this. They needed to see a strong leader who had his temper under control. Daxar took a deep breath and scanned the room, trying to force a pleasant expression onto his face. But when his eyes landed on the front door of the bar, he froze, his jaw dropping open.

  Impossible.

  But it was possible. There, standing in the doorway and looking nervously around as though she was afraid a mob might attack her at any moment, stood Nova. He had been so sure that she wouldn’t show up here that he had to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. But sure enough, she was there, tossing her long, wavy hair over her shoulder and trying a little too hard to seem nonchalant. After surveying the room for a moment, she turned to walk up to the bar. She held her head high, but Daxar didn’t miss the fact that she stole nervous glances to her left and right every few moments. He was thankful that he was sitting in a dark back corner where he would be difficult to spot. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if she had seen him and come over to talk to him. Even though he normally knew how to act in every situation, this girl unnerved him.

  He watched as she chose a barstool and sat down, calling up and flipping through the electronic menu that was displayed at every seat. The menu would have meant nothing to her though: it was all in Zocronian. Sure enough, a moment later she was flagging down one of the bartenders. Daxar could see Nova’s side profile from his seat, and he felt a twinge of jealousy when he saw her smiling broadly at the bartender. She pointed to the menu and shrugged, and the bartender smiled back at her, and then said something that made her laugh. Not just a little chuckle, either. One of those throw back your head and really laugh kind of laughs. Daxar felt jealously unfurling in the core of his stomach and spreading all throughout his body. Why did the bartender get to make her laugh?

  Nova belongs to me. Except she didn’t. Nova belonged to no one, as far as Daxar could tell. She was fiercely independent, and although he might not think her career choices were the wisest, he had to admit that she commanded the respect of her little crew. Speaking of her crew, where were they? Hadn’t they wanted to come out with their captain and experience the Zocronian nightlife? Apparently not. Then again, maybe they were all busy working on the ship still. The flight mechanic, Maisie, had taken to heart his admonition to get it done quickly. She had barely taken a break, if Daxar’s informants were to be trusted. She must really want to get off this planet. Which should have made Daxar happy. Except all he could think of right now was that when that ship left, Nova left with it.

  With a growl, Daxar lifted his mug and finished off the last of his beer. He would go talk to Nova. He could not bear to sit here and watch her from the shadows any longer. And besides, talking to her would remind him that she was merely a weak human, an inferior race to the Zocronians. That would help him get over this stupid infatuation he was feeling. He had the pick of pretty much any of the single Zocronian females in town, so why would he waste time with a human?

  As he strode through the bar, he could feel all eyes turning to watch him. Everyone probably expected him to make a scene with the human girl. They were probably taking bets right now on whether he’d kick her out of Black Hole Brews altogether. Daxar ignored their stares, and their chatter, and went right up to the bar, setting his mug down hard on the bar top next to her. She started a bit, then turned to see who had joined her. When she saw him, her eyes went wide and filled with surprise.

  There she goes again, showing her emotion in her eyes. Damn, it’s so sexy.

  She was wearing a dress that she’d obviously bought here in Zocrone. It was a bright green color with skinny neon purple shoulder straps. If you’d asked Daxar before tonight, he would have told you that the Zocronian fashions would look ridiculous on a human, with their plain, porcelain skin. You needed skin the deep blue hue of a Zocronian to be able to wear such neon colors. But the dr
ess actually looked quite good on Nova. It made her human skin seem to come alive, and it brought out the vividness of her eyes. The colors also made the deep brown color of her hair appear even richer. And the shape of the dress! It clung tightly to her breasts, showing off how large they were. The dress had been made for a Zocronian female with typically smaller Zocronian breasts, so the fabric hugged Nova’s curves tightly. It wasn’t tight enough to be obscene, but it was tight enough to set Daxar’s heart racing.

  “Daxar. I didn’t know you liked this bar.”

  He frowned at her. “Shows how little you know about me. This bar is my favorite place in Zocrone.”

  “Oh.” She looked uncertain. “Should I leave? I can go. I don’t want to intrude and I wasn’t trying to get in your way. I just wanted a drink. Needed a drink. It’s been a long day. A long week, really.”

  Daxar told himself to stop being so rude. He hadn’t come over here to make her feel unwelcome. He’d come over here to…to what? He wasn’t sure, exactly. All he knew was that the jealousy roaring in his core when the bartender made her laugh had been too much to bear. He’d had to come over and make sure that no one could have her but him. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t actually going to allow himself to have her. Even though he wasn’t actually going to claim her in his bed, that didn’t mean she was up for grabs for anyone else. Not that the bartender had been doing anything other than being a normal, friendly bartender. But still. Just in case.

  I’m losing it.

  “You don’t need to go,” Daxar said, forcing a smile onto his face. It felt horribly unnatural to him to smile at an outsider. He never did that, not even with the outside Zekkardite buyers he’d been working with for decades. His personal policy demanded that he always act sternly with anyone who wasn’t Zocronian. But apparently he was breaking that policy tonight.

  “Oh. Uh, ok. Thanks.” Nova shifted in her seat and pulled at one of the straps on her dress. Daxar realized he was making her uncomfortable. He had to quit being a big blue brute and turn on the charm a bit. He forced the smile on his face a little bit wider. He was so bad at the flirting thing, even with Zocronians. Of course he sucked at it with a human even more. Which shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t even be flirting with her. But he couldn’t help himself. She was here, and she looked like a dream. He might as well enjoy himself for one or two drinks. He deserved that, right? He never, ever had fun with a girl anymore. And things could never go anywhere with this girl, so it was safe to flirt a little. They’d have a beer or two in the bar and then go back to hating each other. After all, bars were the intergalactic establishment for peace. You could always put aside your differences in a bar. Couldn’t you?

  “Are you…okay?” Nova’s voice brought him back to reality, and made him realize that his inner pep talk was making him look like a weird creep who had come over just to stand by Nova and stare at her.

  “I’m fine. Just a bit tired. I’ve had a long week, too.” This wasn’t entirely true. He had had a long week, but he wasn’t really tired. He didn’t tire easily. But humans and other weaker races seemed to always be tired, and they were always complaining about it. So maybe claiming to be tired was a good way to pass off his weird behavior. To his relief, Nova was nodding at him as though she completely understood his exhaustion. Okay: so far, so good.

  Don’t sludge this up anymore than you already have.

  “I came over because it looked like you were having trouble with the menu, and I was wondering if you wanted a recommendation.”

  Nova visibly relaxed at his words. “Oh. Yeah. Well the bartender already recommended a beer for me. But I’m starving, too. I could use some help with the food menu.”

  “What beer did he recommend?”

  “Um, Antimatter Ale?”

  “Oh, good. That’s their best beer, and the only one here I drink. I was going to have to change your order if you’d chosen anything else.”

  This seemed to amuse Nova, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, it’s so. Now, as for food…” Daxar scrunched up his nose and tried to think what on the menu would be most like human food. It had been a long time since he’d been anywhere near a human planet, though, and he couldn’t remember very well what they liked to eat. He thought he remembered that they liked sweeter food, though, so he decided to go with one of the sweeter options on the menu. “You should try the green sweet strings.”

  Nova looked skeptical. “Green sweet strings?”

  “Yes. They’re these long green strings and you can slurp them up into your mouth. They’re made from a flour we grind from one of the grass-like plants that grow here, and usually they’re tossed with a sauce made from pureed redfruit.” Daxar shrugged. “I’m not sure how else to describe the dish. It’s all a bit sweet for my taste, but you might like it.”

  “So it’s kind of like a weird sort of spaghetti, it sounds like?”

  “Spaghetti? I don’t know this word.”

  Nova seemed amused by this. “If you ever visit Earth, you’ll know it soon enough. Ok, I’ll give the green sweet strings a try.”

  The bartender came back just then with Nova’s beer, and Daxar ordered the green sweet strings for Nova and another beer for himself. After the bartender had left, an awkward silence settled over them for a minute. Daxar struggled to think of something to say that didn’t make him sound like a jerk or an idiot, and Nova suddenly seemed very preoccupied with staring down at her beer.

  “How is it?” he finally asked her, immensely proud that he’d thought of something to say. No wonder he’d never been a big fan of dating. He was awful at small talk.

  “It’s good. Really good, actually. I’ve had a lot of different beers on a lot of different planets, and I have to say that this is one of the best I’ve tried.”

  “So you’ve smuggled all over the place, then?”

  Nova frowned, toying with her beer mug for a moment before she answered. “Well, yes. I’ve smuggled in quite a few places. But before I was a smuggler I worked as a personal assistant to an intergalactic senator. I got to travel to quite a few places as part of that gig.”

  “Wait a minute. You went from working for a senator to illegal smuggling? That seems like an odd jump in careers.”

  Nova shrugged, her slim shoulders rising and falling in a defeated manner. “I’ve had quite a few career jumps, actually. I can’t manage to do one thing for very long before screwing it up, it seems. I guess it’s appropriate, considering my name.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, you know what a nova is, right? A star that burns bright for a while then fades away. Kind of like me. I’ve started all these different careers over the last ten years, and I’ll do awesome at something for a while. Then suddenly I do something stupid and mess it up. I’m always great at the start, then I fade away into being awful. It’s just who I am. Everything I touch eventually turns to crap.”

  “Maybe you just haven’t found the right thing yet.”

  She let out a long sigh. “Maybe. Or maybe there isn’t a right thing for me. Smuggling is the first thing I’ve been good enough at that I thought I might be able to do it for a long time. But now I’m not so sure. This basestos shipment was a big deal, and the crash has made it really late. If my clients are angry enough about it, my smuggling career could be over.”

  “You shouldn’t be messing with basestos anyway.” Daxar couldn’t believe that Nova had been transporting such a huge amount of such an explosive material. If one thing went wrong, her entire ship would have exploded in spectacular fashion in the middle of space. There wouldn’t have even been any pieces of the wreckage large enough to tell what ship had been destroyed, or who had been on board. Nova and her crew would have been lost to space forever. But apparently Nova didn’t appreciate being told what to do, because her eyes narrowed in anger.

  “You shouldn’t be telling me what to do. Besides, from what I hear, you messed with basestos back in the
day yourself.”

  Daxar felt his chest tighten. She couldn’t possibly be talking about when he opened the new Zekkardite mine, could she? The triumphant look in her eyes told him that she was.

  “Oh, yes,” she said, crossing her arms and cocking an eyebrow at him. “I know all about your past. I know why you don’t like outsiders, and I have to say, I think your rules are a bit severe. You’re keeping out everyone in the Seven Galaxies because of one alien race that barely even exists anymore.”

  Daxar’s anger flared. “My rules are none of your concern. I am Chief here, and I decide what is necessary to protect my people. You’re lucky I bent the rules to let you and your crew stay and fix your ship. I didn’t have to do that.”

  She rolled her eyes, apparently unafraid of his temper. “Yes, you did have to do that, and you know it. If you’d left us to die out there, the Seven Galaxies Feds would have thrown a fit when they found out. You want to be left alone, and to do that you have to make sure to keep the Feds off your ass.”

  “You have no idea what I want or what I have to do to get it.” Dax turned his back to her, making it clear that he didn’t want to talk to her anymore. It was a petty move, and his words had been petty, too. But she flustered him, and he didn’t want to let her see that.