by Calista Skye
Given to the Alien
Calista Skye
Published by Calista Skye, 2016.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
GIVEN TO THE ALIEN
First edition. January 18, 2016.
Copyright © 2016 Calista Skye.
Written by Calista Skye.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Given to the Alien (Science Fiction BBW/Alien BWWM Romance)
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Epilogue
Given to the Alien (Science Fiction BBW/Alien BWWM Romance)
She was his price.
They paid it.
But no one told her.
Olivia Cooper chose a bad time to become a Space Marine in the newly formed Space Force: Just when Earth had been defeated in their first encounter with the deadly, but beautiful Ethereal aliens.
Earth desperately needs help against the aggressive aliens, and help seems to be at hand when the alien General Ator'aq and his Braxians offer their assistance. But even if Ator'aq is sensationally handsome and powerful, he and his men also seem like primitive barbarian warriors. Can they really win against the sophisticated Ethereals?
And Ator'aq won't fight for free. His price: An Earth female who can be the mother to his heirs. Spirited Olivia fits his tastes perfectly, and the leaders of Space Force agree to give him the curvy and feisty space marine in exchange for his help against the lethal enemy. But they don't bother to tell Olivia about the deal...
But Olivia has secrets of her own, and the fact that she's a specially trained operative for Military Intelligence is only one of them. When the horrific Ethereals strike again and kidnap her little sister, she has to make a choice: Ator'aq or Space Force?
Given to the Alien is a science-fiction romance novel starring a curvy space marine and a ridiculously hot alien warrior. Expect steamy scenes, strong language, deadly aliens and the barrier-breaking love between a light caramel BBW and an alien warrior with hidden talents...
This is a complete, full-length romance novel with no cliffhangers and a happy-ever-after ending!
1
Hands, face, posture, intent.
Olivia went through the drill with each person passing her. Check the hands first. Is he holding anything that could be used as a weapon? Are they hidden or unnaturally lifted?
Then the face. Is this person relaxed or prepared for action? Is he staring too hard at someone or looking away in guilt?
Posture. Tense, aggressive, relaxed?
Intent. What is he doing or planning to do?
It had taken some practice to get the whole routine to the level where she did it without thinking, but she'd been doing this for six weeks now, and it was becoming routine. It had not been a part of her sergeant's training to be on military police duty, but if she was ordered to, she'd do it. She was a space marine.
Hands, face, posture, intent. More people were entering the bar on the other side of the corridor, some in groups, some alone. Some were in uniform, some were civilians. She checked every one, not being obvious about it.
Her back was to the wall, her head swiveled constantly, she had a plan for whatever might happen. The heavy gun at her side pulled at her belt and reminded her of her duties, and the black armband with the white letters 'MP' on it was always there as a dark smudge at the edge of her field of vision.
Hands, face, posture, intent.
Most of the people were just like her, soldiers and officers from the hastily assembled Space Force who had arrived on the space station just weeks or days before. More shuttles from Earth were coming daily, reinforcing the emergency army.
She had been in the first group sent to ISC, the International Space City, after the Moon Event. And her first duty was keeping control of the other soldiers who would soon be arriving, so she got her MP armband, her gun and two hours of training. And here they were, making sure none of the people inside the now only bar on the space station could cause more trouble than usual.
Hands, face, posture, intent.
Yep, most of them were just like her. Disoriented to suddenly be in space, confused at the direction their lives had taken, budding excitement and terror at what seemed like it would become a genuine space war.
And then there were those who were not like her at all. But they weren't here yet.
“If they keep coming like this, we'll need more like us,” Devon said beside her. “Anything happens, there could be ten people involved in a heap of fists before you know it.”
Hands, face, posture, intent.
“Looking calm enough for now,” Olivia said, still checking the people around her. “I'll start to worry when our allies get here.”
Her combat visor looked like dark sunglasses from the outside, but they gave her an enhanced view of everything around her. The readout inside it showed the body temperature of everyone she looked at, and could also give her a clue if the person had a weapon under their clothes. It was sometimes a useful tool, but it was she who had to make decisions.
No one expected anything but peaceful socializing here tonight, but you never knew. Soldiers in a radically new environment, uncertain about the future and maybe even inebriated, could get out of hand pretty quick. Especially when mixed with civilians, as they were here.
Hands, face, posture, intent.
When she looked at someone, the glasses flashed the text Neutral in blue across her vision. When she glanced at Devon it calmly showed him as Friendly in green.
And he was friendly, she thought. He was a space marine sergeant, same as her, arriving on the same transport six weeks ago, then handed the MP armband and placed on crowd control. He was a lanky country boy, always with a quizzical look on his pale face, and she was glad he was there. Even here, in a peaceful setting, being two and not just one person more than doubled her confidence. They could handle this.
At least until the allies came around. They were aboard the station now, she knew. And they were sure to come here, looking to socialize. One part of her was curious to finally see them, another part was hoping they wouldn't be here when she was on duty. But if that happened, well, she could handle it. She was a space marine.
Hands, face, posture, intent.
The stream of newcomers was dying down. The bar/restaurant was getting full, and the noise level from inside was rising steadily.
“Looks like it'll be a calm watch,” she said. “Not too rowdy, these ones.”
Devon gazed at the bar. “Right. Tomorrow night we'll be in there, getting some brewskis. Gonna be nice to be inside for once.”
Olivia nodded. Lots of people were standing up in there, she saw. “Sure is. Better be there early if we're gonna be able to grab a table and sit down in there.”
The visor showed 11.33 pm. At midnight
they'd be relieved by two other space marines with Military Police armbands and authority.
She looked down the corridor. No one else seemed to be coming. “I'll take a look inside.”
Devon nodded upwards, like he used to. “Enjoy.”
She sauntered across the corridor, opened the door to the bar and walked inside. Her visor showed a multitude of Neutral and some Friendly. Going inside for a short patrol was really just for show, to remind them all that they were being watched and that the bar was not a sanctuary from military authority. It kept them from doing stupid stuff. Not that there was a huge risk of that, anyway. Most of them were space marines and knew precisely where the line went. They would go right up to it, but they'd never cross it.
And it was a disciplined crowd. They ignored her as she walked around the tables and squeezed between those standing up. She kept just a calm little smile in the corners of her mouth. That was usually all it took to not ignite the anger of any drunk civilian who didn't like a clear police presence inside the bar. A grim, angry facial expression under her black sunglasses would only egg them on, while just the slightest little smile could deflect all kinds of problems, nip them in the bud before they'd even started.
The combat visor gave her enhanced vision, and she noticed all the guys who checked her out as she passed. She was a full-figured girl, and attracted her fair share of male attention. Her light caramel skin contrasted well with the dark and slightly shimmering space marine uniform, and she knew she looked good.
But as a sergeant, she didn't want to get involved with anyone she might later have to order to his probable death. So she stayed aloof and cool, not reacting to their advances. Maybe a handsome civilian could tempt her at some time, but the non-military personnel were rapidly vacating the International Space City as the war loomed larger on the horizon and the whole space station was taken over by Space Force.
There was a click in her ear. Devon.
“1212,” was all he said. But it was enough. Their allies had arrived after all. And Devon didn't want to face them on his own.
“Copy,” she said, already on the way.
“Excuse me,” she said loudly and pushed and dodged her way to the exit, not too gently. “Military police coming through!”
Beers were spilled and people turned in anger as she made her way past them, but she hardly noticed. She had to get out there and make sure Devon wasn't alone with the aliens.
She got to the door, and through the glass she could see Devon surrounded by huge shapes. They looked decidedly threatening.
“604,” she said into the comms, requesting backup. “Repeat, 604.”
“Copy 604,” Central responded. They needed no other information. They knew exactly where she was, and they could see everything on their monitors. But requesting backup was her call to make, not theirs.
Then Olivia slammed the door open and drew her gun in a very visible gesture, wanting to get everyone's attention outside. She was still not quite sure what was going on, but she knew it was urgent.
Her combat visor started rapidly flashing Hostile! in red across the alien shapes standing around Devon. There were four of them. And they had things with them. Things that her glasses were marking as Edged weapons.
She started running.
2
Hostile! the glasses kept flashing over the four shapes, the red letters burning into her retina with their intensity.
“Freeze! Military police!” Olivia yelled, still running. Those were some giant aliens, close to seven feet tall.
Her glasses gave her a rundown. Devon was suddenly on the ground. She hadn't seen how it happened.
“606,” she said into the comms – officer down.
“Copy 606,” Central calmly responded. “Reinforcements on scene in forty seconds.”
That, Olivia knew in her gut, would not be soon enough.
Three of the four shapes were turning to look at her. They backed off a little when they saw her come charging with her gun ready, lifting their hands to show them empty and that they meant no harm.
But the fourth... His hands were not empty anymore. Edged weapon, her visor superimposed over his hand.
Well, at least there were no guns. But that also made things harder.
One thing the MP instructor had emphasized was not to use deadly force against these particular aliens unless absolutely necessary. “Do anything else, but killing even one of those aliens has to be the absolutely last resort,” she'd said. “I can't order you to not use deadly force if your own life is at stake, but...” The instructors voice had trailed off, she had given them a significant look, and that was it. An MP was expendable. An alien life was worth more.
The ray gun in Olivia's hand had a short range, but it could only deliver deadly force. That was all it was made for. It would kill with even a glancing shot. And she did have other means at her disposal.
She made her decision in a split second, three steps away from the huge alien with the Edged weapon.
She shifted her gun from the right to the left hand, mentally calculated the distance and went through the moves.
“When you get it right, you'll use a force that's five times your own weight,” her unarmed combat instructor had said. And that kind of force was probably needed now. That was a big alien.
Olivia launched herself into the air, and the exoskeleton under her uniform helped her leap twice as high as she would have been able to otherwise. She hooked her arm around the alien's neck and felt her feet hit the wall, then turned around in mid-air and yanked the alien's head up and away from his body. The force from her full weight pivoting around his neck and gaining purchase on the wall would have ripped the head clean off most people, but the alien was heavy and powerful, and he held together. But all the force had to go somewhere, and he was yanked away from the crouching Devon and hurled towards the wall on the other side of the corridor. He lost hold of his sword and it went flying through the air towards the three other aliens.
The alien hit the wall with a heavy thud and Olivia landed on her feet and crouched, gun in hand, immediately ready for more action. One side of her combat visor replayed everything that had happened during the preceding two seconds as if seen from twenty feet away, giving her the chance to instantly gauge the situation.
But the only thing she'd missed was the sight of one of the other aliens catching the flying sword in his hand, just easily snatching the huge steel blade out of the air.
Her shoulder ached, and she knew she had pulled something there. Devon was unharmed and quickly reinserted his earplugs and drew his own gun.
“Thanks,” he said. “That was too close.”
She didn't respond, just kept an eye on the aliens. Anything could still happen. The reinforcements were at least a half minute away still.
The alien who had fallen slowly got to his feet, clearly groggy. One of his compatriots walked over and steadied him, and for the first time Olivia had time to really look at them. The one she'd taken down was the largest one of them, wide and tall, with long, straggly hair, a bare torso and a kilt made from furry animal skin. He was very muscular, but also tended to fatness.
The other one was younger and had an easy manner about him, seeming to crack a joke as he helped his friend. He was also tall and even more muscular than the first, but he had not an ounce of extra fat on him. His skin was pale and firm over his bulging muscles, and his hair was dark blond and short. He wore a tunic-like outfit with black pants that fit him a great deal better than the kilt fit his friend.
In his belt hung a long, shiny and very alien sword, at least three feet long. And he was the one who had grabbed his friend's sword out of the air as if it was nothing more than a feather.
Suddenly the strong alien looked right at her. His eyes were a radiant blue, and he had an unusually handsome face, she could see that, even though the combat glasses still had him defined as a Hostile!
Then he smirked at her, raised his eyebrows as if she and he we
re sharing a joke and half-dragged his now upright friend over to the other aliens. The large one she had taken down scowled at her while angrily putting his sword back in its scabbard.
The younger alien placed the big one in the custody of the other aliens and turned, coming back towards Olivia. She kept her gun in her hand, ready to point it at the guy if he did anything remotely threatening.
He stopped ten feet away and put his hands on his hips, just looking at her and Devon. He was damn handsome, some part of her registered. And with all the rest of her she felt that he was the most dangerous person she'd ever laid eyes on.
A chill went through her. If that one made trouble...
Then he slowly extended his arm and pointed straight at her. “You fight like a Braxian,” he said, and the air vibrated with the bass tones of his voice. Then he smirked, inclined his head in a tiny nod and sauntered away.
The reinforcements arrived, four MPs in full riot gear, running hard. That was it, she was relieved. Any action to be taken based on this whole thing would be done by others. It had been recorded in full from many angles. And she hadn't killed anyone. She could relax.
“111,” Olivia said into the comms. Situation resolved.
“Copy 111,” Central responded.
She observed the aliens walking away. That young one was their leader, without any doubt. The other ones deferred to him without question, she could tell from their body language as they followed him walking back the way they'd come.
Beside her, Devon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well,” he said. “I guess now we've met the Braxians.”
Olivia adjusted her combat visor, changing the text across that one gorgeous young alien from Hostile! to Neutral.
“I guess we have,” she said.
3
“I saw them coming, and I saw they had edged weapons. I wanted to tell them that they had to leave those behind, that any weapon is prohibited on E level. I notified Sergeant Cooper over the comms, and then I walked towards them, making sure they saw the gun and the MP armband.”
