Mated to the Barbarian Heir: A Sci-Fi Alien Action Pregnancy Romance

by Abella Ward

  Leila made a noncommittal noise in her throat and plopped down on the bridge, bracing the kindle against her knees. Rachel lifted her face back to the pregnant moon, watching it. Unconsciously, her hand drifted to her stomach. What would it feel like, to be full of life?

  She closed her eyes, trying to remember the vague impressions she had got from dreaming of a baby inside her. The dreams had been getting stronger lately, and she knew tonight was going to be the night. She was going to meet the man she already loved. They would be parents within the year.

  It was difficult being patient when she wanted it so badly.

  When Rachel opened her eyes again, her heart stopped. The lights along the path around the lake had all gone off and the sky was black. Dozens of stars along the lake level blinked on and off, drifting closer to the sisters.

  Fear rose up Rachel's throat, choking her. Even though she had known this moment was coming, had lived it dozens of times in her dreams, now that it was happening, she couldn't stop the tendrils of doubt curling around her heart. What if she had interpreted her dreams wrong? What if the future had changed?

  "Leila."

  Her sister looked up and jumped to her feet, clutching the kindle tightly in her hands. She cursed when she saw the eyes surrounding them.

  Rachel took a deep breath. "Put the kindle back into my pack. We don't want to lose it."

  She stood still as Leila did as she said, and then the sisters joined hands. Rachel could feel Leila shaking, and knew she was fighting to keep herself from lashing out. She was used to finding a way out of a situation and worrying about consequences later. Rachel always took her time to assess and plan. Both strategies had gotten the sisters into trouble in the past, and both had gotten them out of trouble as well.

  Was this one of those times when Rachel was getting them into trouble?

  "They're not running," a voice right behind her said. "Odd."

  Rachel jumped, just stopping herself from screaming, and turned. She couldn't see anything of the man who had just spoken expect his glowing blue eyes.

  "We don't want this one, anyway," another voice said, and strong fingers pinched her arm. "Her blood will be useless. The king has to watch his cholesterol, after all."

  Leila snarled. "Forget this!"

  Rachel opened her mouth, but Leila had already ripped her hand away. Fire coated her sister's hands, illuminating a dozen men surrounding them. There were a few cries, but even as Rachel started to shout at Leila to put out her magic there was a sickening thud. The light went out and Rachel felt Leila collapse beside her. An arm wrapped around her throat, choking her.

  "Witches," the vampire holding her hissed.

  "Bring them," another, deeper voice said. "And whatever you do, don't taste their blood."

  The arm tightened around Rachel's neck. She struggled instinctively, but the glowing eyes staring at her were fading. Her lungs cried out for air, and then there was only darkness.

  ***

  When Rachel woke, she found herself lying on a thin mattress directly on a cold, stone floor. Her head hurt, but the familiar black walls around her had her sighing in relief. This was the vampire palace, and soon they would be taken to see the king. Her heart sped as she pushed herself to a sitting position. Leila lay on a mattress similar to hers nearby. From the dim fluorescent light overhead, Rachel saw some dried blood on the side of her face.

  Her eyes were open, though, and she shot Rachel an annoyed glance. "You didn't mention that I’d get knocked in the head."

  "You wouldn't have if you hadn't started threatening them."

  Leila shrugged. "How long do we wait now?"

  "I don't know. Time doesn't really mean much in visions." Rachel sighed, rubbing her temples. "Do you need to be healed?"

  "No, I've already healed myself."

  That sounded like a good idea. Rachel closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest, focusing on the aches in her body. She called the magic that pooled in the center of her body, drawing it through her veins and to her injuries. The dull ache in her head disappeared.

  The door opened and four vampires came into the room. Rachel had to stifle a gasp–even though she knew what they looked like from her visions, seeing them in person was something completely differently. These vampires were broad-shouldered and bare-chested to show off their impressive muscles. All were so pale their skin was almost gray, and their hair was long and pulled back into braids down their backs. One of them had a whip secured to his belt.

  "No funny business," this one warned the sisters, reaching for Leila. "Witch blood might be deadly to vampires, but that doesn't mean we can't snap your necks like twigs. Behave yourselves and you won't die."

  "Get your hands off me," Leila snarled, as the vampire grabbed her. "I'll walk."

  Rachel was already on her feet. She twisted her hands. They were being taken to the king now. At least she hoped they were. Her eyes flickered between the four vampires that stared at them, and she stepped over to Leila, taking her hand.

  "We came to you willingly. You don't have to threaten us."

  The vampire with the whip snorted but nodded to the other three, who surrounded the sisters and ushered them from the room. There were no lights in the corridors, and when she stumbled, she allowed one of the vampires to grip her elbow to help her walk. From the hiss and thump that came from Leila, she was being a little more stubborn.

  After what felt like hours navigating the dark corridors accompanied only by glowing eyes, Rachel saw a light. She started walking faster, impatient to finally embrace her destiny. The vampires chuckled a little, but they picked up their pace as well. Soon they emerged into a well-lit chamber.

  Rachel blinked as her eyes adjusted, ignoring the golden decorations and the brightly-dressed attendants. She even ignored the dozens of young women huddling together on the floor, some weeping openly. Her gaze briefly dwelled on the king before she swiveled, searching the chamber, looking for him. Her vampire.

  Henry.

  He was nowhere to be seen, and disappointment crashed into Rachel.

  Patience, she chided herself and glanced at the huddled women. At seventeen, Leila looked like she was the youngest. Rachel was the oldest at twenty-one. The sisters were also the only two with dark hair. All the others were varying shades of blonde. One redhead stuck out of the crowd and Rachel broke away from her escort to join the trembling girl, Becky. They would become good friends.

  "This is the harvest, my lord." The vampire with the whip bowed to the man sitting on a golden throne.

  Rachel pulled Becky to her feet, putting an arm around her waist, and looked at the vampire king. He was bigger than the other vampires, with wheat-gold hair and blazing blue eyes.

  He focused on Rachel and a disgusted look twisted his face. "And what is that? Did I not say I only wanted great beauties?"

  Rachel scowled at him. She might not look like the blonde supermodels who were huddled on the floor, she might carry extra weight around her midsection and arms, but she carried it well, and she was hardly hideous. She raised her chin in defiance.

  "A witch," the first vampire said, sounding nervous. "She and her sister both. It's always better when they're brides, rather than put into training."

  The king's eyes narrowed and he shrugged. "If any of the Elite want them, they can have them. Otherwise, they'll be put into training. Where is my son?"

  "Here, father."

  Rachel shivered at the familiar voice that spoke behind her. Her heart pounded. She wanted to turn but suddenly felt overly shy. What if her dreams lied to her, and the future she was counting on didn't happen? What if Henry didn't love her the way she had grown to love him?

  The king stood, gesturing, and a vampire dressed all in black strode through the gathered women. A scowl marred his brow and he didn't look at any of them as he passed. Rachel tensed, staring at him, but he didn't turn in her direction. He came to the foot of his father's throne and bowed. He had the same golden hair as his
father, and his skin, while still pale, was not quite as pale as the others around him, indicative of his still-beating heart.

  "My son," the king said, standing. "You have the honor of having the first pick of these new brides."

  Henry's scowl deepened.

  "Your last bride is old and will die soon," the king added in a gentle tone. "Take a look at this year's harvest and pick the three you like best."

  "Father, I don't need brides who have been kidnapped from their homes," Henry muttered. "This is a barbaric tradition—"

  "One you can change once you are king. For now, you are my subject and will not insult me." The king's voice took on a hard edge. "Three brides. You can seduce them at your own pace after they are in your chambers, but you will choose."

  Henry's hands clenched. He turned on his heel, barely giving the women a glance. His gaze lingered on Rachel, Leila and Becky. His eyes narrowed, then he pointed at them. "Those three."

  The king's brows rose. "Those?"

  "I'm tired of blondes," Henry said, sounding bored. "And I like how the little one is glaring at me."

  "I'll do more than glare," Leila muttered fiercely. "If he tries to touch me, I'll rip off his—"

  Rachel shook her head, cutting her off. She thought Henry had heard Leila's whispers, though, because a smile tugged at his lips. He looked at Rachel again and a puzzled expression crossed his face. Her heart leaped to her throat. She wanted to taste his lips on hers so badly…

  "Are you certain you want those three?"

  "Yes, father. Can I take them now?"

  The king frowned, but nodded. "Do as you wish, Henry. But the two dark ones are witches. Don't drink their blood."

  Henry's gaze swept down Rachel with renewed interest. He nodded. "Understood, father."

  He strode towards them, and Rachel stepped forward, meeting him. Her heart flip-flopped in her chest and a smile grew on her face. Henry. At last. Her Henry. She had wanted so long to see him, to be near him, that she couldn't stop herself. The moment he was close enough, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself to her toes, planting a firm kiss onto his lips.

  Chapter Two

  Humans thought blood was what gave vampires their strength. And it was true that they needed to drink regularly. Vampire bodies did not produce their own for some reason, and so taking from another was the only way keep the blood flowing in their veins. But they could survive months, years even, without tasting so much as a drop of blood, if they were careful. Henry himself had once gone five years without feeding.

  The same could not be said of sex.

  Sex was as vital to the survival of vampires as food was to humans. To go even one day without it was a hardship, and abstinence over several days made a vampire lose focus, weaken and become lethargic and confused.

  Henry had not had sex for almost a week now, and he trembled at being near three such young, strong-bodied women, especially after the kiss the oldest one gave him.

  He ushered his three new brides to his quarters quickly, his heart pounding in his chest. The woman who had kissed him was still holding his hand and all he could think of was her: tearing off her clothes, burying himself in her. He was panting by the time they got to his quarters. There, the last of the brides that he had chosen previously, Cheri, now white-haired, delicate and wrinkled, was sat in her chair next to the fire.

  "You took new brides, then?" she asked him, her fragile fingers clasping over his wrist when he went to kiss her forehead. Cheri surveyed the three women.

  "Please explain to them," Henry choked out. "I need…"

  Cheri nodded. Henry released her hand and headed for his room. He'd been taking care of himself for a week now, and he still had the strength to hold back until his new brides understood. Until one of them agreed to be in his bed. He would never touch a woman without her consent.

  It was bad enough to kidnap these women, to tear them from their families, but to pressure them into coupling with the man who, for all intents and purposes, had stolen them? It was barbaric, and he couldn’t do it.

  No, his people might be barbarians, but he was not. He would handle himself, and if he needed to he would seek out one of the vampire women who served the palace. He didn't get as satisfied with them as with human women, but it was better than nothing.

  To his surprise, the woman who had kissed him before followed him into his room. She closed the door behind them and pulled her shirt off. Henry stared at her magnificent body. She had substance to her that most of the women brought underground lacked. He'd never seen such a voluptuous figure before.

  "No," he gasped out, as she went to remove her her pants. "You don't know what—"

  "I do. Your father told you I'm a witch." Her warm brown eyes fixed on him, a slight smile on her face. She was the picture of calm. "I know you won't hurt me. Even if you tried, I'd simply use my magic to render you to jelly. I know what you need, Henry, and I'm here to give it to you."

  Henry stared at her. It must be his starvation, he couldn’t be hearing what he thought he was. "You… you know what I need?"

  She stepped closer, her gaze running down the length of his body, her eyes heated, stirring his desire.

  "Yes. And as I said, I will stop you if you hurt me. I promise not to turn you into jelly. At least not that way." A gleam came to her eye, but when he backed up again her brow furrowed. "Or is it that you're afraid that I'm unwilling?"

  Henry swallowed hard, letting his own gaze absorb her. She was very different to the usual women the hunters brought back. They usually brought blondes, for starters. Skin as pale as a vampire's, hair like gold, eyes like cornflowers. All with flat stomachs, flared hips, large breasts. This woman had dark hair, dark eyes, skin with a hint of ochre in it. Her stomach was rounded, breasts a little too small for her waist, arms a little too large. And yet as he gazed at her, Henry couldn't help but think she was perfection itself.

  "What's your name?"

  "Rachel." She laughed softly. "I forgot. You don't know me yet."

  "But… you know me?" He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to push past his hunger for her. He was not an animal. He could at least get to know her a little first.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm not just any witch, Henry. I can see the future. I have been waiting for this moment for years. I know you, and I love you. I want this more than I want my next breath."

  Henry's eyes widened. A Seer? Had his father kidnapped a Seer? For hundreds of years, his father had wanted a precognitive witch in his court. That she would be his son's bride… It could be dangerous for Rachel if his father ever found out.

  The thought vanished from Henry's mind as Rachel brushed her lips against his. With a groan of desire, he pulled her closer.

  ***

  Henry ran his hands down Rachel's arms, checking for any blemish on her skin. She didn't have so much as a bruise, and he let out a sigh of relief.

  "I told you that you weren't going to hurt me." She smirked at him.

  "So you really see the future, then?"

  She nodded.

  "And you came here willingly?"

  "I knew when the hunters were going to come for my sister and me, and we decided that we would allow them to take us. We have a better future as your brides than as homeless thieves above the surface. I wanted to start our relationship off right." She hesitated a moment. "But I don't see everything in the future, and I need to let you know something."

  He met her gaze, smiling happily. It usually took much longer than this to develop a good relationship with any one of his brides, and he was happy that Rachel was already comfortable with him. That she wasn't frightened of him. Hopefully, the other two would be the same.

  "I don't expect you will, but if you so much as lay a finger on my little sister, I will rip out your heart and cook it." Rachel's gaze and voice were steady.

  Henry's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

  "You heard me. She's only seventeen. You are not going to touch he
r. After she turns twenty and is an adult, she can decide whether she wants you or not, but until then you don't even look at Leila. Understood?"

  The order had Henry's hackles rising, but he could understand where Rachel was coming from. She was just protecting her younger sister, and that was something he could respect. "Which one is she?"

  "The other brunette."

  Henry nodded. "And the redhead? What about her?"

  "Becky." Rachel looked pensive for a moment and then shrugged one shoulder. "I never saw anything about your relationship with her. I just know that she and I are going to be very good friends. She's an adult. If she wants you, then that's her choice. I know you won't touch her if she doesn't want you to."

  "But your sister is another matter?"

  "No. I don't think you'd touch her, especially considering she'd rip your head off if you tried. I just wanted things to be clear between us."

  Henry nodded slowly. He was impressed that Rachel didn't seem jealous of his need for other women. "I understand. You are all I need for the moment, anyway."

  Rachel smiled, as though he had complimented her rather than just stated a fact. Truthfully, he should have taken new brides years ago. Cheri was too old and fragile to feed him any longer. He had thought he had time, but his younger bride, Florence, had died unexpectedly, leaving him with few prospects. She had only been forty years old. She should have lived another sixty years at least, more if she took health supplements in her older years.

  "Perhaps you should introduce me to your sister and friend?" he said politely, offering Rachel his arm.

  The Seer smiled, accepting his arm, and the two of them strolled out into the main chamber of his quarters. Cheri beamed at him and he pulled himself from Rachel to go to her. He pressed a kiss to her lips and squeezed her hand.

  "Are my brides caught up?"

  Rachel's sister, Leila, snorted. "Call me a bride again."

  It was clearly a challenge. Henry frowned as he gazed at the young woman. She was young, too young for him, and she clearly wanted nothing to do with him. Her hands flexed as she glared at him, and he wondered if she wanted to tear his head off even though he had not made a move towards her.