by J. J. Lore
Evernight Publishing ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2015 J.J. Lore
ISBN: 978-1-77233-271-1
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To Allyson Young for all her help and encouragement, plus the best comments ever, and to the late, lamented Leonard Nimoy for creating an alien man with a lot of sex appeal.
RULED
Planet Alpha TM
J.J. Lore
Copyright © 2015
Chapter One
Corrine Idesa’s chapped hands ached and her lower back was sore, but the embassy’s spacious kitchen was nearly clean. She surveyed the shining counters and neatly stacked cookware with satisfaction. Even if the permanent staff were doing their best to ignore her, she refused to feel denigrated. Her stipend for the day’s work would not only help pay her share of room rent that was due, but she’d even be able to spare a bit to buy some hard candies for the children. Honest labor for honest wages.
“Just sanitize the cooler floor and then you can go,” the head chef, an arrogant shouter who liked to throw produce at those who displeased him, told her with a sneer. She nodded obediently and watched him and his minions head out the back door to the loading dock where they’d undoubtedly smoke and congratulate each other on pulling off a successful reception for the powerful citizens of Atlanta and the newly-arrived and haughty aliens everyone was clamoring to impress. She didn’t know much beyond rumor about the Alphans and had never seen one in the flesh. Nor would she, being as far away from the social whirl as the Earth was from the Sun.
She went to the supply closet and selected a metal scraper attached to a long handle, which would, she hoped, allow her to reach underneath the metal shelving in the walk-in. Collecting a bucket of caustic cleanser, she headed for the cooler doors and pulled both open, carefully propping them with wooden wedges. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck inside the cold, damp space. After checking the containers and bags of sturdy produce to make sure all was secure, and envying the embassy’s ample larder in the process, she went to work scraping and sweeping grime from the floor, removing the accumulation of several weeks of food residue and tracked-in grease from the poured concrete. Obviously no one had done this task in weeks, and the chef had decided to exploit her for every bit of labor she could provide. Her tired body protested, but she pushed on.
The scraper caught against something under the section of shelves holding bags of carrots and turnips, and she leaned over to see what might be obstructing it. There was a sudden bang from outside the walk-in, and she stumbled, startled. Just as she turned toward the door, two huge golden-skinned men leaped into the small room, the larger of the two immediately pulling the heavy metal doors shut behind them. They closed with a solid thunk, and Corrine’s heart, already racing from the sudden appearance of the men, fluttered into an even more rapid pace. She was trapped.
The tall one strode to her with one, long-legged step and wrenched the scraper from her hands. He stared at her with narrowed, tawny eyes and gave one small shake of his head. The movement drew her attention upwards, and with a gasp she noticed black horns protruding from the thick, dark hair covering his scalp in long waves. He was an Alphan, one of the powerful aliens all the rich people in town were trying to impress. He was so bulky in his dark blue uniform she almost couldn’t see the other man, who now that she was looking, also turned out to be an Alphan. This one was wearing a light grey uniform and a pleasant expression.
“Who are you?” The larger one barked at her, and she jumped again, her vocal cords momentarily frozen.
“Please, Mallet, she’s completely shocked by our sudden appearance.” The Alphan in grey came closer and smiled at her. “Our apologies for bursting in so rudely. My name is Edem, and this is Mallet. Mal to his friends, of which he has few.”
The slimmer man extended his hand, and she automatically reached for it, her childhood training in polite behavior emerging in an encounter her late mother never would have been able to envision. Introducing oneself to an alien while locked in a refrigerator unit wasn’t detailed in any of the etiquette books. Before she could offer her name or even touch his fingers, the larger one, Mallet, shifted his big body and blocked the contact, then grabbed at her arms. The sudden contact, combined with her rising anxiety at being in the enclosed space, broke her composure, and she struggled against the large man’s inexorable exploration of her body. He tapped at her arms and sides and ran his big, hard hands down her legs and over her back and buttocks all while she wriggled against him and protested wordlessly. When he slid his hands between her legs and squeezed at her sensitive thighs, she squealed and pushed at his shoulders to no effect. Her whole body flushed at the uninvited intimate contact.
With a slight grunt, Mallet took half a step away from her. “She’s unarmed.”
Edem tilted his head and stared at his companion. “So good of you to verify the young lady working diligently to clean our refuge wasn’t actually a Xyran assassin in disguise.”
He held out his hand again, and with a cautious glance at Mallet, she allowed Edem to take hers. His fingers were warm, pleasantly so since she’d grown chilled while working in the cold space. With a gentle squeeze of her palm, Edem bowed over her hand, almost as if he were going to kiss it like a courtier of old. Mallet grumbled something under his breath and turned to face the door. His big shoulders flexing, he wedged the handle of her scraper against the opening mechanism, and her heart thudded anew.
“What are you doing? How are we going to get out if you do that?” She rushed to the door, her fear of being trapped overcoming her caution about the big alien. The handle was so tightly forced in the handles she couldn’t budge it, her grasping fingers sliding ineffectually against the smooth wood. Mallet’s big hands enclosed hers, and he shifted her away effortlessly.
“Stop that.”
“I want out.” For many reasons leaving this confined space seemed like the best idea she’d had in a long time.
“No.” The big man’s tone was sharp, and she drew back, her lungs not quite filling with air as he stared her down. Maybe they were running out of air already. That might explain her dizziness.
“Young lady, please, calm down.” Edem spoke up and came to her side. “I can sense your agitation, but truly, there is no cause to fear.”
“We’re in a lockdown situation, Edem, so there is ample reason for caution,” Mallet said.
“A lockdown? Why?” Corrine tried to swallow past the terror fluttering in her throat. She’d been instructed in rudimentary security procedures when she’d reported for work that morning, and had faced down some tense situations in her own kitchen, but this was her first experience with such an occurrence.
“Reports of mysterious figures toting what might be weapons. Hardly cause for such a panic.” Edem’s voice was soft and low, and Corrine felt herself leaning his way.
“This facility’s perimeter is woefully porous and the human security incredibly lax. If I hadn’t scouted ahead for escape routes and created several contingency plans, we’d be inside that ballroom still, completely at risk for discovery.”
“We don’t know anyone has even attacked anything other than the buffet.” Edem was now standing next to her shoulder, close
enough she could feel the warmth of his body. “My lady, perhaps you might be more comfortable seated while we wait for the all clear.”
Without her realizing quite what had happened, Edem lowered her to a not-too-uncomfortable stack of potatoes in burlap bags, his hand cupped around her elbow. Mallet glanced back at them as if to assess their position, then returned to staring at the door.
“Are you going to call for help?” Corrine wondered what had become of the kitchen staff outside, the servers who had been cleaning up the last of the meal, even the entitled partygoers. Were they being hurt right now? Was anyone dead?
“No.” Mallet’s negativity annoyed her.
“Why not?” Corrine asked Edem. He seemed much more interested in talking with her. The slimmer Alphan took a seat next to her and cleared his throat. For some reason she was calmer now, less shaken by her circumstances. She studied him rather than stare at the rows of canned tomatoes beside her or Mallet’s broad back. Edem possessed a strong nose and high cheekbones, and his skin was of a similar golden hue as Mallet’s. His long, black hair was caught up in an elaborate knot at the back of his head, which emphasized the sweep of his ebony horns, one of which seemed to have some sort of rune etched in its smooth surface. They gleamed in the meager light of the fixture overhead.
“My bondmate believes if we signal, the alleged miscreants will hone in on our location and come to do us mischief. He’s waiting for relief.”
“It’s standard procedure, Edem,” Mallet snapped.
The slimmer man shrugged and gave her a commiserating smile. “We just can’t seem to get through the day without hours of standard procedures. Makes things very predictable and dull.”
Corrine scrambled to remember whatever snippets she’d heard about the powerful Alphan race. They’d visited Earth as part of their explorations and had found humanity interesting enough to make a few diplomatic forays amongst whatever pockets of government still existed, but as far as she knew, nothing on her polluted, chaotic planet would have much appeal to beings sophisticated and advanced enough to make their way across the cold reaches of space.
“What’s a bondmate?” She wasn’t sure if this was rude or impertinent, but for some reason she’d fixated on the word. It conjured up visions of these two men kissing and twining their muscular bodies around each other, an errant thought on a topic she’d never considered before.
Edem smiled broadly, and she was taken aback by how appealing he was. He was an alien, yet somehow she was supremely comfortable sitting next to him and asking the question despite their apparent peril.
“I can’t wait to hear this,” Mallet grumbled, and Corrine glanced his way. He was still standing at attention by the door, but his head was now ever so slightly inclined toward them.
“You humans are so fascinated by the concept. We Alphans are perplexed you don’t share it, considering how similar our people are in all things.”
Corrine couldn’t stop herself from glancing up at his horns, a clear demarcation between them if there ever was one. Edem chuckled and leaned back slightly on the bag of tubers, looking as at ease as if he were making conversation in a park on a lovely day. Not that there were many parks left in Atlanta, or lovely days to enjoy for that matter, what with drought, dust storms, and unrelenting heat. “And you’re also very interested in our horns.”
A hot blush rose in her cheeks, and she looked down, embarrassed by her predictable curiosity. “I’ve just never seen them … one of you up close.”
“Lady, please don’t feel you’ve offended us by your question.” Edem’s gentle tone reassured her somewhat, and she met his gaze. “How is it we haven’t learned your name yet?”
Another rush of discomfort washed over her when she realized her faux pas. “I’m so sorry. I’m Corrine Idesa.”
Edem lifted her hand from its place on the potato sack and clasped it in both of his, holding her for a long moment. “I’m very pleased to meet you even if it is under such odd circumstances. Mallet, come meet Corrine.”
There was a new note of command in the slim man’s tone that sparked her notice, but the big man suddenly looming over her distracted her. She stared up into his golden eyes and went still, not sure what emotions and motivations were storming inside his head. Edem passed her hand over to his bondmate’s, and a shiver of awareness coursed along her nerves when one man’s touch left her and the other’s began.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Corrine Idesa.” Mallet said the formal words with somber inflection, and she blinked.
“Mal, you make it sound like you’re informing her she’s under arrest with no possibility of release.”
The big man shot Edem a heated glance, then released Corrine’s hand like it was ice cold. Considering Mallet had already touched her breasts and inner thighs, she wasn’t sure why he might be uncomfortable with contact now.
A static blat of sound echoed through the room, and she jumped. Mallet immediately returned to the door and touched a small metallic clip at his shoulder. He said something in a foreign language filled with long drawn-out vowels and slurred consonants and waited for a reply.
She turned to Edem, wondering what was happening and found him unabashedly looking over her body. Once he’d been caught, he quirked an unrepentant smile at her. She was wearing sturdy trousers, waterproof clogs, and a bulky chef’s smock, hardly the most alluring or revealing attire. “The security checklist has commenced. We’ll soon be out of here and quickly escorted away to a waiting vehicle. What do you do here, Corrine? Aside from cleaning, that is.”
The unexpected question distracted her from eavesdropping on Mallet’s increasingly complicated and unintelligible conversation. “I’m only here for today, as temporary labor for the reception. It was too large for the embassy staff to handle on their own.”
Edem nodded once but was stopped from asking another question by Mallet’s growled tirade in that melodious language she guessed was Alphan. The slim man next to her sat up in an obvious pose of attention.
“Inform them we are secure and don’t wish to be disturbed. They can rappel down the sides of the buildings and inspect the window locks if they are looking for a task.” Again that note of command colored Edem’s tone, and Corrine found herself wondering who was really in charge between the two men.
Mallet glanced at her and muttered something incomprehensible to his bondmate.
“My kisero thinks we need to evacuate immediately, as it seems reinforcements have arrived despite the confused resistance of the embassy security forces.”
“The humans did not appreciate our methods of entry, and there is some tension between the opposing commanders,” Mallet added in English.
“You can hardly blame them for being offended when Centurion Lont blew up their gate and front door.” Edem sighed and stood. “Which means I must go and smooth the waters.”
“The security directives state you must evacuate after a high risk incident.”
“What is risky about biding our time inside a pantry?” Edem faced his bondmate with a set jaw. “My duty is to ease diplomatic relations between our worlds, not to run away and allow men to come to blows over misunderstandings.”
The mood between the two men seemed prickly, and Corrine remained silent, sure she had nothing to contribute to the conversation. She’d merely been mopping the floor.
“I must register my objection.”
“Noted. Now open the door to our cohort and allow me to pass.” Edem turned from Mallet and smiled at her. “Lady, I cannot think of a happier outcome to being locked in this small and rather frigid room than to meet you. It has been my pleasure.”
He again took her hand and bowed over it, and something warmed in her chest. Mallet meanwhile grabbed the handle of the scraper and tugged at it. With a resounding crack, the wood snapped in half, and she gaped in shock. He had to be incredibly strong to have broken such a solid tool. Without meeting her eyes he handed the two pieces back to her, and she gathered them up a
wkwardly. There went finishing her task of cleaning the floor.
There was a rumble of voices from outside, and the large Alphan reached into his tunic and pulled out a shiny silver weapon of some kind. It fit into the palm of his hand and extended in a graceful curve past his fingers. He spoke rapidly into the communicator on his shoulder and flung open the walk-in door, placing his body between Edem and whoever waited outside. A phalanx of enormous Alphan males crowded in all wearing the same blue uniform as Mallet. She drew back, climbing on top of the stack of potatoes to avoid being jostled. Their uniformly grim expressions frightened her as they barked out quick statements in Alphan.
“Centurions, be at ease. We are well, and there is a lady present.” Edem’s quiet statement brought all the men to a halt, and numerous golden eyes turned her way, assessing her threat level no doubt. She clutched her broken scraper tight to her chest until Mallet backed against the pile of bags she was perched on, blocking her from their gaze. More Alphan exchanges she didn’t understand and all the men moved for the door, Edem somehow enveloped in their midst. Within a second, they were gone in a dark whirl. Mallet paused at the threshold and looked back at her, his face held in severe lines.
“Good evening, Corrine.” With that terse farewell, he turned and left. She remained still for several minutes, all the unsettling events of the past minutes paralyzing her. It took the return of the head chef to break her from the spell. He stood at the door of the cooler and scowled.
“You there! What are you doing? What happened to that scraper? It’s coming out of your pay.” The agitated man gestured around him like she’d personally caused the lockdown and all its attendant disruptions. It seemed she wasn’t going to be able to buy candies after all.
