Adored by the Alien Assassin (Warriors of the Lathar Book 5)

by Mina Carter

  “Of course. Consider it done. Goddess speed, Shadow.”

  The feed cut out, the screen in front of them changing to a view of the satellite that orbited the Earth, the moon Rynn recalled idly, and then as it moved out of the way, Fenriis’ War Group came into view.

  “So close…” Jac whispered, surprise on her face. “How do we not know these are here?”

  Rynn shrugged, still busy at the console. “Our technology is much in advance of yours. It’s a simple feat to keep ourselves hidden. Besides, your leaders know Fenriis is there. They’ve already opened negotiations.”

  “If that’s the case…” She leaned on the arm of the copilot’s chair, watching him. “Then why didn’t you tell that guy there, Fenree or something, I was here? Why didn’t you let him see me?”

  Crunch point. Rynn didn’t look at her as he checked the bearing that would take them to Lathar Prime and switched from the thrust engines that had taken them out of the planet’s orbits to the FTL ones that would take them the rest of the way.

  “I didn’t want him to see you because I was only supposed to pick up one female, not two. And I don’t plan on taking either of you back.”

  Shock coursed through Jac. What did he mean, he wasn’t taking them home?

  Suddenly all the stories about the Lathar on the news banded together and ambushed her, playing through her mind and resurrecting all the old “abducted by aliens” paranoia that had been fed through the media in recent years. Even before the Lathar had kidnapped the Sentinel women.

  The Lathar had no women of their own anymore. So they “claimed” women, each warrior taking his pick from the captives to become his. His woman. His concubine. His to bed and to bear his children. The reports that had filtered back from the Sentinel women said that some of them had married their captors and were happy. Jess, Lizzie’s sister, was one of them.

  Had Rynn just claimed her?

  A shiver ran over her skin, heat rolling through her body at the thought of being claimed by the big, well-muscled alien warrior. What would it be like to be with one of the Lathar? What would it be like with… Rynn.

  “Don’t panic,” he said, his voice little more than a brusque growl. “I’m not going to force you or anything like that. My only interest lies in getting you back to Lathar Prime. You’ve seen my ship. Our technology.”

  He levered himself up out of the chair without warning, a burst of movement that would instantly have given away that he wasn’t human. It seemed he’d dropped all pretense now they weren’t on Earth anymore.

  “It’ll be the emperor’s decision what to do with you. Not mine.”

  He hadn’t taken her because he wanted her. Heat hit Jac’s cheeks at light speed and she bit her lip in mortification. Thank god she hadn’t actually asked him if he was claiming her. Blurted it out and embarrassed herself. Never mind that the idea wasn’t entirely unwelcome. She guessed she wasn’t his type. Men built like that, no matter the species, didn’t go for small-town curvy women like her. She was less girl next door than homely and had gotten used to the fact that after thirty… well, she’d just become invisible.

  Men like Rynn… they went for skinny blondes with tits that defied gravity and no cellulite.

  She kept her sigh to herself and followed him to the back of the cabin. He was busy checking some kind of readout on the top of the blue tube that encased Lizzie.

  She watched him curiously. For all that the Lathar were obviously a warrior race and the images she’d seen on the news from the attack on the Sentinel were scary as hell, Rynn didn’t scare her. He was big and obviously a soldier, as well as extremely dangerous if his reactions during the attack at the Kallson house were anything to go by, but she wasn’t scared of him. Something about his manner and reactions told her that he wouldn’t hurt her. He might scare the ever-loving daylights out of her, yes, but she didn’t think he’d actually hurt her.

  “Why did that Fenry guy call you the emperor’s shadow?” she asked. But once she’d asked the first question, she found she couldn’t stop.

  The words tumbled out, almost all over each other, as all the worries that had occurred to her over the last few minutes made themselves known.

  “What is that thing around her? Is she okay? Why do you want her anyway? You guys already have her sister…” Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh my god, Amanda! Those men will get her! We have to go back!”

  She’d half turned to rush back to the… wheel? Joystick… whatever the hell navigated this thing and turn it around so they could go and rescue Amanda. She wouldn’t stand a chance against the warriors that had attacked them. They’d kill her.

  “Goddess’ tits!” Rynn hissed behind her and a large hand clamped around her upper arm and hauled her around.

  She squealed in shock, lashing out, but he easily avoided the blows by the simple act of yanking her up against his hard chest.

  His expression was fierce, but concerned, not scary.

  “I knew human women talked a lot,” he told her, the corner of his lips quirking up a little.

  She watched in fascination. He was panty-wetting handsome and for a moment, she could believe the light in his blue eyes was all for her.

  “But you’re obviously gifted in that regard. Now, sit down.”

  Jac refused to cave in to her instincts and nestle against him. Instead, she looked up at him stubbornly. “Nuh-uh, I’m not sitting down until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

  He sighed, frustration crossing his handsome features. He lifted a hand to brush her hair gently back from her face. His fingertips came away red with blood.

  “Right now I’m going to deal with your injuries. Then I’ll send a message to Fenriis to have Amanda Kallson picked up. You’re quite right. She should be with her daughters. Especially with Lady Jessica’s con—”

  “Lady Jessica’s what?” she demanded when he trailed off and looked guilty.

  “That is not my truth to tell,” he answered, walking her backward. Something bumped against the back of her legs and she squeaked again before she realized it was just another seat emerging from the metal floor of the ship.

  “I wish it would stop doing that!” she hissed and sat down heavily. She looked up at Rynn as he collected something from yet another compartment that had opened up in the walls. It was a large box, which he set down on the seat next to her. When he opened it up, she realized it was a first aid kit.

  “I do not have the scars of training of a healer,” he said, his hands gentle as he began to clean up the cut on her temple. “But I’ve picked up a few tricks here and there.”

  She kept her head still, watching him as he worked. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He didn’t look at her, frowning as he concentrated on cleaning her temple. “Which particular question. You asked rather a few…”

  “Why did that Fenry—”

  “Fenriis.”

  “Yeah, right, Fenriis. Why did he call you the emperor’s shadow?” she asked, curiously. “On Earth we use that for kids or dogs that tail their owners. Like, they’re always in the object of their fascination’s shadow? Somehow, I can’t see you tripping over this emperor’s heels. You’re a bit big for that… Well, unless he’s huge, I guess.”

  Rynn smiled a little, the small curve of his sensuously full lips hijacking her attention for a moment. Seriously, a guy shouldn’t be allowed lips like that—ones that made any red-blooded woman think of sex—no matter what species he was.

  “Daaynal is a large male, yes,” he replied, smoothing something cool and soothing over the cut on her temple. Instantly it stopped stinging and she breathed a sigh of relief. “But he’s only a little larger than I am. The emperor’s shadow is a title, like the emperor’s champion… or as humans would say, the king’s champion, or the like? It means that I use the shadows to my advantage and go where others cannot.”

  “Oh.” Her lips paused on a little “o” as she realized what he meant. “Because you’re an assa
ssin.”

  He shrugged, packing the first aid kit away. “Assassin, spy. Call me what you will. I do what the emperor needs done. My family has always served the Imperial line.”

  She nodded, filing the information away. “You guys have large families, don’t you? You call them clans?”

  “Usually, yes. My clan was mostly wiped out during the War of the Nine Wastes, though. There aren’t enough of us left to claim a clan name anymore, so we don’t use one.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t help reaching out and putting her hand on his arm in sympathy. “It’s an awful thing to lose a family.”

  He shrugged, his gaze clear as he looked at her. “No need to be. I don’t remember any of them. I’m oonat-born, only sired because my father needed an heir.”

  He stood, lifting the first aid kit and putting it away in the compartment he’d taken it from. The movement gave her a front row seat to his abs flexing and bunching as he moved, and she bit back a little moan. His Earth-style pants rode low on his hips, revealing the v-things ripped guys had at the sides and the hint of a trail of hair that led downward. Screw being kidnapped and claimed. She wanted to do some claiming of her own…

  But his words brought her attention back to the present and stopped her making an idiot of herself. “Oonat-born? What does that mean?”

  He closed the compartment and busied himself checking Lizzie again. Jac almost thought he wasn’t going to answer her, but then he spoke, his voice calm and level but without the warmth it had held previously.

  “The Lathar have no women. They were all killed in a genetic plague years ago,” he explained. “Since then we have used another race, the oonat, as gestational carriers.”

  “Okay…” Something was wrong here. She could sense it. “So you’re half Lathar and half, what did you call them? Oonat?”

  “No!” He turned, and she caught the edge of anger and frustration in his eyes before he blanked his expression. “Oonat are a passive race, akin to your bovines… your cows. They’re not the same level of intelligence as humans or Lathar, but with genetic manipulation they are capable of bearing Lathar offspring. All the oonat born are a hundred percent Lathar.”

  “Got it.” Shit, she really had hit a trigger there. Deeming it wise not to push, she smiled and reached up to the goop over the cut on her temple. “Thank you. It feels much better now.”

  “No problem.” He still didn’t smile but seemed less angry than he had been a moment ago. A good sign. Then he sighed and allowed a small smile. “What sort of host would I be if I allowed my guest to remain injured?”

  “Am I?” she asked, suddenly standing in front of him to look up into his face.

  He paused, barely touching her, but she could feel the heat of his half-naked body beating at hers even through her clothes.

  He’d gone still. Careful. She could feel the power coiled in his bigger body, just ready to be unleashed. “Are you what?” he asked, his voice little more than a rumble between them.

  “Your guest?” She couldn’t help the worried note that crept into her voice. She needed something… reassurance… confirmation…. She wasn’t sure what. “You said you weren’t taking me back. That sounds more like a prisoner to me.”

  Heat flared in his eyes for a moment, and a darkness flowed across the back of the blue, rendering them in shades of midnight. He leaned down, bringing his lips level with her ear.

  “Be very grateful you’re not my prisoner. I doubt you’d like it much.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jac was driving him mad. Having her so close yet being unable to claim her would make any male utterly insane.

  Rynn sat at the command console of the shuttle and tried to ignore the small woman at the back. All he could think of was striding across the cabin and pulling her into his arms. Plundering her lips and then tumbling her down to the soft bed and claiming her as his own.

  He couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t.

  The old rules of claiming didn’t apply now that the emperor had extended his protection to all Terrans. To claim one of them, he would have to ask Daaynal’s permission first, or risk incurring his wrath. And while Rynn knew he could be reckless at times, he wasn’t suicidal.

  It didn’t stop him wanting to claim her, though.

  Growling in the back of his throat, he leaned back in his chair, running his hand through his hair and lifting the heavy weight off the back of his neck. He’d laughed at the other warriors when they’d fallen for the captured human women, unable to see how they’d managed to tie the males, all respected and intelligent, into knots as they had.

  He’d assumed it was a hitherto unseen flaw in their makeup or thought patterns that had allowed them to become weak. Susceptible to the human females. Something that would never, could never, happen to him. Because he was made of sterner stuff. He had to be. He operated undercover and behind enemy lines all the time. One slip of the tongue or lapse in concentration could blow his cover and reveal his true identity. Alone and outnumbered, his reputation would do him little good.

  So he’d patted himself on the back and told himself that he’d never fall as Tarrick, Karryl and Laarn had… Hell, even his own father was showing signs of being enamored of a human, and he didn’t know a stronger-minded male. Yet, there Xaandril had been, with a blue ribbon around his wrist even through all his recent surgeries.

  Now him.

  Jac must have done something to him. Slipped him something in his drink last night, or there must have been some kind of airborne pathogen that had weakened his resolve.

  “Keris,” he ordered, making sure to keep to Latharian. Since Jac hadn’t received the translation implants, she wouldn’t be able to understand him. “Do a scan of environmental levels within the cabin. Extend it to biological function of all occupants.”

  “Initiated,” the AI replied automatically. She’d taken the hint and replied in the same language. “Do you want me to look for anything in particular?”

  “I’m not sure. My responses are off at the moment. Check for any virus that may be affecting me or either of the two females aboard.”

  As he spoke, he cast a glance over his shoulder. Jac had retreated to the bedroom area behind the blue tube that contained her friend. The large bed had risen automatically and, after watching it warily for a while, she’d finally lain down with her back to him.

  She was scared. He could understand that. Still, a part of him, a very small part, worried that her withdrawal was more to do with his parentage. That perhaps she saw him as less than Lathar because of his gestational carrier. It was stupid. He knew it was stupid, but the fear was an old, deeply buried one.

  Noting the deeper breathing that indicated she was asleep, he turned back to the console in front of him. With quick, efficient movements, he pulled up all the information Keris had recorded during the attack on the Kallson dwelling. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his fingertips idly over the day-old growth on his chin as he studied the playback.

  “Freeze on sector three seven five,” he ordered, frowning. Instantly the AI stopped the playback and zoomed in on the required area. The face of the last warrior came into view. Tall and broad-shouldered like most Lathar, he had shoulder-length dark hair and a large scar over one side of his face.

  “Keris, can you identify that warrior?” he asked, trying to place him. Rynn had never seen him before, but something about the male was familiar.

  “Negative,” Keris replied after a moment. “He doesn’t match any visual records in my databanks. Certainly no match for any living member of any clan in the Empire.”

  “Hmmm, okay. Analyze his features and run a facial recognition scan. He has to have been picked up on surveillance feeds somewhere. Find them.”

  “That’ll take a lot of processing power,” the AI informed him. “Particularly without a hard-wired uplink. I’ll have to take internal sensors offline.”

  Rynn’s lips curved at the ship’s apparent concern over him. Turning in
his seat a little, he glanced at the sleeping human female. Even if she’d been awake, she was half his size and so delicate he was worried about breaking her if he even breathed on her the wrong way.

  “Yeah. I’m sure I can manage on my own in here.”

  There was a small chirp and the lights on the AI’s housing dimmed. They still flickered slightly, but he knew her attention was now elsewhere as she filtered through every database she could reach trying to find their scarred assailant.

  With the ship occupied, there wasn’t much else Rynn could do. With a sigh, he levered himself up from his chair and stood in the middle of the main area. Jac was asleep and all the lights on the stasis pod showed green.

  Rolling his shoulders, he winced at the tightness across them. A light workout would do him the world of good. Emptying his mind, he moved through the first few sequences of diraanesh, the warriors’ training pattern. Each time he completed a circuit, he either sped the movement up or deepened the exercise if it was a bodyweight one.

  He dipped and twisted, turning and ducking as he transferred his weight from foot to foot, or foot to hand, and then hand to hand. He moved through the 360-degree patterns with poise and grace as he’d been taught as a child. The diraanesh was a fundamental part of a warrior’s training, something they did every single day, training that prepared them to fight under any circumstances.

  Normally, he would keep going for hours, each cycle becoming faster or more complex as he added sections on, but after a few rounds to ease the kinks out of his muscles, he drew to a close. Glancing at the bed, he reassured himself that Jac was still asleep and finally approached.

  While he could, and often did go days without sleep when operational, there was no reason for him to now. They were safe aboard the Keris and on a direct route to Lathar Prime. With the stealth cloaks on the ship, there was no way anyone would spot them. Even if they did, his ident signal was that of the emperor himself. In other words, no one would dare challenge them.