Captive: Nomadican Mates Series 1: Alien Reverse Harem Romance

by Iona Strom

  Captive: Nomadican Mates Series 1

  An alien reverse harem romance

  Iona Strom

  &

  LS Anders

  Copyright © 2019 Iona Strom & LS Anders

  All rights reserved.

  Please respect the work of this author. No part of this eBook/book publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Use your own judgment to determine if the content of this novel is appropriate for you.

  This romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgments

  Editing: Sandy Ebel- Personal Touch Editing

  www.facebook.com/PersonalTouchEditing

  Proofread and edits: Nikki Groom

  Indie Hub Editing

  Proofreading, edits, and betas: Jenny, DeAnne, Michelle, and Rachele

  Photograph copyrights: www.fotolia.com

  Dedication

  For all of those with an appetite for the unusual, and imagination beyond the ordinary.

  A Nomadican History Lesson

  When the Nomadican government becomes greedy and breaks a trade agreement with their neighboring planet, Biotios, war is unavoidable. The first strike against the Bioti, a smaller but no less aggressive species, happens before any Nomadican civilians are made aware any conflict existed. With strategically placed plasmatic bombs, the Nomadican government cripples Bioti cities across their world.

  Unbeknownst to the Nomadicans, the Bioti have a far worse, even more, destructive weapon at their disposal. At the touch of a button, a bomb capable of burrowing to the center of Riosis is unleashed, destroying the Nomadican’s planet from the inside out. That which was solid is returned to the stardust from which it was formed.

  Only a few hundred Nomadicans remain. Off-world at the time of the explosion, the survivors are thought to be only males. Now scattered across the Universe, the last of the Nomadican’s search for more survivors and a new planet to call home.

  About this book

  A woman in need of rescue.

  A spaceship full of swoon-worthy alphas.

  Are these horned beasts her salvation or more than what she bargained for?

  Ivey’s Abduction

  I awoke on a strange planet, naked and shackled by my throat to a wall. A bidding war begins, and I'm sold as a sex slave where the only way to ensure my survival is to pleasure the males aboard the spaceship where I must serve.

  Unprepared for what these males have to offer, I’m shocked at how easily I succumb. What I find more surprising is how much I crave being under the hands of one male in particular, one male that might be my ticket home.

  Warning: Captive: Nomadican Mates Series 1 is the first taste of Ivey’s captivating abduction. In this multi-book series, Ivey is the first of many to tell her story of a dark abduction and erotic survival. Be mindful, this series will leave you hanging on the edge of an erogenous cliff.

  Recommended for mature readers that love erotic, alpha aliens adorned with horns, fangs, and other —ahem— uniquely bizarre and satisfying appendages.

  Books by Iona Strom

  Captive: Nomadican Mates Series 1

  Bound: Nomadican Mates Series 2

  Taken: Nomadican Mates Series 3

  Return: Nomadican Mates Series 4(coming soon)

  Books by LS Anders

  Vehn: Exotic Ink Series 1

  Tegan: Exotic Ink Series 2

  Jason: Exotic Ink Series 3

  Vex: Mythical Ink Series 1

  Sevin: Mythical Ink Series 2

  Cael: Mythical Ink Series 3

  A Fairy’s Tale: Mythical Ink Series 4

  Six Pack: Men of Measure Series 1

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  A Nomadican History Lesson

  About this book

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Bonus Excerpt

  Glossary of Nomadican Words

  Newsletter and Stalk the Authors

  Chapter 1

  The musty stench of earth tickles my nose. Moving my hand to rub away the itch feels like I’m dragging a lead weight.

  My body is too heavy, my eyelids locked down tight. Nothing but fog is left of my brain as I try to understand why my pillowtop mattress has turned into a concrete slab, or why the air packed in my lungs bears substance and tastes like garden soil.

  Letting go, all thought dissipates with the hot breeze that ruffles my hair.

  ***

  Sometime later, I float back to consciousness. Lethargy clings to me, trying to drag me under, but this time, I fight, not letting the darkness consume me once again.

  Something isn’t right.

  A prickling awareness keeps poking at me, but I can’t get my brain to make sense of why I need to be alarmed—

  I’m not alone.

  Adrenaline allows me to pry open my eyelids, just a crack, but enough to let in a blinding light that blurs my vision. Sluggishly, I blink away the distortion. The world around me slowly comes into view.

  My cheek pressed hard to the ground, what I see makes no sense.

  Hordes of bizarre feet! The pairs not wearing strange footwear have claws for toes, some are hoofed, while others are beyond comprehension. A menagerie of oddities the likes of which should not exist in real life traipse past on peculiar, packed red dirt. Some pause in front of me before moving on. Others rush by, undoubtedly in a hurry to get to wherever they’re going.

  An inexplicable spectacle is only second to the dense roar filling my ears. As the thunder taking up every inch of space inside my pounding head begins to diminish to a low buzz, a pulsing cadence of peculiar sounds emerges. A rhythm of woven chaos with a beat I can’t quite place.

  So tired. So… tired.

  My eyes drift closed.

  It’s just a dream—a really weird one, probably from that extra glass of wine I had with dinner. Moving from bustling Los Angeles back to the small town where I was born and raised was a serious culture shock that required liquid fortification. Don’t get me started on having to deal with my parents. That’s where the bottle of Chardonnay, which had my name written all over it, was needed the most.

  Dream or not, my bed is not what it used to be. Maybe I fell out of it, and I’m lying on the floor. Probably hit my head on the corner of the nightstand, and that’s why I’ve conjured all this crazy. Must have a head injury.

  Dragging in a breath is more difficult than usual. Air shouldn’t have weight. What I’m pulling into my lungs is what I would imagine breathing underwater would be like. A concentrated substance easier cut with a knife rather than inhaled.

  The longer I lie here, the clearer my head becomes. The woven chaos sorting itself into a jumbled mess of voices from that of a crowd, but still a chattering mass of untranslatable noise, reminding me of the time I visited France. Seated in a crowded bistro, I tasted escargot for the first time and listened to all the intermingled chattering around me while not understanding a single word.

  What I hear now isn’t French. And the last time I ch
ecked, I was in the United States.

  If I could just push myself up…

  As I drag in more thick air, the earlier hot breeze that brushed my skin now feels blistering hot, especially on my lower half. Raising my eyebrows high, I force one eye to open. The spectacle of the truly curious that should not exist continues to mill about. A veritable circus of freakish feet trodding along in traversing paths, overlapping and interconnecting.

  My body weighs a thousand pounds as I flop to my back. Prying both eyes open, I use my hand as a shade and wonder how I ended up outside... and why the sun looks so orange and bigger than I’ve ever seen it.

  I mean, I remember brushing my teeth before climbing into bed… or did I? Rubbing my forehead does nothing to resurrect memories of last night.

  A booted foot kicks my side. Smacking the offender away, I snap, “Watch it, asshole!” Annnnd… that’s when I realize I’m completely naked.

  Apparently, I’ve woken to a Halloween party in the middle of July because the dickhead who kicked me is decked out in some sort of scaly suit. Wrapping my arms around myself to hide my nakedness, I have to give him props for the mask. Those bug eyes and huge slashing mouth look authentic.

  Slapping the freak next to him, the dickhead utters something in a foreign language, making a lewd gesture and cupping his crotch. They both look down at me and laugh.

  “Screw you, freaks!” I don’t have to take this bullshit.

  Shooting to my feet, I list to one side, then the other before I gain my bearings. The rattle of chains and the restriction I now feel around my throat are shocking.

  Dickhead rushes at me, slamming me against a wall so hard my teeth rattle. All up in my face, his gash of a mouth peels wide, revealing razors for teeth; two rows of them stacked one behind the other. My fingers pull and tear at the wide band of restriction around my throat. A show of dominance when he snaps his jaws a mere inch away from my face.

  This shit just got real!

  A scream is ripped from my tight throat. I couldn’t be in a worse position to fight back, naked and chained to a wall. I try a knee to dickhead’s groin, but he just laughs it off and sandwiches me tighter between the wall at my back and the coolness of his creepy body. Panic rides me hard when my effort to get away proves unsuccessful.

  Taunting me with a slurping tongue up the side of my neck, I shiver in disgust from the layer of slime it leaves in its wake. Cold to the touch, I shove at him, but he’s not budging. A lagging cognizance that his funky skin is no costume is freaking me out more than the threat of being bitten by those shark teeth.

  Beating my fists against his arms and sides proves useless, only tiring my oxygen-deprived muscles.

  Shifting his hold, he squeezes my throat with one clammy hand while the other roughly fondles my breasts. I gag back the bile percolating up my esophagus. When that hand drops between my thighs, I come alive and begin thrashing about.

  “Get the fuck off me, freak!”

  Unseating his hand, I gain some leverage and shove the heel of my hand into what I assume is his nose.

  That does the trick!

  Roaring with a high-pitched screech that sets my teeth on edge, I kick out, shoving him away. My back no longer pinned against the wall, I’m still in no better shape. Shackled by the throat, I can only retreat as far as the chain will allow.

  Just as the freak launches himself at me again, something much bigger snatches it from the ground and hurls it across the crowd streaming past.

  Looking waaaaay up, I shrink back from the creature that came to my defense. Wiping at its gigantic runny nose, the ogre squats down to get a better look at me. Now eye-to-eye with my terrifying green savior, my lips tremble, my voice thin.

  “Th-thank y-you.” I try for a smile, but it comes off as a stretch of my lips over clenched teeth.

  His hand lifts and my back hits the wall. Green fingertips brush from the top of my head down the length of my hair. He grins. The ogre likes blondes—lucky me.

  Big yellow eyes travel the length of my body. I fold my arms over my chest and bend a knee to hide my crotch.

  “Hey! No touching.” I smack away the finger that probes at the juncture of my thighs. All that gains me is a sneer.

  “Na tu la beatrus,” the ogre says, gesturing with his fingers to spread my legs.

  I give my head a shake. “Not gonna happen—”

  One giant hand to my chest pins me to the wall, the other, he uses to scissor my legs apart. Spreading me to his view, he dips his head to have a look. My face goes up in flames. Running his knuckles up my thigh, the ogre swipes a thick finger over my feminine flesh before sniffing his appendage.

  Backing away, he grumbles with a tight smile stretching his mossy green lips. The lack of the ogre’s hand has me falling forward. Catching myself on the packed red dirt, I watch the ogre walk away, disappearing into the crowd.

  For the first time, I take in the strangeness of my surroundings.

  The sun hanging in the violet sky is a shock of blood red-orange. A gigantic churning orb resting so close to the planet its presence registers as tremendous. Oddly, I can look into its roiling depths without it burning my retinas, but it’s no less hot than the sun I used to know.

  There’s not much else of note about the flat, barren landscape—no trees or vegetation anywhere, only the dustless red dirt beneath my knees. The ground a hard-packed surface akin to concrete that the many strange feet, attached to even stranger bodies, leave barely a faint print.

  Fear is a weighty cloak that shrinks me inside my skin as I come to terms with the fact that I’m no longer on Earth. It’s almost too much to grasp the abundance of life-forms, seemingly hundreds of alien beings milling around a wide-open market.

  Booths line the trodden swath of a path in front of me, displaying all sorts of wares. Some trading one item for another while others exchange merchandise for gleaming white tiles I imagine is some type of currency.

  To my right, another girl is lying on her side. From what I can see, she looks human, fitted with a collar around her neck and attached to the same stretch of the wall by a chain. Swinging my horrified gaze to the left, I find another girl, another after her, and even more beyond them, all chained and collared—not human but definitely all female.

  A rush of cold recognition freezes the marrow in my bones as I realize what I am in this scheme of things—merchandise, something to be bartered.

  Grabbing at my collar, I feel around for some way to detach it—nothing, just a circle of thick hide with a circular ring that connects me to the chain which I give a futile yank. Feeling around the circular hook that attaches me to the wall, I give it a twist, but it’s no use. The unmovable metal loop embedded in the wall is attached to the solid chain that holds me captive.

  The continual stream of creatures seems to be without end. Most leer at me as they pass, but to my horror, some pause, taking an interest. Dropping to the ground, I pull my legs to my chest, wrapping my arms to hold myself in a tight ball. If I don’t give them much to look at, maybe I’ll go unnoticed.

  Think, Ivey. I’ve gotten myself out of tight jams before. I’m a smart girl, I can figure a way out of this.

  I take stock of my surroundings. Most of the creatures look male, but some I can’t tell. A few look relatively human, while others are beyond imagination. Tall and lanky with long green hair and skin to match, covered in scales or shaggy fur, there is no end to the impossible show of species present. George Lucas would have a field day with this place.

  Shrinking smaller as a particularly nasty-looking half-man, half-insect thing scurries by on spindly legs leaving a parallel trail of pockmarks in the compacted dirt. It doesn’t notice me but is curious about the girl lying on the ground. Poking at her with its spidery leg, she moans.

  A troll with a lower jaw full of protruding tusks rushes forward on stunted legs. Rolling the girl onto her back, he nudges her legs apart, exposing her attributes to the creatures beginning to crowd around, putting h
er sex on display.

  I crane my neck, so I don’t lose sight of her. Some sort of negotiation happens between the insect-man and the troll as more creepy-crawlies begin to crowd around.

  The troll holds up his hands and speaks to the crowd of beasties. Unconscious, the girl isn’t given the same opportunity to protect herself as I have. That could just as easily be me being bartered. The girl moans, her head thrashing side-to-side as she begins to regain consciousness. The troll doing the negotiating hobbles over, pulling a dart-like instrument from its belt to poke into the girl’s thin arm. With a yelp, she stills, her face rolling away from me. At first, I think she’s dead, then I see the rise and fall of her chest, but the relief that washes over me is short-lived.

  With multi-jointed fingers fit for a skeleton’s hand, the insect-man tosses white tiles at the troll before rolling the girl’s prone body around on the ground. Thrusting its lower abdomen forward, it begins to spin a white thread. As the creature turns the girl over and over, her body becomes encased, cocooned in a sticky web. Standing on its two hind legs, the insect-man tosses the girl over its shoulder, and she’s carried away to a fate I don’t want to imagine. Following close behind its retreating form are over a dozen of those alien insect-men.

  I can’t stop the shaking in my limbs or the whimper that escapes my trembling lips. I’m not going to get out of this one—not this time.

  An uproar to my left pulls my eyes away from the girl being carried away. A much worse fate awaits a female with bluish skin. Big breasted like me, she’s being stalked by a ruddy beast on all fours. Massive horns the color of alabaster grow out the sides of its head. Heavily muscled, the male is huge. When it stands upright, I cower back against the wall.

  Eight feet of monster reaches out to encircle the female’s waist with one enormous hand, lifting her from the ground. She doesn’t fight as I expected but arches back, thrusting her breasts toward the great beast. With a long whip of its tongue, it lashes out to lavish the female’s nipples. She moans, wiggling in the beast’s grip. Its free hand rubs between her thighs, making her wild.