Untamed Abduction: Alien Romance Collection

by Ponderosa Publishing

  She was just flipping the last omelet when Tyler and Roger came in the kitchen, their cheeks red from the cold.

  “Hey, you goons! Watch your boots! You’re tracking snow on my clean floors!”

  Then laughed out apologies and pulled their boots off, tossing them outside and pulling up chairs at the table. Bronwyn tried to hide the blush in her cheeks as she locked eyes with Tyler, so she spun around to the food and began plating it, afraid to make a fool of herself in front of Roger. Tyler was just about to say something when his cell phone began to ring, startling all three of them.

  “Who the hell would be calling this early on a Saturday?” Roger asked incredulously.

  Tyler shrugged as he pulled the phone out of his pocket and answered.

  “Hello?... Yes, this is Tyler Hunter… What?... Are you… You’re sure?... Yes, I understand. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Bronwyn felt her stomach drop. Was it Annie? Or was Tyler being called back into service? She turned from the stove and stared at him with panic in her eyes. Roger had a similar expression on his face.

  “Son… is something wrong with your mother?”

  Tyler shook his head adamantly. “No, dad. It was the staff sergeant at the base in Helena. I just need to go check in with them about some things. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

  Bronwyn tried to push down a choking feeling in her throat, and just nodded. Tyler squeezed her hand as he walked by her to get his coat, and she noticed he was trying to keep a small smile plastered on his face. She nodded and tried to look positive, but she could feel the nerves setting in. Why did I think I could do this again? That same old feeling was just starting to overwhelm her when Tyler turned at the door and said,

  “Wynnie… Everything. Is going. To be fine.”

  And with that, Tyler was gone.

  Chapter Seven

  Tyler

  Tyler was driving as fast as he could without getting pulled over, but Helena didn’t seem to be getting any closer. He could barely process the doctor’s words as he drove.

  “Your brother is here. And he’s alive. But he’s insisting that only you come. He doesn’t have long, Hunter. You need to get here as quickly as you can.”

  Tyler had checked flights when he got in the car, but it would have taken him as long to wait for a plane and then puddle-jump to Helena as it would have to just drive there while pushing the speed limit. Nothing about this made any sense; how could the brass have gotten this so wrong? And why did Declan only want to see him? Why didn’t he want to see Bronwyn or their parents?

  When he pulled up outside of the military hospital five hours later, he was almost afraid to get out of the car. Declan was inside, who knew how badly hurt, and this may be their last chance to talk. What would be say? What did Declan want to tell him? Tyler had been less afraid facing down the barrel of a gun in Fallujah than he was of walking through the sliding doors of the hospital.

  Eventually, though, he had to get out of the car, and he walked into the hospital, where he hesitantly approached the woman at the reception desk.

  “Ma’am, I’m here for Declan Hunter. Can you tell me what room he’s in please?”

  The woman punched a few keys into the ancient computer in front of her and then looked up at Tyler with a disappointed expression.

  “He’s not in a room, sir. He’s in the ICU, fifth floor. But I’m only authorized to let his brother, Tyler up. Do you have ID?”

  Tyler pulled his military ID from his wallet and the woman directed him to the elevators. Every step he took felt like he was trudging through wet cement, but nothing prepared him for what he saw when he got to the ICU. There was only one man inside, and Tyler recognized him as Declan by his crystal blue eyes, their mother’s eyes. But the rest of him was wrapped in bandages, which seemed to be covering third degree burns all over his body. An oxygen mask was secured over his mouth, and every so often, he’d twitch, as if the pain were registering through sleep.

  Tyler didn’t know what to do, so he just stood there, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw a small female doctor standing behind him.

  “You must be Tyler. We wanted to put him in hyperbaric oxygen tent and start skin grafts from donor skin, but he wouldn’t let us. He just said to get you here, and give him pain medication. I’m not sure how much it’s helping though. I think he’s just waiting for you.”

  Tyler felt a sob catch in his throat. What the hell was his little brother thinking?

  “He won’t let you treat him? Why the hell not? And how did he even get back here like that? I don’t… understand any of this.”

  The doctor pointed to some chairs in the corner, and Tyler followed her to sit.

  “To be honest, the fact he survived the flight back was a damn miracle. But he insisted on being here, on seeing you, before… The reality is, even with grafts, even with the best treatment we can give him, he has third degree burns over 90% of his body, and his lungs suffered a lot of fire damage. If the infection doesn’t get him… It will be lung failure. I’m sorry, Tyler. But he pretty much tied our hands from the start.”

  Tyler nodded. “Can I go in?”

  “Yes, please. Take as much time as you need.”

  Tyler walked in the room and watched Declan struggling to breathe, even with the oxygen mask on. He didn’t say anything; he just sat by Declan’s side until Declan opened his eyes and say his brother. With a shaking hand, he reached up and pulled the oxygen mask away.

  “You’re here,” he whispered with a rasp in his voice. Tyler tried to hide the tears in his eyes.

  “Where else would I be, man? If you wanted me to visit, there were easier ways to see me.”

  He could tell by Declan’s eyes that he was smiling. But there was still a sadness there that was breaking Tyler’s heart.

  “Tyler, I want you to take care of mom and dad. And Bronwyn. I never did right by her, but you can. Make sure she’s happy. And safe. Whatever it takes. Please, Tyler, promise me.”

  Tyler reached out and put his hand on his brother’s. He didn’t know how Declan knew; maybe it was just the clarity that came with the knowledge he was nearing the end. But Tyler looked deep in his brother’s eyes and said with the sincerest voice he could muster,

  “I promise, Declan. I promise.”

  * * *

  Tyler spent the next week by his brother’s bedside, talking, comforting, doing anything he could to make him comfortable, all while fielding prying calls from his parents. At Declan’s request, he told them that he was just finishing up some paperwork and tying up loose ends of his discharge, but Tyler hated lying to them. Yet, it was Declan’s wish that no one else see him like this. He wanted his brother with him, and no one else. It was the least Tyler could do.

  And on Friday night, when Declan took his last breath, Tyler was holding his hand, reiterating his promise to take care of their family, and make sure that Bronwyn would never be alone. He didn’t know how he was going to explain any of this to his parents, because despite the fact Declan wished them to believe he’d died on the battle field, this felt like a secret too painful to bear alone.

  Chapter Eight

  Bronwyn

  Bronwyn was sitting on the back patio of the carriage house, wrapped in a blanket, drinking a mug of tea, and staring off into the distance. Tyler had been gone a week, and no one knew why, only that he had to “finish signing his discharge papers.” Why that took a week, Bronwyn didn’t know. But she was trying to be understanding, especially because she had a feeling Tyler wouldn’t have left if it was important.

  She was just about to pick up a book and start reading when she heard a car pulling up in the drive. Bronwyn set down her tea and ran around to the front of the house, where she saw Tyler getting down from his truck. She didn’t know what overcame her, but she immediately needed to be as close to him as possible. When he saw her, he held out his arms, and she rushed into them, holding as tight to his waist as she could m
anage.

  When she lifted her head to look at him, she saw tears in Tyler’s eyes.

  “Tyler? What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head gently, “Nothing, really. I’m just happy to see you. That’s all.”

  Bronwyn buried her head in the warmth of Tyler’s jacket, and snuggled as closely to him as she could. There was something about him that made her feel so safe, and so secure; nothing else mattered.

  “I’m happy to see you too.”

  Epilogue

  Two Months Later

  Flowers covered every inch of the farm; from the fences to the barn, even the animals had rings of flowers around their necks. At first, people in Howe had been surprised when they heard that Bronwyn Thorn Hunter was marrying Declan’s brother, Tyler. But then, they saw how truly happy they were together and the unusualness of the situation was forgotten. The whole town had turned out for the wedding, and when they caught sight of Bronwyn walking down the aisle to the gazebo of the carriage house on Roger’s arm, the crowd let out a collective gasp.

  Her dress was simple, all ivory and long lace, with delicate beading and a heart-shaped neckline. Tyler’s face glowed with happiness as Bronwyn made her way toward him. But only they shared a secret that increased their joy ten fold. Roger and Bronwyn weren’t walking down the aisle alone.

  And if the mystery wedding guest was a boy, they’d decided to name him Declan.

  *****

  The End

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  Here is a FREE bonus 9000 word romance story “The Navy SEAL’s Secret Lady” by Cassandra Michaels

  The Navy SEAL’s Secret Lady

  Two years and three months. That was how long it had been since Cannon Smith last set foot in his hometown.

  Each time Cannon returned from deployment, the town felt farther and farther away. The frightening state of his home only reminded him more of how it had changed. He worried that, if he left for too much longer, even his trusty steed might forget him, and his home would turn into something completely foreign. Arabian Dancer was the one constant.

  Cannon climbed atop the saddle of his horse. He had several steeds, but she was his favorite. Arabian Dancer had a statuesque build and perfect sheen on her coat of sandy blonde hair. She was the first horse he broke. At the time, he was twelve.

  She galloped along with Cannon on her back. Even with his uniform off, it was easy to tell him apart from other ranchers in the town. He sported worn and slightly faded blue jeans, leather boots, and a red checked shirt. The simple attire, though, couldn’t hide his muscular physique or godlike jawline.

  Cannon rode along the outskirts of his ranch and surveyed the land. As he did, he thought back to his childhood memories and the good times he’d had when his parents were still alive. He was still coming to grips with the loss of both his parents, his mom first and a few months later his old man. Both died the last year of his assignment.

  It was good land and even better cattle raising. It had lots of pasture for a place in west Texas, just north of the Rio Grande.

  He stopped the horse just before the stables and took stock of how run down the house had become after his father passed. It needed new support beams, shudders, and tiling. Not to mention that fact that the wiring needed to be fixed along with a slew of smaller jobs, which added up to a lot of money once he counted it all up.

  When Cannon rode her, the hooves made a specific rhythmic sound every time they made contact with the hard-packed dirt. With every stride, the waves of sound entered his body. He could feel the vibrations shutting out all other distractions, from the images of the knives and guns he used to train as a SEAL to the skirmishes he was forced to instigate when he was overseas. The perpetual movement of his life had grown to a fever pitch since his last visit. The noise of his horse was the only thing that could take his mind off the continuous motion of everything else.

  The next day Cannon found himself in the same place most returning Navy men find themselves their first week back: the local barrelhouse.

  “Are you going to fix up that place of yours, Cannon?” Jessica asked.

  “Just pour me another drink.”

  The Tavern wasn't much. It had the smell and look of a cheap bar, one with no competition.

  “Bourbon it is, neat,” Jessica said.

  “You could always come over and help me with it. I know you’re good with your hands, and I'm a sucker for a brunette.”

  “Give it a rest. As much as I love those arms of yours, I know you're into sandy blondes.”

  Jessica gripped Cannon's biceps and made careful note of the contours of his muscles. They were like sculpted miniature mountain ranges.

  “In your case, I'm willing to make an exception,” Cannon replied as he gave her that look.

  He was being honest. He did prefer sandy blondes. He had Arabian Dancer to thank for that, but Jessica had an edge, and he was willing to overlook the fact she wasn’t like the girls he usually dated.

  “Sorry, but I'm more of a wreck than you are. Just ask my sister. Besides, your place needs more help than I can give. You know, it's funny. I had a few Navy guys come in here recently, and I remember one of them mentioning something about an extra allowance for having a live-in girlfriend.”

  “Is that an offer?” Cannon asked.

  “Don’t you wish. But I know you have that old high school friend. What’s her name?”

  “Thelma.”

  “Yeah, that’s right, Thelma. I’m sure Thelma would be willing to go along with it. She used to have the hots for you, and she’s single the last I heard.”

  “You think I’m the kind of man who’s willing to lead somebody on just to get some extra cash?” Cannon asked.

  “You wouldn’t be the first. Besides, what’s the harm? It’s a win win. You get the extra cash, and she gets to hang with a guy she’s wanted for the longest time. You don’t even have to lead her on. Just tell her straight up. What’s the worst she could say? No?”

  “But you said it. We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember. I don’t want to risk our friendship over something that stupid.”

  “Come on, this is the twenty-first century. No one’s gonna stop being your friend, especially for as long as you guys have been friends, just for asking an honest question. Like I said, other guys do it all the time. It doesn’t make you a bad guy.”

  “I know I’m not a bad guy, but I’m not most guys either.”

  “I know you’re not, and I’m sure Thelma knows that too, so what do you got to lose? Speak of the devil,” Jessica said as she turned to look at the woman who had just walked in the door.

  Thelma was unassuming, attractive by most men’s standards, with a kind, approachable face, but Cannon wasn’t most men. It was her clothes, though, that he had trouble getting past. She sported mom jeans and a flannel halter she had twisted into a knot. She did have one thing going for her: sandy blonde hair.

  It took all of five seconds for Thelma to spot Cannon and walk on over to the bar.

  “Cannon, oh my God! How long has it been?”

  *****

  “Thelma, what a surprise. Can I buy you a drink?” Cannon asked.

  “You don’t have to ask. I’ll take a Bud Light,” she said as she put her hands on his shoulder and leaned in.

  “I see you haven’t changed.”

  “What do you expect? I’m a simple Southern country girl. I’m sure you’re used to women now who want all kinds of fancy shit.”

  “No comment.”

  Thelma shook her head and smiled, exhaling through her nose.

  “So, what brings you back? I take it you’re on leave.”

  “My eight years are up. Both of my parents passed this past year, and I’ve got to fix up the house they left. I’m not sure what to do
with it just yet. I’m planning on staying here for now, but even if I decide to leave and sell the house, I still need to fix up the place.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen it. It does look like it needs some work.”

  “What about you? What’s takin’ up all your time these days?”

  “Well, you know how it is with the bad economy and all. I finished up a two-year degree at City College a few years back, but finding a good job is tough. My parents have that shop it town, so I’ve been working for them part time. Still staying with them too. I’ve been thinking about moving, traveling. Thinking about a lot of things, actually, but not much has come together like I expected, so I’m just taking it it one day at a time.”

  “I hear ya. So, does that mean you would move out of your parents’ place if you could?”

  “That’s definitely the plan. I thought about splittin’ a place with some girlfriends of mine, but I decided just to rough it out a while longer and save every dollar I can. I think maybe I’ll take a year and then travel for six months once I’ve saved up enough. I’ll always have a place and a job with my parents when I get back.”

  “Where are you thinkin’ about visiting?”

  “I haven’t figured all that out just yet. I’ve been looking around. Thought about Europe, South America, maybe Australia. Not sure just yet though.”