The Darkanian's Claim (a BBW, Shifter Prince Scifi Romance)

by Calista Skye

  (c)LX 2015 as Calista Skye

  All rights reserved.

  The Darkanian's Claim

  An emergency landing in the wrong region soon has Peyton scrambling for resources on an unallied planet she knows nothing about. Worse, when she's forced to leave her drop pod to forage food, an errant step in the draining heat of the dark wilds has her swinging from a tree with both feet caught in the death grip of apparently sentient, alien vines.

  Sure she'll succumb to death by starvation, elements, and even attack, she never anticipates what she wakes up to: a shifter prince, hiding out in the wilds.

  Gruff and seeming to take little romantic interest in her, the man-bear soon fails to deny the passion burning between them, but will he risk placing her in the cross hairs of the attack he's sure will come when the King's soldiers find them? How can he let her go when he's absolutely sure she's his mate?

  When there's nowhere to run, the only way is through. With a mate by his side, he can take leadership of his people. Will he face the perils that surround their mating, and claim what's rightfully his?

  A steamy, BBW, scifi shifter romance

  One

  "Damn it!"

  Peyton grit her teeth, throwing all of her might against the aerial hoist. Fucking unreal. She was going down for sure; the least this second-rate pod could do was give her the balloon to make the landing survivable.

  Biting back tears, rage and fear flushed her cheeks.

  Why didn't she just wait? Why didn't she ever think before acting? If she'd saved more credits, she'd be doing this in a better ship, actually making it to Sector 9. Instead, she was going to crash in unallied territory on a remote planet her data pack had next to no information about.

  Peyton forced herself to take a calming breath.

  The prospects were mind-numbing, but she had to keep her head, somehow.

  She entered the fall code with her free hand, making sure the pod noted there was a survivor aboard. Her head felt like it was going to cave in, but she could make it through this if the comm systems survived the fall.

  Her stomach dropped at the thought that she might be stuck in unallied territory, alone, and weaponless. Utterly failing her little sister. She couldn't let anything get in the way of her protection. Not even a crash. Finding the strength somewhere in the chaos storm of her gut, she pushed past those thoughts. She had exactly zero time for that.

  Focus, Peyton.

  Gulping in air, Peyton pulled her pack from the seat compartment and swung it over her arms.

  She'd entered unallied territory to fetch a price for the book, and that was exactly what she would do. Somehow. She'd always been the kind of girl who thought on her feet. No crash landing would stop that, even if the fall made sure she broke enough bones to keep her from using those feet for awhile.

  Steadying her breath as the deck's warning lights flashed maniacally, she tightened the harness as the ship spun even more wildly, plummeting faster now. She cursed, hit the deck panel, and forced herself to calm.

  Remember the mantra.

  She drew a deep breath, braving the paralytic fear inching over her.

  There's a purpose for this.

  There's a purpose for this.

  There's a...

  Two

  Peyton's eyes fluttered open. Wrinkling her nose, she resisted the assault of sharp pine, groaning instantly. So she'd crashed in the woods somewhere. Well, that totally figured. Grunting with the effort it took to lift herself up off of the dash, she cried out at the sharp pain howling in her head.

  "Damn it."

  She'd have to check sometime; there was no point in dragging it out. Wriggling life into her fingers, Peyton raised them tentatively to her head, sighing with unexpected relief. No blood. Good. This story might have a happy ending, after all.

  Bristling at the sound of a caw in the wind, she dredged up the strength to slide off of the pilot chair, her eyes glancing the pod with useless disappointment. She'd owe credits for that, too. Swallowing the panic tightening in her throat, Peyton forced herself to focus. So what? She'd sell the book and have plenty of money to compensate the dust riders she'd paid for the wreck.

  It wouldn't be that expensive. It's not like it'd been in anywhere near the mint condition of its younger years.

  Swiping her hand across her nose, she lowered to a haunch and forced herself to her feet with a grunt. Her boots scraped the floor as she secured her footing, angry she had to fight to summon the confidence to use her legs. No matter. At least, they worked. A little rest was all she needed. A secure place and a little rest would have her almost as good as new, right?

  The fearsome growl that thrummed the unknown awaiting her outside the pod seemed to say otherwise, but she lifted her chin. She'd been through worse than this before. Struggle was a state of mind. Ingenuity was its prize. There'd be something on the planet she could use to sustain her. Just a few days of rest, and she would find it.

  The snap and pop of sizzling wires answered her thoughts when she wondered how salvageable the pod was, and she turned her eyes to the smooth panel that had been lit up in blue and green buttons just seconds before she'd blacked out. She wasn't the most talented techie, but with enough time, she could get the radio working. She could call for help. At some point. The system was obviously fried at the moment. She probably wouldn't be getting to it today.

  Lip quivering, a strangled cry caught in her throat. A little forethought would have prevented this. Thinking ahead would have equipped her with a spacesuit and hover boots she could have used to get her to the next space station. Hell, it would have been a long walk up, but it would've been one that ended in certainty.

  Her current position was padded in what-ifs and probabilities, both things she'd loathed from early on when she'd realized how cold the world could be when you entered it unprepared. With a father who'd looked at her like a hindrance from as far back as she could remember, she'd quickly learned how to sustain herself, make herself useful, and stay out of the way of powers that were far bigger than her.

  Shuffling forward with a grunt, Peyton ascended the small stairwell that led to the lounge, which also doubled as a sleeping chamber (budget wrecks being what they were), and eased herself onto the nano-vinyl cushions. Sighing with relief, she reached down and slid open the drawer at their base, her fingers searching for the blanket rolls tucked into the tight confines with the other scattered belongings she'd had the forethought to bring along with her.

  Thank the stars.

  Retrieving a fuzzy, sea foam green blanket, Peyton kicked off her shoes, eased the door closed and slid the blanket over her, beyond thankful for the quick comfort it afforded. It still held the scent of her sister's quarters, where she'd borrowed it, and her thoughts turned to Maya fondly as she rested there.

  She'd get back to see her, damn it.

  If the universe had meant something to take her out, it had had too many opportunities to count before. She'd see her sister, and she'd have something to give her that she could use.

  Something that would get her off that damn ship before they made her into a fount on display for the oggling eyes and mouthes of unworthy men. Her mouth forming a thin, angry line, she stewed on that thought with determination for longer than she probably should have. But she'd be damned if she let anything happen to an innocent 19 year old who didn't know shit about the life she was about to be signed up for.

  Lara would think she was a crook for stealing the book when she found out, but she couldn't care less. If credits were the only thing that made the planets go 'round the galaxy, then credits she an
d Maya would have.

  The choice had been made for her before she'd even been born.

  And she was fine with it.

  Cold hard facts were a service, a gift.

  Peyton had learned to recognize them early.

  She'd learned to use them for every bit of value they afforded her.

  ~

  “Alright, fine. I'll just burn up then,” she grunted to herself.

  There certainly wasn't anyone else there to talk to.

  It was clear after the second night in the defunctioned pod that her fan hack wasn't going to cut it. Drenched in sweat, Peyton was barely able to keep from passing out for most of the day. It was too much of a risk on an alien planet she knew little of. Anyone or anything could show up at the wrong time. She didn't relish the idea of being caught unconscious. Especially being a woman. She could have at least spared the credits to rent an AI. Peyton cursed her greed. The book's value had drowned out all cautionary thoughts that would have ensured an easier outcome.

  Sulking, she hastily unwrapped a peppery stick of soy-jerky, counting on the filling nature of the traveling food. Her eyes flicked to the bottom of the food pack before she could restrain them, and a frown crossed her doll-like features. Making her look as silly as she always did when she was mad; she was sure.

  She'd have no choice but to leave the pod and forage for more food soon. Bleeding from the poorly bandaged gash she'd earned when she'd had the brilliant idea to try to fix the comm systems in the dark set her back at least a full day. She'd been lucky enough to disinfect the wound with the little bit of engine solvent she'd managed to dilute in a cup of the body oil she'd brought along. Stung like a bitch, but at least she wouldn't die of an open, microbe-infested wound out here. Sighing, she chomped on the heavily seasoned stick, thankful for the moment for its sensual distraction.

  Tomorrow morning. When the giant sun that made the surface of the planet feel like an inferno burned at its edges was only just beginning to emerge. That would help her avoid the cold of the planet's under layer without turning her into a pile of dust when the gargantuan fireball reached its peak.

  Tomorrow.

  Clutching the book to her chest, her eyes rolled closed as she chomped the last of the soy-stick.

  It would be alright.

  She didn't come here to die.

  So, she wouldn't.

  Three

  A night of troubled dreams and teeth-chattering temperatures had Peyton rising in a fitful mood, which was just as well. If the wrong beastie emerged to attack her in the wild, she'd be well within the bounds of her oath to take its life. And then she'd have meat to dry. It would sustain her a good while if the beastie was large enough. Not that she relished cleaning an animal. But she'd find the motivation if an alien beast tried to have her for lunch.

  There was protein in enemy meat, even if the taste of it would surely disgust her. It would strengthen her and help her heal. Mostly human, the small bit of Kalion heritage she claimed was repulsed by anything remotely stinking of dead flesh. Her diet consisted of fruits, well-seasoned vegetation, the starches that had more than contributed to the curvy figure the men of Kalion lusted after, and the meaty beans that made sentient flesh unpalatable. Her stomach plummeted at the thought that she didn't know what waited out there for her on the foreign planet she'd made a smoky grand entrance into. She loathed the thought of the trial and error that was probably in order if she was to find something worthy of her palate.

  Strapping on the few makeshift weapons she'd been able to fashion, she drew up her waterfall of black hair and bound it in a tight braid. She'd have been lying to herself pretending she wasn't worried. Roaming a planet without any data was pretty much a dance with death, but then, she didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. She'd been impulsive and foolish, and she was paying for that now.

  Drawing a breath, Peyton moved toward the window panels, frowning to find that not even a hundred pixels flashed to life to allow her a view of the outside, then she drove the screwdriver that she'd decided would double as a knife into the wedge of the doors at the manual points that would open it. With a click, it parted slightly. Thoroughly displeased that anyone with a knowledge of a pod's manual release could easily breech her sanctuary, she tucked the knife away.

  She doubted the lounger she pushed against it at night would do much to dissuade an intruder from entering if they were truly determined to. And who knew what kinds of beings roamed this planet? Or if the four-leggeds were actually as sentient as she? It was certainly possible.

  Squinting as daylight beat her eyes, she shoved the screwdriver into the top pocket of her traveling cloak, fastening it secure with a frown.

  "Here goes nothing."

  It was something her father used to say. Sometimes he slipped out of her like that, when she least expected it. Least wanted it. He was an abandoner. Not someone she was willing to honor, even unconsciously.

  Setting her foot to alien earth, Peyton drew upon her courage as her workbooks crunched the leaves underfoot. Glancing the giant trees around her, her heart thumped with warning. Of all places to land, the wilds of any planet weren't it. At least she'd have had an opportunity to turn on her part-Kalion charms with the authorities of an alien city. She was good at that. Her mother had taught her how to use her influence over others, and it had gotten her through more than one extremely compromising scenario.

  Braving several more steps forward, she keened her ears to the inhabitants of the wilds that had surely been watching her from the moment the pod dropped into the mysterious glen. The scent of unmolested greenery overwhelmed her senses. It was almost seductive, but she knew better than to lost her head to it. The sooner she gathered some food, the better. By all indications, the drop pod was her best means of survival right now.

  After what felt like an hour, Peyton began to drop her guard a little. Aside from some oddly colored birds flying over head, and a few annoyingly aggressive flies, she hadn't come upon anything that had remotely threatened her life, even indirectly. It began to make Peyton think she might have found one of the few, rumored planets of benevolence at the edge of the galaxy, and needing any snatch of hope she could find, she clung to the thought desperately.

  Definitely gonna make it through this.

  She smiled with premature relief, caught completely unawares when the forest seemed to answer that thought with a dare. A hard snap and dragging pop alerted her to the vines closing around her ankles and lifted her flailing in the air. With a whoop, Peyton squeezed her eyes shut, only braving the stomach-chugging aerial views of the wilds spinning around her when she realized she was swinging. Curiosity eventually bested her. She had to know how high she was hanging if she was going to come up with a plan to get down.

  Wincing as the vine tightened its squeeze, Peyton grit her teeth, fighting to bear the pain, her cloak swishing beneath her as she swung like a pendulum keeping time with an extremely foreboding song of a dire struggle to come.

  Gulping around her nerves, her heart pumped fire with a determination that she wouldn't become some alien creature's lunch.

  Four

  Gulping air, Peyton snapped to.

  An immediate crease took her brow.

  She wasn't in the air anymore... Where... was she? She certainly wasn't dangling from a living vine. Panic struck her as her spirit inched into her gut, and she began to shake off the disorientation clouding her thoughts. She was laying on something. A cot? Shit.

  Her gut clenched at the thought that she was taken by someone; it mixed in with relief that she wasn't dead and the cautious aspect of her character that told her not to celebrate too soon. She didn't know who took her after all, or what they intended to do with her.

  "You'll hurt yourself if you move."

  Alarm vibrated through her at the sound of the gruff voice, and she strained to glance the room, though moving her eyes even a bit struck her with the throbbing warning of a headache that immediately kept her from pushing her vision
too far.

  "Rest."

  So not a big talker, this guy.

  Her stomach twisting in a knot, she fought to keep her composure.

  Maybe he saved her because he was one of the good guys; maybe he saved her for... other reasons. She grit her teeth. She knew all too well what those other reasons could be in the wrong hands. And she didn't know for sure that he'd saved her, either. He may have just found her, or worse... claimed her from someone who actually did cut her down from those damn vines.

  Well, now her mind was rambling. She was never at her best when that aspect of her character took the helm.

  Further panic tore through her. Oh stars, the book! She had to get back to the drop pod. Like now. She and Maya needed that money.

  "Lay still, or I will drug you."

  Ah. Threats of being drugged into compliance. She'd hit the jackpot of luck hadn't she? So, probably not the guy who saved her, and even if he was... his purposes couldn't be too good if he was threatening to drug her.

  Blinking with irritation, Peyton allowed her commonsense to take the wheel. A bad outcome was assured if she didn't. This guy was telling the truth. His tone made that much clear.

  She bristled at the sound of blade struck against stone.

  Was he... whoever he was, sharpening weapons? What for? Peyton fought against the worst kinds of thoughts and gulped past her reservations. She grit her teeth against the fear weaving a path into her heart chamber and was suddenly struck still by the scent of... pie.

  Pie?

  As discreetly as she could, Peyton sniffed the air softly. Smelled like blueberry pie. Earth style. Her brow cricked.

  "You'd only throw it up, girl. The vine toxin's not out of your system, yet."

  Girl? Who in the hell was he calling a...