The Alien Bounty Hunters Complete Series: Books 1-8

by Mills, Michele

  Communicating this way was difficult, messages had to be short, the symbols needed to appear random. After much deliberation, Kayzon sent his own coded message back:

  Mother,

  I have started my line. My Gravian Bride is fierce in her love and devotion. She reminds me of you.

  Kayzon paused and then added one more burning question:

  Where is my father?

  Epilogue

  “Harmony, would you like to hold the baby?” Kayzon asked.

  Kia looked over at them and smiled indulgently, watching as her hard-ass, battle-scarred husband gently passed their newborn daughter over to her sister’s waiting arms. Kayzon sat on her parents’ couch, next to Harmony, and encouraged the little girl to try and hold baby Kay in her arms and lap.

  It was Saturday, so Kia and Kayzon were visiting her parents. That’s what they did on Saturdays.

  Kayzon’s enormous biceps bulged as he carefully turned and arranged his precious package in Harmony’s arms. In a low voice he explained to Harmony how to keep the sleeping baby in the perfect position. Kay was asleep with a pink blanket wrapped around her. A dark shock of hair puffed at the top of her head, and tiny ridges ran down the length of her perfect little forehead.

  Kia sighed, watching her husband gently position the baby with his giant claws, his harsh face serious as he went about his task. Her ovaries were about to explode.

  “This is so cute, I can’t handle the cute, it’s literally burning my retinas,” Mom said from across the room.

  “Well, you’re going to have to handle it,” Dad deadpanned.

  Janet made a snorting noise. “You guys, she’s just a baby. The way all of you act around her, you’d think she was the second coming of the multigods.”

  Kayzon looked up and met Janet’s gaze with his steady hazel eye. “Don’t worry, Janet,” he rumbled. “You can hold her next.”

  Janet blushed attractively and ducked her head, letting her black hair shroud her face.

  Kia chuckled and stood up. “Mom, I’ll come in the kitchen and help, okay?”

  Although, helping just consisted of carrying trays of food out of the food dispenser and into the front room. Everyone on New Earth had a food dispenser now.

  Opening up New Earth to the rest of the four sectors and encouraging humans to govern themselves, all without civil war or, at the very least, a single episode of civil disobedience, was a huge freakin’ undertaking. But Kia’s parents seemed to be doing a spectacular job of just that.

  Ten moon cycles after the “takeover,” things weren’t that bad here on New Earth. There’d been a ground swell for Dad to become President, but he’d instead recommended another, a man of good character who had managed to stay relatively neutral during the religious wars. Her parents both preferred to stay in the background, working together to modernize New Earth and bring prosperity.

  Kia was delighted when Kayzon suggested they live here permanently. She suspected it had something to do with the fact that Kayzon was now the official Xylan Ambassador to New Earth and her husband and father had become close friends, which was really the coolest thing ever.

  And Kia was a Bounty Hunter now too. Kayzon had immediately started training her to pass the Bounty Hunter exam before her pregnancy progressed to the point where she’d have to wait. She’d trained harder than she had for anything ever before. She’d failed the test two times, finally attaining her license on her third pass. Of course Kayzon had remarked he’d passed on his first try with the third highest score ever documented, second only to Joyzal of Six, the number one Bounty Hunter in the four sectors.

  She’d rolled her eyes and reminded him she was pregnant.

  New Earth was their home base between missions, but Kia was on an extended maternity break. One day she would return to work and they would be a team again. Mom had already offered to care for baby Kay so Kia and Kayzon could bid for jobs together.

  “Hey, Kia. Can you please bring me the platter from the hall closet?” Mom yelled from the kitchen.

  “Sure. Just a second.” Kia walked out of the room. In the hallway she passed by the stone alcove that held her father’s favorite multigod altar. She paused before it, the love and affection for her baby, her husband, her family, her new life, filling her heart.

  And she was grateful. Grateful the gods had not deserted Kayzon or her father.

  She looked back through the doorway and watched her husband in the front room casually chat with her father, his large frame on the couch next to tiny Harmony and the baby.

  She exhaled. Her nose started to sting.

  Alone for a moment, with no one around to see, Kia crooked her eyebrow at the altar, “Thank you,” she whispered begrudgingly to the multigods, “Thank you for everything.”

  THE END

  Syrin’s Mate

  Syrin’s Mate

  Alien prison break romance: Forced proximity. Zero privacy. One touch.

  Syrin of Forty-Six is a berserker.

  Outlawed from Chronos and removed from the Xylan mating database, he’s a fierce warrior with a bloody past. And now he’s a convict, thrown into the most notorious prison in the four sectors.

  Since Sara is also an inmate, she can’t exactly judge. And as the only female prisoner on Detention Center: Zeta 149, she really, really needs protection. So when the prison guards throw Sara into a cell with the unstable berserker, placing bets on how long she’ll live, she's willing to trade her virginity if he'll agree to become her protector.

  But instead of taking her offer, Syrin lays some ground rules: he’ll never be her pleasure mate, never want her, never desire her, ever. But despite his aura of don’t f*cking bother me, Sara can’t keep her eyes off his bulging biceps and the sexy fangs that peek out from his perfect lips. Sharing a cell with a towering, muscular male who IS NOT attracted to her is sheer torture…but then his bare hand accidentally touches hers…

  And all hell doesn't break loose. Instead a Xylan berserker does, and that's much deadlier...and much sexier...

  Copyright © 2018 by Michele Mills. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to michelemillswrites@gmail.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Cover art by Meljean Brook

  Edited by Aquila Editing

  Created with Vellum

  To my sister, Krissy. Thank you for being an even bigger nerd than I am, and for patiently helping me to brainstorm this plot. You’re a gem.

  -Shal

  Author’s Note

  Be forewarned that there are three Easter eggs in this book that reference the movie, Guardians of the Galaxy. In no way do I expect you to not notice them, or for me to try and “trick” you into thinking they aren’t Easter eggs. I planted them on purpose in order to increase your enjoyment of the story!

  When you get to the end of this book challenge yourself - did you find all three Easter eggs?

  And if you’ve never seen that movie, no worries, you won’t even notice! (Although seriously, you need to watch that movie!:))

  I hope you enjoy!

  Michele

  1

  Sara regarded the cold, metal-gray walls of the check-in station of Detention Center: Zeta 149 and noted that her life was shit.

  Not halfway to shit or about to turn into shit. No. Her life was real, actual shit. A disaster.

  And she had no
idea how she was going to ride out this latest catastrophe—being thrown into the most notorious prison in the four sectors for a crime she hadn’t committed. Although, really, her life had always been filled with obstacles. This was probably number two hundred and fourteen in a life filled with one life-threatening hurdle after another.

  But…prison? That was some whole other level of bad, right?

  Prison.

  She exhaled and rolled her shoulders, trying not to let angry tears prick at her eyes, determined to keep going and not show weakness. But the more steps she took, her boots tapping across the hard flooring, the more this new reality came crashing in and the enormity of her situation took on ominous details.

  Damn, when would she catch a break and just be allowed to live free?

  When?

  Other beings were allowed quiet lives filled with love and laughter. She knew they existed; while growing up she’d seen them on entertainment vids, and later on the streets in planetary cities, or on space stations. Families and couples laughing together, holding hands, exchanging glances and touches filled with love.

  Other beings experienced this, but it had never happened to her.

  Love? What was that?

  Sara continued forward on her path of shame, trying to not feel sorry for herself, but it was hard. Metal energy bands hung heavy around her wrists. The scratchiest, ugliest damn prison-issue orange jumpsuit known to humankind bunched around her ankles. Her stomach ground with hunger due to a diet of snack-sized ration bars that tasted like burnt dirt. And to make matters worse, the narrow corridor the guards were herding her through smelled like filthy socks locked in a humidity chamber.

  She took a shallow breath, trying not to gag.

  Holy gods, she had to bust out of this prison. Immediately.

  “I’m breaking out of this shit-hole, immediately,” the tall, Lizard-like inmate behind her hissed.

  Sara turned and crooked an eyebrow at him.

  She was walking in line with three other shackled inmates. Four new prisoners, all of them passing through the checks and balances required before being stationed in their cells and officially starting their new life on 149. Luckily, the guards had placed a universal translator chip in her brain, so at least she understood what the Creekan behind her had said. Humans were a rarity in the four sectors. Without the translator, she would’ve been lost.

  “You’re thinking it, too,” Lizard-guy grinned back at her, exposing a red mouth and pointed teeth. “Except the difference between you and me, female…you’ll be thinking about escape while you rot in this prison, and I’ll actually do it.”

  “Fuck off,” the prisoner behind them snarled. Sara glanced back at the other being. She’d never met his species before, but he looked very human-like—if humans were green, with gleaming black horns on their forehead. She kept staring at him, trying to figure him out. “Stop boasting about actions you’ll never take,” he said. “You’re not getting out of here. No one breaks out of 149. Regis Yerty died here. If he couldn’t break out, no one can.”

  The Lizard-guy snort-hissed. “Regis Yerty was a pretender. He only escaped from five other detention centers, I’ve escaped from six. If I—”

  “Turn around, female, and move,” a guard growled.

  A sharp energy jab from a power stick hit her in the back, causing her to stumble and move faster than expected. Then of course she tripped over her own feet and—

  “Uumph.” For one brief, shining moment she pressed against the impossibly wide back of the ginormous inmate walking in front of her—her cheek, her breasts forced against all that muscle and sinew hidden under orange fabric. The whole of her body against the male she’d gawked at throughout the intake process but carefully avoided. Almost seven feet of silent, huge warrior. Epic thighs and veiny forearms. Impassive features, a hard jaw, ridges on his forehead, and claws on his four fingers. A male who could block out the two suns with his size and weight.

  Dear gods—no, no, this couldn’t be happening—she was smashed against him and…and…she was cupping his ass!

  Cupping. His. Ass.

  She whimpered. Her traitor hands, bound in energy straps, were pinned in front of her, stuck in the exact position to cause her palms to full-on cup his firm buttocks through his orange jumpsuit. And wow, she couldn’t help but notice, they were nice buttocks.

  His body tensed at the intrusion.

  Sara let out a squeak of dismay and swiftly scrambled back out of the huge male’s way, her cheeks burning. Yes, she’d been admiring him (as any female with eyes would) since the moment she’d seen him…those shoulders that were wider than wide, the gorgeous dark skin and gleaming black-bronze, braided hair. The ridges on his forehead made him look majestic and studious at the same time. Basically, he was the handsomest male she’d ever seen in real life.

  But never would she touch him without his consent. Never.

  And she’d noted his resilient silence throughout the intake process. He hadn’t made a single malicious comment toward her, or anyone else. No leering glances. No complaints. His features were set in stone, but overall his presence was quiet and respectful—a sleeping predator you didn’t want to poke.

  She’d basically been using him as a role model for how to behave when admitted into prison. His towering shadow had been comforting, which was weird considering he obviously frightened everyone else he came into contact with. The guards looked scared shitless. The other two prisoners kept their distance.

  And in return she’d felt him up. Ugh. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “It was an accident.”

  The male grunted and continued forward.

  She stared after him. The grace of that enormous body, the easy way he was able to move all that massive muscle, it was admirable. Sheesh, even in a shapeless, orange prison jumpsuit and shackled, this male was sex on a stick.

  They’d all arrived via short-range transport, the four of them bound for their new home—the most disreputable, remote prison in the four sectors, a place where they didn’t even bother separating males from females. On Detention Center: Zeta 149 you were on your own. Survive and live or give up and die. Didn’t matter to them, as long as you didn’t start a riot and bother the guards.

  Which was just wonderful.

  None of her fellow prisoners she’d arrived with were human, and all of them were male, as far as she could tell. They looked like the hardest criminals in the known universe, especially the Creekan and the one with horns. Which made her wonder what she looked like next to them. Did she fit in?

  Please gods, no.

  And the guy she’d just bumped into and accidentally felt up, the wall of quiet muscle in front of her—he was a Xylan warrior.

  She took shallow breaths, trying to slow her racing heart after the shock of seeing her life flash before her eyes as she’d accidentally made contact with this awe-inspiring male. Xylan were recent allies of humans, but that didn’t mean the warrior in front of her had received the memo.

  He’d sat next to her on the transport; they’d placed extra energy shackles on his neck and ankles and even roped them around his waist and bolted him into supports built into the walls…and still every guard stared at him with fear and anxiety, tightly gripping their weapons, sweat beading on their faces. Sara couldn’t help her own furtive glances at his easily discernable bulging biceps that could be noted even through a prison-issue jumpsuit…and the sexy fangs that peeked past those full lips. Despite his glowering and the aura of don’t fucking bother me, she kept staring at the warrior like he was the two suns, the moon and the stars.

  Because…he was all that, and some more.

  His four claw-tipped fingers rested on his thighs. His skin looked soft and hard at the same time, and darker than any skin tone she’d ever come across. This was a Xylan trait. She knew that in Xylan society the darker their skin color, the higher their status. She assumed this male had a particularly high status. Humans on New Earth came in a variety of shades, all different skin to
nes and hair and eye color. But no one, no one on New Earth was as dark as this warrior. There were even tantalizing threads of silver in the ridges on his forehead.

  He was fantastic. She could stare at him forever. Make a study of him. Turn it into her life’s work.

  Sara squirmed in her seat, her equilibrium off balance. The space between her thighs felt warm. Never, never, had she felt this instant sexual attraction for another being. It was disconcerting. She literally didn’t know what to do with it. Normally, she carefully avoided looking too much at males. She’d long ago learned that men thought any kind of friendly touch, comment, or glance was something more, when it wasn’t, and that was a situation she was well aware could easily lead to a slippery slope of harassment and abuse.

  She’d worked with many species of males, fought beside them, spoke to them and relied upon them, but she was always wary. Always. Doing her best to slump her shoulders, not wear any makeup, keep her blonde hair under a hood and hide herself the best she could. And this was easy because not a single male had ever made her glance twice.

  And now, after years of solid disinterest, nothing past a quick glance and the occasional faint sigh of admiration for a fine form, her sex drive finally kicked into gear over a…Xylan?

  A male who could never possibly return her attraction.

  And while she was being herded into prison for the rest of her life?

  Really?

  Well, this was obviously never going to work. She forced herself to look away. She twisted the extra orange fabric of her baggy jumpsuit in her fist and found herself daydreaming, her mind working through reasons why a male of his obvious status and honor would end up being thrown into prison.

  Duh. He was a criminal.