Kenan's Mate: A Dark Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Kleaxian Warriors Book 1)

by Sue Lyndon

  Finally, she answers. “I’m not a runaway. Trust me, I’m not that stupid.” She’s quiet for a moment before continuing, “My master has a taste for the berries that grow high on the mountain, and he sends me foraging every few days. I came upon your house by accident. This must be where Prince Kenan lives?”

  Utterly relieved that she’s not a runaway, I nod. “Yes, this is Prince Kenan’s estate.”

  “And you are his mate?”

  “Yes.”

  Her expression turns sad. “Well, child, I hope he treats you with kindness. I heard he’s half-human. I hope that means he’s…gentler than most Kleaxians.”

  “He treats me well,” I say, though the half-lie tastes bitter. I’m not about to lay my troubles at this woman’s feet and admit I strive to obey his every command, lest he decides to give me a severe beating. “And yes, he’s half-human.”

  “Did you work in Capital Acres? Or were you a tourist before all hell broke loose?”

  I venture as close to the force field as I dare. A small row of beige stones around the patio marks the perimeter of the force field. Joanna heaves up a basket filled with red and blue berries that I hadn’t noticed before, and takes three more cautious steps forward, until I hold up my hand, motioning for her to stop.

  As far as I know, I’m not disobeying a rule of Kenan’s by speaking with this woman, but I don’t want to risk him interrupting our conversation. I also don’t want him to freak out and think someone is trying to trespass onto his property, or worse—that I’m trying to run away.

  “Actually, I was a passenger aboard the Stargazer during the attack. Where were you when it happened?”

  “Capital Acres. My husband worked in a research facility outside of Capital Acres, but I had been living in an apartment by myself within the huge city, as we had recently become estranged. In fact, I was set to return to Earth soon.”

  Thousands of humans had lived in Capital Acres. My throat burns when I consider the massive loss of life. I shouldn’t ask the question that lingers on my tongue, but I do. “What was it like? The attack on Capital Acres?”

  “Bloody and terrifying as hell,” she says with a deep sigh. “Kleaxian warriors stormed the streets and buildings, shooting men on sight. Women were rounded up in large hovercrafts. I thank God human children were never permitted to visit Tallia. I suspect the Kleaxians would have killed boy children as if they were men.” She cocks her head at me. “How old are you, Laylah?”

  “Twenty-two.” I don’t want her to know I’m eighteen, because I don’t want her to pity me and look upon me as a child. Sure, I’m only claiming four additional years, but I doubt she’ll believe me if I claim to be older. Back home, people I met often found it difficult to believe my age, given my petite stature. Sheila, on the other hand, was tall, elegant, and with the help of carefully applied makeup could easily appear a decade older than her true age. On more than one occasion, she’d successfully purchased liquor without being carded. I sigh inwardly at the memory and return my attention to Joanna.

  “Were you traveling with family?” she asks, her eyebrows lifting with concern.

  “No, just me. A trip to Tallia was a graduation present from my aunt.” Guilt stabs at me for lying to her about my age. She’ll assume I recently graduated from college, and I hope she doesn’t ask what university I attended or what I majored in.

  “I should be going soon,” she says with a glance over her shoulder, as if fearing her master would suddenly barge through the trees, demanding his berries.

  “Wait. Are there many human females in the nearest town?”

  “About two dozen. All but me and a sixty-year-old woman named Mariella are young enough to have been taken as mates.” She winks. “Never been so glad to be an old lady in my life.”

  I wish I could do something to improve Joanna’s circumstances. The fading bruise on her cheek draws my attention once more. Noticing my stare, she touches it. “I got in the way when my master was preparing to beat his new human mate. Helena ran away, made it all the way outside of town near the docks, but he caught her and dragged her back to the house by her hair.” Her face pales.

  “Are you all right? What about your master’s mate? How badly did he hurt her?”

  “I am fine. Tougher than I look, I promise. It happened only two days after the attack. After he knocked me down, he spanked her and hit her with a belt a few times, but her bruises have already faded. It was the only time he’s beaten her, thank goodness. She’s too afraid to defy him now.”

  I press my lips together and fight back a wave of emotion. I’d been so scared the first time Kenan punished me, only minutes after formally meeting him, and I can certainly empathize with the pain and fright Helena has endured, despite having never met her myself.

  Careful to keep my expression neutral—I don’t want Joanna to ask if Kenan has ever raised a hand to me—I glance at the stone path. It’s still empty, no sign of my mate. Would he be angry if he caught me speaking with an elderly human woman, despite having never expressly forbidden it? I’m not sure, but I still don’t wish to find out.

  “Does your master speak English?” I’m curious, because if she can’t always understand his orders, that makes her situation even more precarious. Helena’s too.

  “Yes. He apparently spent a year in captivity in a laboratory outside Capital Acres before escaping. During that time, he was able to learn our language. He’s surprisingly fluent, and he’s been teaching English to the Kleaxians in town who’ve taken human mates.”

  Somehow, this bit of information gives me hope. If Joanna’s master isn’t forcing his mate or his slaves to learn his tongue and is actively educating other Kleaxian males how to communicate with their human mates, perhaps he has some redeeming qualities, after all. His predisposition for violence notwithstanding, I think, with another glance at Joanna’s bruise. I wonder if Helena’s mate ever treats her with tenderness or plays sad Kleaxian calling songs for her.

  “What do you know of the laboratories where Kleaxians were held?” Kenan hasn’t told me much about them, but I want to know how cruel the human scientists were to his people. If only to help me reconcile some of his anger toward my kind.

  A glint of fury sparks in her eyes. She sighs deeply and shifts the basket of berries to her other hip. “The labs were awful. My husband worked in one. He was a leading scientist studying the DNA of Kleaxians. Though Kleaxians are much larger than humans, the males at least, and there are other obvious differences between our races, we share enough DNA that our two races are sexually compatible and can reproduce. Somehow, we share a common ancestor, or at least that’s what my husband believed. Other scientists believe another alien race, one even more advanced than the Kleaxians, must have seeded life on Earth and on Kleaxia—the planet on which Kleaxians evolved before settling on Tallia not so long ago. Once I discovered some of the Kleaxians were dying in the various experiments, I appealed to my husband to stop. If we’re so similar to their kind, why hurt them? But scientific curiosity was always more important to him than morals, and he wouldn’t stop. Even after I gave him an ultimatum—that I was going to leave him after forty-two years of marriage—he persisted in his unethical experiments.”

  For a moment, I can only stare at her. I feel stupid for not realizing on my own that humans and Kleaxians must share the same DNA, otherwise it would have been impossible for Kenan’s human father to impregnate his Kleaxian mother.

  “Why couldn’t Earth officials make contact with Kleaxians in a diplomatic way? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Well, Earth officials did attempt to be friendly with them at first,” she replied matter-of-factly. “However, the Kleaxians attacked us without any provocation during the first missions to Tallia, confidential missions the general population of Earth has never learned about. Eventually, we returned with larger numbers and more firepower. We had no idea the Kleaxians were actively building up their weaponry and that their technology actually surpassed ours, u
ntil of course, it was too late.”

  “My mate told me that humans didn’t actually create the Anders-Perkins wormhole, and that we simply discovered a way to enlarge a naturally existing wormhole. Is that true?”

  “I’m afraid so,” she says, her eyes sad. “I confess I took to snooping around my husband’s computer before I finally decided to leave him. I’m good with computers and had no trouble opening his encrypted files. It’s all true about the wormhole, and I’m also afraid there’s no hope of humans creating a new one to Tallia. We simply don’t have the technology. We’re probably hundreds of years away from such a discovery, at least according to the files I read.”

  “So we really are stranded here? Forever?” Though I’d already known this to be true, I want to hear a human I trust confirm what Kenan’s told me. I trust Joanna. We’re on the same side, and besides, what reason would she have to lie to me?

  “Oh yes, we are very much stranded here. Forever,” she says with a sigh. She tucks a strand of hair that’s escaped her bun behind her ear. Once again, she peers over her shoulder and scans the forest for signs that we’re not alone. “The Kleaxians destroyed the wormhole. It was the first sign of the attack. A brilliant glow in the night sky that lit up Capital Acres as if morning had come early.”

  I knew from the brochures that the wormhole was only a speck of blue light from the surface of Tallia, that one couldn’t actually glimpse the intricate swirls of blue and white light, and her description of the event stuns me. I’d never considered that those in Capital Acres would’ve known something had happened to the wormhole before the attack began, but now it makes perfect sense. The flashes of light during the attack on the Stargazer had momentarily stolen my vision.

  “Well, I really must go now.” Joanna turns to the forest.

  “Will you visit again?” She’s my first human connection since the attack and I don’t want to lose her. The glint of mischief in her eye gives me hope, because even though she’s witnessed and endured violence, her spirit isn’t yet broken. I admire her strength.

  “Of course, Laylah. Is your mate absent most mornings? I don’t think he would approve of you speaking with me. Slaves aren’t supposed to make friends with anyone above their status, or so I’ve been told.”

  “Yes, he’s gone most mornings. Please do visit again. I hope your master doesn’t hurt you anymore, and Helena as well. I’m sorry for what you’ve both been through.”

  Her sorrowful smile speaks volumes. All the human women on Tallia are hurting right now. All of us are heartbroken and scared. And none of us have even a remote chance to escape our new masters or mates. Tallia is our permanent home and Earth is but a memory.

  “Thank you, Laylah. I hope your mate is good to you as well. We will see each other soon. Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye.” Excitement bounds through me as I watch her disappear into the forest alongside her Ghessan companion. I’ve made a friend today, and not just any friend—a human woman. Though I communicate with Heggal almost daily, I have missed speaking aloud to another person, especially someone from my culture, someone who also doesn’t agree with the Kleaxians’ often brutal ways.

  I hope Joanna returns soon, and I pray she doesn’t incur the wrath of her master again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kenan arrives home with a stack of books in his arms.

  I meet him in the entryway, unable to keep my mouth from falling open when I glimpse the wondrous items he’s holding. The books are from Earth, and the spines reveal titles in English, several by well-known authors of mystery novels I’ve read before. I doubt the books are for Kenan, but I don’t want to be presumptuous, so I remain standing calmly with my hands clasped together. I also try very hard not to think about what happened to the previous owner of these books.

  “I know many humans enjoy reading, and I thought you might like to have these. Several merchants in town are selling off items that have been scavenged from what’s left of Capital Acres.” He sets the pile on a nearby table and draws me near.

  I’m touched by his thoughtfulness, and I wrap my arms around his waist. He kisses my forehead and I melt into him. His delicious masculine scent makes me swoon at least a dozen times a day. Oftentimes, it’s far too easy to forget the brutality he’s capable of.

  “Thank you, Kenan,” I say, sparing a quick glance at the books. “I recognize some of the titles and authors. I can’t wait to read them.”

  I’m not certain, but I think his cheeks flush. It’s difficult to know for sure, because his skin is already a dark shade of red, but I’m stunned by the possibility that my appreciation could have such a profound effect on him.

  Later in the evening, we curl up on a couch in the sitting room, both with our books while soft music fills the room. The music isn’t as mournful as the last pieces he played for me. Instead, it’s a pleasant background tune that doesn’t grab me enough to break my concentration from the novel I’m reading. If anything, it helps me focus on my book.

  He’s reading a thick tome of what he claims is ancient Kleaxian poetry. I try to hide my surprise at the subject matter of his book, but he notices my slight shock.

  “Kleaxians rarely write or read fictional stories as humans do. Rather, our stories are told in songs and in poetry. This entire book is one large poem written by the late Theaik of Urma Mountain. It’s an epic retelling of the Battle of the Red Planets, a bloody battle that took place over a thousand years ago, going by human standards.”

  “Have you read this poem before?”

  “Many times. It is one of my favorites.”

  I smile and then delve back into my mystery novel, but I can’t help but notice from my periphery how quickly he turns the pages. Peeking over at what he’s reading, I glimpse the two spread pages covered in tiny symbols. He flips the page again. Do all Kleaxians read so fast? Or is Kenan some kind of speed reader?

  Before I return to my book, I admire how engrossed he is in the pages, his expression one of apt interest and his eyes scanning back and forth in rapid succession as he absorbs each line. By the time I reach the fifth chapter of the mystery novel, Kenan flips the tome shut and returns it to the bookshelf near the window.

  “Are you already finished with the whole thing?”

  “Yes, but I am a slow reader compared to most Kleaxians. I didn’t learn to read my native language until I came to live here with my uncle.” He nods at the book I’m holding. “Are you not enjoying that particular book? There are several others to choose from.”

  I flush. We’ve only been sitting here for about an hour. “It’s great, but I’m not the fastest reader.” Though he’s part-human, he obviously hasn’t spent enough casual time around full blooded humans to know Kleaxians read at a superior speed in comparison. My heart pangs for how lonely he must have been living inside the facility as a child.

  “Would you like to stay up reading longer, or are you ready for bed?”

  Not wishing to fold the page I’m on, I quickly memorize the page number and shut the book, then place it on the couch. “I’m ready for bed.”

  His nostrils flare, and a moment later his eyes are dark flaming pools of desire. The bulge in his pants becomes evident, and I swallow hard, wondering if he’s in one of his gentle or rough moods this evening.

  Despite the ever present knowledge that I’m his captive, this day has felt remarkably normal. We’d had a pleasant dinner, during which he told me of his day, and then we’d sat next to each other in the living room reading, like some old married couple.

  My parents used to close each day by snuggling up on the couch and reading. Dad would scan his newspaper, and Mom would read the latest romance novel. Sometimes they would work on the crossword puzzle in the newspaper together and humorously argue over the answers.

  Part of me likes this sudden normalcy with Kenan, but another part of me fears it, because the more accustomed I become to him and this planet, the more difficult it will be to shield my heart from him. Every day, he gr
ows on me more and more, even as my fear of him remains in place. Sure, there are times I can almost forget my fear, but those brief moments are just that—brief. All I need do is remember the whipping he gave me on our first day together, as well as the slap to my cheek. Pushing these thoughts away, I decide I want to feel normal tonight, I decide to forget his capacity for violence and ignore my fear as much as possible.

  “Go upstairs and remove all your clothing, Laylah. Stand in the middle of the room and wait for me.”

  My breath catches. “Yes, Kenan.” I rise from the couch and hurry from the sitting room, telling myself I’m only fast to obey because I don’t want to risk punishment. I can only imagine how horribly he would beat me if I tried to refuse sex. Even as such thoughts visit me, heat gathers and pulses hard between my thighs.

  Sometimes I think it’s a curse, how shamefully I ache for the alien who claimed me against my will.

  Upstairs, I strip off my dress and drape it over a chair. The breeze enters to caress my skin, and I glance out the window as I stand in the center of the room, admiring the brilliant orange moons.

  On Earth, I hadn’t glimpsed the moon often because we’d lived in a busy part of town. Too many street lights and twenty-four hour businesses meant the moon usually looked dull when I actually was lucky enough to see it. Not to mention the neighbors surrounding us that usually left their porch lights on all through the night to deter criminals, as we didn’t live in the safest part of town.

  Once, when the power went out for three days after a hurricane, I’d delighted in staring at the moon each evening, absorbing its beauty while I had the chance. I smile at the memory, because I’d spent the third night at Sheila’s house, and we’d slept in the treehouse in her backyard that had miraculously escaped damage. We’d eaten s’mores and giggled and flipped through silly teen fashion magazines, neither of us having any idea the surprises our futures would soon hold.