The Prey: A SciFi Alien Romance (Betania Breed Book 2)

by Jenny Foster

  My father is a sneaky bastard. He himself created the mysterious organization, to which Johar and the other “resistance fighters” committed themselves. It was nothing other than a pitiful experiment with which he hoped to find out how suppressed creatures develop, as soon as they get a sniff of freedom. In this way, he was able to observe, in a controlled setting, how they changed. The pleasant side-effect of being able to test his employees’ loyalty, was, of course, an added bonus.

  At this moment, I blow all of my fuses. I can’t explain it any other way, but I get so furious that the world around me bursts into flames. I stomp, scratch and bite into my father’s thoughts. I want him to feel me. I reach for his memories and twist them, until a loud cry from his mouth throws me back into my body. I see Ruthiel, on his knees. At the last moment, I let go. Two seconds longer, and would have been nothing more than a slobbering pile of misery. He deserves to die, but I can’t kill him. I just can’t.

  I wipe the tears running down my face. In passing, I realize that they aren’t salty like a human’s. They taste of nothing. I turn around and rip off the sheet covering Johar’s dead body. When I look at him, I don’t doubt anymore, that all of us will be better off without Ruthiel, and turn around to look at him again.

  He has gotten back on his feet surprisingly quickly. This must have something to do with his artificially optimized health, because I was able to feel what I did to him. He pulls himself up at his table with effort, leaning on it heavily. I can’t take my eyes off of him. I am half-fascinated by his indestructibility, and half-repulsed. One half of his face is contorted, as if he has just had a stroke. When he opens his eyes, the fire in them gives me chills. He isn’t done yet. He still has an ace up his sleeve. Before I can get into his head, he has taken something from the drawer. The intact side of his face pulls into a smile, as he primes the syringe and injects the clear fluid into his upper arm. I need to know what he is doing, but I can barely muster the willpower to jump back into his sleazy thoughts. When I finally do, it is almost too late.

  Valuable seconds pass again, while I look for what I absolutely need to know. I can barely breathe and have to force myself to reach into the farthest corners, without worrying about what it will do to Ruthiel. And then I find it. And understand; we only have a few minutes to leave the Solarian, because my father has set his final plan into motion.

  He has somehow managed to connect his condition with the ship and its crew. Anyone who is on the ship and have ever been in contact with him, will fall into a kind of rigor mortis, but without actually dying. It is Cryo-technology, but it doesn’t require low temperatures, in order to stop all bodily functions. It is a similar technique to what happens in a cyborg, where machine and human unite, and can be put to sleep with the flip of a switch. The last thought I can grab onto, in his head, is so weak that I can barely read it. He has programmed the Solarian to travel on a course to an unknown destination, as soon as all the organisms on board have fallen into the artificial sleep. None of us will wake up until his brain is functioning again. Until then, all of us will be flying through space as the living dead on a ghost ship.

  The dread that consumes me makes me jump into action. Even though I know there is little hope.

  Chapter 10

  I need to hurry.

  As Johar stumbles to his feet, looking around in confusion, I grab my father and heave him onto the stretcher where my cyborg was lying earlier.

  Johar’s first word makes me sob in relief. “Mara,” he says. I fly into his arms, hold him tight, and read the answer to my anxious question in his eyes. Ruthiel was not able to erase his memories. That, or he was so sure of himself, that he just didn’t think it was necessary. What does it matter now?

  He looks over at the bundle of meat that used to be my father, and thinks that this is our best chance at escape. I don’t have time to explain anything in great detail, but I tell him that all of us are going to fall into a catatonic state in the next few minutes, because my father has programmed us that way. He doesn’t waste any time on regret. Instead, he realizes instantly what needs to be done.

  We have to rescue the babies, and for that we need Shazuul. The children and the Sethari are the only ones, who, other than Cassie, have never been in my father’s lab. Therefore, there is a good chance that Shazuul will not be affected by this twilight sleep, and neither will the children. Regarding Cassie, I swallow and suppress my tears. She herself withdrew from Ruthiel’s grasp, and I have no way of knowing if her body will be affected, while her spirit is somewhere else.

  Johar sits down on the floor. He leans back against the wall and spreads his legs and points at the spot in the middle. “Call Shazuul,” he tells me. I sit down and lean back against him, enjoying his warmth for a moment and the feeling of him holding me. Don’t cry, I tell myself. Is there anything better than falling asleep in the arms of the man you love?

  “I will hold you, Mara,” he whispers in my ear. “Always.” It is a promise I return with one word. “Always.”

  And then I start. I close my eyes and yell, scream, roar Shazuul’s name, while opening my spirit as far as I can. I look and look for him, and just when I think that we won’t be able to connect, I hear his voice. He is far away, I can tell, and isn’t alone.

  “Where are you?” I ask. My eyes want to close, and I can feel sleepiness spreading through my limbs and settling there. “And who is with you?”

  “Small ship,” Shazuul responds. Not for the first time, I wish I had learned his language so we could communicate better. But apparently, language barriers also exist in thoughts, I muse sleepily. Johar’s hands hold me tight for a second, bringing me back to my senses.

  “Children with me. Both. You … no worry.” He sounds pleased in my head and happy, and a wave of affection for this brave little guy grips me. I swallow and fight against the ever-increasing sleepiness.

  “How did you know ...,” I can’t finish the sentence, but Shazuul understands me, anyway.

  “Cassie went.” I realize that he is looking for the right words. It takes forever, until he speaks again. “Came to me. Then gone.” In his language, there is no word for her condition, just like in my language. When I understand that Cassie is gone for good, something breaks inside me, and the first tears run down my face. I hope she is with her proud warrior, wherever that may be. “People sleeping. Strange. I out of cell to babies.” Despite his curt way of speaking in my head, I understand that he escaped his prison and looked for the babies. It must have been her last wish. And Shazuul has proven himself worthy of her trust. This realization makes it a little easier for me to say good-bye. I know the children are in good hands with him. “Doctor and children on ship,” he explains. I can feel his grim amusement when he thinks about how the doctor didn’t want to let him on board initially. Shazuul had to grab the girl with his sucking snout and threaten to stay on board with her. Then the doctor let him board the little ship, too.

  I smile when I think of this unlikely pair, mothering the little ones. Whatever happens, they are on their way to Earth and are in good hands. I can sleep in peace.

  I snuggle up to Johar. His hands are still wrapped tightly around my waist. His breathing is shallow, but regular. I feel my love for him like something that is alive, something that will keep watch over us, long after we have both fallen asleep. I close my eyes, and finally give in to sleep, when I feel a jolt go through the ship. I know this feeling. The Solarian is changing course. Who knows where she is headed? How long will we fly through space, sleeping and perhaps dreaming?

  I put my hands on top of my beloved’s cool fingers. His bodily functions are gradually decreasing, just like mine. I am cold, but I ignore the biting fear of heading nowhere that comes with the cold.

  With my eyes closed, I imagine the adventures we will experience in our joint detective work. We will chase the worst scoundrels in the universe and bring them to justice. He and I.

  Always.

  THE END

 
; P.S.: Are you curious how the story continues? You have arrived at the end of the novel “The Prey.” Hopefully, you chuckled, held your breath, and hoped and feared for the two lovers. If so, there is good news: There is a third volume in the series of Jenny Foster’s Betania Breed Series. Can we ever have enough love stories about strong women and stubborn, sexy men? Never! You can look forward to a story about a woman whose ability to read minds gets her into some serious trouble.

  I want to invite you to dive into the third part of the Betania Breed series, entitled: “The Human.” (Available soon on Amazon. Sign up to my mailing list at www.jenny-foster.com/releases to be notified when the book goes live). In it, Cat, whose birth you just experienced, meets a fascinating man. Even though she actually has completely different plans, and should get away from Earth as soon as she can, fate and love have something completely different in store for her. You will find an excerpt in a few pages. Happy reading!

  And if you have grown particularly fond of one or two of the protagonists on their long journeys, just like I have, then I highly recommend Volume IV. There, you will have an unexpected reunion with … let me surprise you!

  Yours,

  Jenny Foster

  Sneak Peek Volume III

  My orders are simple.

  Bring the human female to my King.

  A routine job for me – Or so I thought.

  I am Talon Delkhari.

  I was the mightiest warlord of my people, until I dared to contradict my king. Instead of granting me an honorable death in the fight against our enemies, he made me his chamberlain, instead. It is my job to ensure the safety of his women.

  His newest conquest is from Earth. He won her in a poker game, and I am supposed to deliver her to his bed safely. An easy assignment for someone like me. That’s what I thought, anyway. Until this human woman awakens the predator lurking under my skin, and it claimed her for itself.

  She is different from all of the other women I know.

  She can see the animal in me.

  She looks at me without fear.

  Her scent follows me into my dreams, and even though I know that she can never belong to me, I can’t take my eyes off her.

  But my loyalty to my people and my sense of duty are stronger than the beast that yearns for her under my skin...

  Reading Sample:

  Talon Delkhari looked at the papers one last time and tried to discern what kind of woman he would be picking up from Earth in a few minutes. The Poker Games Limited, PGL for short, promised grandiose suspense until the last minute, and denied its participants any pictures of the female species that were being raffled off. The paying clientele – so, the masters of creation – received nothing other than a certificate of health, a declaration of age and an exact determination of race. And that, Talon thought, as he adjusted his uniform absentmindedly, was precisely the draw, the appeal of this bold undertaking. It was not for a battle-hardened warrior like him. If he ever found a companion, the things he wished for more than anything, were reliability and healthy offspring. He silently cursed his king who had entrusted him with picking up his new bride and delivering her safely to Kanthari 7. Not only was it below a man of his caliber to have to take care of a woman who had been the prize in a round of interstellar poker, but it also cost him valuable time that he would rather have spent doing something more worthwhile. Like, for instance, hunting the space-pirates who were getting more and more cocky, to the point that they wouldn’t even stop for a Kantharian ship anymore.

  He should have just kept his mouth shut. Then he wouldn’t be in this situation, having to pick up a woman from Earth. Instead, he could be running drills with his men, fighting, or trying a new strategy in the fight against the buccaneers. When his king had asked him to analyze his – the king’s – tactics from the last campaign, Talon had not minced his words. Ferthoris III had the epithet “The Wise” in his title, but he hadn’t lived up to the supplemental name he had chosen for himself. He had made mistakes like an absolute beginner, and it had cost him the lives of hundreds of his battle-hardened warriors. All this just to satisfy the vanity of one man, who hadn’t the first clue about the high art of waging war.

  When the waves had calmed a little after the disaster, the king had approached him, his most experienced fighter, and, in a strange moment of self-awareness, had asked him for suggestions for improvement. Talon should have known that his ruler would not tolerate even the slightest criticism of himself and his glory, no matter how justified it was.

  Talon was lucky the king hadn’t beheaded him. He was sure that this had been his first impulse. Instead, Ferthoris had chosen a subtler form of punishment. He, the king’s underling, once a battle-tested warrior with the rank of general, had been named the king’s official bride collector. The Earthly woman was now the third female creature he was picking up from a strange planet in as many years. A beheading might have been a better choice, after all, Talon thought. The insatiable ruler of Kanthari 7 had made him his harem guard, and the proud soldier liked this about as much as he would have liked losing his manhood directly. Maybe it was time for a fight for supremacy. If he didn’t have such a strong sense of duty, and an aversion for the diplomatic responsibilities that came with being a king, he would have challenged Ferthoris twice already. Once for each bride he had delivered to the king’s bed.

  Now, the third woman was waiting for his arrival. He clenched his teeth and let out a dull growl. One look at the chronometer told him that she would be approaching the predetermined spot any second now, assuming, of course, that she was punctual. Talon got up and checked to make sure his laser pistol was loaded. The battery was fully charged, and the beam intensity was set to medium. This would put any victim out of commission for a long time, rather than kill him or her. In his world, humans were considered unpredictable and emotional, surely a reason why Ferthoris had taken part in this absurd poker game to begin with. His women were all very tame creatures, subservient and always ready to feed his ego. The only one who had ever dared offer any resistance had had one tentacle removed for every defiant word. Talon shivered, partly because of his king’s senseless cruelty, and partly because of his preference for exotic female creatures. Women were to Ferthoris as scars were to Talon: trophies and accolades. With one difference. The king romped about in silk sheets while Talon made a name for himself on the battlefield. He shook his head. Tentacles! Really. Could it get any more absurd? The Kantharians were children of the sun and the desert, and as such, they never showed any desire to get involved with slimy fish women, at least not usually.

  He looked at the chronometer again. Just then, his intercommunicative DIP that connected him with the entire crew buzzed. His First Officer’s face appeared on the armband Talon wore on his wrist.

  “Sir, it is time,” the distorted voice crackled from the tiny loudspeaker. “The glider ship is ready for departure.” Talon looked in the mirror one last time. As a representative of the king, he needed to look flawless. His uniform fit him perfectly, and his face showed nothing of the reluctance he felt. It wouldn’t make sense, and would be extremely unwise, to anger the woman whose future influence with the king he had no way of being able to gauge yet.

  ****

  Catherine Burke marched, her head held high, towards the abandoned building at the edge of the city. This was the meeting place they had given her. The company that organized the absurd poker games made a huge deal over secrecy, something she had already confirmed with her signature on the participant’s certificate.

  Cat had found out about the woman poker, as her colleague had called it, and then only because Martin was a total gossip. After swearing her to complete secrecy, he had told her about his cousin who had participated, and in doing so, had saved her family from a yearlong jail sentence. The organizers paid generously for healthy, young women, and lured them with the promise of a safe existence at the side of a husband. Although Cat had asked herself what kind of men these guys were, wanting to win a wif
e in a game of chance, anything was better than continuing to live on Earth. Every day brought memories with it that took her further and further into the abyss of self-hate, and every night brought nightmares of the dead coming out for revenge. She just couldn’t keep going like this. Instead of throwing herself into the stinking and polluted river, this escape had presented itself to Cat. The PGL had been suspicious, initially, when she had mentioned her talent, and had insisted on numerous tests. When the doctor examined her thoroughly, she had seen his eyes light up. At that point, she had known that the usual wait time until the final consent was just pro forma.

  Should she ever decide to return to Earth, she had a lot of money waiting for her in an account. In the meantime, it would grow rapidly. As an orphan without any living siblings, she had nobody she could spend the money on. Ninety-nine percent of the charity organizations on Earth were disguised arms of the government. They used any money entrusted to them to finance new weapons technology, unspeakable experiments on humans and animals, or on expensive whores for politicians of both genders. She could have burned all of her money and still inflicted less damage than if she had donated it.