by Zoe Blake
The Baylan Chronicles:
DRACE
Zoe Blake
Too hot to be human...
Rachel Harkett’s temp job gets a lot more interesting when Drace, an injured, gorgeous hunk of a guy, staggers in her office after hours. He’s tall, ripped, has color-changing tattoos, and says he’s being followed by a shadowy government agency. He heals so fast, he can’t be human. Rachel can deal with the fact that Drace is an alien from a massive base ship circling Earth, but she can’t accept his claims that the intense attraction blazing between them is because she is his true, biological mate. When agents close in, the two go on the run to find Drace’s shuttle so he can return home. What Rachel doesn’t count on is Drace abducting her to his base ship with him.
The only thing Drace Dal-Allean, Saar-king of the Baylan people, wants is keep his beautiful human woman alive and safe. She became his mate the moment she touched him, as evidenced by the new soul marks appearing on his chest. The longer they’re bound together, the harder it becomes to ignore the demands of his body and soul. But while Rachel shares his attraction, she’s resistant to starting a life as his queen on the base ship he commands. How can he convince the spirited Rachel that a life with him isn’t a life of imprisonment?
The sudden appearance of a Baylan base ship within view of Earth throws the planet into turmoil, forcing Rachel to decide between the world she knows and the sexy alien king who has awakened her heart.
THE BAYLAN CHRONICLES: DRACE
Copyright © 2018
ebook edition first published April 2018
ZOE BLAKE
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Edited by Susan Vaughan.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system is forbidden without the written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher.
The scanning, uploading, transcription, and distribution of any part of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Book description
Copyright Page
Dedication Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Author Contact
Book Preview
This book is dedicated to sexy aliens everywhere.
CHAPTER ONE
In most businesses, a quiet night was a bad thing, but at an urgent care center, a quiet night meant no business because people weren’t injured or ill. Rachel Harkett worked at Linville RediCare, tucked in a rural corner of New England. Wednesdays, after everyone else had left, she stayed after hours to do data entry. Rachel played music low and sipped tepid tea. She didn’t mind working late and locking up. It was easier to get filing done in an empty office. She didn’t mind the work either, although she had bigger goals in mind. Eventually, she’d get there.
Rachel looked back and forth between the paperwork and the screen. She didn’t have time to dwell on the past, although she’d never uproot herself again for a man—bad decisions with bad boyfriends had resulted in her being here, in a temporary job, far from home. What she and those guys had wasn’t love—she knew that now. Her current plan was to save money and eventually return to Nebraska. She wanted to go back to college. Her gram had already told her that her old bedroom was waiting for her. When she’d saved up enough to pay for two years tuition, she’d go back. In the meantime, this was a good job—better than she’d find back home. She was able to send a little money to Gram and pay for her apartment here.
Rachel was filing away some of the forms she’d completed when she heard a sound in the parking lot. The motion detector lights flicked on, illuminating the windows. She froze, one finger stuck between two folders, and listened. It sounded like something dragging across the gravel parking lot. She set down the files and pulled open the blinds. At past eight, the clinic was clearly closed, but she saw a figure limping toward the door. A man, tall and muscular, appeared to be clutching his stomach as he lurched toward the door. She rushed to the front entrance and turned open the lock. She wasn't a nurse, but there were no hospitals for many miles. If he was hurt, she'd get him comfortable and call for an ambulance.
The man staggered up the steps and collapsed against the door just as Rachel opened it. A gust of chilly air brought in the scent of pine and, oddly enough, burnt metal. She gasped as his large body tumbled inside. He was much taller—well over six feet—than she’d initially thought, and powerfully built. The man had muscles everywhere. He slid to the hardwood floor, gasping for breath. The injury causing him pain wasn't hard to miss––a huge rip in his shirt revealed a piece of jagged metal protruding from his abdomen just below muscle-wrapped ribs.
Rachel’s stomach clenched. For a moment, she could only stare. The man’s wound looked so outrageously bad, it almost didn’t look real.
“Hold on.” She raced to the nearby supply closet for latex gloves, towels, and gauze, then rushed back to the man. Unsurprisingly, he hadn't budged. Rachel winced as she peeled his torn shirt out of the way. Her gut dropped at what she saw. It didn’t take a medical degree to see that this was not a survivable injury. The placement, the size of the metal imbedded in him, all but ensured that his internal organs were shredded. This guy had minutes to live, if that. First, she’d do what she could to make him as comfortable, then she’d call 9-1-1.
"Okay, take it easy, buddy," Rachel murmured. It defied reason that he'd managed to walk with this injury. She peeled off the rest of the dark sticky fabric. He was all powerful muscle over strong bones. Rune-like tattoos snaked over his torso, but the strange silver ink held a luminescence. It undulated like liquid mercury beneath his skin, giving her pause. Tattoos didn’t work like this. She should know. She had a few.
Her gaze fell to his injury and she experienced another shock. His blood wasn't red, but a bright, violent fuchsia, and considering the severity of the wound, very little blood was leaking from him. Something very strange was going on. She hesitated in the act of reaching for her phone. On impulse, she gently pulled up one of his eyelids, only to jerk back. A blue film was sealed over his eyes, and when she touched it with a gloved finger, it snapped open like a second eyelid. Sharp, silver-blue eyes widened on her face, then slid to her medical scrubs. Surprise, then fear, pressed a crease in his brow. He shoved away from her, one hand clutching his abdomen, the other splayed out in defense. "No, please..."
What? He was afraid of her?
"Hey, take it easy," Rachel said. "I'm Rachel. Rachel Harkett. What is your name?"
Terror exploded over his face. "No more. I can't––"
"Hey, look at me." Rachel leaned close and grabbed his outstretched hand. She held it tight in both of hers. "It's okay. I
don't know what happened to you or how you got here, but I'm not going to hurt you. You're at a medical clinic, although it’s after hours and I’m not a doctor." She picked up her phone. “I’m going to call for help, okay?”
The man’s hand flashed out. It clamped around Rachel’s wrist holding the phone. “No,” he growled. “Don’t call anyone.”
“I—I have to,” Rachel stammered. “You’ll die.” He was going to die anyway, but there was no need to mention that now.
“No,” he said through clenched teeth. “They’ll come. They’ll take me...again.”
Good grief, what had this man gone through to make someone with so much obvious physical strength so terrified? She sighed. It wasn’t as if an ambulance could save this guy. She could comply with this last wish and wait, especially if someone was after him. “Okay,” she said. “Release my arm and I’ll put the phone down. I promise.”
The man's muscles slowly unwound. He watched her intently as she laid the phone on the floor and held up her hand. “See? I’m not here to hurt you.”
The fear eased from his features, but caution remained. His wary gaze moved over Rachel. "You're not with them?"
"Who's ‘them’?” Rachel placed two fingers to his throat. His pulse was almost nonexistent, a thready flutter. "Did someone do this to you?" She was unsure if she meant the people who injured him or whoever caused his physical differences. Maybe both. His double eyelids blinked again, startling her. The thought jolted through her that this guy might not be a human being. Was he an escapee from some secret, experimental medical facility? The thought sent ice down her spine before she recovered her wits. Nah, I’ve been watching too much Netflix.
His eyes closed and he grimaced. "Pull...it out," he said.
"I'm sorry, but it's best if you don't move," she said gently. "Just be still and I'll try to make you as comfortable as possible. Can you tell me your name? Who should I contact for you?"
His lips quirked. "You think I'm going to die from this?"
“You have a very bad injury." The problems she’d seen come through the clinic’s door were things like animal bites, sinus infections, the occasional sprained ankle. Never anything quite like this. Rachel’s job never involved telling a patient that, yes, he was going to die. But she didn’t know what to make of this man with such strange physical attributes. A man who should be dead by now, but was lying here smiling at her. Of all things.
"My name is Drace,” he said. “And no, there's no one to contact."
"Do you have a last name, Drace?"
He ignored the question and glanced at the metal jutting from his belly. "If I'm going to die, I'd rather do it without that thing in me if you don't mind."
"It's not advisable," she replied, but the more she observed this man––Drace––the more unsure she became. There were other different things about him––the firm texture of his skin, the slight metallic sheen on his hair, the weird, uneven beating of his heart.
"Look, I need you to pull this thing out." He blinked slowly, wearily. "I'd do it myself, but I have trouble with aluminum. And I’m...tired.”
She raised her brows. His trouble was not the type of metal in his gut. “You'll die if I do this," Rachel said it bluntly to gauge his reaction.
He snatched her hand again and held it in a firm grip. More firm than a man in his condition ought to have been able to. "I'll die if you don't."
Well, if he wanted the thing out, why not? It could hardly cause more damage. Her gaze slid to the fuchsia trickle oozing from his wound. Or maybe he wouldn't die. Rachel was beginning to wonder if she'd stepped into an alternate universe where the laws of medicine and anatomy didn't apply. He released her hand, and she leaned back, carefully gripping the sharp metal. "Are you sure?"
His tense hands splayed on the tile floor. "Yes."
Rachel's stomach churned at the pain he must be feeling. She was fulfilling a dying man's wish, but sweating through her clothes. If not for the latex gloves, her hands would have slipped right off the metal thing. What was it, anyway? It looked like a chunk off an airplane.
She drew in a breath, tensed her muscles and pulled the aluminum piece from his belly. It released with a sickening slurp that rolled her stomach.
Drace gasped, then sighed. "Ah, thank you. Better."
Rachel placed the thick metal on a towel and leaned over the wound. More bright blood flowed from the open gash, but not as much as she expected. It seemed likely that his organs were very different from hers. Rachel eyed the wound. It now bled in a slow trickle, not a gush. She placed a thick square of gauze over it.
“I can clean it and sew you up,” she offered. "I've never done it before, but I think I can manage."
"No." His voice was thin, but he braced a hand behind him and attempted to sit up.
Rachel pressed him back down. "Are you crazy? If you're going anywhere, it's to a bed."
His lips curled at the corners. "So tempting, Ms. Harkett, but if my pursuers find me here, you’ll be put in great danger. That's no way to repay your kindness."
"You're not leaving in this condition." She chose to ignore his suggestive tone. The guy was clearly delusional. “I’ll set the clinic’s alarm system if you're worried about someone following you and breaking in. You'll stay here." Rachel took a deep breath and prepared herself for her next question. She was half afraid to ask it. With a raised brow, she pointed a finger at his nose. "And you'll tell me exactly what you are because you're not exactly human, are you?"
He blinked, letting the blue film cover his eyes for a second. She imagined he was trying to frighten her, but all it did was make her more curious about him.
"No, I'm not human." It was a test, for both of them. "I'm a visitor to your planet."
Her planet. She swallowed thickly. “That’s why they're after you?"
"I was held and tortured underground for...at least four of your months," he said. "I'm not entirely sure of the time."
"Are you here to kill us?" A fierce sense, like a shield, rose up inside her. "To take over Earth or something?"
"No." An amused smile curved his mouth. "Just observe."
"What were they doing with you?" Part of her didn't want to know.
"They cut me apart and watched me heal." He gestured to his shoulders, elbows, where scars ran the circumference of each joint. "They'd amputate, but wait longer to put them back each time. The last time, my shoulders almost didn't accept my arms. The skin was healing over. I escaped, barely, and ah, borrowed one of their vehicles, but they caught up to me. Let’s just say the people holding me have some firepower at their disposal. I walked a long way and this building was the first one I came across with a light on inside. I just needed help removing that.” He gestured to the aluminum chunk. “I’m good with metal, but not that variety.”
He wasn't lying. She ran her fingers over the scarring on his arms. It was thick and precise, definitely done by a skilled medical hand. And then it occurred to her with weighty force––she was sitting here, having a conversation with an alien. Rachel couldn't conjure another explanation for his unusual physical traits. And that he'd been captured by this group, whoever they were, and turned into a lab rat was absolutely revolting. Fury flared inside her at this faceless group.
"What they did to you is horrific." She peeled off her latex exam gloves and set them aside. "Listen, that's not how we all are, okay?"
His swirling blue gaze met and held hers. "Thank you."
Rachel looked away. He was altogether too handsome. And those eyes were too easy to get lost in. It was insane to even think of Drace in a romantic sense. Human-alien thing aside, this guy didn't belong here. If he survived, he wasn't going to stay here. "Okay, I'm going to just going to check your...
Her words trailed off as her bare fingers touched his chest. A strange vibration started under her skin, like an awakening of a sense she didn't know existed. At the same time, one set of his tattoos flared bright silver-blue. The vivid runes ran up his right pe
ctoral muscle, ending at his collarbone. She didn't know what they meant, but they clearly meant something.
Rachel stared at the violently swirling ink. The blue luminescent glow held her fingertips to his flesh like a magnet. She pressed her full palm to his chest. A wave of liquid heat swept through her, and she gasped.
Drace looked down at her hand on his skin with wide, incredulous eyes. "Please don't––" he said in a strangled voice. He tried to push her away, but she couldn't pull her hand from the markings. Heat––sharp and sudden as electricity––shot up her arm, through her body and down to her toes. Rachel moaned as waves of arousal pulsed through her skin, stimulating every nerve ending. It was sudden and unexpected, as was the damp ache flaring between her legs.
With effort, she ripped her hand from his chest and tucked her fist against her belly. “What the fuck was that?”
Drace rolled away from her on a groan and breathed hard. Sweat glistened on his forehead. "Sweet stars, what have you done, woman?"
"What have I done?” Rachel stared at him, at her trembling hand which burned and tingled in a weird way. “You’re really asking me that?”
"I can deal with this right now." He pushed to a seated position. "I must go."
Headlights sliced through the windows. Rachel jumped at the sound of tires skidding to a halt. Drace went rigid. "They're here.”
“Who’s here?”
"The people who held me. They’re some secret group, or government agency.”
“You’re serious?”
He nodded, dragged himself to his feet. "Is there a back exit?"
Rachel's body still vibrated with whatever just transpired between them. A new awareness settled uneasily behind her ribs. She knew one thing––this man would not be staggering out into the cold with an eight-inch abdominal wound. This man, who she had the sudden, powerful impulse to protect. ”I don't care where you're from. They're not getting you."
"Don't," was his quiet reply. "You don't want to be involved with this, Ms. Harkett. Or with me."
