The Vulfan's True Mate (A BBW Paranormal Romance) (Starcrossed Dating Agency Book 1)

by Georgette St. Clair

  “Good lord. So if I were with Lukan, I’d become a Vulfan?”

  Cora Lee nodded. “Yes. I know this is a lot to take in. I was prepared for all of this, given an orientation, and I knew what I’d be committing to before I ever set foot on Ilyria.”

  Talia poured herself some wine from the glass and took a big gulp.

  “What would have happened if you’d decided not to come to Ilyria? They would have trusted you not to tell anybody about what you’d learned?”

  “Oh, heck no.” Cora Lee shook her head. “If word got out, the U.S. government would try to storm the Anders building to get their hands on the technology there. And other nations would as well. It would start a dozen wars and throw Earth into chaos. If I hadn’t wanted to travel to Ilyria, they would have erased my memory.”

  “Erased it?” Talia said in shock. “Made you into a vegetable?”

  Cora Lee snorted. “No, silly! My short-term memory. They have a very sophisticated system called the memory chamber. They can take out old memories and replace them with new ones.”

  Talia shuddered. “That’s really creepy, actually.”

  Cora Lee helped herself to some more sweetmeats, and shrugged. “Better than the alternative, which would be world wars, panic over the idea of aliens, and also the end of this program, which might mean the end of the Vulfan race.”

  “So all the women who sign up for this program…”

  Cora Lee nodded. “They all agree to this. They come to this planet, hang out for a few weeks, meet tons and tons of guys, and see if they click with anybody. The agency comes up with cover stories for their friends and acquaintances. Of course, part of Million Dollar Matches is just the regular Earth dating agency, which Alexandra was running all along. But they just keep that going as a cover. Her real money comes from the interstellar dating thing.”

  There was an urgent knocking on the door, and Tristao rushed in, his hair disheveled. “The cyborg fleet is headed this way, and we’ll be under attack in minutes,” he said, his voice urgent.

  Mar-ee hid behind Talia. “Don’t let them take me!” she wailed. “They’re perverts! They will attempt to interface with my ports!”

  Tristao grabbed Cora Lee’s arm. “All of you, we need to get you downstairs. Now.”

  Chapter Eight

  Far below the Wor-Lan skimmers was Treffon’s castle, smack in the middle of the Thorolf territory. It was located to the west of the city of Donnelle, the trading port that was a neutral zone between the Wor-Lan territory and Thorolf territory.

  And above the Wor-Lan skimmers were the cyborgs. Ultimate cowards. The Vulfans held them in contempt for relying on weapons to wage war, rather than meeting face to face in the field of battle. However, that didn’t mean that the Vulfans were going to lie down like keeple-beasts and allow themselves to be slaughtered. Both the Wor-Lans and the Thorolfs had their top scientists constantly developing and refining new weapons to repel the threat of the cyborg attacks.

  The skimmers, silvery discs that cut through the sky in a V-formation, sliced towards the Cyborg Destroyers. It was clear that the cyborg ships had been built by inhuman entities. They had none of the sleek, organic lines of the Ilyrian craft, and bristled with weaponry. Even had Lukan not known how pitiless the cyborgs were, he would have thought the hulking, gunmetal gray destroyers sinister.

  Piloting the lead skimmer, he leaned hard on the controls, fighting the juddering of the craft as it fought for altitude in the thinning atmosphere high above the green-blue surface of Ilyria. The ships weren’t equipped to leave the atmosphere, but they would need to be as close as possible to the Cyborg Class 1 Destroyers when they deployed the plasma blasters. Simulations and ground tests said that the newly developed weapons would penetrate the deflector shields and thick hulls of the destroyers.

  Lukan could only pray that they would.

  It was a noble thing for a Vulfan to die in battle, but he felt a pang of regret and loss deep in his heart as he thought of Talia. The thought that he might never hold her in his arms was almost too much to bear.

  But here and now, he had to defend his people from the cyborg threat.

  Half a dozen Thorolf Predators, shield-shaped craft not much larger than the Wor-Lan skimmers, swooped and dived around the cyborg vessels, drawing their fire. They were fast and maneuverable, and Lukan admired the skill of their pilots. But they didn’t have the firepower to take the Destroyers down. As Lukan watched, one of the Predators rolled into a dive, smoke spiraling from its fuselage. As he pulled his skimmer up, the rest of the Wor-Lan craft followed him in smooth formation like a flock of swallows.

  With one of the Predators dispensed with, the larger Cyborg Destroyer swiveled its turrets, redirecting its fire at the Thorolf stronghold. Laser fire splashed against the walls, knocking away great chunks of stone that went tumbling down the sides of the building.

  A great black weight of rage sat in Lukan’s chest, threatening to choke him. Vulfan paws were useless for piloting a skimmer, but he felt his inner beast snarling against the inside of his skin, desperate to get out and protect its mate. They dared to attack his true mate. His Talia. They dared.

  Poising his thumb over the button that would fire the plasma blasters, he waited until the last possible moment, until the skimmer was threatening to shake apart in the thin atmosphere and the cyborgs must surely think the formation was coming in for a suicide dive.

  Then he fired his weapon and pulled hard on the controls, the belly of the skimmer almost scraping the thick metallic hide of the Destroyer as he swerved away. The other skimmers discharged their weapons and peeled away behind him, pulling in alongside his craft in a tight, spiraling formation.

  For an agonizing moment, he thought it hadn’t worked. That the cyborg ships were too heavily engineered, and had simply absorbed the plasma blasts. Time slowed.

  Then the massive hulks seemed to blast apart from within, breaking apart in a blinding supernova of white light that seared Lukan’s retinas. Chunks of burning fuselage tumbled towards the ground far below.

  Lukan’s heart started to beat again.

  * * * * *

  Lukan strode up to the massive wooden double doors in front of the castle. He was alone – he’d insisted on it. He’d sent most of his fleet back to his own pack lands, with one skimmer waiting outside Thorolf territory to give him and Talia a ride back – if she was willing to go with him.

  He felt impatience pulsing through his body. Talia was in there, and she should be with him.

  It was four hours past moonrise, and the night sky was a deep purplish black with the planet’s two moons casting a white glow over the land. In the distance, plumes of smoke rose from the massive chunks of the defeated Cyborg Destroyers. Fire suppression crews would be travelling out to those spots to extinguish the flames.

  Treffon’s castle was similar to the Wor-Lan castle – built with great twisting spires that mimicked the trees and mountains of their world, and studded with windows of colored glass.

  Ten members of the Thorolf Guard stood in front of the castle doors, laser rifles resting on their shoulders. They stared suspiciously at Lukan. A Wor-Lan coming to Thorolf territory was unprecedented.

  “I am Lukan Anders, Reginar of the Wor-Lans, and I request entry, and audience with the Reginar Treffon.”

  “Say please,” a large, silver-haired guard sneered at him.

  Lukan bristled and let out a howl of rage. Not only was this man insolent, he was standing between Lukan and Talia. His Talia. He had been denied her too long, and anyone else who tried to keep him from her was going to bleed, and then die.

  He shifted, as pure fury flowed through his veins. He felt the satisfying crack and snap of his bones as they re-set themselves, the brutal thrust of his fangs piercing his gums. The smell of the guards’ anger and fear filled his nostrils.

  The guards shifted as well, their laser rifles dropping to the ground. The Vulfans never used weapons when fighting with each other; it was c
onsidered the height of dishonor. They reserved their weapons for fighting with other species, and considered those species inferior for being so weak as to hide behind technology.

  There were many of them, but a Reginar came from a stronger genetic strain, and was larger, faster and more savage than most Vulfan.

  Lukan lunged at the man who had insulted him, and knocked him flying. The other guards leaped on him, and Lukan spun around in fury, dislodging them and sending them flying as well.

  More of them launched themselves at him, and Lukan rolled on the ground and seized a guard’s throat in his jaws. The Vulfan wailed in panic and went limp, instantly surrendering. Lukan was bleeding from bites he hadn’t even felt, and the other Vulfans surrounded him in a circle.

  “Stop this at once!” Treffon’s voice cracked through the air. “Shift back.” His men shuddered and howled as they were forced back into humanoid form by the strength of Treffon’s will. Shifting was somewhat painful, but being forced to shift, into either humanoid or animal form was agonizing. Treffon’s men lay sprawled on the ground, panting, temporarily stunned, and returned to their humanoid forms.

  The command had not worked on Lukan because he was a Reginar. He stood there, shuddering with fury, his mighty jaws clamped on the furless neck of the Thorolf Guard. Honor demanded that he refrain from killing a foe who had submitted, but his Vulfan was howling for the hot taste of blood.

  “Lukan, don’t kill him!” That was Talia’s voice, cutting through the fog of his rage.

  Talia. His Talia. She was there. She had come for him. And she didn’t want him to kill this whining pup-ling.

  It took every ounce of his strength for him to force himself back into humanoid form. He reset his bones, feeling every snap and crack, and drew his fur back into his skin with a shuddering, mighty pull. He withdrew his fangs from the sentry’s neck.

  He looked up. Talia stood there with Cora Lee, Mar-ee, Treffon, Tristao, and twenty of Treffon’s men crowded behind her.

  “How dare you come to my castle and attack my men?” Treffon demanded. “I should challenge you on the field of honor.”

  “Challenge away,” Lukan spat scornfully. “Yours would not be the first Thorolf blood I’ve tasted. But if your man had not addressed me with the type of disrespect that no Vulfan leader would ever tolerate, I would not have wasted my time on so puny a foe.”

  “Is that true?” Treffon asked the soldier.

  The man looked at the ground. “Yes, sir, but he is a Wor-Lan.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  The man’s face was as white as Ilryia’s desert sands. “He requested entry to the castle, and I…told him to say please.”

  “And you believe that you are now my negotiator?” Treffon pinned the guard with a steely gaze.

  The man swallowed hard.

  “No, sir.” He hung his head.

  “You think that I am so weak that I cannot fight my own battles?” Fur covered Treffon’s face. “You think that I need a crying pupling to defend me?”

  “No sir. I made an error, sir. I have dishonored our clan.” The man leaned back his head, exposing his throat. “I accept my fate.” He stiffened in preparation for the end of his life.

  Treffon strode forward, his head shifting, his fangs extending.

  Cora Lee shrieked and hid her face in her hands. Tristao stood up straight, his steely gaze fixing on his Reginar’s intended prey.

  “No!” Talia wailed.

  Lukan saw the look of horror on Talia’s face, heard her gasp of dismay. The look stabbed into him like a Glarthorian ice spear; he would not see her suffer for all the Lyri-credits in the galaxy. He would endure a thousand insults first.

  “Stop!” he cried out to Treffon. “As Reginar, I ask that you pardon this man. If you desire, I will take his place and we will hold an honor challenge.”

  Treffon let out a low growl of anger, and instead of ripping out the man’s throat, he slashed him with his extended claws, drawing five bleeding lines across his face. Then he shuddered and his jaws sank back into his face.

  “You are demoted to latrine duty for the next year,” he snapped at the guard. “Get out of my sight. And never try to speak for me again.”

  Treffon turned his attention to Lukan. “Your fleet saved many of my people’s lives,” he said. “I am the one who is in your debt. There will be no honor challenge.”

  “Ahem,” Talia said. “I have a way that you both could pay each other back. Agree to sit down with each other and talk about how you can work together against the cyborgs. There is one race of Vulfans, divided into two right now, but fighting against extinction. You have a common enemy; fighting them separately makes you weaker. Doesn’t it make sense for your packs to work together?”

  Lukan felt his heart swell with pride. It was a smart, unselfish suggestion that was intended to strengthen both of their clans. His heart had chosen wisely. She would make an excellent Reginar’s pair-bond.

  Not only that, but she had done it in a way that allowed Treffon to save face – and, if Lukan had to admit it, himself as well. For the two warring packs to sit down face to face and talk about joining together…it was not something that either Reginar would have considered. They were so hostile to each other that Lukan and Treffon had offices on different floors of the Anders building on Earth, so they would not even have to scent each other. During the meet-and-greets with the human women, the packs stayed on different sides of the room.

  Treffon cleared his throat and looked over at Lukan. “It is late. I invite you to spend the night here as my guest, under my protection, and we will speak in the morning over breakfast. That is my price.” He glanced at Tristao. “Spread the word. Anyone who insults or threatens Lukan while he is my guest will pay the price.” Nobody needed to ask what that price would be.

  As they headed into the castle, Talia walked over to Lukan and looked up at him, a sudden shyness on her face. “I’m falling asleep on my feet right now, but in the morning, maybe we can talk,” she said.

  Lukan felt his heart swell with joy, and relief, and gratitude.

  “Yes, we must talk,” he agreed. He took her hands in his and pressed her palms against his chest. “I mean to earn your pardon and make you love me even if I must tear out my heart and lay it at your feet.”

  Chapter Nine

  Lukan reclined on the overstuffed chair in a room right next to Talia’s. The room was luxuriously decorated, with a canopied bed spread with soft, silky blankets. There was a fireplace stoked with a roaring fire, with the fur of a white flaar-beast spread on the stone floor before it. His clothing was scattered on the floor by his bed, and he was downing a third vessel of tharfaberry wine, but it did nothing to dull the burning need inside him.

  He was having a fight with his beast. Take Talia. Now. Our heart-mate. Must have her.

  Patience, he replied to his beast, forcing it down beneath his skin. She will be with us when the sun rises. She is worth the wait.

  His beast responded with a howl of fury, a painful cracking of Lukan’s bones, and a suggestion that Lukan do something that was anatomically impossible. There was no way Lukan’s head would fit through that orifice.

  He craved her with every fiber of his being. He wanted her so much that he was surely hallucinating, because he thought that he smelled her now. He thought he heard her walking towards him. But surely he had begun his descent into madness; he had been yearning for her for too long, and the var-hool had poisoned his brain.

  She could not be standing there like that, wearing a silken robe, barefoot and smelling like the sweetest meadow of flowers, with Mar-ee hovering beside her, scowling at him.

  “Begone, evil vision!” he groaned.

  “What?” Talia snapped at him, and he leaped to his feet.

  “Talia! Is it really you? Have you come to me at last?”

  She stared at him as if he’d gone mad. “Of course it’s really me. Who did you think I was?”

  He buried his
face in his hands. “A vision come to mock me.”

  Mar-ee shook her head. “You are a flarfloop-headed snarflebutt.”

  Lukan let out a low snarl. Now was not the time to mess with him. Not when he was clinging to sanity by a thread. Not when his whole body pulsed and hurt because he was being denied what he needed more than oxygen. “Don’t forget, I am the flarfloop-headed snarflebutt who can take your hard drive out and reprogram you,” he threatened her.

  “But you will not, because it would upset Talia.”

  Curse the robot! He had programmed her to be far too intelligent. Also, she was smirking at him. Why had he given her the ability to smirk? She was right, he was a snarflebutt. A creature so stupid that it had gone extinct because it had always walked into trees and knocked itself unconscious, leaving it vulnerable to predators.

  Talia crossed the room and looked at him with concern. “You look pale. You’re sweating.” She placed her hand on his forehead, and he groaned with desire. Her hand was cool and comforting.

  “Is it the var-hool?” she asked him. “Cora Lee just told me about that. It’s why I came here. She said that it could make you ill, or you could go mad.”

  “Yes,” he groaned.

  “And yet you were willing to wait. You didn’t force yourself on me.”

  “I would never.” His voice came out between pants of breath. “I would wait for you…until you wanted me…or until I died…”

  She sank down onto his lap, and he groaned with pleasure. His Talia. Pressing herself against him, with only a wisp of cloth between the sweetness of her sex and his throbbing cock.

  Talia glanced up at Mar-ee. “You can leave now,” she said.

  “Are you sure? It is important for me to study human customs if I am going to—”