Alien Romance: Hunter: Space Commander's Fated Mate (Space Beasts Book 3)

by Alyssa Ezra

  The pressure began to build. Juliet could feel her walls beginning to flutter around Zalgar’s cock and she clenched rhythmically, causing his thrusts to speed up. He groaned, having enough restraint only to bite into the pillow next to her instead of her neck.

  Juliet had already spent half an hour covering up the ones from last night that they were going to be late for sure if he tried to create another. Her entire body trembled, pleasure radiating from her center and spreading out to the tips of her fingers and toes.

  It took a minute for Juliet to regain her breath, Zalgar going still as he came inside her. The woman reached to for her phone, checking the time. “Eighteen minutes,” she stated proudly, showing him the time, “We’ll be three minutes early.”

  Zalgar rolled to his side, tucking himself back into his trousers and fixing his clothes. After getting up and smoothing his long, black hair back, he held a hand out to Juliet, helping her up from the bed. “Guess it’s time to tell the story of us.”

  Juliet smiled. “Yes, it is.”

  ***

  PREVIEW OF ‘RAYER: SPACE WARRIOR’S MAIL ORDER BRIDE’ BY ALYSSA EZRA

  Chapter 1

  He had been awaiting the summons – he supposed that it was long due in reality. Unfortunately, such logic didn’t make the summons any less disdainful.

  “High Prince Rayer. My lord, his highest majesty, your father has requested your presence.”

  “Why do you insist on calling it a request when we both know that such edict is a command?” It didn’t matter how many years Rayer had been receiving summons this way, ever since he had been a child he had known the difference between a request and an order – Why can’t court manners at least be honest? He had always wondered that question, and he did so again, now.

  “Sir.” The messenger, Hanneth, had been Rayer’s keeper ever since he had been weaned from his mother’s breast, and had become his full-time care-giver during his childhood and adolescence after the still mysterious illness that had ravaged the females of the planet had taken his mother in one of the most severe cases witnessed by the planet.

  Rayer had barely been three solar orbits of age when his mother had fallen ill – he had a scant few memories from the time. They weren’t happy memories; however, they were cherished as they were his only memories of his mother, High Queen Arati. The high queen had fought the illness as stalwartly as any other warrior princess – as that had been the status of her birth – would have.

  The people of the planet, Siiger, had loved his mother and did not take well to the idea of his father’s remarrying. After some time, they had come to accept the new high queen, but she had never accepted Rayer. His father’s second mate, Montala, wanted her offspring to be the next high king. Perhaps if the man had actually been the product of the high king’s loins that dream would have had a chance. Rayer’s father had claimed Graith, but it was merely as a social nicety, not because Rayer’s younger brother-by-marriage would ever sit on the throne.

  At fifty solar orbits, Rayer had finally hit his prime. Most of the other hominid races reached their prime physical conditions and reproductive states between twenty and thirty-five; however, the Sii, the people of Siigert didn’t reach that point until they were well past their fortieth orbit. It had been obvious that Rayer would reach his on the tail end and at fifty orbits, he was physically far superior to Graith, who had hit his zenith early at forty.

  Some of the other races said that the Sii aged slowly – that in his present condition, Rayer was comparable with the thirty-or-so aged men of similar races. He didn’t much worry himself over the views of the other species of the galaxy. Especially not now – not as he trekked through the ceremonial throne room to his father’s office to face whatever had incited the old man to summon his only child for the first time in more than an orbit.

  One of the High King’s guards cast the doors wide, and announced into the room – his voice booming into the chamber beyond.

  “High Prince Rayer has arrived as per your summons.”

  Rayer walked into the room. It had always been one of his favorites in the entire palace complex. Giant windows cast great swaths of natural light into the cavernous space from one courtyard facing wall. The rest of the walls were lined with shelves that held items of prophecy, scrolls recording the history of the Sii Empire, and other samples of crystalline growths and mysterious objects that had been collected from all over Siiger for as long as the Sii had walked the surface of the planet.

  “Father,” Rayer continued to approach the most powerful man of the planet as he spoke a greeting.

  “Rayer, it has been a while since I have seen you.”

  “Not since before my previous birth celebration.”

  “Yes, you are correct – I apologize that I was unable to see you on this orbit’s celebration, but your mother was ill, it was only appropriate that I attend her until the doctor finished.” Rayer considered holding his tongue as he always did whenever his father insisted on referring to the his second wife, Montala, as Rayer’s mother, yet, this time, for this occasion, Rayer decided against logical caution.

  “Father, I do not wish to fight with you, but I ask you again to not refer to Montala as my mother, she is not – by that I do not mean that she didn’t give me birth, but rather she never had the desire, nor made an effort to be a mother to me. Therefore, she is not my mother, she is Graith’s mother. I did not take your absence personally, I did wonder, but I assumed that some call to duty had required you to miss the celebration. Now, what has driven you to call for me to attend you?”

  The increasingly ancient King Balkar stared at his son shrewdly, taking in the way Rayer’s body had filled out. His son was much more his mother’s son, Arati’s son. He looked so very much like his mother – she had been an astoundingly beautiful woman, but Rayer might be even more astoundingly striking than the vicious warrior princess.

  Arati’s family had been the noble warriors that had defended Siiger for hundreds of orbits, and while they could be quite sly, the families of the Kaltar tribe were unquestionably built in a manner that was ideal to that bred aim of planetary protection. His son had the body of a warrior, but the mind of a masterful high king. Unfortunately, Rayer was as stubborn as Balkar. Knowing that his son would doubtless be angry by the proposal he was soon to force on him, Balkar took a deep, cleaning breath, before looking at the comparatively young man, nearly a century his junior.

  “You need to breed and provide an heir.” Balkar stated the reality of the situation simply and Rayer’s face blanked of all expression, just as Balkar had anticipated. Knowing that his son could, and would outwait him, Balkar continued, “You have officially hit your prime – it is expected that you breed. You have to breed and provide an heir in order to secure your position as my heir for High King.”

  “And tell me father, who am I to breed with? The Sii are not compatible with the other known breeds in this area – and there are few if any Sii females left and those that might be of breeding prime, are barren, in fact all Sii females that survived the epidemic that killed mother are all incapable of breeding an heir. Or have you forgotten that was the basis on which you agreed to take Montala as your second mate? She had managed to birth Graith after the main onslaught of the epidemic.”

  “Of course I remember that fact, boy,” the High King sighed. “Just as I remember that as a result, in order to maintain a semblance of a population balance, we have been forced to replicate artificially. Unfortunately, that is not an option for you. You have to provide a naturally conceived heir in order to ascend the throne – such is the rule that has ruled the pattern of ascension for as long as the Sii have existed. And you are not quite as informed as I am. In order to make sure this family line continues in power after my death, I have been sending out scouts, and I have confirmed that there is a race, of which there are a few females that are compatible with the Sii for breeding purposes. They come from a small outer-rim world called ‘Earth.’ Some of our s
cientists are already on site – quietly working with an inner-system company to find suitable candidates”

  Rayer stared at his father and king for a solid five minutes before turning away from the man and striding over to stand before one of the windows. Another five minutes passed before his father lost patience and hollered across the room.

  “Well?”

  “How long will I have to select a suitable mate?”

  “Unfortunately due to the pushing of the nobles, you have to make a decision with great speed. I will allow you a week once you have arrived to select a mate from the available candidates that have been vetted to be genetically compatible.”

  “This is absurd.”

  “Rayer, I am attempting to be reasonable with you; however, you are pushing my patience.”

  “What patience, you have none.”

  “Silence!” Balkar puffed for a moment, “You will do as I say. And that is the end of this conversation. You will depart for the planet Earth tomorrow. You will select a female as your mate and you will return, with your chosen female, home. The rites will be performed and you will mate with her. There is no need to worry about binding yourself to this female, you may reject her – but you must provide a naturally born heir. Our laws do not necessitate that the heir be male, so all you need to do is get the Earth woman pregnant. After your heir is born you may do with her what you will.”

  “Is that what you would have done with mother?” His son’s voice was so soft that Balkar almost did not hear him.

  “Of course not, but in that time, I had the liberty to be selective of my mate. I had plenty of options to choose from. You, my son, unfortunately do not have the same liberty. And the reality is that at nearly three times your number of orbits, discussion has been raised on how long I will live. Further discussion has been raised at allowing Graith the opportunity to provide an heir.”

  “Graith?” Rayer stared at his father, the High King of Siiger, dumbfounded. In all of his years, no words more outrageous had ever passed his father’s lips. “You would allow Graith to claim ascension to the High Throne? He is not of the line!”

  “I do not want to allow the line to thin.”

  “It would not thin! It would break!” Rayer interrupted.

  “Then do your duty. I do not know how this has been raised to the nobles as an option, as I do not consider it to be one, but I managed to stall any such discussion until you hit prime. You have – now time is slipping away for you to absolutely claim you position as the next High King.”

  “Is your health failing?”

  “Not yet. But I am weaker.” Rayer sighed and braced his forehead against the wafer thin panes of crystal that filled the windows – blocking the harsh winds of this time of year from sweeping priceless artifacts off of the shelves in the room. “My son, I wish I could give you an alternative, but I cannot. I am out of options, and you are running out of time.”

  His breath fogged the panes of the window – Rayer did not appreciate being forced into making decision, before he was ready and chose to make it. On the flip side, he refused to let Graith have even this sliver of a hope at claiming Siiger for him and the woman that had wormed her way into his father’s bed. Rayer had often wished that his father would swap out Montala for another woman; even a purchased slave would be preferable.

  “I will agree.”

  “Excellent!” Balkar crowed.

  “However…” Rayer waited for his father to fall silent, “I have a condition of my own.”

  “What is that?”

  “I will agree to take to mate any compatible Earth female that is willing, and I mean willingly accepts my offer, but she will know beforehand what is being offered to her – in its entirety. She will know before any mating occurs that I am not of her world. That I require an heir. That we will breed until I successfully impregnate her with my seed. She must be entirely willing to accept that and to bear the child to existence. And after an heir is provided, she will be offered the opportunity to return home. To her home world. She will have the option to leave me. As no one, not even you, expects me to keep her as my life mate, as my queen when I eventually inherit the throne – I will not deprive her of her life on her own world should she wish it. Lastly, she will be compensated.

  She will live in luxury here, but if she chooses to return to her world, she will be compensated enough so that she is able to live in luxury for the remainder of her life on, what did you call the planet? Earth?” At his father’s nod, Rayer continued, “Yes on Earth. Those are my terms.”

  “I will accept your terms if you leave today. Before anyone knows what is going on. Before anyone has the opportunity to cause trouble.”

  “Fine. I assume that the vessel will be ready by the time I get to it?”

  “As soon as you reach the spaceport, you will be cleared. I will have Gaolan send a runner while you get whatever you might need for the voyage from your apartments.”

  Rayer let out a rough laugh – even after all these years, his father could not fathom why his son would choose to ensconce himself in the tower, a place traditionally used to house offending criminals so that their cries could not be heard in the marketplace far below.

  The High King refused to see his son in the tower, but the reality was that the tower was the easiest place to defend and after it had been rigged to have plumbing, piped straight from the reservoir it was, almost impossible to set the structure aflame.

  Rayer did not bother to offer Balkar a farewell as they both considered such to be a waste of words. One did not waste words on farewells unless it was sure to be the last one saw of the other.

  Chapter 2

  “Order up!” Cole, Coletta Harper – if once actually knew her as anything but Cole, grabbed the three plates from the pass through before her hollering cook could put the ‘p’ on ‘up’ as the ham he called a hand popped down on the little antique bell that had been part of the diner in its previous life.

  The line cook, Martin shouted all day long through the pass through between the kitchen and the dining area of the in-desperate-need-of-updates diner. According to Cole’s grandmother before she had passed away six years ago, when Cole was 17, the diner was no different than when it had been last updated – fifty years ago.

  “Griddle cakes and hash for the little man. The industrial breakfast for you, sir. And the veggie and soy omelette for you, ma’am. Can I get any of you anything else?” Cole had mastered the sweet smile in order to guarantee a chance of a tip. Tipping was rare these days since most service industry jobs were staffed by automatons, forcing Cole to really work for the extra cash she needed in order to be able to eat after paying the rent on the shoe-box she called home.

  As she left the family to their meal, Cole leaned against the wall near the pass through, behind the counter. The diner had been modeled after those of a number of centuries before, the iconic diner of the 1950s – it was 2448 and the icon was no longer shiny and gleaming in the sunlight. In 2448 gleaming only occurred at the 300th floor and above. Brady’s Diner was on the 53rd floor, what was considered street level in the modern age of the super metropolis that stretched along the old coastline between the four main boroughs: Boston, American York, Philly, and ‘Quarter’ Down Central.

  Cole’s Grandmother said that the real name for QDC was actually Washington D.C and ‘Quarter’ derived from the pre-bit currency system, but Cole couldn’t say one way or the other. All she could say for certain in the massive super city was that she wouldn’t go any lower than the 50th floor; she avoided those slums at all costs.

  On days like today, when business was slow, Cole would fantasize about what it might be like to live above the smog; she had only been to a 300-level floor once. Gran had managed to scrape the fare up that high on the sky lift, because she had heard that there was a free admittance day to the astronomical museum and learning center. They had stayed up there all afternoon and into the night so that Cole could look at the stars and learn about the wor
lds that existed beyond the haze covered Earth.

  While she was dreaming about having a party out on some open-air deck, an ad on the daily recyclable news screen an earlier patron had left behind. Cole scrolled back up to the ad and tapped on it, to bring it into clearer focus.

  Wanted – Non-altered, genetic woman for paid surrogacy experiment.

  Requirements – Biologically born woman, between the ages of Twenty-two and Twenty-five. No genetic alterations or therapies. Presently experiencing a regular menstrual cycle – this experiment requires a fertile candidate for a study on surrogacy.

  Contact: XXX.XXX.XXX.XXXX – YYY for more information.

  Cole picked up the news screen and stepped into the quiet kitchen. It seemed the cook and his crew of two had slipped away to go puff on a couple of illegal burn-inhalables. Cole shook her head and quickly dialed the number on the ad into the diner’s old communication unit. As the antique unit beeped and pinged as it connected and started passing signal to the receiving unit, Cole fidgeted nervously, self-consciously checking the front of her uniform blouse for stains. Thankfully, it appeared that she had managed to avoid the dark veggie-milk that the toddler earlier that day had thrown in her direction.

  Finally, the ancient comm-unit connected with the unit indicated on the ad. The visual display swam as the diner’s unit protested actually functioning. The pixilated image in front of Cole was that of a pinched face man behind a sleek desk. The audio crackled as he began to speak and Cole had to fight the urge to cringe at the screech on her end of the communication.

  “Thank you for calling Sigert’ech Industries, how may I direct your communication?” The man’s nasal tone, transferred badly through the old system, but Cole did her best to ignore it.