by Jaylee Davis
Odd Coupling
Jaylee Davis
Smashwords Edition
Edited by Marisa Chenery
Cover design by April Martinez
Copyright 2015 Jaylee Davis. Published by Forever More Publishing, 31 Wycliffe Place, Kitchener, Ontario, N2M 5J6, Canada. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.
ISBN: 978-1-92785-980-3
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Bethany Montgomery’s peaceful life is shattered when an alien ship crashes near her isolated South Texas ranch. She rescues the huge feline pilot before a murderous gang of local ranchers can capture him. She’s determined to protect him. Falling in love with him isn’t part of her plan, but her heart won’t listen.
Vren, a D’Lyrian warrior, survives the crash, but he’s not out of danger. The locals think the only good alien is a dead one, and they’re hot on his trail. The human female who comes to his aid doesn’t seem to fear him, even after he hisses at her for grabbing his tail. Coupling with her should be the last thing on his mind, but her scent calls to him. Has he finally found his life mate only to lose her?
Chapter One
“The Krellian transport has surrendered. Break off pursuit.” Tram’s order blared from the comm-unit. “Return to your ship, Commander Vrenden. Now!”
Vren reluctantly powered down the weapons on his one-man striker and then changed course. The other two fighter ships in his battle group were on their way back to the Explorer, one of three Alliance space cruisers in orbit around the planet identified on their star-charts as Q4S10P3 now known as Earth.
“Acknowledged! With protest.” He hissed as his target slipped away.
“State your grievance,” Tram came back, sounding bored, almost as if he’d just stifled a yawn.
“My third kill banner needs one more notch before it’s complete. The opportunity escaped.”
“Noted and filed along with your other grievances, commander, in the holding tube awaiting waste burn.” He huffed out a wry-sounding laugh before he cut the communication.
Commandant Tram was his superior, but he was also a trusted friend, and Vren had pushed their friendship today. He’d insisted on leading the striker group into battle, and he was well aware Tram wasn’t pleased with him. Nagging reminders of past lectures echoed in his mind. It’s too reckless for a captain to take an unnecessary risk when there are other fighter pilots under his command, who are quite capable of leading the mission.
Unlike him, Tram wasn’t warrior-born. His friend would never fully understand how difficult it was to order members of his crew to fight without him.
One tap to a button on the console allowed the auto pilot to take over. He tried to relax while he kept a close watch on the sensors. The striker’s cockpit was comfortable for a normal D’Lyrian male, but he was much larger, and the cramped space limited his ability to move. At the moment, his tail, which was trapped beneath his left thigh, tingled from limited blood flow. He shifted to ease most of his weight onto his right buttock to relieve the pressure.
His tail felt better, but his irritation remained high. No doubt his adrenaline levels were off the chart. Like all males of his kind, he relished a good fight, but ever since his ship had arrived at Earth he’d been stuck on diplomatic missions while his striker pilots provided escort to hordes of ambassadors as they traveled to and from the planet. When a few Krell fighters had tried to escape, he hadn’t been able to resist the opportunity. He detested letting even one of the pirate ships slip out of his sights.
The other strikers in his group would reach the Explorer ahead of him since he’d chased the small Krellian fighter well past the planet’s moon before being ordered back. Now he had to slip into orbit and meet up with his ship on the far side of the planet. As soon as he secured his ship in the docking bay and then filed a full report about their encounter with the Krellian slavers, he’d make a brief appearance on the bridge before he slipped away to his favorite sleeping chamber for some much needed rest. He yawned in anticipation.
Warning lights suddenly flashed across the console. Instantly alert, he switched to manual. The sensors remained clear, no contacts. He powered his weapons to full, not taking any chances.
Seconds later, a blaring alarm sounded. “Collision, collision…” the computer warning repeated.
Vren changed course and dove straight toward the planet. The alarm fell silent. Something wasn’t right. There was only one way to find out. He had to continue and enter the atmosphere to rescan. Sensors reacted strange when circumstances were unusual. Earth qualified. It had a strong magnetic field and radiation belt that could scramble the signals despite his ship’s shielding. If not that, a giant solar flare eruption could disrupt his instruments enough to give a false reading.
His striker automatically made the conversion from space vessel to aircraft. In seconds, he discovered what had set off the alarms. Another Krellian transport escorted by three fighters headed straight toward him. The Explorer would intercept the larger ship, which could easily carry over one hundred slaves. The Krell must be desperate. It was foolhardy for them to attempt such an escape when the Alliance had three star cruisers in orbit around the planet.
He veered to evade them and then sent an automated notification to the Explorer to alert them of his position. He barely managed to transmit a brief verbal report.
“Engaging three Krellian fighters.” Afterward, he was too busy to respond to the acknowledgment his people sent back.
He went after the smaller ships, hitting them hard. His first attack destroyed one, but the other two were more elusive. If he targeted one, the other zeroed in on him before he could fire.
In seconds, the battle took them closer to the surface. The thicker air slowed the bulkier Krellian fighters while his ship’s design was more aerodynamic. His striker was as nimble in the atmosphere as it was in the vacuum of space. In a surprise move, he rounded on one of the ships and fired, destroying it with ease.
The other one came at him, and he fired. His blasters ripped into it, but as the craft broke up, a large section slammed into his ship. There was no time to evade the hit. The debris took out his anti-gravity control and auto stabilizers before it smashed into the stern. He lost power. Two of his ship’s three thrusters were damaged, completely worthless. At the mercy of gravity, it spun out of control and plummeted toward the surface.
He wrestled with the manual controls, and discovered he could fire the one good thruster in short bursts while he held the stabilizer control in place. A weaker pilot wouldn’t have had a chance. Every large muscle group in his body strained and threatened to buckle under the pressure. No matter how hard he struggled to slow his descent the ground approached too fast, and the collision alarm shrieked louder with each passing second.
He had no regrets. He’d die in battle, as all warriors hoped to do, with three kills to his credit. His parents, siblings and litter mate would be proud of his honorable deat
h. Commandant Tram had several fleet officers more than capable of taking command of the Explorer. At the final moment, he fired the thruster until it overheated and failed. Gravity won. The last sounds he heard was the crunching and grinding of twisted metal as the ship crashed. The impact jolted him so violently the harness restraints around his waist and chest loosened. A split second later, something hard clipped his head.
* * * *
Vren woke to a pungent odor that filled his nose. Sharp pain lanced through his head as he forced his eyes open. Nearby, a raging fire’s thick cloud of smoke billowed across him. The searing heat forced him to shy away. A quick survey of the area revealed how lucky he was to have survived. He’d been thrown clear of the cockpit.
His head throbbed, but he managed to scramble a safe distance from the mangled striker. What remained was hard to recognize. The heat that radiated off the wreckage was still hot enough to ignite any surrounding foliage. Fortunately, the wind was calm, and the hard-packed soil that surrounded the crash site was clear of vegetation, which prevented the fire from spreading.
He peered through the thick smoke in a futile attempt to locate some type of landmark to help ease his disorientation. All he saw was bare ground and patches of eerie shrubbery gathered under the limbs of frail-looking trees. Their growth seemed stunted. It was hard to imagine how anyone could live in such a desolate place. Yet, there he was, alive and stranded on a less-than-welcoming world with no idea of how fast or when he might be recovered. A disturbing thought crossed his mind. Surviving the crash might be the easiest part of his ordeal.
He performed a quick physical assessment, and found a mushy lump on top his head near the base of his left ear. The injury was responsible for the blood that clouded his vision. He swiped a forearm across his eyes to wipe away most of it with his sleeve. The rest of his body seemed uninjured. No sharp pains hit him as he slowly stood.
Smoke billowed from the wreckage. It filled his nostrils and made it impossible for him to scent any information about his immediate surroundings. Fortunately, his ears weren’t impaired. He heard strange noises in the distance, and the sounds were coming closer and closer.
Unknown life forms approached his position. They barked and yelped, similar to young Novyr nerts. Not possible. He was certain the Novyr wouldn’t bring any of their younglings to the surface.
Perhaps some of the local inhabitants had seen him crash. Did they intend to offer aid? He got his answer in the form of a black, four-legged creature when it charged out of the brush and stopped near the edge of the clearing. The animal growled and flashed a mouth full of sharp teeth.
Vren greeted the intruder with a warning hiss, then bared his teeth. Seemingly unafraid, the creature growled more viciously. A brief acknowledgement of admiration for its bravery crossed his mind before he dropped to a crouch in preparation for an attack. The animal didn’t disappoint him.
The beast charged. The second its collection of jagged teeth came within biting range, he jumped to the side, then pounced onto the animal’s back. As anticipated, his greater weight forced it to the ground while he grabbed the top of its snout. He held tight and used his free hand to grip the lower jaw in a vise-like hold. In one fluid motion, he stood and lifted his struggling captive off the ground. To gain complete control, he clamped his thighs around its lower body.
The beast gave a strangled yelp when he wrenched his hands apart to break the lower jawbone before he tore it away from the head. He tossed the severed jaw aside to free his hand, then extended his claws to their full length. He plunged them deep into the upper abdominal cavity to snare vital organs. With one powerful down stroke, he eviscerated his opponent.
The battle only lasted a few seconds. He immediately released the body, but didn’t quite step away fast enough to avoid getting a broad splatter of blood on his chest as the carcass twisted and fell to the ground.
Another animal, almost an exact duplicate of the first, charged unchecked into the clearing. Vren repeated the same moves he’d already used to kill his next attacker. Afterward, his head pounded from unrelenting pain, and to add to his misery, he heard more animals approaching. He also detected a different sound—human voices. They yelled in harsh and threatening tones.
Several males were headed in his direction, and they didn’t sound helpful. Sharp popping noises accompanied their voices. Guns. The humans didn’t have power blasters or stunners. Their hand weapons fired projectiles, which could inflict more damage than he was willing to chance on the slight possibility the men might’ve come to help him.
He chose the only alternative left open. He ran.
The alien vegetation tore at him and obstructed his escape at every turn. Sharp thorns, long and short, shredded his uniform as he ran head first into the thick growth. His ability to see clearly at night was the only thing that made it possible for him to thread his way through the nightmarish assortment of plants. A spike sticking out from a tree trunk caught the side of his trousers. It ripped a gash in the material and sliced into his hip. He snarled in pain, but kept moving.
Suddenly, the animal sounds quieted. He suspected his pursuers had come upon the crash site and they’d found the two bodies he’d left in the clearing. Excellent.
He had to put as much distance between them as possible so he pushed onward. He spied an opening ahead and picked up speed as he fought his way through the clinging brush. He broke from the thick cover and ran straight into a tall wire barrier. It threw him backward, and he fell to the ground, flat on his back.
Undeterred, he sprang to his feet and rushed to examine the structure. It looked weak. If he tried to climb over, it might collapse under his weight. He glanced from side to side and located a tall metal post that supported the wire panels. Vren sprinted over and gave it a hurried examination. It would support him. He scrambled up the thin pole with ease and vaulted over the barrier. A barb snagged his uniform top. It ripped a long slash down the back as he fell to the ground. The landing jarred him and sent stabbing pain to his head. He struggled to his feet and then stumbled off at a faltering run.
He was disoriented, and could only hope his path took him away from the crash site. The unremitting pain in his head clouded his vision, but he thought he saw a roadway ahead. He staggered in its direction. He wanted to cross to the other side first, then hide in the thick plants for a brief time, just to rest and recover. Time to clear his head, plan and gather his strength was what he needed more than anything.
Spurred on by desperation, he darted across the opening. Just when he thought he’d made it to safety, something hard slammed into his side. The force sent him tumbling across the hard ground. He blacked out the instant he stopped rolling.
Chapter Two
Date: 2092
Location: Earth. Texas. Somewhere between nowhere and everywhere else.
Each dip and bump jarred Bethany’s spine and rattled the ancient Ford 4x4 pickup truck as she sped down the twisting caliche road. The relic creaked and groaned as if it protested the mad pace. She kept the pedal jammed to the floorboard, and took the sharp turns and twists as they came while the tires kicked up a thick dust cloud in her wake.
She knew all the roads that ran through the drought-stricken ranch like the back of her hand. The property was left to her and her older brother, Drew, after their parents had died in a car crash ten years earlier. There was also an embarrassingly large mansion in an elite neighborhood in Houston they both owned. Well, up until a few months ago they’d shared the house.
Drew, now thirty-five, had found the right girl at last. By some miracle, the sparkling socialite agreed to marry him. Bethany no longer felt comfortable living in the family home after that. Oh, she liked Cassandra well enough, but three was definitely a crowd. She and Drew decided to divide their inheritance. He took the mansion. She got the high-fenced, three-thousand-acre hunting ranch in Butt-Fuck-Nowhere, South Texas.
The only thing Drew kept was half the mineral rights. She couldn’t blame him. T
he income from gas production alone was substantial these days. It meant neither one of them had to work an eight-to-five job. He pursued his dream of working as a freelance photographer while Bethany took over one of her father’s businesses, a rental property management company.
Advanced Property Rentals was a part-time job at best. One of her best friends worked for the company. Shelly was great, perfect for the job. She’d even taken college courses at night for several years, and had graduated with a business degree. Bethany knew the company was in good hands, and it made her decision to move to the ranch all the more easier.
A small whitetail deer jumped out of the underbrush and darted in front of her. Bethany slammed on the brakes.
“Damn doe!”
It scampered away, oblivious to how close it’d come to being roadkill. The last thing she wanted to do at that moment was scrape a deer off the hood of her truck. She had her sights on larger game.
Minutes before sunset, she’d watched a ball of fire streak across the sky. The sight had been stunning, especially when seen from her back porch where the view was wide open. She’d thought it was a plane or a helicopter of some kind when it’d first appeared. However, the object had slowed just before it’d plummeted to the ground beyond an outcropping of brush and mesquite trees near the back fence line of her property.
Without hesitation, she’d grabbed her keys, sat phone, a bottle of water, a flashlight and the twelve-gauge shotgun she kept loaded near the front door of the ranch house. The keys were for the truck. The water, phone and flashlight were for her in case the truck broke down. The shotgun was for…well, anything that got in her way.
