by Bertina Mars
Caught By The Alien
Heavenly Claimed Book 3
Bertina Mars
Copyright 2016 by Bertina Mars
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced
in any way whatsoever, without written permission
from the author, except in case of brief
quotations embodied in critical reviews
and articles.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any
character, person, living or dead, events, place or
organizations is purely coincidental. The author does not
have any control over and does not assume any responsibility
for third party websites or their content.
First edition, 2016
Description:
Kidnapped from Earth by ruthless alien slave traders, beautiful and curvy Maya faces a grim future. Brought to the tropical world of Raja-kell, she ends up at the mercy of the planet’s brutal military elite and their sadistic leader. Alone and scared, she is determined to escape her captors and somehow get back to Earth.
Forced into taking part in a slave auction, she attracts the attention of the brooding high ranking warrior Vron. A noble and principled officer jaded by life on Raja-kell, the moody, sexy alien becomes completely smitten by Maya and buys her for himself. Maya is equally attracted to the alpha male, though she tries to fight against temptation she sees in Vron a sense of decency and honour that is hard to resist.
As they try and sort their feelings out for each other, the sexual tension reaches fever pitch, and when Maya’s life is threatened, Vron is determined to protect her. Taking her into the deep jungle, he swears to find a way to get Maya back to Earth, whatever the cost.
Fugitives from Raja-kell’s bloodthirsty regime, Maya and Vron can no longer resist their sizzling desire for each other and let their passions get the better of them. Little do they know that their love is going to change their lives forever and also shape the future of Raja-kell.
Chapter 1: Kidnapped
“Move along!” growled the slave trader, drool dripping off his tusks. “Stop dragging your feet! We’re on a tight schedule!”
To emphasize the urgency, he shoved the girl behind Maya, almost knocking her off her feet. Fortunately, Maya turned round and caught the girl before she fell.
“It’s okay, honey,” she said in a soothing voice. “Hold my hand and lean on me if you have to.”
The girl, whose name was Tia, gave her a grateful smile and clutched Maya’s hand. The fear in her large, tear filled eyes reflected Maya’s own dread, and Maya wanted to break down and cry right there and then. She didn’t though. She knew she had to stay strong if she was to ever get through this ordeal and make her escape.
The alien slave trader bore down on the two women and raised his whip threateningly. “I said get moving!” he snorted. “And no talking!”
Maya shot him a fiery glare. “We’d move along a lot faster if we didn’t have to wear these ridiculously high heels,” she retorted sharply, pointing to the exaggeratedly designed shoes on her bare feet. “Walking on these death traps is like trying to balance on stilts.”
The trader gave her an ugly smile. His slimy tusks and wide snout marked him out as being a Yojaridan, a particularly unpleasant and foul smelling race from the Alasis Constellation. Her dad had done a tour of duty in their territory during the Frontier Wars, and he had told her that the Yojaridans he had encountered had been mostly weapons smugglers and black marketeers.
They worked for whoever paid the highest and bought and sold anything or anyone. It looked like the ones who had captured her were no better than the ones her dad had come across.
“You better get used to looking glamorous,” the Yojaridan said leeringly. He ran a greasy finger along the flimsy, gauze outfit they had made her put on. “The Prince Consort likes his pleasure slaves to look and smell their best.”
“Please,” Tia piped up, her frail voice breaking. “I just want to go home. My boyfriend will be going out of his mind wondering where I am.”
The slave trader barked a laugh. “This is your home now, stupid bitch. Welcome to the planet of Raja-kell. Count yourself lucky. You’re being auctioned at the Royal Court; so make sure you show off your best assets. If you don’t get bought by anyone, the Prince Consort will have you sacrificed to the Blood God.”
The other Yojaridans, who were herding the group of dejected women along the metal corridor, laughed heartily at this assessment of their prisoners’ situation. Tia let out a sob and Maya put a comforting arm around her and guiding her forward they rejoined the other women before the slavers started to get mad.
“Don’t worry, honey,” she said, giving the other girl’s shoulder a tight squeeze. “We’re going to get out of this.”
“I want to go home,” Tia moaned, dissolving into tears. “I want to see Matt!”
Maya’s heart broke, and though she was desperate to provide some kind of comfort for the poor girl, her own fears were ripping up her nerves too. Raja-kell!
She was vaguely aware of the name. It was an isolationist, barbaric world by all accounts, and more significantly it was several billion light years away from Earth. It seemed utterly beyond comprehension that she’d ended up here in this terrible mess.
As she trudged along with the other captured women, her tired mind replayed the events that had brought her to this point. It had all started with an obscure ad on the holo-net. Some kind of clinic was seeking healthy, fertile women for a research programme they were conducting.
In normal circumstances, Maya would have ignored the proposition, but the clinic was offering a substantial amount of money to those participants that were chosen. In fact, there was enough money on offer to pay off all of Maya’s debts and allow her to move out of the crummy housing pod she was in and because the opportunity had come just when she needed it most, she couldn’t resist contacting them despite her reservations.
The clinic was only a twenty-minute hypercar ride, and she could always back out if she didn’t like the feel of things. So, what did she really have to lose?
“You’re exactly what we’re looking for,” the smiling doctor at the clinic had said after she’d gone through the pre-screening tests. “Yes, I think you’re going to do very well.”
The nurse had taken her into a pristine white room and told her to lie down on the bed that was made ready for her. The nurse had then given Maya a vitamin shot, or so she claimed, and that was all Maya remembered.
The next thing Maya knew, she was in the hold of a Yojaridan space cruiser with fifteen other frightened and confused Earth women. One of her fellow prisoners had overheard two of the crew talking and had found out they had been captured by slave traders and were en-route to some kind of auction.
Just as the craft was about to land, the traders had herded the women into a shower room and had forced them to strip and wash themselves before making them dress in the flimsy and incredibly short lemon yellow dresses they provided. After that humiliation, the ship had touched down in some kind of landing hangar and marched down a corridor to meet their fate.
Now as they reached the end of the passageway, a large door opened and they came into a brightly lit chamber of red stone trimmed with gold. Judging by the rows of tables and chairs in front of well-lit mirrors, the chamber served as some kind of theatrical dressing room.
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Pacing the floor was an elderly humanoid looking woman with silver eyes and a lean, cruel face. She was dressed in a high collared robe of dark red, and her long, gnarled fingers were barely visible beneath the gaudy, oversized rings that she wore.
“At last!” she snapped in a sharp, angry voice. “You were expected at least three hours ago! I am not impressed by this tardiness, captain. It will be reflected in your fee.”
“It wasn’t our fault, House Matron!” the Yojaridan who had been bullying Maya and Tia spoke up. “You don’t know how difficult the run from Earth is these days. We had to avoid several patrol fleets and their security satellites to get here.”
“Enough excuses,” the House Matron retorted. “I don’t have time for this. At least they are here now.” She clapped her hands, and several younger and much prettier silver-eyed girls filled into the room from another entrance.
They were dressed in the same revealing outfits as Maya and the Earth women, and moved listlessly, bored expressions on their bland, pretty faces.
“Hurry girls!” snapped the House Matron. “This new batch needs to look presentable for the Prince Consort. Hurry, I say!”
Before Maya knew what was happening, one of the girls took her by the arm and sat her down at one of the tables. With nimble fingers and practiced ease, the girl started combing through Maya’s long auburn hair, putting it up into an exquisite looking bun.
“Hey, are you a Raja-kellan?” Maya asked the bored looking girl. “Look, can you help me and the others? We shouldn’t be here.”
The girl ignored her, more interested in fixing Maya’s hair. Maya thinned her lips in frustration and scanned the room. While the slaver captain and the House Matron bickered about money, the rest of the Yojaridans had taken up positions around the room, armed with their whips and laser rifles.
There was no point trying to make a run for it, Maya thought gloomily. There was no visible exit and those thugs would cut her down in a heartbeat. It was best to bide her time, that’s what her dad would say. Wait for the right opportunity and follow your instincts.
The slave girl had finished doing up her hair and now started applying some pretty gaudy looking make-up to Maya’s face. Maya suffered the attention and looked at her reflection in the mirror.
Though she had never been confident about her looks, she had an attractive rounded face, with sparkling blue eyes, sharp and piercing, a small dainty nose and Classic style lips.
Dad said she looked like a little cherub when she was a child and that had been her nickname for her growing up. She’d loved being called that when she was younger, but once she hit her teens she hated it. Now that dad was dead she’d give anything to hear him call her his cherub again.
A deep, emotional pain welled up inside her and tears threatened to spring in her eyes.
Not now! She told herself sternly, I have to keep it together. That’s what dad would expect.
Thinking of him strengthened her resolve and she steeled her heart. Whatever happened now, she was determined to be ready for it and she would do everything in her power to get her and the other women back to Earth whatever the cost.
Chapter 2: The Brooding Defender
“And this, my most glorious Prince Consort, is the cloak for the outfit. It has been weaved from the finest silk of the spider-bats of the Inner Basin. Its golden texture shimmers so majestically in the light, sire. You will be the envy of the Blood God Himself,” the tailor gushed as he fixed the cloak to the garish, brightly coloured outfit that he had created for the Prince Consort.
Preening himself in the full length mirror, Ghamak Yu Shaj, Prince Consort and absolute monarch of Raja-kell pawed at the cloak with gleeful avarice. “Yes,” he cooed, “I look positively fantastic! Don’t you agree, Vron?”
Standing near the doorway of the chamber, his mind soporific with tedium, Vron looked up sharply. His tanned, handsome face creased with a severe frown as he took in the clownish outfit the Prince Consort was wearing.
“It is . . . interesting,” he said in a neutral voice.
The Prince Consort let out a shrill laugh, startling the bare breasted servant girl who was pouring him a goblet of wine. She was new to the harem and not yet used to the master’s strange little ways. She jumped at the sudden braying noise and knocked the goblet onto the cyber-jaguar rug that adorned the red marble floor.
“Clumsy sow!” the Prince Consort yelled. “Look at the mess you have made to my beautiful rug!” Without hesitation, he advanced on the petrified girl and smacked her hard across the face, making her stagger.
The sculpted muscles of Vron’s honed body tightened, and his first instinct was to rush to the helpless girl’s aid. He knew that would only make things worse, so he stayed where he was.
Fortunately, the Prince Consort was so puny, he didn’t do the girl any serious harm. Nevertheless, the poor wretch cowered in terror.
“Useless bitch! I’ll have you sacrificed to the Blood God!” the Prince Consort threatened, his pockmarked dark with rage.
“She would make a poor offering, sire,” Vron spoke up, keeping his tone casual. “Besides, you will soon have plenty of earthlings to add to the harem who will be far more graceful that this dull wench. Show your divine mercy by having her reassigned to the kitchens. She will never offend your sight again, I swear.”
The Prince Consort glared at the girl and then gave Vron an unreadable look. A few moments later, a wide, yellow-toothed grin split his face.
“My loyal Chief of Security,” the Prince Consort purred. “My most trusted adviser and dearest friend. Where would I be without you by my side?”
Disembowelled and with your head on a stake, Vron thought viciously, and you’d deserve it too. Rancid pig!
Vron kept his face impassive and gave his master a stiff bow. “I am merely a humble servant of his glorious majesty,” he said flatly. “Your illustrious example guides my every move.”
The Prince Consort nodded, clearly pleased with this response. Ignoring the cowering earthling, he went back to admiring himself in the mirror. The human looked anxiously at Vron, who simply nodded and gestured her to leave the chamber.
She didn’t need any more encouragement and hurried out, giving him a grateful smile. Her sultry gaze suggested exactly how she was willing to prove her gratitude. Vron pointedly looked away, fighting temptation.
His wolfish good looks and high status meant he could have his pick of the women, but though he occasional took a couple to his bed when his desire became too powerful to resist, sleeping with another woman felt too much like a betrayal to the memory of his beloved Seema.
Now that the drama with the serving girl was over, the tailor continued with his obsequious patter. “The cloak truly compliments the outfit sire. If I may, I will just straighten the jade pendant and you will look truly glorious.”
As the tailor advanced, Vron spotted the dagger he had concealed in the sleeve of his robe a heartbeat before he pulled it free. With cat-like speed, Vron crossed the chamber before the tailor could drive the dagger into the Prince Consort’s chest. Vron tackled the man to the ground and grabbed at the hand containing the dagger.
The tailor thrashed viciously, fury burning in his silver eyes. “Death to the tyrant!” he screamed as he tried to push Vron off him.
Vron easily overpowered him, and squeezing the man’s wrist tightly he forced him to release the dagger. Grabbing the tailor by the scruff of his robe, he pulled him to his feet and held the man’s arms against his side.
“Stop struggling!” Vron warned him in an iron hard voice. “It is too late for that now. You can’t escape.”
“I already have,” the tailor sneered. “You haven’t saved him! Another will take my place!”
With that shrill threat, the tailor managed to get one hand free and shoved something into his mouth. His eyes bulged and he convulsed before falling dead in Vron’s arms.
“Skullsnake venom,” Vron pronounced grimly, smelling the sickly scen
t coming from the dead man’s slack mouth. “He died instantly.”
Vron muttered a brief prayer of passing for the tailor and set him down on the floor. When he looked back to check on the Prince Consort, he found his master looking back into the mirror and adjusting the pendant himself.
“There,” he said with a satisfied smile. “I look superb.”
“Sire, there may be other assassins in the palace. We must get you to your quarters and under guard until a thorough search can be conducted.”
The Prince Consort waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t be tedious. I have more important things to do with my time than go hiding under my bed.”
Vron scowled and examined the corpse. “This tattoo on his forearm marks him as belonging to the Koro tribe of the eastern marches. That explains everything.”
“What do you mean? It explains nothing.”
“If your Highness recalls you recently sacrificed all the children of the Koro tribe at last season’s river festival,” Vron replied, struggling to hide his caustic tone. He looked down at the tailor with a large degree of sympathy.
Like many people on Raja-kell, he was no doubt a decent person driven to extreme measures by the bloodthirsty whims of the Prince Consort. “This explains the man’s hatred for you. If you had allowed me to thoroughly vet visitors to your presence beforehand, this could have been avoided.”
The Prince Consort let out a braying laugh. “You fret and fuss like a sagging titted nursemaid. I am the chosen elect of the Blood God. I can never be killed! These filthy peasants will learn the error of their ways. Have the army exterminate the entire Koro tribe as a warning to others.”
Vron’s jaw dropped, and he was about to try and formulate a counter argument to such extreme action, when the House Matron entered bowing lowly. She gave the body on the floor only the briefest of glances before fixing her attention on the Prince Consort. Violence and death were an everyday occurrence in the palace.
