Alien Captive

by Lee Savino

  Alien Captive

  A sci fi warrior romance

  Lee Savino

  Golden Angel

  Copyright © 2018 by Lee Savino and Golden Angel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Disclaimer:

  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

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  About Lee Savino

  Excerpt: Sold to the Berserkers

  Sold to the Berserkers

  Also by Lee Savino

  About Golden Angel

  Excerpt: Mated on Hades

  Mated on Hades

  Also by Golden Angel

  Disclaimer:

  The authors are not responsible for any actual alien abductions that may result as a consequence of your purchase of this book.

  1

  Dawn

  It was a dark and stormy night.

  I know, such a cliché, but it is. Dark and rainy with rumbles of thunder in the distance like the sky is growling. I curl up under an old quilt my grandma made and hope the weather quiets soon so I can sleep. The power went out earlier, so the only light is from my e-reader propped up on my knees.

  I swipe and read the next page in my current book obsession: Tsenturion Tales: The Captive Bride.

  The Tribute takes her first step out of the Jabolian capsule onto the Tsenturion deck.

  Lines of soldiers in full battle dress line her route to the bridge. They stand at attention to honor their High Commander as he accepts the human female as his Tribute and bride.

  As the Tribute approaches the great High Commander, the Bride Trainer around her waist comes to life. Activated in the presence of her new master, the Trainer ensures she bonds to him right away. A low vibration begins between her legs, stimulating her sex. The Trainer continues to brew her pleasure as she comes onto the bridge and kneels to greet the High Commander. It will stimulate her as long as her master desires. Only he holds the key.

  The wind howls in the eaves as I reach “The End.” Damn. I was hoping these books would get me through the night.

  Thunder crashes overhead, and I shudder, taking deep, even breaths, the way I instruct my students to do when I’m teaching one of my yoga classes. My e-reader is still at half power, and though I just finished the Tsenturion Trilogy, I already want to read them again. I press my thighs together against the ache the last book created, my mind drifting back to some of my favorite scenes. What can I say? These books are so hot.

  There are three books in this story, all of them about a human woman who gets sucked through a portal to an alien galaxy, where she’s married off to a “Tsenturion Master,” a huge muscular warrior who sees to her every—ahem—sexual need. The Tsenturions are a space-faring race without a home, without a planet, and without enough females, so women are taken from other planets and given to them as mates. The story’s kinda kinky and a little unclear on some things—like who fetches the women to be the Tsenturion’s mates and who the Tsenturion’s are fighting. It’s pretty much focused on the mating aspect, which is how I ended up getting sucked into the story. Women are so scarce, they’re treated with extra care, but also trained to be responsive to their Master’s needs. It’s pretty awesome. Most of the training comes through rewards of multiple orgasms.

  A flood of light blinds me as my e-reader begins to glow…

  Dammit. I shake the device. It better not break. It’s the only thing that will get me through this bad weather.

  I hate storms. I never met my dad; he was killed in a tornado before I was born. My mom died in a storm when I was four—she ran off the wet road in bad weather. My grandma raised me, until she passed from brain cancer last year—again, during a bad storm.

  Storms are bad luck.

  Another rumble of thunder shakes the house like deep, evil laughter. The storm is getting louder and the wind picks up, the rain battering my windows with a loud clatter. I snuggle deeper into my blankets, ignoring the tightness in my chest. Ignoring the little voice inside my head which always gets louder during storms, insisting something terrible is going to happen. I’m safe in my bed. Nothing can happen to me. The worst thing that can happen is my e-reader breaking. Right?

  I shake my device, willing it to turn back on. The glow from the stupid thing is growing brighter, the color changing somehow, as if the screen is a crystal reflecting back a hundred million rainbows into my eyes. I can’t figure out what’s wrong with it, but I can’t look away.

  The storm grows louder, the thunder roaring in my ears, and the glow from my e-reader has turned into a ball of light in my hands. There’s a tugging sensation on my body, as if I’m in a wind tunnel and the wind is so roughly fast that it’s tearing the skin from my body.

  I open my mouth to scream, but there’s no air.

  Rings of light and color burst ahead of me, darkness is all around. I start to panic, but I don’t have much time because the pain is excruciating, as if I’m being crushed, flayed, and pulled in twenty different directions all at the same time. Then… nothing.

  I don’t hurt.

  Thank God. Not only do I not hurt anymore, but gone is the patter of rain, the howl of the wind, or the loud rumbles of thunder. It’s almost blissfully silent. Although… there is a strange hum. Very quiet, very subtle.

  Frowning, I open my eyes.

  My heart stops.

  This is not my bed.

  “Greetings, Dawn Cahill.”

  A face looms over mine, but, like the bed and the salutation, it’s wrong. Eyes, nose, mouth, they look almost right, the way CGI looks almost human but there’s something wrong enough that the more human a CGI creation looks, the more wrong it feels because it’s not quite right. The skin doesn’t help either; it’s flesh colored but almost translucent looking, shiny in a way no human would ever be.

  I scream, trying to jerk back against the bed that’s not mine, and the being—whatever it is—flinches, losing its shape so the face and head melts away, the body turning into a large, amorphous blob. The only thing that doesn’t change is the color. I scream louder, not only because watching a humanoid-looking thing turn into a non-human thing is freaking terrifying, but because when I try to scuttle away I find I’m secured to the bed around my waist. I’m also completely naked and completely panicking.

  “Dawn Cahill! Dawn Cahill! Stop! Calm down!” It’s the same voice, although I can’t tell how the creature is speaking without a mouth, but I’m freaking out way too much to listen to it.

  Calm down? Seriously?

  I’m naked, tied to a bed that’s not mine, and there’s a thing speaking to me. If there was ever a time to panic, it’s now.

  The thing makes a sound like it’s irritated and the next thing I know there’s a puff of some kind of smelly air in my face and—

  Blackness.

  “Second attempt at communication with the Hu-man.” The voice says ‘human’ in a weird way, like it’s never said ‘human’ before. “Dawn Cahill?”

  “Mmm?�
�� I feel calm. Rested. Maybe a little loopy. I open my eyes. There’s… well it’s not a human looking down at me even if it vaguely looks like one. I remember that now, but the memory and my panic seem very far away. “What are you?”

  The thing’s expression doesn’t change. The facial features might be vaguely human, but they apparently only have one setting. Kinda constipated looking, actually.

  “I am Frllil, a Jabols Luminary.”

  I blink. “I know you spoke words, but none of them made sense.”

  The thing makes a weird trilling noise. “I believe the closest thing to my profession in your vocabulary would be a scientist.”

  “And you’re an alien?”

  “I believe that is the correct terminology you would assign me.”

  “Holy crap. Um… why aren’t I freaking out more?” Because I should be and logically I knew that, but I couldn’t quite work up the energy. I was definitely becoming a little agitated, but nothing like how I’d been before.

  “After your poor reaction to me earlier, I concluded we would be able to communicate more effectively if you were given a sedative.” The complete lack of expression and intonation in the thing’s voice was starting to creep me out. Well, sort of. As creeped out as I could be while whatever he’d given me was influencing my reactions. Whatever the sedative was, it was powerful.

  “Oh.” I did have to admit, in a lot of ways this was much preferable to my earlier freak out. Information was good, panic was bad.

  Okay Dawn, you’ve been hijacked by an alien—that can melt into a blob, I wasn’t questioning that at all—and he’s a scientist and he has you tied down to a bed in what is, presumably, his spaceship. He’s also made it so you can’t panic. That’s good, right? Because if I was panicking, I wouldn’t be able to figure out how to escape, but since I’m calm I should definitely be able to. So really, he’s already started working against himself and for me… right?

  “Congratulations, Dawn Cahill, your interest in and completion of the Tsenturion trilogy made you eligible to be a Tsenturion Tribute. You have been chosen from your people as the first Tribute in the Tsenturion’s mating program.”

  I blink. “Um… what? You stopped making sense again.”

  Or, to put it another way, he was making too much sense, but my brain didn’t want to believe what he was saying. Because I’m pretty sure that sentence was directly from the incredibly exciting, sexy, and terrifying in reality books I’d just finished reading on my e-reader right before it had started glowing, and then I’d started to hurt, and then I’d passed out and woken up here…

  “Dawn Cahill, you will calm down,” Frllil said. He wasn’t commanding though, he sounded almost nervous and whiny.

  “I’m not mating with you!” I squeaked, trying to shrink away from him and only then remembering that I was secured to the bed. My heart was starting to beat faster again. My fear felt strangely distant, but it was rising. The thought of mating with freaky Frllil was overriding my artificial calm.

  “I am a Jabols,” Frllil reminds me impatiently. “Jabols do not have mates. Our procreation is much more sensible and less messy and requires no outside partner. You will be the mate of a Tsenturion, High Commander Gavrill.”

  Okay, I’m not mating freaky Frllil, I’m mating a Tsenturion warrior. An alien species I’d thought was entirely fictional. An alien species which, according to the trilogy I’d read, was made up of huge hulking warrior mercenaries with metallic golden skin, huge cocks, and a penchant for spanking their mates.

  “Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. Whatever trippy drug ride this is, I want off! Do you hear me?! I want off! I’m not doing this! This is fucked up! I don’t care what you spray me—”

  The gas gets me right in the face again.

  I blink. Yawn. Try to figure out why the lights are so bright.

  Oh right. Captured. Alien spaceship.

  This is the third time I’ve woken up on it.

  Any hope that I’m on some loopy drug trip or that this is all a terrible dream is fading away. I wait for the rise of inevitable hopelessness, but all I feel is numb.

  “Dawn Cahill, you will be calm.”

  Is it my imagination or is Frllil starting to sound really petulant?

  “Yeah, yeah,” I yawn. Not super interested in being knocked out again. “I’m calm. Look, I know I read the books and—okay they were pretty hot—but I’m not really interested in being an alien bride. I have a life on Earth, you know. I have…” My voice trails off. I was about to say people who care about me but that’s not as true as I would like to be. I definitely used to have people who cared about me. Now… well, my yoga students would be upset when I didn’t show up to teach the classes. Maybe.

  “I have personally examined your life-profile, Dawn Cahill,” said Frllil. Either I’m projecting or I’m getting better at interpreting his emotions, but to me he sounds kind of smug now. “You are what your race defines as a ‘loner.’ You have no strong emotional attachments or connections. You have no family, your friendships are shallow, and no one in your life will notice that you have gone missing. The only attachment you currently display is to the residence you inhabited. There is no reason you could not easily begin a life elsewhere with little adversity.”

  Wow.

  “Brutal, Frllil,” I mutter under my breath.

  “I do not understand this comment.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say dryly, a little louder. Even heavily sedated and mostly numb, it’s still not exactly easy to hear how lonely and sad my life sounds. My deepest attachment is to my house? Yeah… that’s probably true. But it was my gran’s house. That’s a real connection. Still... His summation of my friendships is pretty on point, sadly. Lots of acquaintances, no true friends. My truest friend in years had been my e-book reader.

  And now it has betrayed me.

  With friends like that, who needs enemies?

  “Okay, so what now?” I ask tiredly, trying to prod my tired brain into remembering exactly what came next in the Tsenturion books. Something to do with an examination and changing…

  Horror slides through me. Distant horror. Like my emotions are on the other side of the glass wall. But I know I should be horrified.

  “What have you done to me?” I whisper, looking down my body. It didn’t look any different. But would I know? “In the book, the women, they went through… changes.”

  “Yes,” Frllil said. “I have implanted a translator and made other improvements. Your cellular regeneration rate has been increased considerably, resulting in an extended lifespan equivalent to that of a Tsenturion warrior.”

  “What does that mean?” I can’t help but feel a little dizzy. Should I be excited? Horrified? Longer life, that’s desirable… but the circumstances and quality of life are important to exactly how desirable. “How much longer?”

  Frllil sighs. “You will remain calm.”

  “If you don’t tell me how much longer I’m going to live, I can’t make any promises,” I snap, though I don’t want to get zapped again.

  “Approximately eleven hundred earth years.” Frllil eyes me as I grab the edges of the bed I’m lying on, my chest tight with shock. Horror definitely seems to be winning out. Approximately eleven hundred years as an alien’s mate, his Tribute. And I still don’t know what that means, except the descriptions from the book which I’m now hoping were greatly exaggerated. “Breathe, Dawn Cahill.”

  Frllil makes a trilling sound again and moves closer. I look down and realize he’s on some sort of platform that holds his blob-like body off the floor. A floating platform. An alien modifying my body. If I wasn’t sedated, I’d be out of my mind with panic.

  I let my head fall back and suck in lungfuls of air. Frllil hovers close. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the amorphous blob looks vaguely displeased.

  “According to my records, breathing is an innate function your body performs automatically. I should not have to instruct you.”

 
; “Oh, so you’re the expert?”

  Another trilling sound, this one pleased. “I am. I based my studies on the Tsenturion form and finding a compatible race to supply females. I received a commendation. My superiors put me in charge of the Tribute program.”

  “Okay, Frllil,” I try his name out, mimicking the rolling trill that the alien makes. “I’m new to all this. This Tribute thing—walk me through it.”

  “But you know of the Tribute mating program. You accepted our communication and have read the manual.”

  “Manual?” Light dawns. “The e-reader and the books, you mean? You sent it?”

  “Yes. After basic monitoring, you were selected for further study.”

  I remember the day the e-reader showed up in my mailbox. I was so pleased, I didn’t stop to wonder where it came from. I figured I’d won a contest I’d forgotten I’d entered.

  “It was calibrated to unlock only for you. Then it monitored your responses.”

  “My responses… to the stories?” I blush so hard I’m afraid my face will catch fire. The Tsenturion stories were so hot; by page three I was reading them one-handed. “The stories about the Tsenturions—that’s the manual?”

  “Yes. The manual served dual purpose: to test you and start your training as Tribute. You’ll be pleased to know you are the first to pass the test, Dawn Cahill. Your eagerness to study the manual, and responses to it made clear you were perfect for the mating program.”