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Atlantic Bridge
www.atlanticbridge.net
Copyright ©2008 by Loribelle Hunt
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
About the Author
Published by Liquid Silver Books, Imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana. Copyright 2008, Loribelle Hunt. 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 written permission of the authors.
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.
Chapter One
Sergeant Major Laney Bradford stood on a ledge cut into the cliff side, watching over the battlefield through binoculars. The valley spread out before her, dust swirling around troops and sending plumes into the air. Hazy heat shimmers obstructed her field of vision. At least from this lofty position the smells of battle didn’t assault her nostrils—the too old latrines and lingering blood from the night before. The cordite from discharged weapons drifting on the breezy updraft provided a harsh enough reminder of the carnage.
Things weren’t going well. She snorted. That was a laughable understatement. The Alliance army, her army, had called for a temporary cease-fire and the enemy, in an odd show of largess, had granted a small reprieve. Laney clenched her jaw and resisted the urge to stomp her feet in frustration. Acting like a petulant child had never been her style and it wouldn’t get her far anyway.
The Alliance had managed to hold back the invaders from the mainland for a year, sacrificing outlying territories here and there, but it was a wasted effort. The Delroi were winning. They knew it. The Alliance knew it. Hell, everyone knew it.
She studied the enemy’s array on the valley floor below. The Alliance’s superior numbers were insignificant in the face of the Delroi’s superior technology. Laney’s spies stole it when they could but there was no way to put anything into production in time to save the Alliance.
A truck lumbered to the front of the enemy’s lines and she watched with apprehensive interest, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. This is new. New couldn’t be good. She heard the agitated murmurs of the others around her and knew they’d reached the same conclusion. The vehicle’s driver and team exited. They looked human—any one of them could have passed for one of her soldiers, except the Delroi tended to be a few inches taller than average and most of them didn’t keep their hair cut to the short military precision demanded of the Alliance’s male soldiers. They set to work quickly removing the vehicle’s sides. They removed a tarp from the top to reveal its contents. Laney felt more than heard the collective gasp of the soldiers around her. Lowering the glasses, she reached for her radio and turned to the man beside her.
While she admired the enemy’s ingenuity and wished she could counteract it, dismay was uppermost in her mind. She couldn’t even find it in herself to be angry. She’d fought too long and too hard to create the Alliance to see it destroyed by their own damned weapon. Damned being the operative word. Fear added an unfamiliar tremble to her voice.
“General, that’s one of ours. We should order a retreat and clear as much of the surrounding area as we can,” she said.
He nodded. “They’ll want to discuss terms for surrender, not retreat.”
She shrugged, hiding her unease behind her usual cool and professional facade. The wishes of the Delroi were not her immediate concern. She keyed the mike and sent the order to move out down the chain of command.
The alien enemy had uncovered an experimental bomb. Called the Doomsayer, it gave new vision to the ancient Roman practice of salting the earth. If detonated, it would poison the land for a hundred square miles, killing everything in its path. A truly horrifying weapon and one that never should have been created. She’d protested its creation, had been overruled. She would do whatever was necessary to dismantle it now including agreeing to a surrender and forcing her superiors, the generals behind her, to accept it.
Laney trained the field glasses on the enemy command center on the opposite cliff. While she watched, commotion erupted in their ranks after someone pointed out the Alliance’s preparation for retreat. A newly arrived general lifted his field glasses, studied the valley floor, and then turned them on her.
Laney bit back a gasp. She had seen this one before, and he was quite the specimen. He made her heart pound wildly, had since the first time she’d spotted him. Tall, at least six-foot-four with a broad chest she was certain was chiseled under his tight tunic, he had long golden hair and a hard jaw. A shiver worked down her spine and she shifted under the weight of his gaze across the distance.
Snap out of it, Laney. He’s the enemy. He was also gorgeous. What could lusting from afar hurt? Her radio crackled to life and interrupted her thoughts. Handing it to the general standing beside her, she continued watching the Delroi general. She’d never met his gaze before, if this could count, and was loath to break it. She wished she could tell what color his eyes were, if they were as intense close up as his regard was at this distance. Like a childish game of chicken, she refused to look away first, somehow knew he felt the same way. Did kids play chicken on his world? She shook her head and focused on the match at hand.
“Sergeant Major,” a low voice called behind her. She slowly lowered the binoculars, unwilling to break contact first, and turned.
“Yes?” She sized up the circle of generals, noting her old friend, General Bob Darren, at the center.
“They sent a message and a radio frequency. He said he’ll only speak with you. You’re on,” Bob said, his face solemn.
She reached for the radio he held out and turned back to face the enemy command center, glasses zeroing in on the blond. He’s still watching. As she stared, he lifted a corresponding radio to his lips. They were full, firm. Totally kissable. She scowled. Where the hell had that thought come from? She hadn’t combined male and kiss in her thoughts in longer than she could remember, not even the last time she’d seen him. She lifted the radio, which now had the proper frequency, forcing herself to focus on the situation at hand, and a gravelly voice came over it. His voice.
“Are you ready to discuss terms?”
Laney took a deep breath, fighting her body’s reaction to his voice, reminding herself sharply that she had an audience who would wonder at her uneven breathing, at the flush she felt on her cheeks and neck. “Yes. But first, we want to disperse these armies and secure that weapon.”
“It will take several days to clear this area.”
His tone was low and commanding. There was something indefinable in it, something that made her heart thump and her knees a little weak. His gaze intensified, focused solely on her, and she swore she felt his big hands stroking her, urging her to take him deep inside her. With a mental nudge, she shook it off just as Bob gave her a concerned l
ook.
“Yes,” she answered. Did she hear a tremble in her voice? God, she hoped not. “Days which will give us time to find a neutral location for talks and our leaders to join us.” She thought he would refuse, but after several minutes, he nodded.
“We will secure your weapon and make arrangements for talks on one of our ships in three days time.”
The generals around her murmured their reluctant assent. It may have been because they were less willing to argue with her if they refused than face the Prime Minister’s disapproval over surrender. She didn’t care. She wasn’t risking the lives of a hundred thousand soldiers for someone’s hubris. “Fine.”
She lowered the binoculars, handed the radio to one of the junior aides to make the arrangements, and escaped the area. The enemy general’s rough voice still seemed to skim over her skin, electrifying nerve endings that had held no life for years. She felt an unaccustomed wetness between her legs and hurried to her quarters. God, what was wrong with her? Of all the damned luck, her libido came back to life for one of them. The enemy.
Once inside the small space, she headed through the cramped living area and into the tiny shower enclosure. A small, vain privilege of rank perhaps, but she had never felt gladder of it. Hurriedly, she stripped her uniform and boots off, reaching in to turn on the spray. She let the hot water wash the grime from her body while her hands traveled its length. She was desperate for an orgasm, a longing she hadn’t felt in so long she couldn’t remember the last time.
She shook as she fought the compulsion to touch herself more intimately, tried to force his image, his voice from her mind. Desperately, she tried to recall the face of her last lover, of any lover, any man who turned her on like this, but all she saw was the blond Delroi. Her hands clenched as she struggled against the fire racing through her veins, the confusion fogging her brain. Why did she feel so drawn, so pulled to him? She’d seen him before and never had this extreme reaction. But she’d never seen his eyes before, never been the object of a stare so intense, a stare she swore she felt as strong fingers stroking her, teasing her. And that voice when he asked her about discussing terms, that voice had seemed to promise ecstasy in surrender. Her sex spasmed with need, with want at the thought and she gave up fighting against herself.
Eyes closed, she reached for her nipples, imagining the enemy general’s big hands pinching the distended flesh, providing just enough pain to make it pleasurable. She squeezed and flicked at the hard tips, her breath coming in gasps. One hand snuck between her legs. Her pussy creamed and she imagined him licking at it, eating her until she came, and then plunging his cock into her. She wanted him fast and hard and stroked her clit as the fantasy gained momentum. She came with a cry; thankful the pounding water muffled the sound, and sagged against the wall, spent.
Several minutes later, Laney reached for the soap and washed with brisk strokes. Her body burned with lingering pleasure and embarrassment. Fantasizing about the enemy had never been a problem for her before, and she had faced plenty of enemies in her thirty-five years. It was mortifying, this attraction, and oh so wrong. She sighed. With any luck at least, she would never have to face him again.
General Alrik Torfa couldn’t believe his good luck. When the aide brought news that Sergeant Major Laney Bradford, was in the Alliance war party, he had rushed up to the observation ledge. These battles were pointless. The Earth soldiers could not prevail. They had managed to drag things out this long because his people had an interest in not destroying this world.
The Sergeant Major was the reason for the humans’ success. Their most talented strategist, she obviously had the soldiers’ admiration. They never quit and never surrendered. The general in him admired such leadership, but the Delroi part of his psyche was horrified the Earth leaders risked their women in war. Women who represented the future of his people.
In a last ditch effort to bring things peaceably to an end, he had seized one of their most powerful weapons, a world destroyer, and drawn the battle to this almost empty desert. If it had to be used, his scientists assured him they could clean up the mess. Surely the Earth contingent, who didn’t fully understand its enemy’s capabilities, would surrender rather than test his determination.
But everything changed when he stepped on the observation platform and got his first glimpse of Laney Bradford. She would surrender. First her armies, and then her body. His blood stirred at the thought, imagining her writhing in ecstasy beneath him.
When she first spotted him from across the valley, Alrik felt her gaze like a punch in the gut. His people said he would know his der’lan, literally translated as mate of the heart, by the avalanche of awareness and lust that hit at first glance. It was a source of great amusement to his men that their word for mate bore such a close resemblance to the human word darlin’, a common term of endearment. Their amusement would turn quickly to satisfaction though when they realized how accurate the old tales were. He wasn’t really thinking about those things when he saw her, though. Instead he felt her response to him and hardened his resolve. He would have her complete surrender.
The communications officer got her on the radio and her voice had dribbled like honey across Alrik’s skin, smooth and warm. Panic edged her voice, unusual for someone so cool under fire, and she escaped from the ledge in haste.
Deciding his brother needed apprising about this newest development ASAP, he passed the chore of planning the surrender talks to a junior general. Halfway down the winding steps, he felt her again and ducked into an armory blasted into the mountain side. The vision in her mind was so vivid he was grateful for the privacy.
He stood with his back against the wall, breathing hard, while his mind joined her in pleasuring herself. Cock hard and throbbing, he knew it would be hours yet before he could seek his own release. He vowed to find a creative way to make her pay for his discomfort. He smiled at the thought, imaging her on her knees, mouth wrapped around his erection. Or maybe he would spank her. She so clearly deserved it for putting him through this unfulfilled torture. But first, he would bury himself so deeply in her she wouldn’t be able to say where she began and he ended; and then he would say the prayer needed to bind them together forever.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Two
He couldn’t believe this assignment. Barak Trace, Spy Master of the Delroi, reduced to babysitting. Un-fucking-believable as the soldiers said on this planet. At least it was almost over. Two of Alrik’s household guard would be taking over shortly.
An Earth general, bag slung over one shoulder, hurried down the dirt pathway and stopped to knock on the doorway across the temporary road. With a grunt, Barak edged back into the shadows of the buildings he stood between to watch.
When it opened, the enemy Sergeant Major stood on the threshold, her arms crossed over her chest and legs braced slightly apart. Barak had excellent vision, so even without field glasses he saw her face change. It went from expressionless to panic in a matter of seconds. She would be getting news of her changing status now.
Months ago he’d argued bitterly with Alrik and Daggar over the woman’s fate. What she’d done at Roses had to be responded to, all the innocent lives she’d taken had to be paid for. He’d infiltrated the Earth army months before the Delroi armada arrived, could have easily carried out the assassination, but had been denied. Repeatedly.
Daggar had agreed with him, though. He remembered the murderous look in his lord’s eyes, the fury etched on his face. It was Alrik who had refused. Alrik who had insisted the murder of a woman, any woman, was beneath them. He had swayed Daggar to his side, but Barak wasn’t sure how. He’d been dismissed for the remainder of the argument between the brothers. He’d been angry for months over that decision, but now only felt immense relief after learning of her importance to Alrik. Some instinct must have been at work when Alrik refused to allow the assassination, the most primitive instinct of their species that wouldn’t allow a man to kill his der’lan even if he hadn
’t met the woman yet. Somehow Alrik’s soul had known who she was. Barak wasn’t overly concerned with how that had worked, just was glad now that it had.
The enemy general left and the woman slammed the door shut behind him. Barak squeezed his eyes shut and offered a quick prayer to the Gods. Thank them all he hadn’t disobeyed orders and killed her anyway. He’d been damned tempted more than once, hadn’t seen the point in letting her live.
He glanced at his timepiece and watched her quarters. The woman needed to get a move on. He supposed he needed to stop thinking of her that way. She was Alrik’s der’lan after all, the new Lady Torfa. Unless Daggar took a mate, she would bear the next heir.
She finally left the building and he followed at a distance, frowning. Being the Commander’s mate would definitely provide her with some protection, but Barak wasn’t sure if that was enough. Many of the warriors disliked her in the extreme, if not flat out hated her. And there was another consideration he hadn’t let himself dwell on before. Could she be trusted? Would she meekly enter into this peace treaty and her role in it between their worlds?
He reached the prearranged area and nodded to Alrik’s guard, who would now take over Barak’s babysitting duties. The Sergeant Major continued towards the landing area while Barak watched her straight back walking into the distance.
Shaking his head, he forced himself to move and turned to leave. There was work to be done. She was now someone else’s problem.
“What?” Laney yelled, more exclamation than question. She was already running on pure caffeine. Organizing the Army’s withdrawal was taking more time than she’d first thought it would. Now she had to deal with this? Standing outside her door, General Black shrugged and shouldered his bag.
Invasion Earth Page 1
