Ransomed: A Sci-Fi Alien Warrior Romance (Tribute Brides of the Drexian Warriors Book 4)

by Tana Stone

  Not that waiting on the Boat was a hardship. The station had been designed for the sole purpose of enticing human women and making the process of being taken from Earth and paired with an alien mate more palatable. The Drexians and the other aliens who had designed the station had taken inspiration from Earth movies and TV, and had even nicknamed the station after the show The Love Boat.

  Trista laughed to herself as she walked, thinking of the dated television that had inspired the station. The influence of the 70s and 80s could be seen in everything from the decor to the fashion, not that it bothered her much. She reached an arched doorway and swiped her hand across a panel. When the doors swished open, she stepped onto the inclinator—like an elevator that could go sideways as well as up and down—and heard the 80s Muzak piped in overhead.

  She hummed along with “Take on Me” as the sleek, white compartment surged up, the uplighting giving the walls a lavender hue. Her suite was only one floor above, on the Greek Isles wing, and as she stepped out of the inclinator, she saw the familiar, whitewashed buildings clinging to the side of the hill that dropped into the sea.

  Of course, it wasn’t actually a Greek island, but the Drexians had such sophisticated holographic technology that it not only looked like one, it smelled and sounded like one. Trista breathed in the scent of saltwater, and heard the waves slapping the sides of the fishing boats in the harbor.

  Each tribute bride was placed in a holographic fantasy suite designed to look like an idyllic setting—from a South Pacific overwater bungalow, to a ski chalet, to a safari suite on the African savannah. Somehow, they’d known that this mix of bright-white houses topped with blue domes, and pink flowers spilling down the mountain, was her dream vacation—a place she’d never imagined she’d ever see when she was stuck back in a small town in the middle of nowhere.

  She walked up the wide, whitewashed stairs until she reached another arched doorway, and waved her hand across a flat panel.

  “Trista!” the voice from behind made her pause and cringe.

  She’d been so close. Turning, she smiled at the tall, willowy woman with light-gray skin, and a shock of blue hair that curled straight up from her head. “Reina, I thought you were still at the party.”

  “The wedding, you mean,” Reina said, giggling. “Can you believe those two managed to plan a surprise wedding that even Serge didn’t know about?”

  The doors to her suite glided open, and Trista looked longingly inside. “How is Serge? Did he recover from the shock?”

  Reina tapped a spindly finger on her chin. “It may take him a while to get over the disappointment of not getting to plan a splashy wedding. He is a wedding planner at heart. Luckily, he’s got your wedding to distract him.”

  Trista’s stomach did a series of flips at the thought of her wedding. The Drexian warrior she’d been matched with was a part of their elite Inferno Force, and had been delayed battling the enemy on the outskirts of space. “I’d have to have a groom to plan a wedding.”

  Reina hooked an arm through hers, and walked them both inside the suite. “Like that’s stopped Serge before.”

  Trista knew that was true. The pint-sized wedding planner—from an alien species called Gatazoid—was a force of nature when it came to planning. She’d seen how he’d pulled together weddings for the other tributes, sometimes in a matter of days.

  “Have you given any more thought to what you’d like for your wedding?” Reina asked as she crossed the living room, her heels clicking against the polished white floors, and opened the sliding-glass door that led onto a balcony.

  Trista sank onto one of the white, slipcovered sofas as her pulse quickened. The last thing she wanted to think about was a wedding, especially since she’d never laid eyes on the man she was supposed to marry. She knew she could opt not to be mated to him, but then she’d have to go live with the few humans who’d rejected their matches on the other side of the station. There was no returning to Earth once you’d been taken.

  Part of her thought that she could learn to like anyone, especially since all the Drexians seemed to be gorgeous and built. Another part of her knew that there were some things she could never live with again. Things she’d promised herself she’d never tolerate.

  “Trista?” Reina asked. “Your wedding?”

  “What? No, I haven’t really thought about it,” Trista told the Vexling, as she came back inside and took the chair across from her. “I wasn’t the type of girl who grew up daydreaming about a fancy wedding.”

  Reina cocked her head. “I thought all Earth females wanted huge weddings. Don’t you all want to ‘say yes to the dress?’”

  Trista thought about her ex-boyfriend, and how all she’d wanted was to get so far away from him he’d never be able to find her. Her heart raced, and her mouth went dry. Even though she knew now he could never get to her, the fear still clawed at her. She inhaled deeply to steady her breath and managed a smile. “Don’t believe everything you see on TV.”

  “You look a little green, hon,” Reina said. “Did you drink too much at the wedding?”

  Trista gave an abrupt shake of her head as she pushed bad memories from her mind and took a couple of deep breaths to help her heart rate return to normal. “I’m fine.”

  Reina stood and crossed to the wooden sideboard against one of the whitewashed cave walls, pouring a glass of water from the carafe. “If we’re going to take you dress shopping tomorrow, you need to be feeling your best.”

  “Dress shopping?” Trista took the glass and gratefully sipped the cool water.

  “Regardless of what type of wedding you have, you’ll need a dress. Even Katie with her surprise wedding had a dress.”

  Trista drained the glass and set it on the wooden coffee table. “Dresses don’t look good on me.”

  “What do you mean? If I understand Earth phrases correctly, you have an hourglass figure. You’d look lovely in just about any design.”

  Trista heard herself repeating phrases her ex-boyfriend had hammered into her psyche. “I’ve got thighs like tree trunks, and my boobs aren’t perky enough.”

  “Perky enough for what?” Reina eyed her. “Earth trees must be very small, if your legs are the size of their trunks.”

  “I’m not like the other girls,” Trista said, hearing her voice crack.

  “No,” Reina said. “Your hair is light, and your eyes are very blue. Is this not desirable on Earth? I thought some males liked yellow hair.”

  Trista shrugged. “Not my kind of blonde.” She waved a hand over her nose. “And I have freckles.”

  Reina squinted at her. “Those pale dots? Are those not desirable, either?”

  “They’re not exactly sexy. At least I’ve never been told they were.”

  Reina stood and joined her on the couch. “I think someone told you these things, and you chose to believe them.” She patted her hand. “You would not have been chosen as a tribute bride if you were not deemed desirable.”

  “That doesn’t mean my Drexian will like them,” Trista said, giving voice to her fear.

  “I think any Drexian would be pleased to be mated with you.” Reina squeezed her hand. “You worry too much. I’m sure once your Drexian warrior arrives, everything will be perfect. You’ll see.”

  Trista let out a long breath. Maybe Reina was right. She needed to stop worrying and leave her past behind her, once and for all. But that was easier said than done.

  A pounding on the door made both women turn. Reina hurried over and opened it, letting Serge practically fall into the room.

  The small alien wore a mango-orange suit with wide lapels and flared pants, and his matching platform boots gave him the extra inches needed to reach Reina’s waist. His purple hair was spiked and flushing pink from the roots as he waved his hands in the air.

  “This is a catastrophe,” he said, as he began pacing.

  “What’s happened?” Reina asked. “I thought you were at Katie’s wedding.”

  Serge paused. “
You mean the wedding they planned without me? That’s a topic for another day, let me tell you.” He waved his hands more and resumed pacing. “No, this is about Torven.”

  “Torven?” Trista repeated the word. “That sounds familiar.”

  “It should,” Serge said. “It’s the name of your fiancé.”

  Reina put a hand to her mouth. “Don’t tell me he was killed. I don’t know if I can handle another Drexian mate being killed in battle before he reaches the Boat.”

  “Worse,” Serge said, his voice dropping, as if he were afraid of them being overheard.

  Trista’s stomach clenched, both at the thought of the fiancé she’d never met, and at the prospect that something worse than death had happened. “What could be worse than being killed in battle?”

  “For a Drexian warrior, being arrested for treason,” Serge said. “He’s being brought here to appear before the High Command.”

  “Treason?” Trista collapsed onto the couch. So much for everything being perfect when her Drexian arrived. “And he’s coming here? When?”

  “Now.”

  Chapter Three

  Torven’s mind whirled as he sat on the transport ship, his hands manacled together in front of him. A pair of Drexian guards sat on either side of him, and another stood at the door to the ship’s cockpit. The engines rumbled beneath his feet as they flew toward the space station.

  How had this happened? He was still heading to the Boat, but now he was going as a prisoner accused of treason. He still couldn’t believe the charges, and his pulse raced the more he thought about it.

  Treason? Even the word was like bile in his mouth. He could never imagine betraying his people in any way, much less by conspiring with the enemy. He’d spent most of his life fighting the Kronock. The idea of working with them was as foreign to him as breathing underwater.

  He shook his head and one of the guards looked suspiciously over at him. No. They had the wrong Drexian. This was all a mistake. As soon as he talked to the High Command, he would make them see that.

  Torven lifted his shackled hands and wiped a trickle of sweat off his brow. The more he focused on the false accusations, the angrier he became, and the faster his heart beat. He was surprised the guard at the door couldn’t hear the pounding from across the room.

  At that moment, the door slid open, and the guard stepped to one side. A Drexian in a crisp uniform stepped into the room holding an electronic tablet, only looking up when the door shut behind him.

  “We’ll be arriving at the station shortly,” the man said, meeting Torven’s eyes.

  Torven did not recognize this man from the bar. “And you are?”

  “Your counsel.”

  “Counsel?” Torven shifted on the hard, metal bench.

  “Any accused is allowed counsel before they appear before High Command.” The man rocked back on his heels. “I’m here to explain the charges and the evidence.”

  “There can’t be any evidence. I didn’t do it.”

  The man nodded, as if he’d heard that before. “Even so, you’ve been charged with serious crimes. That doesn’t happen without evidence.”

  Torven’s clenched his fists. “I’m telling you it’s not true. I never conspired with anyone, much less the filthy Kronock.” He jerked his hands, awkwardly pointing at the roof of the ship. “Who do you think has been battling them out there?”

  The man flinched, looking back down at the tablet and swiping his finger across it. “Are you saying you didn’t send transmissions to the enemy, telling them how to breech our defenses of the Boat?”

  Torven started to leap to his feet, but the guards next to him held him back. “Of course not. Why would I do that?”

  “Maybe for the credits that appeared in your personal accounts yesterday?”

  “What?” Torven gave a brusque shake of his head. “I don’t know anything about that.”

  His counsel let out a sigh. “So, someone put credits in your account for no reason?”

  “I’m sure they had a reason. To set me up.” Torven tried to steady his breathing. “If I was really a traitor, don’t you think I’d be better at it? Why would I do all these things you say I’ve done, and make it so easy to trace them back to me?”

  “I think some would argue you didn’t expect to get caught, or you didn’t think anyone would notice.”

  Torven narrowed his eyes. “Who did notice? It sounds like someone had to know what they were looking for. Maybe you should be talking to that person.”

  “I can’t disclose how the information was brought to the High Command, but be assured they were acting on information from a trusted source.”

  Torven sank back. He knew what that meant. Someone more important or more elite than him had tipped off the High Command, although he couldn’t imagine who hated him enough to do this. As far as he knew, he didn’t have any enemies. At least not among his Drexian brothers. He knew without a doubt that no one on Inferno Force would betray him. It had to have come from higher up.

  His stomach tightened. That meant that his appearance in front of the High Command was no more than a formality. He couldn’t prove his innocence, if he couldn’t challenge his accuser.

  The ship slowed, and his Drexian defender took a step to right himself. Although Torven couldn’t see outside, he suspected they were approaching the space station as the engines shifted and the floor shook. He’d been on ships long enough to recognize the feel of a vessel preparing to land.

  “When will I appear in front of High Command?” Torven asked. He still had the grime of the trip and the dingy outpost bar on him, and he’d rather not appear in a wrinkled uniform and with a face full of stubble. He doubted that what was acceptable among the battle-hardened warriors in Inferno Force would fly with the elite rulers of High Command.

  “Almost immediately.” The man’s eyes flicked to Torven’s uniform. “Although I can request a chance for you to change.”

  “Thank you.” Torven wanted to throttle the Drexian, but he also knew his counsel was probably the only shot he had at proving his innocence.

  With a curt nod, the man left the room as the ship jolted and the engines powered down. The guards hoisted him to his feet, and marched him out of the holding room and down the ship’s ramp.

  Torven tilted his head back as he got his first glimpse of the space station formally called the Love Boat. Even though he knew it was only the hangar bay, he was surprised that it looked similar to every other one he’d seen. Lots of gray metal, high ceilings with exposed steel beams, and ships of various sizes lined up across an expansive floor.

  He noticed eyes on him, and he straightened up to his full height and threw back his shoulders. No way was he going to act like the traitor they thought he was. He knew he was a loyal Drexian warrior, and that was how he was going to act.

  They exited the hangar bay, and the corridors became sleek and white with curved walls. Windows looking out into space ran along one side, and Torven couldn’t help but look longingly at the stars dotting the blackness. Would this be his last glimpse of the outside world? He didn’t know how hearings for treason went, because he’d never heard of a Drexian committing treason. His face burned with the reminder that he was being accused of betraying his people.

  “Torven.” The booming voice made him look up. His old Commander was striding toward him, making others scurry out of his path.

  “Commander Dorn.” He attempted to cross a fist to his heart in salute, but his shackled hands made it impossible.

  Dorn scowled at the metal around his wrists and cut his eyes to the guards. “Take those off him.”

  The guards hesitated. “He’s being transported to appear before the High Command.”

  “I know where he’s going. I am a member of the High Command.” Dorn’s bright-green eyes flashed. “This man is a member of Inferno Force and a loyal Drexian. He does not deserve to be dragged through the station like a criminal.”

  The guards fumbled with the sha
ckles as they unhooked them. Torven rubbed his wrists as he met Dorn’s gaze. “Thank you.”

  Dorn clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I know you are no traitor. I refuse to believe any member of Inferno Force would ever betray his brothers.”

  “Never,” Torven said solemnly.

  Dorn nodded, as if Torven’s word was all the confirmation he needed.

  “I know nothing of these transmissions they claim I made, or of the credits that appeared in my account.” Torven kept his voice low as people passed by. “Someone wants it to look like I’ve done things I haven’t.”

  Dorn took his arm and pulled him out of earshot of the guards. “There is someone within the Drexian Empire who is conspiring with our enemy. I don’t know why or who, but I know it reaches the highest level.”

  Torven angled his head. “Are you telling me the High Command is compromised?”

  “Yes, but I have been unable to determine who it is.” Dorn let out an impatient breath. “As you can imagine, I cannot make accusations without being sure.”

  “Even though you are one of the elite class?”

  Dorn gave a mirthless laugh. “Don’t remind me.”

  Torven’s heart began to pound. If this man had to tread lightly, what hope was there for a warrior who wasn’t one of the privileged?

  “So how do I prove my innocence?” he asked.

  Dorn’s face contorted. “I don’t know if we can. Not yet, at least.” He gripped Torven’s arm. “My brother and I are working as quickly and covertly as we can, but this is buried deep.”

  “Are you saying I’ll be convicted of treason?” His mouth went dry. “The penalty is death.”

  Dorn’s eyes dropped to Torven’s hands. “We need more time.”

  Torven’s breath hitched in his throat, as he realized the message his former commander was sending him. He needed to give them a chance to prove his innocence by doing something that was completely against everything he’d ever been taught.

  He needed to run.

  Torven met Dorn’s eyes, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod. Then his gaze slid past the Drexian to the woman walking along the corridor, and all the air rushed out of him. Her blue eyes widened as she saw him, and he knew instantly it was the woman from the picture that he’d been looking at for weeks.