Stolen: A SciFi Alien Warlord Romance

by Alison Aimes

  The male grunted and stumbled back. His hand clutched his ribs. “Ugh, Agha, your hand is even harder than your jaw.”

  “It’s your line of attack, not my hand, that’s the problem.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you want to know, I’ll show you. Next Tuesday night. Here.” The words tumbled out before he could stop them, but hells, he missed his men. Missed training. “I’ll teach you the strikes my warriors use.”

  The male’s expression remained wary. “What will it cost?”

  “Nothing, except some bruises and blood.” DaKar assumed a defensive stance. “And the promise you will cease talking my ear off.”

  “Done.” The oversized Outlander sprung forward.

  This time, DaKar let him come. Only returning one blow for every three.

  Blood gushed from his lip.

  He absorbed each strike as penance.

  For his arrogance and his bullying. For failing to uphold the Warlord code driven into him by his uncles. For letting the hormones from the Martian heat cloud his control, his honor, and his courage. For behaving like his father, a male he never wanted to emulate.

  Justice by the Warlord code.

  Because the female who he’d hurt couldn’t mark him herself. And fair was fair.

  From here on out, he’d do better.

  It was time to stop making others bleed for wounds that had long since closed.

  This planet and its people might have marked the boy he’d been, but they did not have to impact the man he’d become.

  “Why aren’t you fighting back?” His opponent stumbled back, looking oddly offended for a man with streaks of blood and sweat running down his face. “What are you, a glutton for punishment?”

  “Not always.” He moved his jaw back and forth to work out the stiffness.

  The giant male shook his head, pity, and something else, flitting through his eyes. “We’ve all got something to atone for, I suppose.”

  “Some have more to repent than others.”

  “Or perhaps we all imagine our sins are the worst of the lot.” Out of nowhere, the male attacked, his arms extended as if he intended a crippling bear hug.

  A sly move. DaKar liked the male better for the attempt.

  But he also registered the male’s ragged breathing, his slowed movements.

  He needed to end the fight before his opponent actually overdid it.

  With a roar, he grabbed the giant by his shoulders and dropped onto his back, hoisting the man over his head and through the air.

  His attacker flipped and crashed to the ground, his sizeable bulk making his drop particularly loud and satisfying.

  The applause began immediately. DaKar shrugged off the attention, jumped up, and walked over to offer a hand. Saman took it immediately.

  “Did you mean what you said?” The giant male grimaced as he stood. “You will teach me to fight properly.”

  “Yes.” DaKar swiped at a stream of blood pooling on his lip. “You kept your promise. I’ll keep mine.”

  “Thank you. It would be an honor to train with a true Warlord.” His smile grew. “I’m a guard at the Pleasure Dome and I could use all the help I can get protecting the girls from rowdy customers. Better still, maybe I can finally put one of those uppity élithe on their asht when they start making fun of the way I talk.”

  “After hearing that, it will be my sincere pleasure to teach you all I know.” He clapped the larger male on the back.

  “Thank you, sincerely. If I can improve my skills, I may be able to get the promotion I need to be able to afford to bring my wife and son here to live.” Saman’s expression grew bleak. “Maybe then I won’t have quite so much to atone for myself.”

  The Outer Worlder shuffled away.

  DaKar watched him until he disappeared down the alley.

  Before he left, he’d make damn sure Saman was skilled enough to get the promotion he needed—or he’d offer to bring them all back to Phobos with him.

  Except he couldn’t do that with every poor grunt stuck slaving away in the Corporation’s clutches, could he?

  Walking over to his stuff, he dug into his gear, searching for his towel.

  “You look like shit.” Grayson sauntered over, his pride in his detective skills unmistakable.

  DaKar hid a smile. His muscles might be screaming, but he felt better. He worked his jaw as he drew on his shirt. “What brings you here?”

  His friend’s expression hardened. “Disturbing news.”

  “Tell me.” He didn’t even bother to wonder how Grayson got his information. His friend discovered more in a lunar rotation than most people learned in a lifetime.

  “It hasn’t leaked yet, but it will soon. The judge handling your case received an anonymous letter. It identifies you as the gem thief. It also accuses you of being the monster murdering the Forbidden Zone prostitutes.”

  Fury shot him off the bench. “I have never struck a female, much less killed her. And I’m no damn jewel thief, either.”

  “I didn’t suspect you were. I’m conducting the murder investigation, remember? There’s no evidence linking you to the killings. The fact is, a few of the murders occurred before you even arrived on planet. But facts and details are often overlooked in the rush to blame—and someone has decided you would make a convenient scapegoat.”

  “How convenient?”

  “The letter includes recent dates and locations where the jewels were stolen and highlights your attendance at each of those events. It also includes a list of the murdered victims and alleges to have witnesses who will confirm a man fitting your description was seen at the gaming halls and brothels where they worked. Some are even willing to testify they saw you heaving at least one body into the water by the dome edge.”

  “Hard to believe since I did none of those things.”

  “People can be paid to say anything. Especially here.”

  “Bleeking hells. Sounds like the work of my dear old family.” It would be just like them to capitalize on Lady Everly’s rumors and then take it one step further. Peller had already made no secret of the fact they wanted him out of the way. “This could damage my legal case.”

  “True.”

  He took a deep breath and strove for calm, reminding himself of his recent determination to act like the man he was, not the boy he’d once been. “Still, I can’t have been the only person to attend all those functions so the accusations of theft shouldn’t be too hard to shake. And since I didn’t kill those females, it should be possible to discredit the alleged witnesses easily enough.”

  “Right again.”

  “But?”

  Deep grooves bracketed his friend’s mouth. “It’s no secret many within the élithe would love a reason to see you ostracized. For many, it won’t be too big a leap to go from fearing you for who you are to suspecting you for what they think you did.”

  It’s no wonder everyone either fears or suspects you. You’ve gotten just what you deserve.

  Janus hells. Lady Aurora had been more right than she knew. “Most will presume I’m guilty. They won’t care about evidence, or the lack thereof.”

  “And if they use their influence on the judge and magistrate…”

  “It won’t be just my title on the line, but my life.” His recent threats against Peller were not going to make this latest flap any easier to weather.

  “You could return home and they’d never be able to get ahold of you.”

  He just stared at his friend. He did not run from a fight. Not anymore.

  His friend’s expression darkened. “You’re not to blame for what happened under your sire’s rule.”

  “If I hadn’t left—”

  “You’d be dead or in jail for patricide. There was nothing you could have done for the servants while your sire was alive. He and your stepmother only abused them worse once they knew it bothered you. You had to leave, for their sake as much as yours. But that’s in the past. You’re here now.”


  “And trying to make things better, not worse.”

  Grayson had found Tom for him. The servant who’d once tried to save him from a beating was working in the sewers, one of most dangerous and lowest paying jobs available in the Earth Corporation. No longer young, the male’s back and legs were twisted from planetary rotations slaving away in the small tight spaces, the only type of employment he could get after DaKar’s stepmother fired and blacklisted him.

  DaKar had rehired the male and as many other of the other servants he could find; those who’d been ordered beaten by his stepmother or raped by his brute of a father and dared to try and complain. As the new Executive of the Starlight estates, he’d also introduced higher wages, paid vacations, and made it clear that neither physical nor sexual abuse would be a part of the job description anymore. He expected hard work and loyalty from his people, but he did not require their terror and hopelessness.

  They’d experienced enough of that for far longer than they ever should have.

  “I won’t be chased off just because things have gotten hard for me.” He told his friend. “Not again. I will do whatever it takes to repay my debt to Tom and all the other servants. I will not desert them to be crushed under the thumb of Peller and my stepmother once more. I need that title to protect them and I will stay and fight to get it.”

  “And you’ll win.” Grayson clapped him on the back “Let’s not forget you’ve got an impressive arsenal of powerful people on your side. You impressed Pennington and Zhang. I have no doubt they will throw their support behind you. And, of course, I will use all my considerable resources to put things right.”

  “You’re a good friend.” His voice sounded gruff even to his own ears. “A far better brother to me than the one I have.”

  Pain flickered in the other male’s eyes. “For me, you are the only family I have.”

  They might be loners by necessity, but they were kin by choice.

  He socked his friend in the shoulder. “No need for sweet talk. I’m not dead yet.”

  “Asht-hat.” Grayson rubbed the point of contact, but he was smiling. “What’s the plan to keep you that way?”

  “Find the real thief and murderer. It’s the best way to clear my name.”

  “It won’t be easy.”

  “Maybe not, but they won’t find taking me down trouble free, either.” Adrenaline hummed beneath his skin. He’d always enjoyed a good hunt—and the stakes couldn’t be higher. “I’ll need you to tell me all you can about these murders.”

  “Done. It’s an ugly business and I’d love your help. I’d have asked before, but I didn’t want to burden you when you already have your hands full. I’ll tell you all I know about the thefts, too.”

  “Excellent. You know your contact whose an underground Dome detective? He’s tapped into all the servant networks. I’d like to contact him. If anyone will have sympathy for my situation, it’s others on the margins. He and I can work in tandem to get the information we need.”

  He’d beat them at their own game of treachery and deceit. He was a fucking Warlord.

  “A good plan, but it bears remembering,” cautioned Grayson, “while there’s a good chance Peller or your stepmother is the author of the letter to the judge, it’s not for certain. The letter was anonymous. It’s worth asking if there is anyone else who stands to gain by making trouble for you.”

  He considered the point. “No one comes to mind, but I’ll keep thinking.”

  With nothing left to say, he undid the laces of his shirt and shrugged it off, ignoring his body’s protests.

  His friend raised an eyebrow. “Going back for another round?”

  “Definitely.”

  And this time he would be the one in the ring doling out the pain—at least until he found the asht-hats who’d framed him.

  Then he’d make them very sorry they’d come after him.

  15

  The wall of bodies at the art exhibit pressed against Aurora, making breathing difficult. It seemed every élithe wanted to be the first to see the latest Outer World retrospective.

  All were dressed in their best finery, including her. Her stepfather had insisted she wear another skintight white gown, though in deference to the early afternoon hour, this one was cap sleeved with a square bodice that only showed off the tops of her breasts and a full skirt that shimmered silver with every step she took.

  The crowd jostled her, propelling her into her stepfather’s hard chest. She recoiled.

  Too late. Lust flared in his gaze as his damp palm closed around her arm. “So eager.”

  Bile pooled in her mouth, but he let her wrest her arm back and step out of reach. He was toying with her. She was certain of it. His mood had been almost giddy for the last few lunar rotations, a development that filled her with dread. Whetherton was only happy at someone else’s expense.

  His greater attention was also curbing her efforts to ramp up her thievery, but she was managing. With both her stepfather and Denard as ticking time bombs, her desperation had turned to outright panic. Even now, she scanned the crowd, looking for an easy opportunity to lift a loose danashe stone from a tunic or a dangling rubel hair pin from an unsuspecting patron of the arts.

  “Executive Whetherton, ladies, you will never guess what I just heard.” Lady Maitland barreled through an opening in the crowd, her eyes glittering with excitement.

  Aurora steeled herself for another far-fetched tale. Lady Maitland loved gossip, the more salacious the better.

  “That half-breed Volkan is as great a villain as we always imagined.”

  Aurora stilled.

  “It turns out he is the thief terrorizing us all—and the vile murderer preying on those Forbidden Zone whores.”

  Shock crashed through her.

  Cecilia gasped.

  “I’m not surprised.” Whetherton’s voice was thick with satisfaction. “His kind is savage to the core.”

  The memory of Aurora’s last interaction with the Warlord rushed to the fore. There was no doubt he was fierce and mercurial. She could easily picture him defeating a foe in combat, but a murderer who beat poor females half his size to death? Absolutely not. Every sensation she’d felt pulsing along the golden ties that had bloomed between them indicated the male was a man of honor.

  Plus, the claim that he was the thief was false. The other was undoubtedly so as well.

  “Where did you hear this?” she asked aloud. “Has it been proven?”

  Her stepfather stiffened. He didn’t like her show of interest.

  “Proven? As in a court of law?” Lady Maitland looked irritated. “No. As far as I know, he is still walking free, endangering us all. But that should change soon. A letter detailing his crime was sent to the judge in charge of his case. Thankfully, someone leaked it to the press. It will be all over the comms tomorrow.” She waved her hand dismissively. “The man is guilty. One needs only look at him or hear of his background to know that.”

  Aurora’s heart beat fast.

  It wasn’t possible. She’d written no such letter. Concocted no such plan. Yes, in a moment of weakness on her way home from Denard’s, she’d toyed with leaving a note that explicitly implicated Volkan as the thief, but the despicable thought had passed. Her anger had cooled.

  Now that she knew the male behind the Warlord title, she could never do such a thing to him.

  Her initial part in connecting him to the thefts was reprehensible enough.

  But if it was not her framing him…then someone else was. Someone with far more deadly intent.

  “Look,” gasped Lady Maitland, “there he is. What audacity.”

  Aurora’s gaze found him easily enough across the room, every nerve in her body fully aware of his presence and hungering to be closer, the mating heat burning against her skin.

  Even in sea of people, he towered above the rest. Mesmerizing. Different. Beautiful as ever. And alone.

  Her heart clenched.

  Dressed in a dark green jacket and fawn t
rousers that highlighted his raven hair, dark horns, golden skin, and every chiseled muscle in his thick thighs, shoulders, and arms, he stood in vivid, mouthwatering contrast to the flat, staid composition he was surveying.

  A wide circle of empty space lay between him and the other attendees. Only a few women from the fast set fluttered nearby, trying to catch his eye.

  “Who does he think he is?” Lady Maitland turned her back to him, a direct insult.

  Whetherton, his lips tilted upward, did the same. Others in their party followed suit. Soon, like a rippling wave, the entire crowd shut him out.

  Her stomach dropped. The rumor that he was the murderer must be spreading. He was being ostracized.

  Her fury on his behalf skyrocketed.

  Her stepfather seized her arm in a tight grip. “You’ll turn as well, or you’ll pay the consequences.” He wrenched her around.

  “Let go.” She shook off his hand before she remembered where she was—and whom she was with.

  “Watch yourself.” He surged toward her, his genial mood gone in an instant, fury twisting his features as he reached for her neck—only to pull up short, as if recalling he too had an audience.

  He took a long breath in and out. Flexed his fingers before dropping his hands back to his sides.

  An awkward silence descended among their little party.

  Aurora might have hated the crowd moments ago, but she was grateful for their attention now.

  Whetherton, though, was quick to recover. Smile plastered in place, he offered his arm to Lady Maitland. “The whole idea of a murderer in our midst has me shaken. I think a change of scene is in order. Would you like to accompany me?”

  The lady simpered, looking triumphant. “Of course.”

  Aurora didn’t take her first easy breath until he was across the room.

  She suspected Whetherton would use the time to complain about what a difficult charge she was and twist what had just happened until he looked like a hero, but as long as he wasn’t with her, she was fine.

  “Your silly rebellions are going to bring both of us trouble.” Cecilia hadn’t missed a thing.

  “I am not the problem.”

  “For me, you are.”