Stolen: A SciFi Alien Warlord Romance

by Alison Aimes

“And they...and Miss Stanthorpe?” She tried again. “All of them?”

  “My brother appears to take after my father in every way.”

  Before she could ask any more questions, he seized her elbow and led her down the alley and over to the next where Tom waited with their floater.

  “We are done here,” he called out before opening the door and half hoisting, half lifting her inside.

  “I-ah…” She’d settled into the seat before the sound of the engine sparking registered. “Why did we leave? And where are we going?”

  “They are going to be busy for a while. I’m taking you home.”

  “No.” She bolted upright. “We cannot leave. Those were prostitutes—and Peller’s treatment was far from gentle. For all we know, they may be in danger. There is also the fact that this may tie him to the murders. We need to make sure they’re okay. We have to stay and watch.”

  “Watch? Oh, that’s right. I forgot what a little voyeur you are.”

  Anger crashed through her. “How can you sit there and make a joke of this? Your life may well be on the line as well as theirs.”

  She hadn’t even finished before his hands gripped her shoulders and hauled her to him. “What would you have me do?” His voice vibrated with frustration. “Do you think I want to stand around all night in a dirty alley and spy on other people’s lives while mine spirals out of control? Do you think I don’t know how important it is to find whomever is doing this or how much you are risking by helping me? Of course, I do.”

  “Then why are we leaving?”

  His grip eased. “Because those women were courtesans, not the Forbidden Zone whores being targeted by the murderer. Because I have been drinking in the tantalizing scent of honeysuckles and vanilla all night. Because the memory of the sweet little sounds you make and the honeyed way you taste has been playing over and over in my mind and I am getting tired of pretending I am a better man than I am. Tired of fighting the urge to push you down on this leather seat and yank up your skirts and bury myself inside you.”

  Shock stole her tongue. “I…I didn’t ask you to fight it.”

  His eyes bored into her. “No, but you didn’t ask me not to, either.” He sighed and dropped his hold. “Your emotions are more volatile right now than liquid mercury, and I don’t want to make things worse.”

  Goddess, he was so sweet. And so right. She didn’t know what she wanted. Or she knew, but she couldn’t have it.

  Before she could speak, a knock sounded at the door.

  DaKar swept her behind him.

  “Forgive me, Warlord.” Tom’s voice filtered through the doors. “We’ve been sitting idle for a few moments and I wasn’t sure you realized we’d arrived. Do you want me to remain here in the back alley or drive around to the front?”

  She went limp. For a moment, she’d imagined the worst.

  “Sorry for barking.” DaKar cleared his throat. “I hadn’t realized we’d arrived at the lady’s house.”

  “The lady’s house?” Tom’s voice climbed higher. “No, sir. I didn’t realize you’d changed your plans, I thought you still wanted me to take you to the Pleasure Dome.”

  “The Devils you say.” DaKar leaned over her and lightened the privacy shield. He groaned. “Could this night get any worse? I cannot believe I’ve brought you to a bleeking brothel.”

  30

  Aurora struggled to sit up, adrenaline surging through her. She tried her best to look around DaKar’s wide shoulders and out the window. If anything, the darkness was greater, but she could discern the narrower alleyways and disrepair that marked this as the center of the Forbidden Zone. She’d never been to this sector before, or to any pleasure house for that matter, but she’d heard about both.

  “Tom, get us out—”

  “No, wait.” She refused to let DaKar finish. “Why did you want to come here in the first place?”

  “Why do you think?” His voice held a hint of challenge.

  “If you think I am imagining it is for a night like the one Peller is having, you’re wrong. I know it has something to do with the investigation, and I would like to know what.”

  “One of the murdered prostitutes worked at this house of pleasure.” His voice had gentled. “I know someone who works here watching the door and thought I might be able to learn something by talking to him.”

  “That’s a splendid idea. Someone here must have seen something. Know something.” She grabbed his arm and started to tug. “Let’s go.”

  He didn’t budge. “Absolutely not. You are not going anywhere near this place.”

  “Don’t be foolish. I will be with you. What could happen?”

  “No.”

  His stubbornness galled even as his desire to keep her safe melted something inside her. “Fine. You go. I will wait here. It is too important not to at least try and speak with him as soon as possible.”

  “I don’t like the idea of leaving you here, even with Tom standing guard.”

  “It will only be for a moment,” she pleaded. “Please, DaKar, go. I won’t be the obstacle that keeps you from discovering something important. Please.”

  The quiet stretched between them.

  “Please. I will be fine.” It was getting easier for her to be honest and open with him, albeit if only to a point. “I know my emotions are volatile, but that is because this matters to me so much. Y-you matter to me. And I want to do whatever it takes to clear your name.”

  His expression remained hard, but she felt his pleasure, and the softening of his stubborn stance, along the golden soul ties. “You must promise to stay here.”

  “Yes. I promise to remain in the floater after you leave.”

  He bounded out, gesturing toward Tom before shutting the door without a word. Still, she could hear his whispered growls and Tom’s earnest answers. They spoke for several seconds. Actually, DaKar spoke and Tom listened.

  The door swung open.

  DaKar’s dagger and an illegal blaster now filled Tom’s hands.

  “I have explained to Tom his responsibilities and how important it is they are followed to the letter. He will stand here the entire time and if anyone comes near, he will ride off, whether I am here or not.”

  “We can’t simply leave you.”

  “You can and you will. Otherwise, we go home now.”

  “Fine.” She bristled. “We will leave and you can walk home on your own. Does that satisfy you?”

  “Immensely.” He shut the door, leaving her with her nerves and the silence.

  For at least three minutes, she followed his dictates.

  Time began to weigh heavily.

  She lightened the privacy shields one degree and tried to make out what she could. The night remained impenetrable.

  She disengaged the shield completely and peered out. Nothing.

  The minutes ticked by, the silence ominous. She should have insisted he take her. She was doing little good tucked away in the safety of the floater.

  More minutes. How long did it take to speak with a doorman? The soul ties revealed nothing but dogged determination on his end.

  Still, images of beautiful painted women pressing against him, dragging him inside, soliciting him, promising to fulfill his every desire for a few chits filled her mind.

  She pressed her nose against the glass once again.

  One hundred heartbeats later, she was drumming her fingers against the seat.

  She had hidden in the dark and let cowardice rule her for too long.

  DaKar had reminded her of what it was to refuse to be cowed.

  Her hand strayed to the handle. She’d promised to remain in the floater. But she hadn’t said for how long.

  Three, four, five more minutes at the most. Then she was going in.

  31

  DaKar followed the long dark hair and erotic rolling hips of the courtesan as she moved down the hallway to the nearest private room. Her gait intended to entice.

  It did nothing for him.

  As
he stepped through the doorway behind her, the smell of sex and stale spirits blasted him.

  “Come, Warlord.” The woman swept her arm toward a massive iron floating bed levitating a few feet off the ground, swathed in gold and encircled by fire. Her body undulated sensually as she unbuttoned the filmy purple pelisse and let it fall to the floor. “Your wish is my command.”

  He moved to the dark leather chair. Thankfully, it was bigger than most Earther furniture. “Latasha, I made it clear. This is about information. Nothing more.” He wanted to get the hells out of here as quickly as possible. “You said you were friends with Betta, the latest victim. Do you have any idea if she was working at the time she was killed?”

  Latasha sashayed toward him, her eyes half lidded, her tone deliberately breathless. “Is that really what you want to speak of right now?”

  “Yes.”

  It had taken all of two minutes inside the pleasure house to ascertain Saman wasn’t working tonight. DaKar then had to expend a few more minutes extricating himself from the clinging limbs of the enterprising females who’d wrapped themselves around him, seeking to keep him there. He didn’t take it personally and he certainly didn’t let it go to his head. These women were working and his clothes were nice enough to suggest he’d pay them a good wage for their services.

  As a result, he’d had a hard time disengaging himself, until he’d mentioned why he was here and asked for information. Most had slipped away after that, their fear evident.

  Only Latasha had remained—and she’d refused to speak unless he made it look as if he had hired her. So, here he was.

  Though now he was beginning to wonder if he’d been had.

  He placed a stack of universal bank notes on the nearby end table and leaned back in his chair. “These are yours, if you give me the information for which I asked.”

  She stared at the large pile, her gaze hungry. “I will.” She licked her lips and let her eyes met his. “But why not double the offer and get the best fuck of your life?”

  His thoughts instantly turned to a certain golden-haired female. He’d already had the greatest almost-sex of his life. He doubted even the real thing with anyone else would come close.

  Elbows on his thighs, he leaned forward. “If the information is useful enough, I will double my offer without the fuck. Now, what can you tell me?”

  The door crashed open.

  His body tensed to attack.

  Aurora skidded to a stop just inside the entrance, her chest heaving, her eyes shifting from him to Latasha and back again.

  Hot on Aurora’s heels came the Madam of the house, a hulking pleasure house doorman, and Tom, his face frozen in horror, his chest heaving. The poor male was definitely getting too old for something like this.

  “Forgive us, Warlord,” the Madam’s expression was furious. “She…ah, she snuck right by my man. Said she had urgent business. Said she was your breeding mate. We said you weren’t here, but, ah…” She shrugged helplessly as her excuse trailed off. “We beg your pardon.”

  His eyes sought Aurora’s. His breeding mate? He definitely would have liked to hear her say that aloud.

  She refused to meet his gaze. Instead, her stare traveled from the bed to Latasha’s crumpled pelisse to his chair to the notes by the table.

  The hair at the back of his neck prickled. Shanus. Circumstances didn’t look good, and things were tense enough between them. Worse, her emotions were too all over the place for him to get a good read on what she thought she was seeing.

  He pushed to standing. “Aurora—”

  “I see you’ve started without me.” She cut him off and swept farther into the room. “I told them you were expecting me.” She shot him a challenging look. “That I liked to watch—almost as much as you.”

  Bleeking hells. His shaft lengthened and throbbed. All the blood from his head rushing straight to his shaft. She never ceased to surprise him.

  He walked over and drew her flush against him. “I didn’t realize you’d be here so soon. But, believe me, I was only biding my time until you arrived, breeding mate.” His gaze never left hers as he gestured toward the door where the others stood. “Leave us.”

  “Of course.” Quicker to react, the Madam dragged an unhappy-looking Tom out of the room. The door whispered shut.

  Aurora’s palms slammed against his chest. Hard.

  It wasn’t easy, but he let her go.

  She whirled away, her emerald eyes flashing with uncertainty, her jaw set.

  Juno help him, he wanted to lay her down on that bed and drive inside her. Bind her to him so tightly she would never doubt him. Smash down all her walls until she gave him everything, trusting him with every part of herself.

  “What’s going on?” It wasn’t Aurora who spoke, but Latasha.

  He started. He’d forgotten he and his female weren’t alone.

  Two tense faces stared at him. He stifled a sigh. He’d known from the start this was going to be a rough night.

  “Nothing has changed. Go on.” He moved back to the chair and eased into its soft, dark leather. His eyes locked with Aurora’s. He patted his thigh. “My breeding mate is interested in the same thing I am.”

  The force of her stare ripped through him.

  He stared right back.

  Lust was no problem between them, but the rest was proving trickier.

  She took a step. Her movements were slow, hesitant, but she came to him nonetheless.

  Triumph surged. Trust was a two-way street—that started with a single step.

  She hovered next to him, her eyes searching his, before she turned and perched at the edge of his knee. Just as commanded. Vanilla and honeysuckle surrounded him, drowning out everything else. It was a sweet moment, indeed.

  He gripped the armrests and forced his hands to stay where they were. It took all his control not to haul her to him. To bring her so close that not only her scent, but her lush, warm body covered him.

  But he didn’t.

  Force in this instance wouldn’t gain him nearly as much as patience.

  “Go on then, miss.” Aurora’s voice was soft and shaky. “I’m ready.”

  Latasha scowled, snatching up her pelisse and jerking her arms through the sleeves before throwing herself into the adjacent chair. “Fine. Information about Betta. What is it you want to know?”

  Aurora melted against him, her relief easy to feel.

  This time, he did as he wanted. He drew her close.

  “You can trust me,” he whispered against her hair.

  Silky soft fingers threaded with his. “Forgive me. I’m learning. I haven’t had the best of luck with people choosing me in the past.”

  Something to ask about later. He wanted to know everything about her. But it would have to wait.

  With a gentle squeeze of her hand to signal he understood, he turned his attention back to the angry woman glaring at them both. “Can you tell us who Betta was with the night she died?”

  Latasha’s eyes flicked from his to the money. She chewed on her lip. “Actually, Betta and I were more competitors than friends.”

  “Anything you can tell us would be most helpful,” prodded Aurora.

  He bit back a smile. She’d gone from furious to intent in a heartbeat and as usual, she’d jumped right in to help.

  The other female glanced one more time at the money. “Betta specialized in clients who liked to play rough. She’d recently come from the outer dome. Fell into that line almost from the start, poor dear. Anyway, she was pretty enough and had a number of regulars. A few that scared her.”

  “Do you think one of her clients murdered her and the other females?” he asked.

  Latasha shifted in place. “I-I didn’t say that. I don’t know. All I’m saying is one liked her to dress as an Outer Worlder with a tail when he took her from behind. Another had a thing for jewelry, was always showing her the latest thing he’d bought and saying how it was worth far more than her, could buy a million such fucks, that
kind of thing.”

  Seated on his lap, Aurora had gone still.

  “What else?” Latasha tilted her head to the side in contemplation, her tone blasé. “Ah, yes. One insisted she wear chains and crawl on the ground. Another spoke endlessly of lessons and discipline while he paddled her. But still, I don’t think Betta ever thought any of ’em would kill her. She had plans, you know. She wanted to make some money and go off planet. Leave the stink of the Corporation behind.”

  He shouldn’t have brought his female here. Even now, he could feel her chest slamming against his, her fear rising. Was it the ugliness of these women’s lives? The destruction of their dreams?

  He held his future mate tighter as a reminder. She had him. That would never be her fate.

  “The jewels the one client gave her…did Betta describe them?”

  Aurora’s nails dug into his thigh. Clever girl, she knew exactly what he was thinking. This could be the connection between the thief and murderer for which he’d been looking.

  “No, she never talked about them or showed them to me.” Latasha’s gaze never met his, making him wonder. There was just something about her that had his gut blaring overtime. “Just said they were real nice. Said she could have bought a whole farm with even just one of the stones in his danashe stick pins.”

  Interesting. Stickpins were common enough, but it was easy enough to recall Peller’s hostile face looming over Aurora at the Tanaka’s party, his ridiculous outfit—and the glittering danashe stickpin he’d been wearing. He already knew Peller was a collector with an admitted interest in jewels. He also knew the male was not averse to hiring prostitutes. Could he actually be the murderer? Could it be that easy?

  “That’s it.” The female pushed out of her chair, her eyes glued to the bank notes. “I’ve told you everything I can.”

  He reached into his jacket pocket and dug out more notes. Not because Latasha had been particularly helpful. He sensed there was more she wasn’t telling. But he could detect he would learn nothing more, and he understood what it was like to survive however one could, to be treated as beneath everyone else and deserving of nothing good. He knew how that could warp a person, make them hard, selfish and angry, especially if they had no one to tell them how to behave otherwise.