Taken to Lemora
A Grumpy Alien Romance
Xiveri Mates Book 6
Elizabeth Stephens
Copyright © 2021 by Elizabeth Stephens.
Published by Elizabeth Stephens
www.booksbyelizabeth.com.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, copied in whole or part in any medium (including into storage or retrieval systems) without the express written authorization of the author, Elizabeth Stephens.
To request authorization, or for media inquiries, please contact Elizabeth Stephens by email at [email protected].
eBook ASIN: B095W68N75
Digital art and cover design by Amygdala Design
Contents
Taken to Lemora Blurb
Pronunciation Guide & Glossary
Raingar
Essmira
Raingar
Raingar
Essmira
Essmira
Raingar
Raingar
Essmira
Essmira
Essmira
Raingar
Essmira
Essmira
Raingar
Essmira
Raingar
Essmira
Raingar
Taken by the Pikosa
Warlord
Halima
All Books by Elizabeth
Taken to Lemora Blurb
Raingar
My horns itch and I hate it. I’m a Lemoran clan chief and I hate that I’m being forced to schmooze with the other Quadrant dignitaries.
Looking for a way out, I run into flesh peddlers. Pagh! I hate flesh peddlers and I’m not interested in what they’re selling!
Until I see her…
Half-human, Essmira’s soft, and I hate that she’s so easy to break. I hate that her beauty makes my horns and heart both ache. And most of all, I hate that she has no idea that she’s my mate.
Essmira
A female must always smile. She must always aim to please. She must always obey.
A pleasure female, that’s what I’ve spent my whole life training to be. Now that I’ve been purchased by a Lemoran clan chief, I’m more than happy to please him. But his pleasure might be out of my reach.
Because he doesn’t want me to be a pleasure female anymore. He wants me to be…me.
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Taken to Kor is book 6 in the 9-book Xiveri Mates series! While Taken to Lemora cameos a few familiar faces from other Xiveri Mates books, it can easily be read as a complete standalone.
All Xiveri Mates books have guaranteed happily ever afters and feature otherworldly warrior males who would kill for their females, and often do…
Taken to Voraxia (Miari & Raku)
Taken to Nobu (Kiki & Va’Raku)
Taken to Sasor (Mian & Neheyuu) *standalone
Taken to Heimo (Svera & Krisxox)
Taken to Kor (Deena & Rhork)
Taken to Lemora (Essmira & Raingar) *standalone
Taken by the Pikosa Warlord (Halima & Ero) *standalone
Taken to Evernor (Nalia and Herannathon)
Taken to Sky (Ashmara & Jerrock)
To be the first to know about future releases — and claim a free ebook featuring more hot, possessive alphas and their mates — sign up to my mailing list.
Pronunciation Guide & Glossary
Asgid (ass-gidd)
Common species of Lemora; characterized by dark charcoal skin, two arms and two legs, often smaller in stature
Centare (cent-are-ay)
No in Meero, the most common trading language; primary language of the Niahhorru
Egama (egg-ahm-uh)
Giant-like warrior species characterized by olive green skin and one large eye
Eshmiri (esh-meer-ee)
Second largest group of space pirates; known for their short, stocky builds, laughter-like language, and fighting pits on the asteroid Evernor
Hypha (high-fuh)
Second-most common species populating Lemora; characterized by orange skin, large, black eyes, and four fins growing out the sides of their faces
Kor (kohr)
Trading city located in the grey zone between Quadrants 4 and 5; ruled by the Niahhorru species commonly referred to as space pirates; their leader is Rhorkanterannu
Lemora (lehm-oh-rah)
Planet within Quadrant Two; characterized by rocky, hilly terrain covered in cascading blankets of variously colored mosses; limited access to advanced technology; ruled by five clan chiefs; primary export: highly valued kintarr crystals
Lemoran (lehm-oh-rahn)
Primary and native species of Lemora; known for their blocky, rocky builds and massive, dark grey horns
Nob (nahb)
No in Lemoran
Ohr (or)
Common Lemoran curse
Ontte (aunt-tay)
Yes in Meero, the most common trading language; primary language of the Niahhorru
Oosa (ooh-sah)
Species of Quadrant Eight; large blob-like figures that illuminate from within whenever speaking or expressing emotion; extremely difficult to kill
Rekkaru (ass-gidd)
Common species of Lemora; characterized by small bodies, two arms and two legs, with large bat-like wings that enable short and long-term flight
Shrov (shrohv)
Common Meero curse
Yeffa (yeff-ah)
Yes in Lemoran
To Papa,
for teaching me that I can build anything I want.
Including new universes.
(Now dad, you should stop reading here)
1
Raingar
“I hate these things.”
“Yeffa. We know,” Merquin says without looking at me over the back of her seat. Tana and Reyna are focused on the controls ahead. Bebette, on my right, scrunches her nose at me and, in an act of horror, takes a step closer and gives my shoulder a light pat and a tight squeeze.
I shove her angrily off. “Stop that!”
She just smiles back.
Tana is too busy staring out of the view pane — I know she stopped listening to me rant half a rotation ago — so I redirect my ire onto Reyna instead. “Why I was chosen as representative of our people is utterly beyond me.”
“You’re a clan leader,” she says dryly.
“There are other clan leaders.”
Reyna huffs out of the corner of her mouth, “Yeffa, good point, Raingar. That’s why we’re all here.”
My face heats. I shift, my rough skin feeling uncomfortable under the Lemoran customary tunic I’m wearing. Doesn’t matter that it’s spun of rough catacat silk. It feels like barbed wire. I yank angrily on the collar, stretching it out so that it gapes. A small rebellion. There.
“Nob!” I stomp my right foot and shake my right fist around at all of them and at the translucent kintarr crystal exterior of our ship and at the stars beyond it and mostly at the monstrously gold planet looming closer and closer — that’s the cause of the sickening sensation in my stomach.
“You all chose to be here. You could have sent someone else from my clan. You could have sent Gorman! He would do just fine to represent my clan. I don’t speak for all of them.”
“Funny,” Bebette chirps in her spry, bubbly brogue, “because last I checked, you were the one who got on the ship.”
I open my mouth to rebut Bebette, but I can’t think of anything to thwart her insouciant, giddy logic. I do speak for all of them. I was elected. And that’s why I’m here on this blasted ship and Gorman isn’t. “Pagh!”
We near the dock and I start to pace, squirming in my skin. It doesn’t fit right
. Everything is tight and hot and irritated. The skin around the base of my horns itches and I reach up and rub it thoughtfully. Merquin must notice the action because when I look away from the hideous gold planet, I find her watching me thoughtfully for the first time since we left Lemora and my ranting started.
“Are your horns bothering you?” Her brows are drawn together over her wide nostrils.
Like all Lemoran, her appearance is made notable by horns, which begin above her ears and swoop down towards her cheeks, following their path before curving dramatically up and ending a good Lemoran foot’s length above her head in hazardously sharp peaks. She has big hands and blocky fingers. Hair? What hair? She’s got horns and rough textured skin all over. Blocky shoulders that stick up in hard ridges like she’s made of rocks.
With skin that ranges from light brown to darker brown, she actually looks like a rock. We all do. And her size? Well, that doesn’t help negate the rock-appearance any. She’s built like a mountain. I’m a male — the only male clan chief — so I look just like her, only bigger and rockier and without the breasts. And with a larger curl to my horns. And with…uh…extra between my legs. I stand out! And because I’m male, all the other wretched species that have females that they keep tucked away want to speak to me! And I hate it!
“Nevermind about my horns. I’m not getting off the ship. You know all those stupid species with only males for rulers will come and talk to me. They don’t care that I’m the youngest clan chief. I’m not going. I don’t want to talk to them. I’ve already concluded most of the business I needed to from the holoscreens anyway. That’s why they’re there, after all. So that when the dire occasion calls for it, we can broker agreements with off-world idiots.”
“Most agreements,” Tana says, voice rich with impish emphasis that I don’t like. I don’t like it at all.
“Practically all. If I thought I’d have to come to these gatherings, I’d never have let you monsters install those holoscreens in my keep in the first place. You know how much I hate those things. I hate the way the dignitaries’ faces press in on me from the safety of my own ohring keep. Why couldn’t we just keep the old boxes? The ones you could only speak through?”
“It’s more effective not to negotiate with creatures that can see us,” Tana says.
“We do make quite intimidating negotiators.” Bebette’s gaze flicks up to my horns and she sticks her tongue out at me like something about this situation is funny, the blasted wench.
“I don’t negotiate!” I jab, but Reyna talks over me.
“And think about it. If you hadn’t gotten those holoscreens from the Voraxians, you’d have to do all your negotiating from here.”
I gasp in horror. Merquin snorts. Bebette laughs. I shake my head and sputter gruffly, “I still don’t like it. I don’t like any of it!”
Reyna and Tana sigh in unison but Merquin is staring at my horns again as Reyna guides the ship into the enormous golden hangar alongside hundreds of other ships built out of so many different materials I can name and even more that I can’t.
There are ships barely bigger than insect pods and some as big as mountains. A sleek ship catches my eye across the hangar. It’s black exterior is shifting, moving around like it’s got a mind of its own. It creeps me out and I know that it belongs to pirates, which surprises me. They don’t usually attend these things.
“What do you think…” I start, but Merquin’s stare is so intense it rips the thoughts right out of my grasp. “What?” I bark out at her as the ship banks between a monstrosity of a ship that’s all pink and gold and another ship that’s small and bright blue. Both most likely belong to one of the Quadrant One princes or princesses whose planet we’ve just arrived on. They have sooo. many. princes and princesses. And I hate all of them.
She squints at me while, behind her, Tana drops the bridge and the slightly more oxygenated atmosphere on our ship whooshes out into the gold-and-prince-filled world we’ve landed on. I hate gold. I hate princes! I hate whooshing! Pagh!
“You sure you’re feeling alright?” She’s got one eye slightly squintier than the other even though both eyes are locked to my horns.
I realize I’m fingering the base of my right horn, completely unaware. I never touch my horns. What’s wrong with me? I drop my hand and cross my arms over my chest. The depth of my chest makes it difficult, but I struggle against the strain in my shoulders and bark, “My horns are fine! I’m not getting off of the ship.”
The other clan chiefs roll their eyes at me and descend the bridge into the gold hangar in this gold world. Alone, I glance around at the hated clans exiting their ships in smiles and giggles and walking around the circular platforms to reach the various entrances to the golden castle that link directly from this open air dome to the many hallways that lead into the king’s palace. Ironic, considering that the last king died rotations ago. Now, there are only princesses and princes. Loads of them.
My blocky hands twitch against my ribs, where I’ve got them tucked under my arms, as if I’m purposefully restraining them from reaching for the controls. I debate what level of pain and suffering I’d be in if I were to commandeer the ship and fly back to Lemora without the other clan chiefs. A world of pain, I decide, then reconsider, Nob, not a world of pain. Worldsss.
I huff after them down the ramp, shaking my fist as I shout, “Fine. But I’m not going into the castle!”
In the castle, standing at the edge of the ballroom, looking in on the horrifyingly bright colors and the hundreds of kings, queens and chiefs gathered, I growl, “Pagh! I’m not going into the ballroom!”
In the ballroom, I edge backwards, toe-heeling my way farther and farther from the crowd that’s gathered until I bump into horns — Reyna’s. She nudges me forward. “We all know why we’re here,” I hiss under my breath, “and these beings still feel like pressing their ugly faces in on one another and pretending that they care about the answers to the questions that they ask. Pagh! ‘Oh, how are crops farming in Quadrant Eight?’” I say in mock imitation of a Quadrant One prince. “‘Oh, very well? That’s so lovely.’ Nob! It isn’t. Don’t they know that Quadrant Eight farming is impossible! The Oosa only eat synthetic foods!”
As I’m speaking, a contingent of Walreys from Quadrant Five fly close enough to be heard — close enough that I can see myself reflected in the enormous purple orbs they have for eyes. “Kintarr for sale?” Is what we hear through the translators they wear. We wear no translators, but we speak Meero, the universal trading language, and that’s what we hear through their two-way translator boxes now.
“Nob!” I shout back in Lemoran, before shouting the word in Meero for good measure, “Centare!”
Bebette chokes back a laugh. Reyna shoves me in the back. Tana drops her face into her hand. Merquin pushes me aside and approaches the Walrey contingent with the diplomacy that I lack. “We have kintarr for sale. We sell at thirty-thousand credits per pouch, three million credits per tun, or resources and wares of equivalent value. We’re interested in Walrey silk threads…”
“And Walrey honey,” I blurt. It has healing properties that my clan uses both for medicinal purposes and recreational enjoyment. Its popularity is only increasing at the markets.
They reply, “Raw or treated? Treated will cost more.”
“Untreated. We treat it ourselves with our own dyes, but we would like to buy some of yours, specifically the amber and yellow shades. We can’t manufacture shades that light.”
“And the Walrey honey,” I whisper again, irritated that I’m here. Irritated that I’m negotiating. Irritated that no one is ohring listening to me!
The Walrey out front makes a buzzing sound, the transparent wings on his back flapping too quickly for me to see them at all. His thin forelegs rub together in front of his fanged maw and he nods his head. “We’ll only be able to give you amber and gold. The yellow is out of season.”
“Fine. But we expect at least one tun of silk and two tuns of dye for ever
y kintarr pouch.”
The Walrey’s need time to confer. As their leaders turn away to face the others, I hiss, “Walrey honey.” Merquin flaps her hand at me behind her back so the Walrey’s can’t see. I growl in a voice that’s deeper, but louder, “Wal. rey. hon. ey.”
“How much?” Tana leans over to whisper in my ear.
“Six pouches. I’ll trade pouch-per-pouch for kintarr.” She lifts both of her hairless, protruding brows, clearly surprised. Kintarr is one of the most valuable commodities in the known quadrants. To trade one-to-one for it is unheard of. But I don’t negotiate. The others might, but I don’t. So I pay what I can afford for what I think is the value of an item’s worth.
I nod, then say, “We value it highly in my clan.”
“Apparently.” Her surprise releases and she nods at me once. I am satisfied my request will be taken and the order will be placed with Tana, so I use the opportunity to back out of the ring of Lemoran clan chiefs and head for the closest exit. I need air. I have no idea how I’m going to survive another half-lunar of this. That’s how long it will take me to get off this planet with no shrubbery and no trees and another solar’s journey after that, I’ll be back on the moss-covered rock that I call home.
The ballroom entrance is guarded by a curtain. I slip behind it into a foyer that’s almost entirely made of helos — a brilliant white and black stone — with chandeliers dripping from the ceilings in the shape of stalactites. Wait a second…did they make those out of…Pagh!
“The damn lights are made out of kintarr! Probably from my own ohring mine! Those are a rare energy source. Not meant for decoration!”
Taken to Lemora Page 1
