Venomous: Erotic Science Fiction Romance (Alien Warrior Book 1)

  Cursing, Cobra slapped at the control panel until the door slid closed.

  Stone faced, my mates glared at Beowyn.

  “What?” he asked genuine confusion painting his features. “Nay, truth. What did I do?”

  With Éorik controlling our course, we exited the elevator into a quiet restaurant with an aristocratic flare.

  The blood reds and midnight blues gave it a moody, cosseted edge.

  Sultry ambient music and dim light conveyed elegance.

  Customers, refined, upper class folk, eyed us, Beowyn in particular, before diverting their attention elsewhere.

  Draped in gold and diamonds they clustered together in intimate circles.

  My males voiced their satisfaction and ushered me forward.

  It suited their need for me to be in a quiet, safe space in the aftermath of Sorkbhal’s threat.

  Quarrelsome L’Odo wouldn’t know the existence of it, let alone gain admittance to such an eatery.

  Wandering paws, feelers, or claws on the serving staff would likely get you tossed out.

  Beowyn swept a critical eye over the décor.

  He pouted at the attendants wearing layer upon layer of stiff fabric over their sexless, willowy bodies.

  “Pretentious,” he grumbled as we were seated in a circular booth by a deferential maître d' who knew straight away Beowyn was royalty rather than a barbarous primitive who’d gotten turned about.

  Come to think of it, the outrageous crown might have given it away.

  A curved glass pane made up the back wall, and gave a panoramic view of Zoi Quay’s lawless tourist quadrangle.

  As we ordered and received our drinks, I people watched.

  I turned my attention to the disordered, alloy jungle of pronged skyscrapers, and cochlear-shaped pod clusters dominating the fuchsia horizon.

  Gyratory lights beamed over shuttles haphazardly docking at the spaceport, and hovering planetary transports filled the moonless night sky.

  Streaming crowds visiting to purchase exotic slaves, merchandise that was prohibited on their home world, browsed ramshackle stalls and junky emporiums.

  Vendors sold hot meat straight from the skillet, and gangs of rough-looking thieves roamed unchecked.

  It was hectic, perilous, bright and vibrant.

  I understood why Venomous put his foot down, and declared I wasn’t going ‘adventuring’ or ‘gambolling,’ as Beowyn put it, down there.

  Just past the brightness of the main jetty was a shadowy ghetto I doubted the lost and innocent came back from.

  I let my males have their intense debate over what to order, as I had no clue what I’d like, and used the opportunity to speak to Beowyn and Éorik about my self-appointed mission.

  “Do you know why we’re here?” I asked.

  They nodded soberly.

  I told them what transpired in the Council chambers, Sorkbhal’s threat to my safety, Venomous’ need to find justice, and Cobra and Fiercely’s desire to leave.

  I explained why I needed to stay and see it through to the end, no matter how dangerous.

  “Well,” I prompted, “what do you think?”

  “That you have a death wish,” Éorik replied. He tipped his refreshment bowl at me then took a glug. “If you were one of my concubines, I’d tie you to my lap then pilot the first bucket of bolts I commandeered home.”

  Dropping my chin onto my palm, I cupped the stone bowl holding my drink.

  I took a sip of creamy fruit nectar, bubbles tickling my tongue.

  It wasn’t as good as amrita, but it’d do in a pinch.

  “No, please,” I said, “don’t hold back. Tell me what you really think.” I licked my lips, frowning. “Do you honestly believe I’m putting myself at risk for nothing? That it’s not the right thing to do?”

  Éorik’s lips compressed into a bloodless line of tension.

  He and Beowyn shared a look.

  The white-maned Verak shook his head, but Beowyn stroked his beard, eyes heating.

  “The victims from the slave planet amongst my vassals have been on edge since they returned to Vayhalun,” Beowyn confessed. “Traumatised, our wise ones say. I had not yet decided whether to obliterate the L’Odo scourge as recompense, or sequester my warriors with their harems, so they might get over it and our serfs move on.”

  “Or,” I said, “you could lodge a complaint with the Intergalactic Alliance, take zillions of L’Odo credits in fines, and then sequester your warriors. They’ll have enough funds to retire and heal their emotional wounds.” I clunked my drink down. “What the L’Odo are doing is criminal. They take advantage of helpless creatures, and enslave them when they hold treaties of peace with their worlds.” I tapped my fingernail to the table. “You should consider taking a stand against them too, Wyn. For Obryn. For the others who were stuck in that hell. As ruler of Vayhalun your displeasure would carry considerable weight. Wouldn’t it?”

  “My word carries the weight of an empire, but–”

  “But? There is right and wrong. What the L’Odo do is wrong.”

  “That is too simplistic a way to look at it,” said Éorik. “A wise being sees the world as shaded.” Horned elbow to the polished table, he pointed out the window. “‘Tis the dark season, so we are spared the depravity, but during the summer solstice, there are slave auctions each span for cycles. There is no despair stink worse than Zoi Quay during that time. ‘Tis legal, and accepted as part of the universe. Species like the L’Odo thrive on the misery and suffering of others. They thrive on the auctions. Yet this unthinkable atrocity happens a stone’s throw from the assembly elected to keep watch over, and guide us. It happens so close to the seat of a Council that preach fairness and justice ... as long as you follow their Edicts.” He made a sweeping gesture. “The slavers follow the law, accepting the captives raiders like the Dei San sell them, and pretend the people were indentured because of defaulted debt and crime, not because the were stolen from their world, and torn from their families. They peddle their flesh right outside the sanctuary the subjugated, the wronged and the vulnerable flee to for shelter because the Alliance receive a cut of the credits for each auction held.” Lacing his hands, he tapped his index fingers to his lips then pointed them at me like a blaster. “What does that tell you, Lady Lumen?”

  I whispered, “That you don’t think complaining will achieve anything.”

  “Oh, ‘twill achieve much. ‘Twill anger the ones you stand against.” He peered at me, silver lashed eyes aflame. “What will the Rä do when the L’Odo retaliate? When they come with war machines that make the ground quake. Lodge a complaint as their crystal cities burn? They have no allies. They are a closed world, cut off from those who might help in times of need. Everyone knows it. Including the L’Odo.”

  I swallowed and looked away.

  Venomous’ hand covered my fisted one. “All will be well.”

  The svelte maître d' sashayed back to us, and took our meal orders on a portable holoscreen, his millions of eyeballs endlessly blinking.

  Beowyn put in his request then faced me, expression grave. “Do not let Éorik frighten you. As High Commander of my legions, he seeks to strike hard, fast, and most importantly, first in any argument. That he deigned speak with you on this reveals how highly he regards you, and your intellect.” Beowyn paused then in a cavalier manner declared, “I will petition. Might as well, as I am here.” His eyes slitted. “I ask a boon as a gesture of goodwill from one dignitary to another. My support does not come without cost.”

  Biting my thumb, I braced. “What is it?”

  “A kiss.” He tapped his scruffy cheek. “Right here.”

  Deflating, I rolled my eyes then popped a smacking kiss to where he’d pointed.

  Claws grabbed my chin. “No,” Venomous barked. “You do not put lips on others.”

  Cheeks and mouth smooshed, I nodded fast.

  Éorik slammed down his bowl. “Great One-”

  “That is that, Commander.” Beo
wyn’s stately aura infused his voice with power. “We contact the Council in the morning.”

  Sensual lips compressed, Éorik inclined his head then took another, longer draught of his ale. He muttered into his cup. “Just this morn, I thought, ‘Do you know what my planet needs? Aye. Yet another war.’”

  Cobra and Fiercely had their heads bent together, arguing lowly, probably about how to convince me and Venomous to leave Zoi Quay.

  “Lumen,” Beowyn began jolly once more. “Should you wish to negotiate a treaty of peace for the serpents between Rök and Vayhalun, let me know. I am sure you will find something of value to stir my interest.” He winked salaciously. “‘Twill stay between you and I.”

  Fiercely and Cobra stopped talking to snarl at him.

  Chuckling to himself, Beowyn’s attention switched from teasing me and taunting my mates to the skyline.

  When it returned, his eyes were alight.

  A wicked grin split his face. “Lumen, do you dance?”

  Sucking in a breath, I let loose an excited squeal.

  “No,” Venomous said. “A thousand times no.”

  Arms crossing, Fiercely nodded agreement.

  Cobra, on the other hand, looked intrigued.

  He burst out laughing when my chin jutted, my zeal not quelled in the least.

  Wolfing down a scrumptious leafy salad of purple and blue leaves with braised carroty meat, I was amped up, and ready to absorb the local culture.

  As I was banned from the quadrangle, getting my mates to agree to hit up a nightclub was easy.

  They hated telling me no.

  We walked into the dance club, and I clapped.

  Pulsing music with a deep bass drummed into the soles of my feat and vibrated through my body.

  The rhythm was tribal, a haunting vocalist crooning about her sordid affair with a promiscuous diplomat.

  Creatures of all species rollicked to the heavy beat, and totally into it, I tapped my feet and bopped.

  Tossing his horned head, Beowyn grabbed my hand as he strutted out into the crush.

  As we snaked through the gyrating bodies, I peered down to see the illuminated dance floor was glass.

  Aquatic aliens boogied underwater in a club beneath us.

  Tentacles and webbed appendages glided back and forth.

  Beowyn spun me around, wagging his upswept eyebrows.

  We danced.

  I couldn’t shake it out like I usually would, conscious of my unborn passenger, but I made a go of it, swaying in time to the melody.

  I wiggled my hips instead of my waist, and twined my arms overhead, singing along to the catchy chorus.

  I didn’t jump, but bounced on my toes and shuffled side to side.

  Beowyn cut loose.

  His vigorous shaking and stomping feet were evocative of a war dance.

  Slapping his chest, he flung back his head to roar.

  To my shock, other aliens tossed their heads and screeched along, sounding like prehistoric barbarians out for blood.

  They started moshing, slamming into each other and head banging.

  Again forgetting I was one hundred per cent knocked up and fragile, Beowyn abandoned me to jump right in there.

  Realising the situation was deteriorating, I began two-stepping off the dance floor.

  I found myself surrounded by an impenetrable wall of Rä warriors.

  As Fiercely and Cobra shoved people aside, Venomous glowered at me.

  I cringed. “Okay, so this turned dangerous, but I thought I’d be dancing.” When he turned to lead the way out, I grabbed his hand. “As you’re already here....” I gave a shimmy. “Please?”

  He smirked then wrapped his arms around me and started to move.

  With the three of them keeping me safe I was able to enjoy the song, slipping in and out of their arms, being lifted, twirled and dipped to the beat.

  I loved how their bodies moved.

  Sinuous, flowing movement, yet powerful and strong.

  I found it sexy as they rubbed their hands over me, erotic when I groped them back.

  Sweaty and ready to call it quits, I pointed in the direction of the exit.

  I looked about for our Verak companions as my mates forged a path out of the dancers.

  Smiling at Cobra who held my hand between his, we passed a group of booths along the wall.

  I glanced in one then stumbled to a halt.

  Staid Commander Éorik had a male on his knees thrusting into him.

  Crown askew, Beowyn had legs on his shoulders as his battering ram of a cock pounded something into the table.

  “Hey, uh....” I faltered when they looked at me. “We’re, um,” awkward swallow, “leaving now. See you soon?”

  Beowyn grunted in bursts as he rutted, “Good. Parting. Small. One.”

  Éorik nodded then closed his eyes and started coming.

  I turned to my mates. “Is that what my face looks like?” I rolled my eyes. “Stop being judgmental. You all held me down then tag-teamed me in public. If that’s not kinky, I don’t know what is.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  My edgy life mates and I were back in chambers the next rotation.

  I was shrouded in my cloak because the hall was chilly, and I’d grown too used to Rök’s scorching temperatures.

  A grunting, snorting Sorkbhal, spoiling for a fight, paced the other side of the security field.

  He stopped to send Venomous evil glares, and holler out to me with lewd promises of pain and death.

  My hand emerged from the folds of my cloak.

  I offered him my longest finger then gave him my back.

  “A decision has not been made on case 122390654756,” the Premier advised sounding beleaguered. “The sentient beings on unregistered planet 2276549, known to the native inhabitants as Earth, refuse to cooperate unless they see their citizen unharmed.”

  A flickering projection appeared in the space between us and the pews.

  “We shall resolve this,” the Premier said. “Please watch the holoscreen.”

  A boardroom with oak panelling, heavy wood furniture and dark green leather appeared.

  I peered into a handsome face bordered with blonde hair fading to grey, and bearing solemn lines around the eyes and mouth.

  A familiar face of a stranger I’d never, ever expected to see again.

  Moreover, her roaming gaze fixed on me as if she knew me.

  My screechy, strangled tone sounded horrible to my own ears, and I pushed my hood off to get a better look. “Madam Prime Minister?”

  “Good morning to you, Miss Young.”

  “Lumen,” I amended with a feeble wave.

  “Lumen,” she murmured then laced her fingers on the desk. “You may call me Sarah. Ms Weston if that feels too personal.”

  I gawked then shook my head. “Pardon me, it’s been a rough few months.”

  “I can only imagine.” She glanced at her hands. Her nails were short and unvarnished, shirt cuffs crisp and clean. Weston gave a twisted smile when her green eyes lifted. “I must confess, this is not what I expected when I took a late night call on my emergency line.”

  Leaning in, I lowered my voice. “I’ve learned to just let these things play out. You’d go mad trying to control it. Trust me.”

  She smiled.

  It didn’t reach her eyes.

  Looking at this living, breathing embodiment of my old life, I thought of the things I’d missed on Earth.

  Who won Wimbledon?

  What was the newest cute-cat-compilation on YouTube?

  What the hell happened in the series finales of my favourite programmes?

  It all seemed trite and immature, though, so I said, “How’s the weather?”

  “Cats and dogs. Flooding in the south-east counties, but we soldier on. What about your end?”

  “Lots of sun.”

  “Lovely. And are you keeping well?”

  “Very.” I directed a grin over my shoulder at my clan. “Couldn’t
be better.”

  “We expect your return to Earth as imminent then.”

  The certainty in her voice surprised me. “Oh, no.” Turning back to face her, I gave an awkward laugh. “I’m not coming back. I’m staying here with Venomous, Fiercely and Cobra. Well, not here.” I glanced around the austere chamber. “Back on Rök.”

  “Rök?” The Prime Minister blinked. “Venomous?”

  “Venomous One.” I pointed behind me. “He is the warrior who saved me from the L’Odo.” I then pointed to my mates in turn. “The tallest one with the gold bars through his brow scales is Fiercely Comes the Night. He saved me from space pirates called Dei San. The brooding one with his quills in a topknot is Cobra that Strikes. He brought me kakt-mi otherwise known as chocolate pudding. We can all agree that is equal to saving my life.” My chin lifted. “Venom and Fiercely are of the Warriors Guild. Cobra is Master of the Hunters Caste.”

  I doubted she’d understand the immense honour in having such males for my mates.

  Weston shook her head as she struggled to pick which matter to address first. “L’Odo?”

  My expression turned grave. “The L’Odo got me from the Zutki slave trader that kidnapped me from Earth. The auctions were bad enough, but the L’Odo and their experimentation....”

  I had a hard time swallowing.

  Warmth came up behind me, followed by a wave of Venomous’ earthy, masculine musk.

  Relaxing, I forged through the thicket of dark memories. “It was bad. If Venom hadn’t claimed me I’d be dead and Earth would be none the wiser ... until something worse than the L’Odo showed up, that is.”

  “While I’m sure your experience was vexing, it is biased and–”

  “V-Vexing?” I stuttered. “I was kidnapped by aliens then sold to giant, talking reptiles who did such invasive experiments on me, I still have nightmares. When they were done, they discussed whether to rape, eat or do a combination of both before throwing me into a pit of bloodthirsty, sex starved gladiators out of a Lovecraftian wet dream. You call it vexing?”

  “They are the species who are now showing an interest in Earth.”

  “Believe me when I say that is not a good thing.”

  “Our liaisons would prefer to gather information on them independently, preferably directly, to ascertain–”