Taming the Alien Prince_Sci-Fi Alien Royalty Romance
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
TAMING THE ALIEN PRINCE
Intergalactic Lurve Book 2
Rie Warren
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Taming the Alien Prince
Copyright © 2018 by Rie Warren
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations.
Warren, Rie.
Taming the Alien Prince / Rie Warren – 1st ed
1.Sci Fi Romance—Fiction. 2. Alpha Male—Fiction. 3. Galactic Empire—Fiction. 4. Erotica—Fiction. 5. Psychics—Fiction. 6. Time Travel—Fiction. I. Title
ASIN:
B079VYDCPR
Cover by:
K Creative Designs
Editing
Gilly Wright http://www.gillywright.com
Table of Contents
TAMING THE ALIEN PRINCE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
By Rie Warren
Connect with Rie
Acknowledgments
About Rie
CHAPTER ONE
Astrid
ANOTHER YEAR, ANOTHER pilgrimage. On Samhain, the same weekend my younger brother had disappeared nine years ago.
Now I was twenty-nine. Cozmo would’ve been twenty-six. And my parents were just as hippy-dippy whacked-out as ever. I didn’t even think they’d hit the reefer yet.
Each year they insisted we sojourn to the Nevada desert surrounding Area 51. My folks had created their own traditions and rituals to commemorate the pagan holiday, when the veil between the living and the dead lifted. For my parents it was more about the veil between humans and . . . aliens.
Dad drove the old Winnebago, Mom navigated, and I—in the early years—had spent the trip rereading dog-eared paperbacks of 2001: A Space Odyssey and Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. These days, having earned my doctorate in astrobiology, I’d graduated to my iPad and classified NASA studies on the potential viability of life forms on other planets.
We never stayed at the Little AlieINN. Mom and Dad preferred their own landboat in case they needed to make a quick getaway from government spooks.
And we were never alone. Over the years my parents had surrounded themselves with likeminded people, all who believed in something other. The desert was overcrowded by these Believers. Alienophiles, I liked to call them. Just plain crazy was the term used by my learned colleagues to refer to folks who set up camp around Area 51.
I thought they had a point, especially when my mom called back to me, “Astrid, did you bring the crystals this year?”
Eye roll.
“No. But I see you have a new lava lamp.” To go with the waterbed mattress in the back.
“What’s the chatter at NASA?” Dad asked, wheeling the big beige and white RV into our preferred spot amid other campers, tents, yurts, and whatnot.
Campfires dotted the vast desert, people milled around, their silhouettes dark figures against the firelight.
“Still no discoveries of alien species, Dad.”
Not that I hadn’t made it my life’s work to prove with certainty either extraterrestrials existed or with absolute finality that they didn’t. At least that way maybe my parents could grieve Cozmo properly and get on with their lives in a more normal manner.
But then, they’d never been normal.
One of my first memories was a road trip to a crop circle formation in Iowa. At the time I hadn’t thought it strange that our family vacations revolved around possible UFO sightings and other weird phenomena.
Cozmo’s disappearance cemented my parents’ belief in the existence of aliens.
And their unfounded beliefs became the reason I took a more scientific route to the theory.
Other Believers dropped by while we set up camp—Mom hanging her new glitter banner Hellooo to the Aliens! on the camper’s awning, Dad testing his heavily enhanced CB radio to see if he could pick up extraterrestrial communiqués, me once again swearing this would be my last year.
My parents were pretty tame compared to some of the Alienistas. Like old Mr. Hobbs,who maintained he’d been abducted by this humanoid race from some made-up universe called the Sharonite Galaxy. He claimed the so-called Zenithians had compelled him into servitude, and that he was really over one hundred years old—not the sixty or so years of age he appeared—because his aging had slowed drastically during his make-believe captivity.
Even Old Man Hobbs’ story was fairly run-of-the-mill compared to Alayna’s. The young woman was about my age, and she had one hell of an active imagination. Her story revolved around another—yup, you guessed it—kidnapping, this time by a reptilian race from a planet called Skeer. Apparently they’d bred Alayna then plopped her back on Earth.
Of course they had.
After arranging striped lawn chairs outside beneath the awning, I flipped open the cooler. Fishing through the ice, I retrieved a nice cold beer. I would’ve preferred to just get stoned for the entirety of the three-day weekend, but unfortunately NASA had a strict drug-testing policy.
Nothing for it but to get good and drunk.
“Hey, Astrid.” Jeremiah approached and plunked into the chair next to me.
He was here every year, just as hopeful about making contact. Maybe he’d watched Independence Day one too many times, because otherwise he had a pretty good head on his shoulders.
“How’s NASA treating you?” He leaned forward eagerly, his interest in me unmistakable.
He had gorgeous green eyes, but otherwise his puppy-dog-cuteness did nothing for me. The only type of men who interested me were the completely untrustworthy bad-boy types who generally acted like I was invisible because I had brains to go along with my boobs.
“Oh you know,” I passed Jeremiah a beer, “same old.”
I’d made a few discoveries like microorganisms on the exoplanet NASA named FZNEB369, but nothing of supreme importance, and most details remained classified. Even if I did discover extraterrestrial life, I wasn’t at liberty to just go around gossiping about it.
“You wanna watch the Alien Run with me tomorrow afternoon?” Jeremiah referred to the annual 5
K race, his eyes flickering up from my breasts.
A blush spread across his cheeks when he saw that I’d caught him checking me out.
If only he was ruggedly sexy, with big shoulders and a wicked smile and a thick . . .
Sigh.
Instead he looked like the type of man who possibly had a phone full of cutesy animal memes featuring baby pandas and dancing kittens.
“You know we’re just friends, right?” I asked with a firm pat on his hand.
And—yep—Jeremiah looked like I’d just kicked his dancing kitty clear across the desert.
Thankfully, my mom and dad descended from the Winnebago’s rickety steps, boisterously greeting Jeremiah.
“How’s the new version of Alien Takeover coming?” Dad pumped his hand.
Mm hmmm. Jeremiah was actually the billionaire creator of an Xbox franchise based on . . . aliens of course.
As he excitedly launched into a long-winded description of the new game I was just relieved his attention was averted from me.
While he chatted away to my mom and dad, my head drifted back. I lazily sipped a second beer, locating the brightly shining constellations above. I named each twinkling formation silently, as I had ever since I was young and Mom had taught me the tranquility of stargazing with nothing but the naked eye.
“I feel it.” Mom’s giddy voice drew my gaze, and she clapped her hands together. “This year we’ll make contact.”
Oh my God.
They thought the same thing every year—that Cozmo had been abducted by extraterrestrials, and one day he’d be returned to us.
I couldn’t stand to witness their naïve optimism anymore. Cozmo was gone, and it was time to move on.
“I think I’ll go for a wander.” Standing up, I crushed the beer can in my hand before tossing it toward the makeshift recycling bin.
“Do you want the flare gun in case you spot something?” Dad half rose from his chair.
Ugh.
“I’ll join you, Astrid.” Jeremiah blinked up at me, eager puppy.
Double ugh.
I squeezed his shoulder, hoping to keep his butt plugged down on the chair. “Nah. You stay here and keep my parents company. I won’t be long.”
My mom tossed a sweatshirt at me. “Better take this so you don’t get cold.”
I gave a little wave then headed away from all the campfires and the campers and the cuckoos.
The red glowing circles of lights receded in the distance as I put more space between the Believers and me. The night sky spread out above me, vast and sparkly—Cassiopeia, Orion’s Belt, Ursa Major . . .
The air grew chillier, and a wind swept up. I climbed a rocky outcropping, pulling on my mom’s sweatshirt. I wasn’t at all surprised the hoodie proclaimed You Are Not Alone with the typical bug-eyed green alien front and center.
Heat lightning flashed across the sky, lighting the dark horizon in blue-whites and orange-pinks. The diffuse zaps approached closer and closer, and I laughed as a few drops of cleansing rain fell upon my upturned face.
Another flare of lightning followed a loud clap of thunder then a strange atmospheric warping—like water thrown into a pool of gasoline—appeared in the air directly in front of the little rocky hill I stood on.
And out of the wavy hazy membrane walked a man.
Hair as dark as the dense night sky was cropped close to his head, and the bones of his face were sharply angled, devastatingly handsome. He wore faded jeans form-fitted to hugely muscled thighs, a T-shirt that rippled over massive shoulders, and on his feet were scuffed biker boots.
He was super tall, sexy as hell, and everything I’d been lamenting about Jeremiah lacking right down to a surprisingly wicked grin stretching his sculpted lips.
Everything about this man screamed danger in the most appealing way, and then his pupils flipped from horizontal to vertical.
CHAPTER TWO
Zaneeviex AKA Zane
MY BROTHER, X, had mated Prairie. He’d made the pretty red-haired beauty his queen. No small feat considering she had a waspish mouth, took no shit from anyone, and even made the Blind Seer smile.
Prairie wasn’t unwanted baggage or a ball and chain. She’d already changed X for the better. Aged three hundred-and-then-some of her Earth years, he’d finally settled down, if settling down meant getting his cock fucked by his wife whenever she wasn’t trying to change policy on Zenithia.
Female humans are docile, he’d said.
Yeah, right.
Standing at five-foot-five to his seven-feet, Prairie had totally tamed X. And he’d never been happier to let a woman run roughshod all over him.
I wanted that.
Wanted the ultimate lifelong connection.
Wanted someone I could trust.
Like most Zenithians, I’d fucked around sexually as much as I could. I’d also trained as hard professionally as the next Valkrane warrior, but my experience learning the art of battle had been shaped by torment. A full decade of shame had been heaped upon my head.
The ten years I’d spent with my uncle, the Commander, in the desolate terrain on the far side of Zenithia, had opened my eyes to how hate and prejudice could warp a male’s sense of right and wrong. He’d pushed me a thousand times harder than any of the other would-be warriors.
Not only that, but Uncle had punished me for the physical endowments I’d been blessed with. Nights spent alone in a cold damp dark cell, woken up every hour on the hour so my sleep pattern was permanently disrupted. Days spent nearly naked under the four blazing suns, shifting stones from one pile of rubble to another with no relief or respite.
Uncle had called my enhanced nature a deformity.
Whatever. His maltreatment made me a tougher SOB, toughness I usually hid beneath a healthy dose of humor and an equal thirst for female flesh.
I played my deformity off by getting females off with my double dicks.
The Playboy Prince.
If Earthlings were the new black, I wanted my own princess from a different planet. Wanted someone who looked past what she’d gain if she mated me—prestige, honor, jewels.
I wanted a good woman who appreciated me for more than a nightlong deep-double-dicking.
Okay, that was partly a lie.
I completely wanted to sink both cocks into both holes of a human chick just to bend her to my will.
Truth.
In my search for a mate, I navigated to Area 51. Why not? Seemed an obvious place to start—the perfect locale to find a woman susceptible to the extraterrestrial. The Homo sapiens in tune with us seemed drawn to the Nevada sweet spot.
On a hotrod motorcycle, the velocity nowhere close to the hyperspeeds of our vehicles but a thrill nonetheless, I cruised across the desert as night settled around the popular cult location.
I felt drawn too.
While X heard and projected thoughts, I saw images. And one female in particular kept flashing through my mind. She walked alone across the sandy terrain, pale blonde hair fluttering behind her as dazzling as the stars. Bright blue eyes guarded and cautious peered out behind black-framed glasses, and she looked a bit . . . geeky, with a bodacious body. She wouldn’t have been my go-to choice, but for some reason I couldn’t rid her from my mind.
As if the thought of her were a charm of some sort, I was compelled to ditch the motorcycle a mile from my final destination and complete the journey on foot. No sooner had I set my booted feet on dusty land, the weather shifted, as if the earth itself reacted to my presence.
Heat lightning pulsed and ebbed in pink-orange-white waves across the horizon. The skin markings on my chest pulsed too, and I wondered if a new design was growing, like X’s had when he’d met Prairie.
The closer I got to my goal, the tighter my chest felt, and I was pulled in one distinct direction. Toward a small outcropping while the lightning ringed closer and rain sputtered ineffectually down just enough to sizzle on the dry ground.
Like X before me, I’d done nothing to mask my appe
arance. As a mostly humanoid race, we could pass as Earthlings in most ways—we were just taller, bigger, stronger, and had powers no mere human would expect or detect.
A bar of lightning flashed near my feet, the electric charge flowing through my body. When the white shard of light cleared, and I finally saw the female in the flesh, her head was thrown back as she laughed at the slight spattering of rain on her face.
She stood marginally above me, and the sight of her rocked my body and sucked the air from my lungs. My groin lurched heavily.
A new current ran through me, connecting me to her instantly.
When her jewel-like eyes landed on me, her lips parted.
It was then I noticed her sweatshirt, complete with a You Are Not Alone logo plus a gimmicky green alien.
Surely it was a sign.
Stepping closer, I dragged in a deep breath that brought her clean scent to me. “You are meant to be mine.” Smooth, Zane, so fucking smooth.
“Come again?” Her momentary awe changed to a look of Help! Stalker!
Cautiously approaching, I ascended the little rocky hill. “Don’t be alarmed.” I lifted one hand. “I won’t hurt you.”
My body zinged the closer I got to her, and there was an intensely intelligent, singularly womanly appreciation in her gaze that drifted over me.
One corner of my mouth kicked up as I perused her much slighter body, her feminine form mostly concealed by the ugly hoodie. She was just five-four to my six-nine. And her breath hitched audibly when I stood in front of her.
Another zap of lightning landed on the ground behind me.
“I’m from a different planet, and you are my mate.”
A frown marred her forehead, and she snorted with a shake of her head. “We’ll make contact this time, riiiiight,” she mumbled before dragging her narrowed gaze to mine. “Look, buddy. I’m an astrobiologist, so I think I’d know if that were even possible.”
“Would you though?” Crossing my arms, I peered down at her.
She pushed her glasses up her nose with one fingertip and flipped a badge open in my face with her other hand.