BABY FOR THE ALIEN WARRIOR

  TREASURED BY THE ALIEN

  HONEY PHILLIPS

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Other Titles

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mikoz’s tiny fist clenched in Corinne’s shirt, his weight warm against her chest as she stumbled over another rock. Behind her, Anya’s breathing came in harsh gasps. Her stepdaughter hadn’t complained once since they’d fled the wreckage, but her steps had grown heavier with each mile. How far had they come? Five? Ten? She had no idea.

  The desert stretched endlessly in every direction, black rock formations jutting up like broken teeth from the rust-colored sand and a sky the color of old bruises, growing darker by the minute.

  She adjusted the makeshift sling that held Mikoz and glanced back. Anya’s face was pale beneath the coating of dust, her dark auburn hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. The oversized jacket she’d scavenged from the wrecked shuttle hung off her thin shoulders.

  “How much farther do you think?” Anya’s voice cracked, from exhaustion or fear or both.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. She had no idea where they were going. The flight had been a desperate escape from the crash site and the possibility that the Vedeckians—the aliens who had abducted them from Earth—might come looking for their missing cargo. She didn’t know why they’d been bundled onto the small shuttle or what had caused the explosion that led to the crash.

  All she knew was that the pilot had died in the crash, his blood a lurid purple splatter against the white interior of the shuttle, and that anything had seemed like a better alternative than being returned to the ship to be separated and sold. Now she wasn’t so sure. She’d assumed that the shuttle had been headed for a destination, that there would be some kind of life on this planet. She was no longer convinced.

  They’d seen no life of any kind, no signs of water, and night was coming fast.

  Mikoz made a soft sound against her collarbone. Not crying, not yet, but she could feel the tension in his small body. He was hungry, and she wasn’t sure how long the nutrient powder she’d taken from the wreck would last. Or the water to mix with it.

  She forced herself to keep walking, one foot in front of the other. The rocks here were sharper, cutting through the thin soles of the sneakers she’d been wearing since they were taken. Behind her, she heard Anya stumble and whirled around in time to catch the girl’s arm before she fell. Her skin felt hot and feverish even through the jacket sleeve. “I’ve got you.”

  “I’m fine,” Anya muttered.

  “I know you are.” She squeezed her stepdaughter’s shoulder. “But let’s take a break. That outcropping up ahead looks like it might give us some shelter.”

  The rocks formed a rough overhang, barely large enough for the three of them but better than nothing. She helped Anya down and the girl immediately leaned back against the rock, eyes already drooping.

  “Just for a minute,” she mumbled.

  “Take your time, sweetheart.”

  She eased Mikoz out of the sling and cradled him in her arms. He stared up at her with those big black eyes, his tail wrapped firmly around her wrist. Ten months old, and from what his mother Amalia had told her, he’d spent most of his short life in captivity. Amalia had died on the Vedeckian ship, begging Corinne with her last breath to protect him. She’d promised, even though they both knew it was a hollow promise.

  She looked out at the darkening landscape. No lights, no buildings, no signs of civilization at all. She didn’t even know what planet this was, much less where to find help. Maybe there isn’t any help to find.

  No. She couldn’t think like that. If she did, she’d give in to despair, and Anya and Mikoz needed her. She couldn’t fall apart now.

  She pushed the thought away and looked up at the hill rising behind their shelter. Not much of a hill, really, more of a ridge, but higher ground meant better visibility. If there were lights anywhere, settlements or outposts or even just another crash site with usable supplies, she might be able to spot them from up there.

  Anya was already asleep, her chest rising and falling in the shallow rhythm of exhaustion as she slumped back against the rock wall. She settled Mikoz carefully next to her, tucking the jacket around both of them. The air had a bite to it already, and she suspected it would grow even colder overnight.

  The climb took longer than she’d expected. The rocks were loose and her legs shook with fatigue. Her interest in exercise had always been more theoretical than actual and a month in a cell on a Vedeckian ship hadn’t helped. Twice she had to stop and rest, fighting the urge to just sit down and give up.

  The top of the ridge was bare and windswept. She turned in a slow circle, scanning the horizon in every direction. Nothing. Just more desert, more rocks, and more alien sky.

  Her vision blurred. She blinked hard but the tears came anyway, and she pressed her fist against her mouth to muffle the sobs that wanted to escape. Crying wasn’t going to change anything. Somehow she had to find a way to keep those two children alive.

  But how? She was a professor of literature, for god’s sake, not a survivalist. What did she know about navigating alien planets or evading traffickers or keeping two children alive in a wasteland?

  The wind picked up, carrying grains of sand that stung her cheeks. She wiped her eyes roughly and took a shaky breath. Enough. She needed to get back to Anya and Mikoz, and then figure out their next move. They would spend the night under the overhang. In the morning, they would pick a direction and hope for the best. Or they could return to the wreckage. Assuming the Vedeckians came looking for them, they’d be back in captivity, but they’d be alive.

  She started down the slope, and her feet slipped on the loose scree. She tried to catch herself and knew she wasn’t going to succeed. She braced herself for a fall, but instead she collided with something solid and warm and very definitely not a rock. Arms like steel bands caught her, steadying her against a massive chest.

  She looked up, a very long way up, to a face that was most definitely not human. Angular, slightly reptilian features, a wide thin-lipped mouth, and a flattened nose—the adult version of Mikoz’s softer features. He also had green skin, textured like Mikoz’s but darker, with patches of deeper emerald. He had to be the same species, even though it was almost impossible to imagine the small infant she’d been carrying all day growing into such an enormous warrior.

  At least six and a half feet tall, maybe more, his presence seemed to fill the entire ridge top, blocking out the dying light. Their eyes met, his huge and dark, and something flared between them before panic took over. Her heart stopped, then started again, hammering against her ribs so hard she thought it might break through. She tried to jerk away but his grip held firm—not painful, just utterly immovable, like trying to pull free from stone.

  “Be still,” he commanded, his voice a deep, low rumble that was oddly soothing. At least the translation implant the Vedeckians had given her worked on his language as well. “Are you alone?”

  Oh, God. Anya. Mikoz. What if he meant them harm? She hadn’t spent enough time with Amalia to know if her own people had sold her into captivity, but she had heard the Vedeckians talking about Mikoz’s value.

  “Y-yes.”

  His head tilted slightly as he studied her. “You are not telling the truth.”

  “I’m not lying,” she insisted, but her voice wavered. His face softened and he stroked her back soothingly.

  “There is no need to be afraid. I do not mean you any harm. I am Commander Selik of the Confederated Patrol.”

  “I’m Corinne Hale,” she said cautiously, then suddenly became aware of two things. First, she was still pressed very tightly against his huge body, close enough to feel the vibration every time he spoke and to be surrounded by an intriguing spicy scent. And second, since he was holding her arms, how could he also be stroking her back?

  She looked back over her shoulder in time to catch a glimpse of a much larger version of Mikoz’s small tail before it slid lower, curling around her waist.

  “Then maybe you should start by letting go of me,” she suggested, even though the move felt more like a hug than a threat.

  “Of course. My apologies.” What appeared to be an abashed look crossed that stern face before he lifted her off her feet with no apparent effort, then took two steps back before returning her to the ground and releasing her. Looking back to where she’d been standing, she gulped when she realized he’d stopped her from falling down a very steep incline.

  “Thank you. For catching me.”

  “You are most welcome.” Dark eyes, so much like Mikoz’s, studied her. “You
are hurt.”

  “What?”

  He gestured to her face. “You are bleeding.”

  She touched her cheek and her fingers came away dark and wet. Not the remnants of her tears, but blood. When had that happened? The crash, maybe, or the climb. It didn’t matter, not if he really intended to help them.

  “It’s not important. I have two children with me—a baby and a young girl. We need help. The shuttle crashed and the pilot died and we’ve been walking for hours and I don’t know where we are. Please.”

  The words came out in a desperate rush and to her horror, she realized she was on the verge of tears again. Perhaps he realized as well because he took a step forward and that tail curved around her waist again. Some distant part of her brain thought she should object, but it was as comforting as it had been before and right now, comfort was in short supply.

  “Of course I—we—will help you,” he said soothingly. “I came looking for survivors.”

  “Survivors?”

  “From the battle with the Vedeckian ship. You did not realize?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I suppose that explains the explosions. Wait a minute. You fired on our ship?”

  “They fired on my ship,” he corrected. “We ordered the ship to stop for an inspection because the Vedeckians have been involved in the illegal transportation of slaves.”

  “Which must be why they rushed us off the ship.” She sighed and nodded. “And you’re really here to help us?”

  “Of course.” He gestured to his right, and she saw what had been hidden by the angle of the rock from the top of the ridge. The dark shape of a ship, a little larger than the shuttle but with sleeker lines. Oh, thank heavens, a way off this godforsaken planet. Praying that she wasn’t making a terrible mistake, she nodded again and pointed towards the outcropping below.

  “The children are asleep down there. I climbed up to look for lights, or any sign of civilization, but there’s nothing.”

  “Sarat V is uninhabited. The atmosphere is breathable but the ecosystem cannot support sustained settlement. Without supplies, you would not have survived more than a few days.”

  His words only confirmed what she’d suspected. “I was afraid of that, but I was also afraid that if we stayed at the crash site the Vedeckians would come looking for us. I thought if we could just find somewhere to hide, somewhere safe⁠—”

  “You are safe now,” he said in that deep reassuring voice, and she desperately wanted to believe him.

  “Then I suppose you’d better come with me.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Afemale. A small, soft female with the most enticing scent he’d ever encountered. Selik was still reeling as he turned to accompany Corinne down off the ridge.

  He shouldn’t have been surprised. The fact that the Vedeckian ship had fired on his ship rather than be inspected had been a good indicator that they were dealing in slaves—a suspicion compounded by the holding cells aboard the vessel once they’d boarded it. The cells had been empty but Lieutenant Varna had reported an energy trace leaving the ship before the battle commenced, most likely a shuttle.

  His lieutenant had volunteered to pursue it, but Selik had taken the assignment himself. He was… restless, a restlessness had been growing worse lately, an itch beneath his skin that wouldn’t settle. He’d been commanding a Patrol ship for the better part of the last two decades but lately he’d been feeling the need to do something beyond sitting in the command chair issuing orders.

  Except there was nothing else. The Red Death, the plague that had swept through the Confederated Planets devastating so many worlds, had taken not only his family but any hope that the Cire would survive. None of their females had survived the plague and, despite the best efforts of the Cire Council and their attempts at artificial reproduction, his race was slowly dying out.

  He had no family, no future, and no desire to return to a decimated planet. He’d taken the job with the Patrol instead, burying himself in his duties. There had been a degree of satisfaction in his work but that satisfaction had been fading. Until now.

  This small female from an unknown species had awoken something deep inside him, a protective urge he’d thought long dead. When his tail had wrapped around her waist it had felt like… coming home. She is not my concern, he told himself. She was a survivor of the Vedeckian’s illegal trafficking, nothing more. He would render aid as duty required and return her to the nearest Patrol station for processing. The words rang hollow.

  The walk down the ridge was slow, her body clearly unaccustomed to such rough terrain. He would have preferred to carry her, but he did not have the right. He forced himself to remain at her side instead, ready to lend a hand if she stumbled, and did his best to keep his tail from reaching for her.

  At the bottom, she led him to a small overhang. A young girl who appeared to be of the same species as his female was asleep, her face smudged with dust and dried tears, and one arm curled protectively around…

  A Cire infant, his tail wrapped around the girl’s wrist as he slept. The shock was so great that he staggered, reaching for the rock to steady himself. A living, breathing Cire child, out here alone in the wilderness, far from the Council and the incubators and their failing attempts at reproduction. A child who shouldn’t exist.

  “I do not understand⁠—”

  The girl’s eyes snapped open. She saw him and reared back against the rocks, clutching the infant to her chest. “Who is that?”

  “It’s okay,” Corinne said soothingly, stepping in front of him. “His name is Selik, and he’s with something called the Patrol. He’s going to help us.”

  “What if he’s lying? What if he’s going to⁠—”

  “Anya,” she said gently. “I know you’re scared. I am too. But we can’t survive out here alone and he’s offering to help us.”

  The girl’s eyes darted warily from Corinne to him and back again, but before she could speak the infant woke, a piteous cry emerging from the tiny lips. He instinctively tried to reach for it but Corinne was already there, gathering the child against her chest.

  “Shh, Mikoz. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

  The child quieted, blinking trustingly up at her. A male infant, perhaps ten months old, healthy, from what he could see.

  “Where did you get him?” The words came out harsher than he’d intended, and she stiffened, her arms tightened around the infant.

  “He’s mine.”

  “That is not possible.”

  “I don’t care what’s possible. He’s mine. I’ve been taking care of him since—” She stopped, her voice breaking. “He’s mine.”

  Of course she was lying—the child couldn’t be hers biologically—but the fierce protectiveness in her voice and the way the infant relaxed against her chest, those weren’t lies. She’d bonded with him and would fight to keep him safe. Just as he would have fought for Lira.

  The thought of his daughter sent a spasm of old pain through his chest. Lira should have been an adult now. Instead she was ash scattered across Ciresia’s mourning fields, along with her mother and millions of others. He forced the grief down with the familiarity of long practice. The child’s origins didn’t matter right now. What mattered was getting all three of them to safety before the night temperatures dropped any further.

  “I am not going to take him from you,” he said calmly. “I am going to escort all three of you to my shuttle and then the Patrol ship to receive medical attention and proper care.”

  She studied his face, searching for lies, but he had nothing to hide. Not about this.

  Finally, she nodded. “Okay.”

  “I don’t trust him.” The girl—Anya—spoke up. “What if he’s working with the people who took us?”

  “What the Vedeckians did is illegal,” he assured her. “The Patrol is trying to stop them, not work with them. I give you my word. I will not harm you or allow harm to come to you.”

  He could see the desperate longing to believe him in Anya’s eyes, but she shook her head. “Words don’t mean anything.”

  “Anya-” Corinne began.

  “It’s true. People say things all the time. It doesn’t make them real.”

  Smart and cynical, hardened by whatever she’d endured. He recognized the signs. He’d seen them in other survivors—and in the mirror every morning for the past twenty years.