Alien captains bride ali.., p.1
Alien Captain's Bride: (Alien Abduction Breeder Romance) (Timegate Mars Book 1), page 1
Alien Captain’s Bride
Timegate Mars Book 1
Scarlett Grove
Contents
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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
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
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An Omega’s fire … Charity Morning is a werewolf Omega held captive by Raze, a cruel Alpha who wants the power her mating thrall can give him. When a vision shows Charity her true mate, she flees to him. But will the cool, controlling man she finds be any better? An Alpha’s strength … Aaron Blake must prove his worthiness to become his pack’s new Alpha. To claim Charity as his Omega, he must fight off the other males who want her … and then pleasure and dominate her in bed until he earns her trust. Only then, with her true submission, will their mating be complete. A deadly challenge … As Aaron and Charity realize that their mating is much more than a tradition, Raze and his pack track the Omega to her new home. They want her back--at any cost. Can Aaron defeat them all, or will Charity lose him before they can confess their true feelings? Super hot read. 18+ Steaming hot love scenes and mild violence. HEA Standalone novella.
Under the light of the full moon, Avery experiences a night of endless pleasure in the arms of a seductive stranger. When she witnesses his transformation into a wolf, she's convinced their passionate encounter was part of an otherworldly dream. But her pregnancy test confirms it was all too real and now she must find the father of her child.
1
Doris
My eyes dart around the quiet library and the wall of windows that look out onto the darkened campus. The only lights outside are the twinkling streetlamp near the lawn and the glow on the concrete path. Not much else is open this time of night.
A few students shuffle past, backpacks slung over their shoulders, off to enjoy the warm September night.
I look back at my book, after making sure no one is watching me enjoy my guilty pleasure. With a secret smile, I turn the page, and I'm once again lost in the fantasy.
The alien captain of the command ship Zargon reaches down to the virginal heroine sprawled across the broken ground.
"Come with me if you want to live," he says in a low, sexy voice. His three-fingered hand is strange and alien to her, but for a reason she can’t quite explain, she trusts him.
She takes his hand, admiring the rippling muscles of his chest. When he effortlessly pulls her to her feet, she barely comes up to his taut blue nipples.
I bite my lip, imagining the sound of lasers zipping past and the commander’s giant… biceps.
"You better not let Mrs. Henderson catch you reading that," says student body president Madeline Weber as she peers over the hardback tome I'm hiding my romance novel behind. Maddy’s golden-blond hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, and her aqua blue eyes twinkle with mirth.
"I'm on a fifteen-minute break," I explain.
"I don't think that will make any difference to Mrs. Henderson. You know how she feels about that kind of book."
Madeline giggles, winks, and then hurries off down the stacks, clutching her textbooks to her chest. She slides into a table beside Sophia Russo. They're both wearing blue-and-gold T-shirts emblazoned with the gymnastics team logo and the timber wolf school mascot.
Madeline is right. If Mrs. Henderson, the head librarian, catches me reading a romance novel, even on my break, she’ll give me hell for it. I put a bookmark in the paperback and slip it into my purse.
My science fiction romance fantasy will have to wait for after work.
I stand from the couch in the reading area and check my vintage Mickey Mouse watch. I only have a few minutes left on my break.
I skipped dinner today, and my stomach is grumbling. Not eating was probably a mistake. Losing that ten extra pounds isn't going to make any difference now. The damage is already done.
I don't know why I'm blaming myself for the breakup. Ashton chose to hook up with every girl who would let him.
I drag my hand over my face and groan as I walk through the hall to the water fountain. I bend to take a long drink, my emotions spilling out like the water from the faucet. Cool liquid slides down my throat. Standing, I wipe the tears from my cheeks.
The scene of last night replays through my mind. The reality of my love life is the polar opposite of the fantasy in my book.
Last night, after checking dinner in the oven, I walked back into the living room and caught a glimpse of what Ashton was doing on his phone. He had that big cheesy grin he wore when he was getting away with something. I asked him what he was doing, and he quickly turned off his phone. But I’d seen it. He’d been on one of those hookup apps, chatting with some girl. I demanded he show me his phone. We argued for hours until he finally admitted everything. Then I kicked him out.
It was one of the most devastating moments of my life. Until last night, I thought he was the one and we would be together forever. But I should have known.
Who would want to be with someone like me? Dumpy Doris Gray with frizzy red hair, skin so pale it turns purple in the sun, and a swath of freckles across my face that look like constellations in a clear night sky. Plus, there's that ten extra pounds.
I push the thick glasses up my nose, cross my arms tightly over my handmade denim shirt dress, and head back to my post behind the checkout desk. I watch a group of girls wearing tiny shorts and tank tops leave the library. They make me feel ancient.
I dress like I’m living in a 1980s sitcom. My freshman year of college, my grandma downsized and gave me a bunch of secondhand funky old dress patterns and all her vintage fabric before moving to a condo in Florida.
I thought my fashion sense was ironic at the time. After a while, it became a bad habit I couldn’t break. I have a Peter Pan collar monstrosity in pink gingham sitting on my cutting table at home. While my style was out of fashion forty years ago, in reality, I’m not much older than the students at the college where I work.
At twenty-seven years old, I have a master’s degree in library science. I’m the assistant librarian at one of the most prestigious colleges in the state. Yet, despite all my accomplishments, Ashton's betrayal cuts like a knife, bleeding out all my self-confidence until there's nothing left. Maybe I should have gotten a makeover and lost the ten pounds like he suggested last Christmas.
We met three years ago while we were both finishing our master’s, me in library science and him in business. Our worlds couldn’t be further apart.
He believes he’s God's gift to women because he’s working in an upscale firm as an investment broker, quickly climbing the ranks and earning fat commissions.
While I’m here, slowly turning into one of the cardigan-wearing old ladies who shush students for talking too loudly.
The truth is, I love the library. I love everything about it. The stacks of books, the world of knowledge they hold between their covers.
Sometimes when I’m shelving books, I dream of jumping inside the pages and living other lives. I run my fingers across the spines, imagining I can instantly download all the knowledge of humanity directly into my brain.
Even if my job doesn’t pay as well as Ashton's or have the kind of prestige that accompanies Wall Street–level wealth, I wouldn't trade it for the world.
I tear myself from my ruminations as the front door swings open. Bobby McKenzie, the teenage custodian, shuffles into the library. The tan jumpsuit she wears is baggy on her rail-thin frame, even with her impressive height. The bangs of her brown pompadour haircut hang over one hazel eye. She gives me a rough glare, and I nod at her. She hurries to the custodial closet without returning my smile and pulls out her maintenance trolley. She then starts down the aisles to begin the nightly process of emptying the trash cans and mopping the floors.
The library closes in thirty minutes. After that, I’ll finish the admin and go home to an empty apartment.
Bethany Mills, the school nurse, bustles through the door and smiles warmly at me. Bethany is wearing a white dress with a red cross on the chest pocket. Her white-blond hair is up in a 1940s-style French twist. She’s really pulling off the retro nurse look.
Bethany is one of those girls that looks great with generous curves. Unlike me. If I gain an extra ounce, I just look frumpy. I wouldn't be caught dead in a skirt that short, especially with my pale, freckly skin and chubby thighs. While my shade of pale is all speckled and blotchy, Bethany’s looks
Bethany leans over the counter, revealing the rise of her bosom under the low neckline of her dress. Her red lips curve in a sly smile.
"Do you have it?" she asks.
"Yes. I saved you a copy."
“Have you finished it yet?"
"No. Madeline Weber reminded me that Mrs. Henderson would probably fire me if she caught me reading it.”
We share a laugh. Mrs. Henderson is the prototypical crabby old librarian, from the black horned-rim glasses to the frumpy cardigans, thick, ugly shoes, and harsh demands of silence. She also detests what she calls lowbrow fiction, considering anyone who reads it to be of minimal intelligence and lacking class.
I pull an extra copy of Alien Commander’s Bride from my purse and hand it to Bethany.
She smiles with glee as her fingers slide over the bare-chested man on the cover. "What do you think so far?"
"It's one of the hottest books in the series."
Bethany lets out an excited squeal, which earns a shush from Mrs. Henderson. The head librarian emerges from the library offices and hurries toward us. Her thick shoes squeak and squish with each step. As she draws near, her eyes scan the cover of Bethany's novel. They widen comically, and her wrinkly mouth tightens.
Mrs. Henderson shakes her head and grabs the library microphone. "The library closes in fifteen minutes," she announces over the loudspeaker.
"I'd better go," Bethany says.
The sound of shattering glass cuts through her words. The large windows that look out onto the dark quad beyond the library blast toward us. Screams and a low droning noise deafen me as the library fills with smoke.
Madeline Weber and Sophia Russo, the student gymnasts who are studying at one of the round tables, scramble to their feet. They cover their ears as they run away.
Bobby McKenzie emerges from the stacks, holding the handle of a mop as her eyes widen with fear. Bethany and I look at each other and then back at the smoke billowing through the broken window.
Mrs. Henderson grabs the library mobile phone and dials 911, storming toward the broken glass. "The whole window of the college library has been shattered. I know it was those skateboarders messing around here again. The sign outside clearly states No Skating!"
A figure straight out of a nightmare emerges from the smoke and steps into the library. Its chromatic green body reflects the fluorescent lights swinging from the ceiling, casting horrific undulating shadows on the broken glass below. The creature rubs its long arms together, instantly reminding me of a giant praying mantis. It chatters and waves its arm. A squadron of mantis beings holding what appear to be rifles swarm around him.
I scream. The sound rips from my throat and burns until my voice is gone. Bethany and I run to the front door as the mantis grabs Mrs. Henderson and tosses her out into the night. There is a scream followed by a crunching noise. They’ve eaten Mrs. Henderson!
I reach for the door handle, but laser fire shatters the glass, and more mantises pour through. Bethany and I grab each other's hands and run toward the back entrance. We stumble and trip over the custodial trolley. Bobby McKenzie swears loudly as we all fall in a tangle of limbs into a puddle of cold bleach water.
The monsters crush in from every direction, herding everyone into a tight circle. There are surprisingly few people in the library at ten o’clock on a Friday night. The only ones left are Madeline and Sophia, Bethany, Bobby McKenzie, and me.
We huddle together as the giant mantis beings close in. My voice is raw from screaming. The other girls are crying. We’re all going to share Mrs. Henderson’s fate.
The last thing I hear before I pass out is Madeline Weber saying, "Abigail was right all along. We aren't alone."
2
Jaxxo
I stand at the helm of command ship Xojor, my fingers scrolling down the holographic diagnostic logs. Within the hour, we will depart Mars for the greatest mission in our planetary history. I pray to the God of War, for whom our planet was named, that we will succeed.
“Captain Noru,” starts First Lieutenant Martix Controi. “All systems are a go. We are ready for takeoff.” He wears the slick body-conforming uniform of the Martian Navy. Two gold bars on his red collar indicate his position as first mate. My own uniform is blue and white. My collar has four gold bars. The only higher position in this Martian Navy is Admiral, who wears yellow and has five gold bars on his collar.
The diagnostic logs and systems checks confirmed, I nod to my first mate. The timegate jump must happen now. We cannot wait any longer. If we postpone for a more ideal planetary alignment, our people may be out of time.
All our simulations suggest imminent total population collapse. This mission is our last chance to correct the ancient mistake of our ancestors.
“Prepare for ascent,” I command.
The bridge crew jumps into action. The pilot begins the launch sequence. The engine crew communicates vital acceleration information as the zero-point drive comes to full power. I take a seat in the captain’s chair, and Lieutenant Controi sits beside me. We lift off. Outside the bridge window, the planet descends below us.
A thousand years of meticulous terraforming and geoengineering have created a paradise. A paradise that will be lost if I do not succeed in bringing ancient Earth females back to our future on Mars.
The triangular ship turns nose up and accelerates through the Martian atmosphere. We burst into space, leaving the green forests and blue oceans below. The city of Cassini with its proud stone towers, cascading waterfalls, and anti-gravity transit system disappear from sight.
When our people first arrived ten centuries ago, all we had was a wish and a will to survive. A million times I’ve considered and discussed the choices we made back then. It always comes back to the fact that we had no choice. We never had a choice.
A thousand years ago, when the first ship escaped from a destroyed Earth and made it to Mars, our people had to find a way to survive. Our ancient scientists had already started the experiments that would lead to the eventual annihilation of our species. To survive the Mantis invasion and our resettlement on Mars, we had to adapt. But that adaptation has nearly destroyed us.
The Xojor shoots through the darkness of space, charging toward the distant golden sun at the center of our solar system. The planet we once called home, the planet from which all life on Mars originated, is now as dark and red as Mars had once been.
I’ve seen this sight numerous times. I’ve explored the ruined Earth for artifacts and signs of life. After the ancient Earthlings’ failed attempt to vanquish the Mantis invasion with nuclear bombs, Earth and all her beauty were destroyed.
We approach the solar coordinates and hover in space outside the golden ring of the timegate.
“Initiate timegate,” I command.
The technology to create the timegate has been within our power for decades. But the time to use it has only just arrived. Time travel comes with a slew of dangers, a time paradox being the most damaging.
It took years to calculate the exact moment in time to leave and when to arrive in the past. If we have made a mistake, our entire species could disappear from existence in the blink of an eye.
If there were any other option, no one would suggest time travel. Not King Damious, not the scientists, and certainly not me.
But the genetic price we paid for our survival has been the slow and painful loss of our women.
The genetic manipulations that made male Martians large and well-muscled with stamina, speed, and strength—superhuman to our Earthling ancestors—has eradicated our females.
