Forbidden Alien Warlord (SciFi Alien Romance) (4 page)

Jenna’s stomach soured with anxiety. “So…we’re the bad guys?”

Leo swallowed, hard, as if he were fighting an urge to be sick. “I’m afraid so.”

Why shouldn’t he be?
said a small voice in her head.
It sounds like Manifest Destiny 2.0. You
are
the real monster.

“Your people are fixing it,” Leo said. “I’ll give them that. But they’re doing nothing to fix our image, and I’m afraid they won’t.”

“They will,” Jenna said through gritted teeth. “They will if I have to make them.”

Leo pressed a hand to her shoulder and squeezed it. “I was hoping you would say that.”

Jenna looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a small faction of humans and a large percentage of Yazulians who want to push to bring back the original treaty,” Leo said, and his eyes glinted with excitement. “We want to be equal in every way. We don’t object to humans expanding—just doing it
this
way. There’s plenty of space for both of us, and we can share it all.”

“That didn’t work the first time,” Jenna said anxiously. “Why would it work this time?”

“This time we have more voices and more visibility,” Leo answered. “We already share space with you on Luna. If humans
and
Yazulians push for this on peaceful ground, we can start building the right path. I know it.”

Jenna was silent. She studied Leo’s face, moved by the passion in his words and the fierce determination in his eyes. Only days ago she’d hated him—and wouldn’t have objected to killing him, in fact—and now she was sitting with her leg pressed against his, even holding his hand again without even noticing. Leo was smiling without a trace of fear or apprehension—how could he be so confident? It reminded her of Victor, who was always trying to protect everyone around him by never showing his fear. But Leo didn’t think she needed protection; he didn’t seem to find her weak at all.

Jenna nodded. “Okay. I’ll help.”

****

Three months later, Luna looked like a different place. The war wasn’t over, but Yazulians were officially acknowledged as Earth’s partners in the insurgency against the remaining rebel forces. More than half of the forces were back at their home planets, and it was all thanks to Leo’s faction of determined Yazulians, and Jenna’s leadership of the humans. Now that so many barracks weren’t needed, the space was being transitioned into a joint city—the very first of its kind.

Jenna herself had spoken at the meeting in favor of it being built, and she was astounded at how fast everything was moving. Gray Men were everywhere during the transition, but fights were uncommon after the first week, and the atmosphere relaxed. Jenna noticed some of the Gray Men seemed to glow softly through their clothing; when she asked Leo about it, he explained that Yazulian’s weren’t allowed to be Gray Men before, due to their status as war criminals.

“What?” Jenna was dumbfounded, but she kept reminded herself that there was still much she didn’t know. Every day she learned something new; more Yazulian words, cuisine customs on their home planet, even variations of the diverse music they had throughout their cultures. She sampled desserts and stews, meat pies and rubbery plants that were bitter or sweet depending on how you cooked them.  Her favorite thing to learn had been Leo’s Second Name:
Lilliya,
a name than indicated his homeland stretched next to shimmering waters, a green land pressing against the sky to hold back the sun.

Jenna had laughed, and when she told him the definition of
Horizon,
he laughed, too.

The biggest thing she learned was how quickly she could fall in love, and how different it should be from what she’d felt before. It was painless and wild, but still deep and passionate and everything she’d ever wanted from another person. That this person happened to be a Yazulian was no longer a concern for her; as her duties changed and she and Leo grew more in love, her only concern began to be how much longer she could keep dreaming before she had to wake up.

The Yazulian barracks were being repainted to resemble their homeworld structures, all done in metallic shades of every color imaginable: gleaming white, shimmering apple green, slick cherry red, polished gold, and even a glistening onyx that Jenna was particularly fond of. Some of the humans were following suit, and some were shipping back to Earth—but, most surprisingly, many humans were moving into the new Yazulian barracks in order to make new homes with their lovers.

“I had no idea we had this many inter-species relationships!” Jenna told Leo excitedly one day. Her brigade had been transitioned to ground duty, so she was one of the humans who moved in with their partner. They’d gotten a larger bed and better furniture, and the space looked cozy and warm, even with its cool stone walls. “Did you?”

Leo smiled and averted his eyes. “Well…”

Jenna gasped. “You did! How did this never come up before?”

He shrugged sheepishly and slid one arm around her waist, stealing one of the berries from her sundae. “I guess none of the Yazulians or humans were comfortable with you knowing. I’ve known other Yazulians who dated humans. It’s secret, but not unheard of.” He noticed her expression and started to back-peddle. “But, uh…I’m sure lots of people didn’t know. I’m sure that—”

“Leo, it’s fine,” Jenna said, and she smiled to show him she meant it. “I’m just glad I know now. I spent a long time letting myself be this…hateful person who didn’t believe they were worthy of love. But that changed when I met you.” Tears threatened to spill over her lashes, but for once, they were happy ones. “I’m a new person now, with an opportunity to create this brand new history. You made that happen.”

“Only because you made
that
happen,” Leo said, gesturing outside.

“We did that together,” Jenna insisted, snuggling against him.

She heard the smile in his voice as he spoke. “Yeah, we did,” he said bashfully. “I guess we make a pretty good team.”

********

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Thanks so much for your support!

xo – Meg

~BONUS STORY~

Chosen Alien Gene: Double Quest

Lenth stepped into the nearly deserted bar, looking around constantly. His gaze flicked from one human to another, sizing up prospects and trying to understand the complex behavior going on around him; he saw a few females—but most of them appeared to be working, walking briskly from one table to another or standing behind the long, ancient-looking bar itself.

Lenth’s gaze settled on a figure unlike the rest of the patrons; the man was sitting at a booth, glancing around just as interestedly as Lenth had been. Anyone looking at Lenth and the other man—who had arrived fifteen minutes prior—would have assumed that they were brothers, or at the very least cousins; they shared the same skin tone: a shade somewhere between brown and gray—an unusual color, though not entirely out of the realm of human possibility—and a similar build: lean, muscular, and almost too tall to quite be believed. Where Lenth had close-cropped, thick brown hair, the other man’s was a few inches longer, unnatural-looking silver. Both men also had unearthly-looking blue-green eyes.

Lenth strode through the quiet bar towards the booth, his lips curling in a smile at the sight of his fellow scientist. “Bronn,” he said, sitting down across from the other man. “I apologize for my tardiness.” Bronn mimicked his smile, glancing around the room once more.

“I’m just glad you’re here,” Bronn responded. He shifted into their native language. “Our superiors are beginning to become anxious.” Lenth nodded.

“I think your idea is a good one,” Lenth said. They had spoken previously about their mutual troubles; neither of them had had any success in the goal of their mission, the goal that all of the scientists on their mission had.

“It would be better than being sent back to Khatanar,” Bronn agreed. Lenth smiled, shaking his head. The planet they came from—called Tau Ceti e by the humans—was far enough away that neither scientist was in a hurry to return alone.

“They wouldn’t send us back, they’d just make our lives miserable.”

“They’d send us back if we went much longer without any progress,” Bronn countered. “I have no interest in being crammed into a capsule and sent back.”

“How are we going to approach this?” Lenth asked.

“I’ve studied human reproduction extensively,” Bronn said, lifting the mug of what Lenth’s own extensive research told him was beer to his lips and taking a long sip. “I have seen several references to human sexuality that seem to suggest that in certain situations, humans mate in groups of three instead of pairs.”

“I have seen a few of these references,” Lenth agreed. On the months that the voyage to this planet had taken, all of the scientists had reviewed as much as they could, studying the facets of human sexuality. “But it seems to be the exception rather than the rule. Do you believe it’s a fertility issue?”

“None of the other reports suggest that it is.” Bronn sat back on the bench, sighing. “I believe—from what I have studied—that recreational mating is a common feature for this species.” Lenth considered it; certainly the wealth of information available publicly about reproduction, including videos, stories, pictures, and guides, implied that the human species did not simply mate for the purposes of reproduction. Early reports from other, more successful Khateen scientists—other members of their crew, colleagues who had already selected and recruited subjects for experimentation—suggested the same.

“This—pornography that they have,” Lenth said slowly. “It’s difficult to decipher how much of it is for the purposes of education and how much of it is entertainment.”

“They are in some ways like children,” Bronn said, taking another sip of his beer. “This isn’t bad; when the waitress arrives, you should order it.” Bronn set the heavy glass mug down and continued his thought. “It’s as though their mating is not simply for the purposes of either bonding or reproduction, but a recreational activity in its own right.” Among the Khateen, mating only served two functions; part of the challenge that faced the researchers sent to the planet known as Earth was that mating seemed to be a much more complicated issue.

“We know much more now than we did when this mission started,” Lenth pointed out. “It seems strange though that something that can result in conception could be used purely as a form of entertainment. I understand that many human women don’t desire this outcome.”

“The planet is fairly well-populated,” Bronn pointed out. “And we both know that the orgasm response in humans can be addictive.”

“But an entire planet of addicts? It should be choked with humans—they should have already destroyed themselves.”

“They have ways of preventing conception, as Hikar discovered.” Hikar, another one of their colleagues, had recruited his human female subject the week before; he had reported to the group about the existence of various methods that humans used to avoid reproduction.

“All I know,” Lenth said, shaking his head in frustration, “is that if we don’t find a subject to experiment on, we’ll be in trouble.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a human woman; she was short, even by human standards, with brilliant purple-colored hair cut short around a sharp-featured face. Dressed in a pair of shorts that revealed the indelible ink markings Lenth knew were called tattoos—designs that looked similar to human artwork in a floral motif—and a tight, black shirt, she looked to Lenth’s gaze like the human mythological creature called a pixie.

“Can I get you something?” she said, and Lenth felt a shiver cascade through his nervous system at the pleasing, soft sound of her voice. The woman’s large, dark eyes took him in.

“I’ll have what my friend is having,” Lenth told her, gesturing to the beer. The woman smiled, nodding quickly.

“Coming right up!” she scribbled something on the pad of paper and moved away from the table, and Lenth watched her move towards the bar.

“What do you think?” Bronn asked. Lenth smiled slowly.

“I think we should approach her,” Lenth replied. “She’s an excellent candidate.”

Bronn watched the woman that he and Lenth had identified as a potential recruit for their now-combined study, tracking her around the room as she went about her work. “Why do you think she’s an excellent candidate?” Bronn asked his colleague, turning his attention back onto Lenth.

“She’s obviously fertile,” Lenth said, his glance moving to watch her as well. “I find her interesting.”

“Interesting?” Bronn asked doubtfully. He had had no success in finding a recruit to study; as yet he had never found a human woman to be specifically interesting. He had found them intriguing as study participants—but his opinion about human intelligence was fairly dim.

“Did you hear her voice?” Lenth asked him.

Bronn raised his shoulders in an approximation of a shrug. “She has a very nice voice; how does that make her interesting?”

“She has that—tattooing,” Lenth pointed out, still speaking in their native language.

“Many human women have that,” Bronn pointed out. When the human woman approached the table once more, Bronn looked at her artwork in more detail. The shorts the woman was wearing made it easy to view the whorls and swirls of ink forming flowers on her upper thighs.

“Here you are: one mug of Samuel Adams,” the woman said, smiling. Listening to her voice, Bronn had to admit to himself that it was beautiful. The woman hesitated; instead of turning away quickly, the way she had before, she lingered, looking from Bronn to Lenth. “Do you mind if I ask where you gentlemen come from?” she asked quickly. “Jeez! I apologize if that’s offensive.”

“We’re from far away,” Lenth said, falling back on the explanation that the other Khateen had used—the explanation that both Lenth and Bronn had used in speaking with women previously. Lenth glanced at Bronn, giving him a significant look.

“May I ask your name?” Bronn asked, falling into the English language with slight difficulty. Even after weeks of speaking the language, it still felt stilted and strange to him.

“Giselle,” the woman said, her lips curving in a smile. In that moment, Bronn’s confusion at Lenth’s choice—his decision to attempt to recruit the woman—evaporated. Bronn had seen a dozen women smile; but there was something about the way Giselle’s dark eyes lit up when her lips curved that sent a jolt through him.

“Let us know when you’re on your break, Giselle, and we can tell you all about where we come from,” Lenth suggested.

“I’m actually off in twenty minutes,” she said, glancing at them both. “I wasn’t planning to hang around, but your language sounds very interesting; I study cultures, I’d love to hear more.”

Bronn nodded, smiling at the woman. “We’ll be happy to share everything you want to hear about our culture,” Bronn told her. “Let me pay for my friend so that we don’t hold you up.” He offered one of the strange pieces of paper that humans used as currency; Giselle glanced at it and then smiled again, extending it towards him.

“Actually, this one’s on me; I’ll get you a refill as well. I didn’t catch your names.” She frowned slightly, and there was something about the expression that intrigued Bronn even more than her smile.

“I’m called Bronn,” he said, before gesturing to his colleague. “My friend is Lenth.” Giselle smiled again.

“Well, Bronn and Lenth, I’ll be right back.”

Bronn glanced at his colleague as Giselle walked briskly away. “She is fertile, and she seems interested.” Lenth’s lips tugged upward at the corners in a human-like smile.

“I believe she’s at the phase of reproductive viability—the part of her monthly cycle called ovulation.” Bronn considered it, thinking of the woman’s body language, the way she had looked at both of them, her dark eyes flashing. He nodded.

“How much do we tell her?” he asked his fellow researcher, glancing the way that Giselle had come. The slight sway in her hips as she walked towards the bar suggested to him that Giselle was almost certainly fertile at the moment—not just in the general sense, but imminently so.

“As little as possible,” Lenth suggested. “At least until we can get her to a private location.”

“Should we convince her to consume alcohol while we talk?” Bronn asked; the Khateen metabolism was unaffected by alcohol—they could consume endless quantities without becoming intoxicated. Other researchers had discovered that drinking alcohol with their subjects loosened the subjects’ inhibitions—though there were ethical considerations in consent taken from a woman who was intoxicated.

“Yes,” Lenth said, nodding slowly. “But we should allow her to become sober before any experimentation takes place.”

“Particularly in light of the fact that we will both be experimenting on her,” Bronn agreed. “Yes, that would make sense. We want to be careful not to injure her.” Others of their race had run into problems; even though care had been taken, human women were smaller than Khateen women, particularly their sex organs. More than one researcher had discovered that this could present problems in experiments. Though the Khateen had ample technology for dealing with such injuries, the incidents made the human recruits more reticent, and the empathic response that formed part of the Khateen personality made it difficult to remain objective, knowing that the subject was in pain, even for a short period of time.

“We’ll be very careful; she seems smaller than many of the human women I have encountered—she’s probably smaller everywhere.” Bronn nodded.

“She’ll be sober, and we’ll make sure that she’s fully apprised of the risks and the benefits before we persuade her to participate.” Lenth laughed the Khateen way, startling one of the nearby human patrons.

“We haven’t been able to persuade any human women on our own,” Lenth pointed out. “It will only be more difficult for us to persuade one together.”

“I don’t believe so,” Bronn said to his colleague as Giselle approached their table once more, armed with another mug of beer.