Marauder Fenrir: Scifi Alien Invasion Romance (Mating Wars) (3 page)

I
cut the engines
, and the cocky asshole alien floats back off the wall. I accelerated at over 1g, and he hit the wall hard. It would have knocked out a human, but he’s...
smiling?

He looks away just as I catch a glimpse of his shiny white teeth, and he looks back at me with his same smug and superior look he’s been giving me all along.

“I now control the ship,” he says, grabbing hold of a handrail on the wall.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in the pilot’s seat,” she sasses. “Or would you like me to slam you into the wall again?”

He smiles again, but this time he doesn’t try to hide it. I feel myself blushing, and my stomach churns with frustrating and annoying….
feelings
. I grit and grind my teeth at the stupidity of feeling anything but utter hate and disdain toward this murderous monster.

“I control the ship by proxy,” he says.

“What does that mean?”

Another freaky teal tentacle shoots out of his armor, and it rips me out of my restraints. It pulls me toward him, and when I’m just inches away, it melts back into his armor.

“I control you,” he says, “and thus the ship.”

I roll my eyes. “What if I refuse to fly it?”

“You will obey me,” he says. “And in return, I will spare you.”

“I thought you wanted to kill all humans?” I challenge.

“After my faction wins against the race traitors, we will arrive and destroy all of you. I can spare your life until then. It changes nothing.”

“Wow,” I say. “That is
sooo
generous of you. I will be sure to obey you
soo
much more now, master.”

His grin stretches from ear to ear, and his ears pop up until they’re standing perfectly straight. “Excellent. Though you can call me Captain Fenrir.”

“Captain…” I say slowly, deliberately drawing out the word. “You seriously want me to call you
Captain
?”

“Captain Fenrir,” he says.

“What are you going to call me?
Breeding female
?”

“Is this what they called you?” he asks.

No. They called me
airwoman
, which was almost as bad.

“Fiona,” I say. “You can call me Fiona.”

“I see,” he says. “I know your language has many dialects, but I am not familiar with this one.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Human Fiona!” he barks. “Guide the ship to orbit the red planet.”

“It’s just Fiona,” I say.

“What do you call this ship?” he asks.

“The
Broom Closet
,” I say.

All the low-tech ships have names like this, but I withhold the information that we’re using lower tech ships. I don’t have a lot of loyalty left for the Empire, but when dealing with an alien who wants to destroy all of humanity, I’m still going to side with humanity.

“This name is not suitable,” he says. “As Captain Fenrir, I rename this ship
Cygnus’s Bane.
”

I bite my lip. Fenrir really seems to have it in for Great Brother Cygnus. If the rumors are true, Cygnus and Aegus are fighting against the invaders who want to exterminate humanity. I used to think their faction just consisted of the two Great Brothers, but from the way Fenrir spoke, it sounds like there are more of them, and they’re dispersed among the invasion fleet itself.

I decide it’s best to obey Fenrir for now. He’s so arrogant that he may continue spilling useful information like this. If I somehow manage to escape unscathed, I could give everything I figure out to Mars-Venus...or to the Great Brother himself.

“So,” I ask, “what is your plan once we are in Martian orbit? You know this ship can’t enter the atmosphere or land, right?”

“Of course I know this,” he snaps. “I have everything planned out, you need not concern yourself with this. How far to the red planet?”

“Twelve hours or so,” I say.

Through the window, Mars looks about as large as the moon does from Earth’s surface.

“So take us there!” he shouts, looking through the cockpit’s window. “It looks close, it cannot take twelve of your hours to reach it!”

“We’re at war with Mars,” I say. “I’ll need to boost us hard and fast, just enough to get us moving, then cut the engines. We’ll have to float into orbit to get there undetected.”

“This sounds like a cowardly approach,” he says.

“We’re one garbage gunship against the full defense forces of Mars. Do you want to be cowardly and alive, or brave and dead?”

He starts to grumble under his breath in an alien language, but he finally says, “I agree to the cowardly Fiona plan. Another small amount of shame debt pales to my great burden.”

The cowardly Fiona plan. The nerve of this guy! I pull out an ancient tablet from the main console and start programming in the stealth orbital approach. It’s a very delicate maneuver, and there will only be one chance for us to do it. If our thrust vector is off by even a single degree, we’ll miss the Martian orbit entirely. And if we make an adjustment burn near Mars, they’ll see it’s an Imperial ship and blow us apart.

I finish the calculations, and the computer starts to run its proofing algorithms. It will spit back any possible wrinkles and a percentage margin of error. With the
Broom Closet’s--
no,
Cygnus’s Bane’s--
shitty computer, it usually takes two or three polishing runs to get a safe flight path.

From looking over the report it prints out, the main issue with this flight path is the intense g-force required on initial burn. It will use up most of our fuel, and I’ll have to use an acceleration couch, as the pilot’s seat isn’t rated to handle anything above 3gs for more than a few seconds.

Fenrir’s shadow looms across the console. “What is a thrust vector?” he asks.

“You can read?” I ask, taken aback.

“Yes, your writing system is primitive, just like everything else about you.”

“Okay,” I say in disgust, shoving the tablet into his hands. “If you’re so damn advanced,
you
do it!”

He takes one look at the screen, then jams his finger into it.

The engines rumble.

Oh, shit.

The burst is huge, and Fenrir’s armor launches tendrils in all directions in response.

The long projections grasp tightly to the handrails on both sides of the ship, and they hold him in place like some big, purple and ripped-as-hell spider.

The tablet flies out of his hands and shatters into hundreds of pieces when it lands against the back wall.

My seat is facing backward toward Fenrir, and it locks in this position as a “safety” precaution against the intense g-force.

The restraints tear into my skin as my body pulls against them, and as the acceleration intensifies, I hear the straps begin to tear. If they break open, I’ll slam into the back wall and be mashed into a pulp.

Fenrir launches out a tendril that grabs hold of my seat, spinning it to face toward the window. I catch a glimpse of him grinning wildly at me just before my seat starts spinning back toward the window.

My vision blurs and turns blood red under the intense g-force. With the seat locked forward, I’m at least getting pulled back into it rather than out of it. The restraints are no longer cutting into me, and there’s a smaller risk I will get pulled into the wall and die.

Though, maybe the acceleration will just squash my organs against the back of my ribcage instead. What a lovely thought.

My eyes water, the salty tears streaming back across my face. My jaw rumbles, and I clench my teeth together to avoid biting my tongue off.

The chair starts to vibrate, and I worry it’s going to rip off the floor.

Would Fenrir grab me with his tendrils before I died? He at least turned my seat around when he saw the restraints tearing.

He’s protected me –in a very roundabout and frustrating way–twice now. Though this second time I only needed his protection from a situation
he
created through his stubborn arrogance.

My vision narrows to a small pinprick, and I begin to feel light-headed.

There’s a loud, violent jerk, and suddenly I’m weightless. The chair has torn off the floor.

My vision floods back in a rush, and I see Fenrir zipping across the room, dozens of tendrils connecting to the handrails. He darts out of my way just before I slam into him.

Great, he’s done with me. I’ve plotted the course for him, and he has no use–.

His armor stretches out into a thin, teal membrane, and I slam into it.

The membrane stretches out as it surrounds me, and I pull through it. I still see myself dropping down, farther and farther, Fenrir’s tall silhouette disappearing above me.

Just before I hit the ground, the membrane pulls me back up toward him. It tugs against the acceleration, but it’s wrapped itself entirely around me now, and it’s somehow insulating my body against the intense g-force.

And now Fenrir is inside the membrane, as well, being pulled toward me. And he’s totally fucking naked.

Did I die already? Or am I hallucinating? Because his dick is just as big as the “ornamental” crotch armor hinted it would be, and it’s fucking
teal.

And the creepy armor-turned-membrane is pulling us toward each other.

Our bodies slam together, and I feel his warmth envelope me as his arms wrap tightly around me. My face presses into his chest. It’s hard and wide, but I suddenly feel safe and protected.

The membrane encircles us completely, and the g-force cuts off. I can no longer even feel the violent jerking or vibration.

But then I
do
feel a vibration. Something big, long and hard is pushing into me, trailing from my belly button up to my breasts...and it’s vibrating wildly.

I look down to see the head of his teal cock shoved between my breasts, and even though blood is rushing through my whole body–from my cheeks to my lips to my...other lips –I can’t help but reach up and slap him.

I slap him as hard as I can up-side the head, but instead of causing him any pain, it just hurts my hand. So, I ball up my first to punch him. I hit him a few times, but end up hurting myself more than I do him.

Each time I strike him, I feel his cock vibrating even more rapidly against my body. It’s not just beating or pulsing faintly like a human cock, it’s literally
vibrating.

“Damn it!” I shriek. “Stop it!”

I tell him to stop only because my body seems to disagree. I feel my nipples hardening against my bra, and I worry that with his keen sense of smell, he’ll smell my arousal and guess just how wet I am.

The membrane melts away, and we’re floating again in zero-g.

“The engines have cut off,” he says.

He’s still holding me tight, and his cock is still vibrating against me.

“Let go of me!” I gasp, my face flushed in embarrassment.

He lets go of his hold on me, and I shove his chest, pushing myself away from him.

As I float away, I see his big, hard, teal cock in its full size and glory. I stare at it like an idiot, my eyes widening in amazement. Even as I float farther away, it still looks so fucking big.

“Hmmm,” he says, looking down at his dick. “Are you not able to shut off your pheromones?”

“Excuse me?” I say incredulously, grabbing a handrail and stopping myself.

“Your pheromones have distracted me, made me erect, and now I’m wasting valuable calories with this vibration.”

“So it’s
my
fault you can’t keep your teal dick in your pan--–in your...where the hell is your armor? Why are you floating around naked with a big alien boner?”

“My biosuit is nearly depleted,” he says. “Give me the most protein-dense rations available so that I can recharge it.”

“Can you at least put that crotch piece back on?” I ask, shielding my eyes with my hand.

“No,” he says. “If you don’t like my penis, don’t look at it.”

“Fine!” I say. “If you don’t like my fucking pheromones, then don’t smell them!”

“They disperse throughout the whole ship,” he says matter-of-factly. “I could secure you back in the sack, or in the airlock–”

“Okay,” I say. “Forget it. Keep your dick out all you want.”

The corners of his mouth twitch and rise up into a grin, and his cock, still fully erect, bobs up and down..

“So,” I ask, changing the subject, “why do you want to kill Cygnus, exactly?”

Considering that his existence has mostly been based on rumor, I have a hard time imagining that killing Cygnus will accomplish much of anything.. I don’t tell Fenrir this, as I’m happy to have him waste his time. I might even be able to warn Cygnus and his human followers before Fenrir strikes. I can use Fenrir to get closer to Cygnus, which in turn could get me safely onto the surface of Mars. It’s not exactly where I wanted to end up, but as someone implicated in the murder of an Imperial officer, I have little choice.

“My shame debt compels me to kill him!” Fenrir grunts.

As hard as I try to keep my eyes off his big teal cock, they feel like they’re drawn magnetically toward it. If my concentration starts drifting, my eyes fall right back down toward it. Even though his cock is getting softer now, it’s still fucking massive.

“I have no idea what that means,” I say. “Shame debt? Does that mean you’re embarrassed or something?”

He’s talking to me with a straight face and his huge teal dick hanging out, so embarrassment seems unlikely, but it’s all I can even remotely tie this alleged “shame debt” to.

“Only a warrior could understand,” he says.

I shake my head and kick off the floor, toward the turret I used to man. I slap the turret and widen my eyes at him. “Do you see this?”

“It’s a primitive kinetic weapon,” he says.

I scoff. “And how many of these primitive weapons do you see in this ship?”

He squints and scans the room with his eyes. “Four.”

“How many men did you kill?” I ask.

“Four,”he replies.. “One for each weapon.”

“No,” I say, “the last one you killed ordered the rest of us around and piloted the ship. He didn’t fire the weapons.”

I sit down into the turret’s chair and grab the handles. I turn the controls from side to side, showing him I know what I’m doing.