CHAPTER ONE
Toes curled in the sand near the shore, Janelle pinched the outside of her right thigh.
Ouch. Okay, still not dreaming.
No one could blame her for thinking that, though. After the explosion, she’d been rescued and healed by a shimmering, transparent alien race that had swept her across the galaxies and transplanted her on the planet Vor. She’d spent a couple of days handcuffed and terrified out of her mind in a cage made of strange blue wooden planks and a dirty gray floor. If she’d thought that was bad, things had only spiraled farther down the rabbit hole from there.
Dressed in a cream-colored dress that had barely covered—well, anything—she’d been led from her prison to a coliseum with other humans and paraded in front of what had basically amounted to the Kansas City Chiefs’ entire defensive line. Next, the leader of these giant warriors had shifted into something right out of her nightmares, attacked one of the women, then flown off with her.
Janelle had been convinced he’d eaten the woman, that she’d never see her again. As it turned out, that wasn’t exactly the case. Oh, the woman—Jordan, she’d found out later—had been devoured, all right, but she’d enjoyed every damn second of it.
Things hadn’t been so bad since then. Well, other than living on an alien planet surrounded by enormous, aggressive men who wanted to turn her into a baby-making factory and never being able to go home. Rationally, she knew she should be thankful she wasn’t dead, grateful for a second chance at life, even if it wasn’t the life she’d envisioned for herself. It should please her to know that her stalker had died in the explosion, and he would never haunt her steps again.
And for the most part, she was grateful, but it hadn’t been an easy transition. For the first week, she’d spent half of her time hiding in her room, and the other half looking over her shoulder, waiting for one of those big bastards to go all red-eyed demon and attack her.
All in the name of fated love, she thought with a snort.
“Why are they coming here?” She didn’t know how many times she’d asked the question, but it must have been a lot, because the warrior next to her rolled his eyes and grunted.
“They are arriving to find out if any of the warriors from their clan have mates amongst the humans.”
Yeah, she knew that. She just hoped if she asked enough times the answer would change.
She wouldn’t say she’d acclimated to her new life in the few short weeks she’d been there, but things were starting to get better. She left her room more often now, and she didn’t freak out every time one of the warriors spoke to her. Hell, she was even starting to get used to the shade being thrown her way from some of the Vor females. Those chicks really didn’t want the human women on their planet.
Now, warriors and chieftains from other clans across the planet were coming to appraise the unclaimed females like they were shopping for a used car.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
“What if I don’t want a mate?”
The black stripes that covered Travo’s bronzed skin writhed when he shrugged his massive shoulders. “Not my concern, female.”
“My name is Janelle.”
His inky hair fell over one shoulder when he tilted his head to the side. “I know your name.”
She liked Travo the best out of the warriors. He didn’t ask her endless questions, nor did he stare at her from across a room until she could feel her skin crawling from the attention. On the contrary, he’d been kind to her, and while they operated on completely different wavelengths, he sort of got her.
These other clans could be filled with savages for all she knew. Maybe they really would want to eat her instead of mate her. For some horribly morbid reason, the thought made her giggle.
“Are you okay?” Travo asked, his brow furrowed, deepening the valleys between the three ridges across the bridge of his nose.
Janelle ducked her head as she kicked at the sand with her bare toes. “Yep,” she answered in Travo’s language. “Peachy.”
Being able to speak and understand the warriors’ native tongue was the one thing she actually enjoyed about the planet. It had been explained to her that while the shiny, water-blob aliens—the Wraiths, the guards had called them—had been healing her from being shish kebabed, they’d basically downloaded the Vor language into her brain.
She’d always wanted to learn a second language, but she just didn’t have the patience for it. Where were those Wraith things when she’d been failing Spanish II in high school?
Sighing, she dug her toes deeper into the soft, warm sand as she scrubbed both hands roughly over her face. She didn’t know why the hell she was standing by water like some heroine from a historical romance novel waiting for her sea captain to return home.
There was a plan, or at least some semblance of one, and it was supposed to make it less stressful for the human women to meet the new warriors from the different clans. Which was great, but sitting around the great hall had made her twitchy and restless.
“We can go back,” Travo told her, his deep voice quiet. “You may find it less…overwhelming.”
Janelle shook her head. If the possibility existed that she would be mated to one of these clansmen, she’d rather face it like she did everything else—head on, all in, on her terms. But damn, the waiting was killing her.
“Maybe they’re not coming,” she said hopefully.
Travo blew out a long breath. “There is no reason to be afraid, Janelle.” He said her name pointedly, with only a hint of sarcasm. “Our customs may seem strange to you, but I assure you, being claimed by a warrior of Vor is not something to lament. There is no safer place than by your mate’s side. A bonded warrior will raze planets to protect his female, and he’ll cherish her until his dying breath.” Gently, hesitantly, he settled his massive hand on her shoulder, his strange eyes soft with concern. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
When he presented it like that, it didn’t seem so bad. Hell, her race had written songs and sonnets about that kind of devotion. Still…
“So, he’ll just want me because I smell good?”
Dropping his hand, Travo tossed his head back and laughed right from his belly. “No, little one, not just because you smell good to him. He’ll recognize you by scent, true, but the drive to be near you comes from a place much deeper.”
“Okay, I get it.”
And she did…kind of. She’d seen the bonded pairs on the planet all cuddled up and cozy together. She’d envied the way the males had watched their mates with adoration and reverence, the way they’d guarded them against any perceived threat. To say she didn’t want that would be a lie, but she just didn’t see how it could happen with a total stranger.
Love took time. Where she came from, that level of commitment didn’t happen overnight, but she’d seen it on Vor with her own eyes. She just didn’t know if she could trust it.
Christ, nothing made sense anymore.
Stooping, she gathered a handful of shiny, opaque stones from the sand, then dropped them one by one into her other palm. Once the last stone clacked against the others, she switched hands and repeated the process.
She might have felt better if some of the other women had come with her—like the badass former cop, Roxanne—but they’d all thought she was crazy. Maybe they were right. Maybe she’d finally cracked and lost her mind. She supposed that was okay.
“Look.” Travo pointed out over the water. “They’ve arrived.”
“Looks like it.”
She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t the pirate ship sailing toward them. Still several miles out, set against the lavender sky and bathed in the rays of the planet’s blue sun, a massive ship with a sapphire blue hull and six, taut black sails cut through the strange green water at full speed.
Her knees weakened, and her legs began to tremble, but she remained upright, gaze locked on the horizon. Then, she did what she always did to soothe herself in times of sadness or distress.
She began to sing.
* * * *
Leaning against the railing on the upper deck of the ship, Vischer Roak stared dispassionately at the glimmering shore beyond the water’s edge. As chieftain of the Black Winds Clan, he’d had no choice but to accompany his warriors to Kings Castle, but he didn’t have to like it.
When Prince Dracor Krell had arrived at their gates with an invitation to meet this alien race of females, the excitement that had swept through his people had been palpable. Fewer and fewer of the Vor had been finding their mates in recent years, which also meant fewer births. Of the claimed females who did end up with child, she always birthed a male. No one knew why, but as their population continued to dwindle, they knew something had to be done.
Vischer didn’t know the particulars of the bargain King Krell had made with the Wraiths, and he didn’t need to know. Dracor had warned them that this new race of females was fragile, both physically and emotionally, but that had not deterred his warriors. While the females of their own race provided release and a welcome distraction, nothing could compare to the fervent bond shared with one’s intended.
There were no words to describe the consuming feeling of finding a mate. All Vor females were treasured because of their rarity, protected and often pampered. A mate, however, was cherished, worshipped, and placed above all others. A male who found his mate was considered fortunate beyond measure, and others would lay down their lives to protect their brother’s beloved.
It made for nice stories at any rate.
No one from his clan had been mated in nearly two decades, not a single one. As the years faded one into the next, so did the optimism and vivacity that had once filled his land. Then, females from a far-off planet had arrived, and hope had sprung anew. Vischer didn’t begrudge his warriors for their enthusiasm, but he couldn’t share in it.
He’d been alone for a very long time, and he’d since given up on earning fate’s blessings. The likelihood that a human female could be his destiny was remote, nearly nonexistent. Still, he owed it to his people to try.
From below, Captain Nyko Lorn, called out orders as they lowered the sails and prepared to drop anchor. As the rush of wind in his ears faded, a new sound echoed across the distance to replace it. A sound so delicate and lovely, Vischer froze, his body an immovable mass of rigid muscle.
Singing.
The voice was singing, and he’d never heard anything so heartbreakingly beautiful. He couldn’t make out the words, but the melody was haunting, filled with such sorrow and longing it made his chest hurt.
“I imagined there would be more Krell warriors to greet us.” Landing softly beside him on the deck, Nyko retracted his black, leathery wings and placed his hands on his hips. “Is that one of the human females?”
Standing at the edge of the bank, her golden hair whipping around her face in the breeze, was the most exquisite creature he’d ever seen. Dressed in a gown of pure ivory, she was a vision to behold, a dream. As he watched, she tilted her face toward the sky, her creamy skin aglow with the waning sunlight, and his fingers ached to trace the long, lean lines of her throat.
“Lovely,” Nyko whispered, his tone reverent. “She does appear quite fragile, though. I can see why the prince warned us.”
“She’s perfect,” Vischer responded, the words past his lips before he’d registered the conscious decision to speak.
He had to remind himself she was here because the Wraiths had sensed that she had the potential to be a Vor warrior’s mate. A small part of him that had been caged within the darkest part of his soul said he could be that warrior. He could care for her, protect her, love her. He’d give her everything she wanted, and things she’d never thought to ask for.
But, no, he couldn’t think that way. She didn’t belong to him, and he couldn’t dishonor his brethren by coveting what wasn’t his.
“Is the ship secure?”
Nyko nodded once. “Yes, my lord. The warriors are awaiting your orders.”
Tearing his gaze away from the human, Vischer opened his mouth to speak, but the words stayed lodged in his throat.
“My lord?”
The wind shifted, the breeze washing over his face like a lover’s caress and bringing with it a sweet, exotic scent that instantly intoxicated him. Something exploded inside him, and the resulting fire spiraled down his spine, then back up, tightening his muscles and making his cock swell.
Beneath the leather harness strapped across his chest that held his daggers, the thick, black lines that covered his body, bled over his skin, stretching and thickening until he stood before his warriors as black as midnight. He heard his name called, but the sound was distant, muffled, as if being heard from underwater. The ship, the brilliant sky, the churning water, nothing else existed any longer as his entire world narrowed, focused solely on the cause of his sudden upheaval.
That delicate, fragile, breakable human was his, and he intended to claim her as such.
His wings burst from his back, and he didn’t even wait for the pain of the transformation to fade before rocketing into the air and soaring toward the shore. Somewhere in his crazed mind, a voice whispered that she wasn’t from his world. He was probably terrifying the fuck out of her, but he couldn’t stop himself.
His need was such that the short journey from the ship took no time at all, and his boots landed in the sand with a heavy thud before the third beat of his heart had even ended.
The female stared up at him with wide, sparkling blue eyes that stole his breath. As he’d predicted, she was afraid of him. He could smell it all over her, but even that couldn’t shake off the demon within him that demanded he claim what was his.
The female said something in a language he didn’t understand, then in the tongue of the Vor, “Oh, shit.”
Vischer cocked his head to the side, his tongue tracing the tip of his right fang. She was afraid, but she wasn’t running. He liked that, liked that his mate was not only beautiful, but also courageous. When she shuffled closer to the warrior at her side, however, territorial instinct took over, and he growled viciously as he lunged for her.
“Mine!”