Alien Romance: Hunted By The Alien: Scifi Alien Abduction Romance (Alien Romance, Alien Invasion Romance, BBW) (Celestial Protectors Book 4) Read online

  HUNTED BY THE ALIEN

  CLESTIAL PROTECTORS BOOK 4

  AANA CELESTYA

  Copyright 2016 by Aana Celestya

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced

  in any way whatsoever, without written permission

  from the author, except in case of brief

  quotations embodied in critical reviews

  and articles.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any

  person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  First edition, 2016

  Chapter One

  Kara tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear before fitting her helmet securely on her head and snapping it shut. It fastened with a satisfying click.

  She took one more look around the relative safety of her space shuttle. The same small shuttle she’d occupied for the last several months, navigating orbits, planets, and everything else space had to offer her. And now, here she was.

  Per protocol, she’d studied the monitors for hours before knowing it was time to disembark. She would never discover if life existed here on this planet if she didn’t open the doors and take that first step outside.

  After one quicker pat down, making sure she was properly sealed from any airborne contagions as well as properly oxygenated, she pushed the button that would break the seal on the door and open her shuttle to the outside world. Collection kit in hand, she made her way out into this new world.

  They’d been studying it for years back on Earth. Only now did they have the proper technology to make a trip there possible. Unlike the other planets, this one, Ubi-7z, seemed to have everything humans needed to colonize and live successfully.

  Kara, graced with the first mission, would be responsible for retrieving the data that couldn’t be collected remotely, including life and plant samples, oxygen readings, and location of any water.

  Inside the helmet and suit, Kara could hear only her own breathing. Temperature controlled, she had little to go on about this planet’s natural climate, other than an exterior reading of a cool 53 degrees Fahrenheit.

  It wasn’t the lush green landscape Kara had imagined it would be. In fact, it was mostly dry and dusty, an unimpressive shade of brown, but all the readings suggested it would be liveable, and she would do whatever it took to determine if that was the case.

  Behind a cluster of gray-gold stones, Kara found fresh green growth. She collected it carefully, avoiding the leaves and leaving the root intact. The more they knew about how and why things grew here, the more the other scientists would be able to anticipate what humans would need to do to Ubi-7z to make it habitable for long term occupation.

  Kara hadn’t realized how far she had managed to move from her shuttle, and she paused for a moment to diligently record her location. It would do no one any good if she lost herself and couldn’t provide the information needed.

  Tablet in hand, coordinates marked, Kara never saw the approaching unit. She was busy chewing on her lower lip and studying the digital topographical map when she was gripped from behind and had her arms forcibly twisted behind her.

  It took her a moment to realize what was happening, and in that moment her attacker — attackers, she realized belatedly — had gained the upper hand. Stunned, Kara called on all her training, and refused to struggle while she was in her vulnerable position. She would bide her time and wait until the chances of a successful escape were in her favor.

  The body pinning hers yanked her around roughly, pulling the helmet from her head, cutting off her communication channel to the space station, and flinging the expensive equipment to the ground.

  Kara gasped for air against her will, fighting the panic that was welling up inside of her. She hadn’t determined yet if it was safe to be without the helmet. Not that she was feeling especially safe during this particular moment anyway.

  The extraterrestrial was a brilliant shade of blue, tempered with purple and pink on the underside of his clawed hands and around his temple. His eyes were narrowed, angry slits, and he smiled, displaying a too-full set of pointed teeth. His tongue – she assumed it was his tongue – clicked against his teeth in a series of sounds she knew must be an established language.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, like she’d accidentally bumped into someone at the grocery store, and not like aliens were manhandling her. “I don’t speak your language. I speak English.” Or Russian. Or German. Or any number of other human languages that didn’t involve clicking.

  The being holding her — and she was sure it was a male — was broad and tall, hard and angular. His grip on her arm was bruising, his claws resting threateningly against her suit.

  “English,” he repeated, an automated clip to his words, and Kara wondered what was tapped into that he could so quickly use her language. “You will come with us, now.”

  There was no room for argument, as he shoved Kara toward the enclosed motorized vehicle he and the others had poured out of. There were five of them in all, each a variation of that alarming shade of blue. She was pushed inside, cracking her head on the edge of the door, and falling to her knees inside.

  In the vehicle, they seemed to feel little need to keep her restrained, and Kara pressed herself in the corner, as far away from them as possible. They stared openly at her, one being clicking his tongue repeatedly, appreciatively, and she felt another shiver of fear skid down her spine.

  The last of them entered the vehicle and the raised door closed in his wake, trapping her inside.

  “The Warlord will be pleased with this gift.”

  There was no question that the gift in discussion was Kara. She glowered back at them, trying not to mind the trickle of blood that was slipping down the side of her face, the new gash on her forehead stinging as it oozed.

  They said nothing else to her on their journey, just continued to stare, the one occasionally clicking, another dragging a long, pointed tongue suggestively over his teeth.

  “We have arrived,” the head being clipped out before the vehicle had come to a stop. “You will be provided with the appropriate treatments prior to being presented to the Warlord.”

  Kara blanched. Nothing about that sounded good.

  Like before, she was grabbed by the arms, flanked on either side and alternatively shoved and pulled out of the vehicle, tripping down the low set of stairs and onto a hard, metallic surface.

  They were inside a building, the metal walls arching high over their heads, every sound echoing in the space until it was deafening. The beings hauled her down a series of hallways Kara knew she wouldn’t be able to find her way back through, doors opening and closing on their own as they went.

  Kara was jerked to a stop in front of a set of doors and nudged inside. The head being gave the others a sharp command, and the one who had been clicking at her since her capture, gave one last lewd look at her before turning with the others and heading back through the maze of halls.

  The head being crowded her into the room, the doors closing them in, trapping them alone together.

  “Yes. Quite nice,” he said as he appraised her, reaching forward to rip open the front of her suit and reveal the thin silk thermawear she wore beneath it.

  Kara shivered with the exposure, willing herself to keep it together. She met his eyes with her own green ones, unflinching as he assessed her. He tugged at the top of her turtleneck, h
is claw brushing up against the tender skin of her neck.

  “Yes.” Even with the automated clip to his voice, he managed to sound guttural and husky. “Quite nice.”

  He moved away abruptly.

  “The hygha will be in shortly for your preparation. When the Warlord has finished with you, I will retrieve you and keep you for my own.”

  His eyes swiped over her body one last time.

  And then he was gone. And she was alone in the room.

  True to his word, however, Kara wasn’t alone long before the hygha made their appearance. Or at least, she assumed they were the hygha since they made no introduction and didn’t engage her in any conversation.

  They swept into the room, one identical goldenrod colored being after another, draped in copious amounts of fabric that somehow stayed on their bodies even though there was no clear answer to how. They were laden with trays and jars, and they didn’t allow their overly large, almond shaped eyes to meet hers.

  Unlike the head male from before, these females had slender, delicate hands tipped with claws that seemed gentle instead of cruel as they began their ministrations.

  Kara was unceremoniously stripped of her garments, her body assessed by the group of females. It was hard to tell, their bodies buried beneath the yards of gauzy fabric, but their willowy height suggested little curves and slopes, and Kara felt very aware of the breadth of her hips and the roundness of her breasts.

  Unlike the males, though, the group of females seemed to study her out of curiosity and interest and not with sexual intent. As a scientist, Kara understood that interest well and could appreciate it.

  As much as they were studying her, she was noting the lashless eyes, the large mouths, and long necks, the way they moved seamlessly around her, barely communicating with one another and somehow entirely sure of who should do what next.

  For a moment, she wondered if they were communicating telekinetically, and then determined there was no use worrying about that and perhaps she should be a little bit more careful of what she was thinking in their presence.

  With her clothing removed, Kara stood naked before them, her pale skin even paler with their golden hue so close to hers. From the jars they produced creams, powders, and scents, warm water and fragrant bubbles.

  She was bathed by the females, carefully and efficiently, a soft cloth moving over her body, two or three sets of hands on her at once. While one tended to the washing, another tackled her hair, brushing it and weaving it tightly around the crown of her head.

  The pull of the hands and claws on her scalp brought flecks of tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away and kept her head as still as possible.

  With the washing done, another hygha slid oil over her skin, starting on her shoulders, down her arms, to the back of her hands, and then back up again, the collar bone, the swell of her breast, the slender flare of her waist and across her abdomen.

  Then it was down the length of her thigh, the curve of her calf, the tops and bottoms of her feet. The scent of the oil permeated the room, heady, caught somewhere between a nutty musk and a fragrant floral.

  Kara shifted uncomfortably and realized suddenly that her taut nipples weren’t a product of the cool air on her skin. She was becoming uncomfortably warm.

  There was something hypnotic in the way they were preparing her — not that she liked to consider herself being prepared — and the warm silken scent she was oiled in seemed made to create arousal. She couldn’t curb the sudden surge of sexual interest she was feeling, though cognitively, it was the last thing she wanted.

  For the first time, there was a little murmur from the group of females, and Kara noticed one’s nostrils flare briefly, and another gesture approvingly toward the juncture of her thighs. Kara blushed in the wake of their determination and communication about her unexpected needing, like an animal on display at a county fair.

  When her body was prepared, one of the hygha removed a length of emerald green fabric, one Kara knew would bring out the green in her eyes, and the richness in her dark hair, and began to wind it around her body, folding here and twisting there, until Kara was just as draped in the cloth as the females were.

  With the clothing on, another produced some jewellery, a long necklace of stone beads and glinting flecks of metal and arranged it just so around her neck. Matching bracelets followed, stacked up both of her arms to her elbows, and finally they slid her feet into a set of moss-lined shoes.

  As a unit, they moved toward the door, pressed their clawed fingertips to the tips of their noses, and bowed their heads in goodbye.

  And then Kara was alone again, this time with a growing ache in her center to keep her company.

  Kara was pacing the room when they returned for her.

  It seemed like an extreme number of escorts, the females draped in deep purple and males in full armor snapped into formation around her, so she was carried out of the room and down the pathways just as surely as if she’d been lifted and tossed over a shoulder. There was simply no choice for her but to do as they expected.

  She wasn’t sure where she was being led, but she was well aware of the purpose. It had been made extremely clear to her that she was going to be presented to the leader of these people. Sexually.

  Kara had had ample time to consider all the different variations of how and what that might look like, but in light of not even having familiarity with the anatomy of these aliens, it did little to calm her to consider them.

  They finally spilled out of one long hallway and into a wide-open room.

  Which was when Kara first began to understand that she was not only being presented to the leader for his pleasure, but that there would also be an audience for the event. A large audience.

  Aliens, the blue males and the golden females were seated in neat rows, just as through they were settling in for a nice performance at the symphony. Her escorts led her down the center of the pack, falling away from her so she could be on clear display to the Warlord’s subjects.

  Her feet moved of their own accord, and even though she kept her chin up and her eyes trained straight ahead, her vision fuzzed and became unfocused as she willed the audience to disappear.

  This was not what she had signed up for all those years ago when she had first begun to study space. There were many things you considered when going into space and science as a career — being held as a captive and reduced to little more than a sex object in front of a large alien gathering was not one of those things.

  Facing the audience, watching her progress, was the leader. The Warlord, they called him. Even if he hadn’t been sitting in an overly large chair that could only be described as a throne, and even if she hadn’t been brought to him through a throng of viewers, she would have known he was the leader.

  There was something about the cruel shape of his eyes, the discerning way his mouth tipped up, and the way he held himself, that suggested he was used to making the rules and getting what he wanted.

  She was hoping it wouldn’t happen, that somehow something would interrupt her progress toward him, but she arrived in front of him nonetheless, and with a quick wrench of her wrist, she was brought to her knees in front of him.

  The guard clasping her clicked out a few loud words, loud enough that Kara knew it was intended the audience should hear. The leader, the Warlord, she corrected herself, nodded brusquely and then spoke to Kara in that same mechanical voice the soldier had used with her.

  “So you are here, human,” he said matter-of-factly, “and now you shall provide me with my heir.”

  He said it in the same way he might ask for a glass of water, as though it were simple and agreeable, and with little room for resistance.

  “You will stand now.”

  Before she had the opportunity to stand on her own, the alien grasping her wrist had yanked her back to her feet, and the Warlord was up on his feet, too, pushing the soldier away from Kara, so he could take a slow trip around her.

  She could he
ar him clicking to himself as he went, and then pressed up against her from behind, where she could feel a hardness she knew was his erection, and he hissed in her ear, for her alone, “You will serve me well, and then you shall serve the others.”

  Revulsion shuddered through her as he reached up and deftly undid the yards of fabric fastened at her shoulders and in a rush of fabric; she was naked in front of the audience and the Warlord, a puddle of material at her feet.

  She heard his breath hitch as he reached out one clawed hand to handle her breast roughly, the other reaching down to stroke himself.

  The hand he was fondling her with was beginning to creep down to her abdomen, his breathing getting louder, when there was a sudden burst of noise from the audience.

  Kara was slow to turn toward it, but the alien soldiers who had been strategically standing near the Warlord — the very same ones Kara noticed adjusting themselves in discomfort as their Warlord undressed her and touched himself — spilled into the audience, scattering seats and sending the viewers running in a panic.

  The Warlord made a guttural sound of displeasure and leapt away from Kara, disappearing into the fray, and leaving her naked and alone on the stage.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Kara bent down to snatch up the fabric, clutching it to her body the same way she would have an oversized towel.

  Skirting the edge of the room, she was singly focused on making it out the main doors and, hopefully, down the maze of halls and out of the compound. She didn’t have a lot to go on, but she was fairly convinced there was little chance she would run into something worse than staying here.

  She’d made what she had thought were a series of correct turns when she hurried past a doorway and a pair of arms snaked out and yanked her into it.

  She fought against them, her adrenaline high and a desperation that made her brave. One bare foot, slammed down on his instep, doing little damage to his heavily booted foot.

  Her captor let out an expletive, though it was something she hadn’t heard before, and spun her around to face him.