Her Rogue Mates E-Book

Grace Goodwin

• Herausgeber: Grace Goodwin
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Interstellar Brides® Program
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 253

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

No rules. No laws. No mercy. She belongs to them now.An Earth member of the medical recovery team on Transport Station Zenith, Harper meets two mysterious strangers from an unknown world. With intense eyes and even more intense desires, it's easy for the two sexy-as-sin aliens to prove how good it can be with them.Styx, a leader from Rogue 5, knows Harper is destined to belong to him and his most trusted enforcer, Blade. But when Styx is betrayed by one of his own kind, she's caught in the deadly crossfire. Her mates must tread carefully, for even if they win the battle on the lawless outer moon, they might lose the most important battle of all, the one for Harper's heart.

Leseprobe

Her Rogue Mates

Interstellar Brides® Program: Book 13

Grace Goodwin

Her Rogue Mates: Copyright © 2017

by Grace Goodwin 

Interstellar Brides® is a registered trademark

of KSA Publishing Consultants Inc.

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electrical, digital or mechanical including but not limited to photocopying, recording, scanning or by any type of data storage and retrieval system without express, written permission from the author.

Published by KSA Publishers

Goodwin, Grace

Her Rogue Mates, Interstellar Brides® Book 12

Cover design copyright 2020 by Grace Goodwin

Images/Photo Credit: Deposit Photos: Angela_Harburn, anasaraholu 

Publisher’s Note:

This book was written for an adult audience. The book may contain explicit sexual content. Sexual activities included in this book are strictly fantasies intended for adults and any activities or risks taken by fictional characters within the story are neither endorsed nor encouraged by the author or publisher.

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

Epilogue

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1

Harper Barrett, Sector 437, MedRec Transport Station: Zenith, Latiri Star Cluster

Dark hair. Intense green eyes. The man who’d been watching me from the other side of the bar for the last few minutes looked like every woman’s wet dream.

Except he wasn’t a man. He was an alien.

And this wasn’t a bar in downtown Los Angeles, where I grew up. This was Transport Station: Zenith, and every alien warrior in the room was at least six-six, battle hardened and freakishly strong. And those were the small ones.

At five-ten I’d always felt tall. Too tall. Too blonde. Too pretty. Too female to be taken seriously. Men saw me, my blonde hair and D-cups, and assumed I was an idiot. But this alien? He looked mesmerized as he made his way over to me. He didn’t stop at the usual “polite” distance. No, he moved in close. Too close.

“I have never seen hair this color,” he said, his hand coming up to brush a wayward lock behind my ear. “It is very beautiful.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, glancing up at him through my lashes like the proverbial flirt. His teasing almost touch hadn’t even made contact with my skin, but my heart leapt into my throat anyway.

This was insane. This guy was insane. Insanely hot. He was covered head to toe in some kind of black armor I had never seen before. Definitely not Coalition issue. And the silver band on his arm wasn’t familiar either. No officer or ranking insignia. No marker indicating he was part of the Coalition in any way. I knew every race in the Coalition Fleet, had dragged their injured off the battlefield to transport pads, healed them with ReGen wands, held their hands if they were dying. But this guy? He was different, and every cell in my body went on high alert.

But the way the other warriors in the room avoided him? The way they watched him almost warily? Like he was a caged tiger? No, not a tiger. A snake. Dangerous. Venomous. I’d seen most of these warriors edgy, ready for battle. And that’s how they were acting around him.

Fascinating. But I tried not to show my reaction, or the way my pussy was already hot and aching, my breasts heavy, my pulse pounding. Sheesh. You’d think I hadn’t had sex in…forever. Wait. No. I hadn’t had sex in forever, and this guy with his massive shoulders and intense stare was making my body demand I fix that.

Like now.

The bartender was a large Atlan female, about six feet tall with breasts the size of melons and stunning dark auburn hair. She was gorgeous. And looking at this guy like she wanted to lick him all over.

Unfortunately, that was a desire I shared.

He smiled at her as she handed him a drink. Her hand lingered on the glass, her fingertips brushing over his in blatant invitation.

I wanted to claw her eyes out.

Shit. I shook my head and turned back to my drink, determined to behave myself. If he wanted the bartender, I didn’t blame him. If I were into females, I’d do her, too.

This guy had trouble written across his forehead in capital letters. And probably a few more words as well. Bad boy. Sexy. Eye candy. Rebel. Man whore. Yeah. Probably a total man whore. He’d probably already slept with half the women on the station.

Been there. Done that. My ex back on Earth had been the cheating kind. Once was enough, thank you very much.

“Why do you frown at me?” he asked, the dark timbre of his voice settling into my bones. A shiver raced over my skin, his voice like a physical caress. My nipples pebbled into hard points, and I had to struggle to breathe normally. Dangerous? Hah! I needed to work on my risk assessment skills. Expand my vocabulary. Dangerous wasn’t even close.

“I thought only guys from Earth had horrible pick-up lines,” I replied.

“Pick-up lines?”

“Never seen blonde hair? Really? That’s the best you can do?”

“I speak the truth.” He slowly lowered his head, his dark hair falling rakishly over his forehead.

Did I mention he reminded me of Joe Manganiello? The hottie hunk from True Blood? While I assumed this guy wasn’t a vampire and had zero intention of biting me, he was working the dark, brooding hero bit. I lifted my glass of what passed for a lager out here in space and indicated a couple of warriors from Prillon Prime who were on the other side of the room. One was brown with amber eyes and dark, rust colored hair. But the other? Golden like a lion. Definitely blond. They were hot, but they didn’t make me forget to breathe. Not like this guy was doing. “What do you call that?” I pointed to the fairer warrior.

He crowded closer, dismissing the Prillons with a flicker of movement in his eyes. “They look burned, scorched by the sun. Their skin is thick and ugly.” He lifted his hand to the end of my hair where my now ragged ponytail had let loose several rebellious strands. “You are pure light. Soft. Fragile.”

I scoffed at that. If he only knew. I was twenty-seven, not seventeen. And I’d been an ER nurse for three years in a busy city hospital before spending almost two years stationed on Transport Station: Zenith being sent off to do battlefield triage and emergency medical service for the Coalition. I was a paramedic in space—which still blew my mind if I really stopped to think about it for too long. But pure? Fragile? Hardly. I tried not to roll my eyes as I turned away from him.

I wasn’t pure, but I still had a heart. And after dragging my friend, Henry, out from under a pile of Hive Scouts, looking into what had once been warm brown eyes filled with humor—now dead and cold—that organ was hurting. I really needed more than a beer. Henry Swanson had been born in London. British. From the 22nd SAS. Badass military veteran. Funny accent. Hell of a poker player. Two days ago he’d been smoking cigars, kicking my commander’s ass in a game.

Five hours ago, I’d pulled his corpse out from under a stack of dead enemies.

At least he’d taken five of those Hive bastards with him.

Yeah, I needed more than one drink to dull the ache.

Glancing up at the Atlan bartender, I lifted my chin. “Can I get a shot of whiskey, please?”

Her gaze softened, and I realized she really was beautiful. “Sure, honey. Jack, Johnnie, Jim or Glen?”

“Glen.”

“Bad out there today?” While her job kept her at the transport station, she knew what we did, the horrors we saw. The lingering emotions.

“Yes.”

She nodded and slid a shot glass full of synthesized whiskey toward me. The S-Gen—the matter generator that provided all our clothing, food and other incidentals that came from various planets in the Coalition—on the transport station had been programmed with Jim Beam, Johnnie Walker, Jack Daniels and Glenlivet, as well as a selection of vodkas, gin, beer, wine and every other type of alcohol imaginable from Earth. Drinks I’d never heard of from other planets, too. After puking my guts out in college on tequila, I steered clear of hard liquor most days.

Today was not most days. I just wanted to forget for a while. At least until I was called out on a clean-up mission again.

My mystery alien hottie watched me as I threw back the shot, closed my eyes in bliss as the alcohol burned its way down my throat, and gently placed the shot glass back on the bar like a revered friend.

“You want another one?” the bartender asked.

“No, thanks. We’re second wave.” We weren’t first out, not right now, but we were backup for the next emergency. Which meant I couldn’t drown myself in whiskey and pass out in my bed like I wanted to. I fiddled with the band around my wrist, my link to the alert system and the rest of my team. A darker green than my medical uniform, the center of it held a lighted band that communicated orders, coordinates, whatever we might need wherever we were on the ground. But right now, the colored band was a light, airy blue. Baby blue, cotton candy blue. It changed based on status. Red was first call, blue second, and black meant we were considered dormant, off duty. We called it dead time, and it was both rare and valuable.

There were only three emergency medical teams on Zenith, and we were all very, very busy.

“What is second wave?” He stared, like he was putting together a puzzle. Undeterred, he leaned forward when I ignored him, almost as if he was going to…

“Did you just sniff me?” I blurted, leaning back. Our gazes locked, and I felt like a deer in the headlights. I should get up and run, run, run. So why did I freeze in place, almost eager to see what he would do next? I felt like I was dancing with a cobra, and the risk was intoxicating.

“I don’t usually need to talk with a female to entice her into my bed.” His eyes were pale green, a few shades lighter than mine; my mother always said I had emerald eyes. But his were intense, almost mesmerizing and completely focused on me.

“Yeah, you might be better off with less talking.”

He grinned as if I amused him, and his gaze roved over my face, to my lips, then my hair, which he stroked. Involuntarily, I tilted my head into the heated touch. His hand was so big, reminding me of our size difference. I was tall but he was a head taller, if not more. And he was big. No doubt, everywhere. His hand slid down, over my shoulder and lower, to my hand, which he lifted between us. “You are from Earth.”

“Yes,” I confirmed, although his remark hadn’t really been a question. “Never seen an earthling before?” The question dripped sarcasm, but if anything, his smile widened.

“Only one.” He didn’t elaborate and I didn’t ask. I didn’t care who he knew or didn’t know. Not. My. Business. Besides, if it was a woman, I’d just want to claw her eyes out as well, which was just stupid. What he did and who he did it with was none of my business. Better to leave that one alone.

“Why do I smell blood?” He sniffed again, his brows drew together and any bit of playfulness was gone.

I shrugged. Sure, I’d showered and even changed into a fresh uniform, but none of my team had gone to medical to get our bumps and bruises taken care of. As usual, we’d made it back, washed the grime of death away and headed straight for the bar. We were used to losing people, but losing Henry was extra hard. He’d been a practical joker, the comedian and prankster who’d gotten away with murder and made life on this remote station almost fun. Every human on the station had heard of his death by now. Heard, and was heading here to drown their sorrows. In a couple hours, this place would be packed.

Maybe I should have another shot of whiskey. The raucous singing and toasting would go on for hours. I sighed and rubbed my temples. I could feel the headache coming on already.

Sexy alien’s eyes narrowed when he saw my hand—the one he wasn’t holding—dark green bandage still in place. “You are hurt.”

He switched his grip to the injured one, and I felt small in his hold. The touch was personal, intimate, and made me seem somehow precious. Fussed over. And I found myself hungry for that connection. He was taking liberties, keeping my hand in his as if I belonged to him. He unwound the narrow bandage.

“It’s nothing. Really.” A small cut on my palm from a piece of ripped metal. I’d had worse while working. Much worse.

He turned my hand palm up, cupped it in one of his and his fingers brushed gently over the gash. It had stopped bleeding before I transported back to Zenith. A scratch. I welcomed the stinging pain. Sometimes, pain was the only way I knew I was still alive. I’d taken a few extra minutes after we transported back, made sure Henry’s body got to the morgue and joined my team.

Over hunk’s shoulder, I saw our second-in-command, Rovo, watching me. He was with the others, but the look he was giving us gave me pause. He shifted his worried eyes—totally normal expression for Rovo where I was concerned—from me and glared at my companion’s back. Hottie must have noticed my distraction and glanced Rovo’s way. Their gazes locked for a split second, some kind of alpha male thing going on I didn’t understand. But I wasn’t worried. I was safe. My entire team was here, sitting along the wall, watching my back, talking trash and unwinding from that shithole, desolate planet we’d just come from.

Fighting over dead planets. While it seemed ridiculous, it made sense. No one wanted a Hive base in this solar system. Hell, this galaxy. So, the Coalition troops fought over dirt. Position. To keep the Hive away.

Space? Earth? Some things didn’t change, not when it came to good versus evil. War.

He turned back around, Rovo forgotten. He still held my hand. This was so not what I’d expected when I’d made my trip to the bar for a drink. I was supposed to be back with my teammates on the other side of the room, but no. I hadn’t moved since he’d invaded my personal space. I hadn’t wanted to. Even the cheesy one-liner didn’t sway me.

This guy? Holy shit. I wanted to do whatever he wanted. Whatever he said. Right now.

Why? Because I had no doubt he was good. Very, very good. And while I was out here in Sector 437, also known as of the outer quadrant of nowhere, my vagina was becoming as dried up as a Trion desert from neglect. A little male attention felt good.

Especially from one who looked like him. Who stared at me as if he wanted to gobble me right up. Or toss me over his shoulder and lay me down on the nearest horizontal surface—or maybe he’d go for vertical. A wall would do for a quick fix. Hot and hard and rough. A little dangerous? Maybe.

But then, that’s what I craved. Something with an edge. Something to make me quiver and gasp and need. I didn’t want to think right now.

I wanted to feel.

2

Harper

His touch was like a drug, the tingle running through my body all too familiar. Adrenaline junkie? I never denied it. But my fix the past two years usually came from going out on rescue-and-recovery missions for the Interstellar Coalition. More than two hundred and fifty worlds, all with civilizations. Oceans. Storms. Accidents. On Earth, I’d worked as an ER nurse. I’d seen everything from gunshot wounds to decapitations. When the aliens showed up demanding fighters and brides for the Coalition that Earth was now a part of, I was compelled to volunteer. But not as a bride. Forget that. I was no alien brood mare. And I wasn’t going to be shooting any kind of gun. I wasn’t a fighter; I was a healer. I wanted to have an adventure without domineering mates or fierce battles. To finally see what was out there, in space, on other worlds. Beam me up, Scotty.

So I volunteered, told them what I wanted and ended up assigned to this bizarre, alien version of a first responder, paramedic team. The war with the Hive was never ending. Literally. These alien races had been at war with the Hive for centuries. But that didn’t mean they never had emergencies. Natural disasters. Surprise attacks. We went in after every battle in this sector of the galaxy and triaged the wounded, helped them survive the aftermath.

Ran from the Hive.

Whatever. It was dangerous, but it made me feel like I was doing something important. Something that mattered and I didn’t need to shoot anyone. My team was human, and we followed the human combat units around the Coalition like cheerleaders assigned to a football team. They fought and we went in after. We hung on to the back end of the Battlegroup Karter like leeches. When the commanders moved on, we stayed long enough to clean up the mess. Assuming the Coalition won. If they lost, there was nothing left to save.

The Hive didn’t leave raw material behind, and to them, my human brothers and sisters, hell, every single Coalition warrior out there fighting, was meat to be processed.

Most of my MedRec team—Medical Recovery Team—took care of our own the best we could. Sure, a Prillon doctor or Atlan nurse would rush to help a fallen Earth fighter, but something about seeing a human face out here in deep space mattered to the warriors who were lying there bleeding. Dying. Missing home with every breath in their body, afraid they were going to die on the other side of the galaxy.

I lived here now, MedRec Zenith with the rest of my team. I’d been to more planets and seen more alien races than most in this bar. Yet, I’d never seen anything like him.

My mouth watered, and I itched to touch the stubble on his square jaw as he squeezed my hand. I had no idea how long I’d been standing, thinking, staring at him like a mute, but his eyes never left my face. Rovo was completely forgotten. The alien hottie was utterly and completely focused. On me. On the small scratch in the middle of my palm.

“You should have had this healed with a ReGen wand.” He didn’t wait for me to argue, only pulled one from somewhere on his pants, turned the blue light on and waved it over my palm.

I’d been in space for almost two years, even used the healing wand on the wounded, and I still wasn’t used to the healing device. It—along with the more complicated ReGeneration Pod—was miraculous. Within seconds, the wound on my palm knitted closed, turned pink and then disappeared entirely. It had stung before, but I felt nothing now. Numb.

“Thank you,” I said once he turned off the wand. While it was polite, it felt wrong somehow. Wrong to walk away without a mark or a scar when the sight of Henry in that transport coffin heading back to Earth still burned the back of my eyelids.

“Why didn’t you take care of yourself?” he asked. I noticed a sharper bite to his voice, and I glanced up from our joined hands.

“It was a scratch.” I offered him a small shrug and looked up into his eyes. Couldn’t look away. I couldn’t lie. Didn’t want to, so I swallowed and shared my feelings. Yes, feelings. The things I hid so damn well. “And I needed the whiskey more than I needed a healer.”

He slowly shook his head as his thumb slid back and forth over the newly healed flesh. “I am glad I was here then, to tend to you.”

So serious. His attention was addictive, the caress making me shiver with delight. I didn’t want to pull my hand from his.

Deep shit. That’s what this was. Trouble. And I wanted it. I wanted him.

It was time to lighten things back up, to enjoy my break between missions. There wasn’t much time for a fling with a mysterious alien man I’d never seen before, and one who’d be gone in a matter of hours, most likely never to be seen again. A fling? No. A quick fuck? Maybe that could work. But I sure as heck didn’t want to be in the middle of hot sex with a stranger and have the mission alarms trigger.

Hold that orgasm, dear. I have to go…

There would be no leaving in the middle. Not with this guy. But I really wanted the orgasm—or two—that I knew he’d give me.

He wasn’t wearing the uniform of any Coalition branch I recognized. He wore unrelenting black from head to toe—even his hair was as dark as pitch. He had a thick silver stripe around one bicep, but no other variation. Only his eyes held color. Green. He was pale, perhaps even paler than me, which was surprising since I was full-on Nordic blonde, with an Irish dad and mom’s family history traced back to Norway. I burned just talking about the sun.

“Lucky me.” I gave my coyest smile. I was no expert at flirting, but I wasn’t a shy virgin either. This would go nowhere past a quickie. I’d never see him again once the next call came down. So why the hell not? For now, I’d have fun, remember that I was a woman—even in the unisex, bland uniform—and that he was very much a male.

He turned his hand, interlocking our fingers. “Do you have wounds anywhere else?”

“No.” Sex-on-a-stick didn’t let go of my hand. He was the most amazing specimen of a male I’d ever seen. And I’d been around. Los Angeles was full of man candy, actors and models, surfers and musicians. I came from the land of silicone breasts, Botox and gluteal implants where nothing was real and everyone was gorgeous.

And none of them held a candle to him.

The last two years had been rewarding, and grueling. Most people burned out by the end of their service. I wasn’t there yet, but I was doing some serious flirting with an alien stranger, so perhaps I was showing signs of stress in a completely different way.

Sex could be a good stress reliever. Especially with Joe Manganiello’s alien doppelganger. He’d give me orgasms. Lots of them. Then I could go on my next mission as relaxed and pliable as saltwater taffy.

His gaze dropped and raked over my body, making my nipples harden beneath my bright green uniform. Green meant medical in the Coalition. The docs wore dark, forest green, while we got this lighter version, like emeralds. The color brought out my eyes, I’d been told. There was a thick band of black that hugged the torso. Of course, on the women like me, it only served to highlight the curve of our breasts. I was sure if he wore it instead of his unrelenting black, it would make his chest seem broader. Like that was even possible. He was built like a tank.

He cocked his head to the side and leaned in closer, inhaling deeply. “I still smell blood, female. I am not sure if I believe you. If you were mine, I would strip you bare and assess every inch of your perfect body to ensure you are completely well.”

That made me grin. “You don’t believe me?”

“If you were lying, keeping something as important as your health and safety from me, you would not like the consequences.”

“Consequences?” My heart leapt at the word. I widened my eyes and waited for him to elaborate. My tongue flicked out to lick my suddenly dry lips.

“Punishment,” he said as his eyes followed the motion.

My mouth fell open. I should have been scared. A stranger. An alien stranger, wearing a uniform from an unknown planet, was talking about potentially hurting me. Perhaps he was a mind reader because he said, “I do not hurt females. I protect them, even, it seems, from themselves. A spanking would certainly remind you that there would be no secrets, that your body was mine to care for, to worship.”

Had he just said spanking? As in his big, hot hand on my naked backside? Why was that idea so damn hot? I licked my lips again. “You want to worship me?”

His eyes turned darker. While he kept our fingers intertwined, he hooked his other hand about my waist and tugged me closer. “What I will do to you…” He shuddered and leaned in, his breath fanning my neck as his nose brushed over the curve of my ear. We weren’t alone; the canteen was at least half full, yet it seemed as if we were in our own little bubble. A bubble where all I could see was him. All I could hear was his deep voice. “Learn every soft curve. I’ll find the places that make you catch your breath, that make you shiver with desire. I’ll taste your skin. Your pussy. And that’s all just the beginning. I will worship you with my mouth.”

To say the temperature of the room went way up was an understatement. My uniform was all at once uncomfortable and had too much fabric. I wanted his palm to be touching the bare skin on my back, and preferably moving a few inches lower so he could grab my—

“Do you want to know what I’d do with my fingers?” He pulled back and dipped his chin so our eyes met. Locked. “Or my cock?”

I swallowed. Hard. My mouth watered at the mention of his cock. “Wow, you’re really good at this.” My voice had a breathy quality I didn’t recognize. “My apologies for thinking you had no game.”

“What game do you speak of?” he asked, stepping back and tugging me away from the bar. My hand still in his, he pulled me around into a hallway. I let him, abandoning my beer. The hallway was short, with one door at the end lit with a white outline to indicate an emergency exit.

“Picking up women.”

With a quick flick of his wrist, my back was against the wall, and he was pressed against me. I felt every hard inch of him and suppressed a moan. My hands were above my head, held in place by his firm but gentle grip. He leaned over me until I was completely immersed in his heat. His free hand came to rest on the curve of my hip, the touch like lightning to my system. I didn’t try to get away. I didn’t want to. He felt good. Too good.

“I assume that phrase is used on Earth. If I were to pick you up, you would be over my shoulder.”

“It means you got me here, alone with you, and I don’t even know your name.” Did I just look at his lips? Yes. Yes, I did. And I wanted to know what they felt like against mine, what he tasted like. I looked up to find him watching me intently.

His eyes did that roving thing again, took in my mouth, my neck, my breasts. “You wish to know my name before I kiss you?”

My panties were now ruined. So was my self-control. “Name would be good. Maybe tell me where you’re from.”

He did the hair tucking thing again and my legs turned to jelly. “My name is Styx. I am part of the Styx legion on Rogue 5.”

I frowned. Weird names. “You have a part of a planet named after you?” His finger slid down the side of my neck to rub back and forth across the line of my shoulder. His eyes followed the action.

“Rogue 5 is a moon base. I am the leader of the Styx legion, therefore, the name is mine.”

“I’ve never heard of Rogue 5,” I admitted, tilting my head to the side to give him better access.

“It is not part of the Coalition.”

That I knew. “Then what are you doing here?”

“I am here meeting a business associate.” The way he said the words business associate reminded me of a Sopranos episode. All that, Hey, I got a guy…

“Is everyone from your world as wild as you are?”

He grinned then, his teeth straight and white. “You think me wild?” He shifted his leg so his knee rested between mine, and I was practically riding his thigh.

My mouth fell open, and he took the opportunity to put the tip of his finger on my lower lip. The touch was calloused even as he applied the softest pressure, rubbing back and forth in a delicious tease.

“Tell me your name.” Not a request, a demand from an alpha male.

Never one to give in so easily, I leaned forward and took the tip of his finger into my mouth, sucked on it. Once, twice, grazed his skin with my teeth before I released him. Just a little nip, so he’d know I wasn’t tamed. “Harper. Harper Barrett from California. I mean Earth.”

Great, I sounded like an idiot. But he didn’t seem to mind. His pupils were so wide his eyes went almost black, and a vein pulsed in his neck. “I will taste you now, Harper.”

Oh. Okay.