ALIEN ABDUCTION (Captured by Aliens) (22 page)

“Damon!  Oh,
Damon!”

Ebony
threw herself into his arms, and he caught her and rested his head on her
shoulder for a moment.  She pushed herself back and raised her head.  “Oh, let
me look at you!  What happened—what--” Then she stopped.  It was clear, from
the cuts and burns and dried blood all over him, that he had been tortured.  “Oh,
Damon,” she whispered, “Kore lied about that, too, didn’t he?”

“It doesn’t
matter now.”  Keeping one hand on Ebony’s arm, Damon looked over his shoulder–
and to her tremendous relief, she saw all of the men who’d been on the flyer
with her and the other three women when they’d left the mine.  The two pilots
were with them, too.

Damon
walked Ebony up the stairs to the balcony, and only released her to grasp
Fallon’s hand and hug him like a brother.  “I am so glad to see you,” Fallon
said.  “I’m going to need you.” Then her turned and faced the crowd again. 

“I will
be a king,” Fallon said, “but it will be in a new place, the one called New
Chalcydon.  This man, my most trusted friend, Damon, will help me there, and he
will have the title of prince and be known as Prince Damon.  And my queen will
be this lady, Ebony, known from this day forward as Ebony Starlight, the queen
of New Chalcydon.”

Ebony
stood between Fallon and Damon, holding one arm of each man and smiling up at
them through her tears.  She looked out at the crowd and raised her voice to
them. 

“Now
there will be two great cities to bring about freedom for all who live on this
planet,” she said, and then grinned.  “To say nothing of bringing in a whole
lot more women just as soon as we can arrange it!”

The crowd
cheered, and then all of them looked up and waved as the two silver-grey flyers
slowly moved overhead--the flyers that would take the settlers, and their new
king and queen and prince, all the rest of the way to New Chalcydon.

EPILOGUE

“I’m an
aunt!  I’m an auntie!  Oh, I’m Auntie Ebony!”

It was
twilight at the palace in New Chalcydon.  Ebony hurried down the long covered
balcony overlooking the desert, and ran directly into Damon.  “You’re a--you’re
a what?” he asked.

“An
auntie!”

There
were heavy footsteps behind her, and she turned with a delighted smile to see
Fallon standing there.  “I’m Auntie Ebony!”

“I heard
you,” he said, returning her smile.  “I suppose that means your sister has--”

“Yes!  We
just received word.  She has had twins, and oh, Fallon--Damon--they are twin
girls!
”

She stood
between the two men, and they embraced her.  “That is wonderful,” Fallon said.

“There is
nothing this poor world needs more than strong females,” added Damon, and all
three of them embraced each other.

“Now,
come with me,” Ebony said after a moment, and she walked to the stone railing
of the balcony and looked out into the peaceful sunset.  “I have something I
must tell you.”

The night
was clear, and the deep twilight sky over the desert was softly lit with thick
clusters of sparkling red and blue stars and by two of the planet’s five moons--the
large yellow moon and the small, bright white, tumbling moon.

She
looked at Damon and Fallon, and smiled a little shyly.  “But I’m not the only
one who’s an auntie.  Adrienne will be, too, because--because now
I’m
the one who’s pregnant!”

Both of
them hugged her, smiling, laughing, and maybe even shedding a tear.  “I have
wanted children in our house for so long,” whispered Damon.

“There is
no blessing like new life,” said Fallon, and kissed her cheek.  Damon quickly
did the same. 

“Oh, I do
love you both,” Ebony said with a laugh, and they hugged her again.  Then she
glanced back at the glittering red and blue stars and at the two strange moons
that slowly traveled across them.

“Do you
remember when I first saw those stars? I wept because they reminded me that I
was so far from home,” she said.  “But now, all of that has changed.  Now these
stars and those moons tell me that I have come home at last, right where I
belong, and that I can make a life here together with the people that I love.”

THE END

“Now that you
have finished my book, won’t you please consider writing a review?  Reviews are
the best way readers discover great new books.  I would truly appreciate it.”

Other titles by Jaide
Fox:

Beastmen of Shadowmere
Book One: Marked by the Beast

Beastmen of Shadowmere
Book Two: Seduced by the Beast

Beastmen of Shadowere
Book Three: Conquered by the Beast

Beastmen of Shadowmere
Book Four: Tempted by the Beast (Coming Soon)

Beastmen of Shadowmere
Book Five: Captured by the Beast (Coming Soon)

Pleasure Masters 1:
Ravaged

Pleasure Masters 2:
Dominated

Pleasure Masters 3:
Mastered (Coming Soon)

Dark Lords 1: Captured
by the Dark Lord

Dark Lords 2: Seized by
the Vampire Lord

Dark Lords 3: Ensnared
by the Dream Lord

Misadventures in
Pleasure 1: PleasureBot

Misadventures in
Pleasure 2: PleasureBots

Misadventures in
Pleasure 3: StarCaught (Coming Soon)

Misadventures in
Pleasure 4: StarRomped (Coming Soon)

Summoner’s Captive
(Coming Soon)

Earth Girls Aren’t Easy

His Forbidden Fruit

Captured by Aliens 1:
Alien Captive

Captured by Aliens 2:
Alien Abduction

Heart of Darkness

An unedited excerpt
from MATING RIGHTS by Jaide Fox, coming soon:

MATING RIGHTS

JAIDE FOX

Chapter One

The wind shrieked through the trees like the
dying call of a hunted bird, a gasping, eerie sound that raised the hair along
the back of her neck in warning.  The great wolf halted her progress, crouching
low in the brush, tilting her head toward the sky as though she could find its
source.

A canopy of leaves shrouded her view of the
moon, but naught more than air stirred the silent sentinels.  Pine needles
rustled under the heavy brush of air--scraping, rasping sounds that drew her
nerves taut.

Her hide itched with warning, a sting that
increased the tempo of her heart and the breath of her lungs.  Mali panted,
shaking her skin as though throwing off biting gnats.  She stilled, listening
once more, heard only the faint puff of her own breathing and no sound of a
living thing.  The feeling persisted, as though a light shone down, revealing
her position.  ‘Twas a foolish thought.  She knew she blended with her
surroundings, for her fur was sleek and black as the sky above, and yet she
knew ... she knew
he
had found her.

He played a game.  The twisted bastard had been
trailing her for days into the Blackhaunted wood and the Pine Barrens.

Mali remained tense, awaiting attack, watching
her breath freeze in the midnight air.  Her eyes soaked up the light, watching
the silhouettes of brush and tree alike.  Long moments passed, and nothing
befell her.

Had she imagined the danger?  Had she not
scented the stranger in the air?

By finite degrees, she relaxed.  Perhaps it
had
been only the wind.  She could not admit, even to herself, how much he had
rattled her. 
Bastard
.

With deliberate slowness, she pushed through
the dried, dead brush, wincing at each crackle of leaf, each snap of twig.

Mali padded along the ground, keeping her head
low.  Her fur whipped as a sudden wind bore down on her, and a howl rent the
air with a piercing wail.

Mali twisted away--too late.  He crashed into
her, pinning her body to the ground under his superior weight.

A growl of fury erupted from her throat,
forcing the air from her lungs.  She sucked in a breath and screamed,
thrashing, churning the dirt in her struggles.  He grunted above her, his
fingers digging into the narrow blade of her shoulders, forcing her down.

“Do you yield to me?  Do you yield?” he shouted
in a voice, deep and chilling as a bottomless well…

***

Mali awakened with a gasp.  Her belly
contracted, the muscles hardened.  A sheen of sweat beaded her skin despite the
warm air seeping through her loft from the kitchen below.

She lay there, willing her racing heartbeat to
return to normal, for her breathing to slow.

For a week past, the nightmare invaded her
sleep.  Over and over again, she’d attempted to escape pursuit from the
stranger in her dreams, to no avail.  She couldn’t remember his face or form,
only that he disturbed her more than anything else in her life ever had.

Her mother had commented on the dark circles
beneath her eyes, and both she and her father said it must be the coming of the
Moonlight Festival causing Mali distress.  That or she was going into heat,
which was just as unsettling.  As much as she wanted to believe herself immune
to the cycles of the wolf clan, she couldn’t deny that she felt a subtle change
growing within her.

Never leaving the shelter of her parents’ home
and small farm, Mali was forbidden to attend the annual festival where others
of their kind found their mates.  Once upon a time, before she’d come of age,
her parents’ decision to remain secluded in the woods with almost no contact
from the outside world had greatly distressed her.

As the years passed, she grew to understand her
limitations and how those limits would be perceived by the rest of the clan. 
Now that she understood her parents’ reasoning in forbidding her attendance,
she’d come to a measure of peace with their decision, even if it meant she would
never have children of her own.

Perhaps the imposed seclusion was finally
getting to her in spite of that, causing the anxiety that consumed her night
after night.  Perhaps it was the waxing of the moon and her body responding to
nature’s call.

She hated it, but the mystery would have to
wait another day.

“Mali, the chickens need feeding and the cow is
lowing out back.  Get your head on straight and do your chores,” Abba, her
mother, called from the kitchen.

The scent of bacon frying and biscuits rising
in the oven mingled together to make a scent that lured Mali from the bed and
dispelled the disturbing thoughts from her mind.

Slipping from her bed with a groan and stretch,
Mali walked to her hope chest which was filled with broken dreams rather than
the niceties which would start her own household.  She’d long ago stopped
sewing baby clothes and embroidering tapestries, pillowcases, and sheets in
favor of mending her faded work clothes instead.

Removing her nightgown and flinging it across
the bed, Mali slipped her worn but favorite lilac gown over her head. 
Attempting to drag her comb through her coarse hair, she finally gave up after
a few minutes and pulled her unruly curly hair back off her face with a ribbon,
and stuck her feet in her wooden clogs.  The daisies painted across the toes
had long since worn away with trips through the woods and daily chores.

Descending the ladder from her lonely loft,
Mali dropped down into the kitchen below.  The cottage had only two rooms: the
common room where they cooked, ate, and gathered before and after meals, and
her parent’s bedroom.  She was fortunate the high peaked, thatched roof had
allowed the addition of her sleeping area, which her father had graciously
built for her after re-thatching the roof a few years ago.

She appreciated having a space to call her own.

Mali tripped on the rug cover the root cellar
beneath the kitchen area then smoothed it back in place before grabbing her
apron off the back of her chair and tying it around her waist.

She sighed.  “I never get a day off,” she
complained, grabbing a piece of bacon and munching absently while she eyeballed
the biscuits her mother pulled out of the stove.  Butter scented steam wafted
in the air.

“Your father and I don’t either.  It’s the way
of things when you live this far from town.  Stop complaining and go out and
feed the chickens before everything gets cold.  Your father has probably
already tended the cow by now.  He said he wanted fresh milk for breakfast. 
Hurry, I’m making eggs next, and I know you don’t like them cold.”

Mali kissed her mother’s chubby, dark cheek,
grabbed her straw hat, then disappeared out the door.  She scooped dried corn
out of the barrel and placed it in her apron.

“Here, chick, chick, chick,” she called,
scattering corn across the dirt in the front yard.  The chickens clucked and
swarmed the feed, pecking at the ground as she moved through them to the lean
to on the back of the house where they kept their milking cow.

Her father stood from his squat stool and stretched,
putting two hands on the small of his back.

“I would have done that, papa,” Mali said,
taking the heavy bucket from her father.

Barnardo smiled and chucked her chin with
affection.  “I know you like to sleep late.  I was already up, and I know you
haven’t been sleeping well. I know it’s the festival bothering you, even if you
won’t admit it.”

“Oh, papa,” she said, lugging the bucket of
milk behind him as they headed back inside the house for breakfast.  “I gave up
on the idea of that a long time ago when I learned of my limitations.  It’s one
thing to dream about it when you don’t know any better.”

Her father scrubbed a hand over his face and
released a heavy sigh.  “You might be at peace, but I wanted grandchildren
running around and tearing up the place for me and your mama.”

“Aye,” she said, lowering her gaze.

He held the door open for her, looking at her
with his sad, brown eyes.

Mali rubbed her cheek on his big shoulder
before going inside.  Normally, the fact that she wasn’t a full shifter was
never brought up in conversation.  They all avoided harping on the obvious,
because it wasn’t something any of them could change anyway, and it hurt
something inside of her to be reminded of the fact that she was a freak in
their world.  No man would ever want a mate that couldn’t run with him as a
wolf.

“You two took long enough,” Abba said as they
walked inside.  She set plates of bacon and fried eggs at each of their
places.  A basket of biscuits waited to be plucked in the middle of the worn
oak table, and fresh butter and jam occupied bowls on either side of the
basket.

Mali’s stomach rumbled as she sat down to eat
her breakfast.

Barnardo dipped a cup of milk in a ceramic mug
and set it down in front of her before getting himself some.  For himself, he
fixed a cup of milk and a mug of coffee.

Pulling the chair out for Abba, she smiled at
her husband and swatted his arm playfully when he waggled his eyebrows.  Mali
watched them interact, feeling warmed that she had caring parents.

Booted heels tread on their porch, and then a
knock sounded on the door before Barnardo could seat himself.  He stopped in
the motion of dragging his chair from beneath the table, giving Abba and Mali a
wide-eyed glance.

Barnardo looked at Abba.  “Did you order supplies
from town for today?”

Abba fidgeted with her hands.  “No,” she said
quietly, straining her ears.

“Get down in the cellar,” he said to Mali.

Knocking came again.  Louder this time.

Mali stood quickly and flipped back the rug
covering their root cellar.  Lifting the heavy door for her, Barnardo waited
until she was at the bottom of the ladder before he carefully shut the door
over her head.

Abba rose to her feet with an effort, waddling
to the cellar door and flipping the rug back over it as Barnardo walked to the
door.

“Who goes there?” he called through the door,
cocking his ear to hear a response.

“Open in the name of Clan Leader, Nicodemus,” a
deep voice said on the other side.

Barnardo’s dark face turned ashen.  Sweat
popped along his brow bone.  Abba, standing behind her husband, clutched her
chest with one hand and grabbed his arm with the other.

He looked over his shoulder at her shaking her
head and mouthing no.

“I have to,” he said, slowly reaching for the
door handle.

***

“The pickings are slim for the festival this
year,” Torolf said to Jaxon, nodding his blond head in the direction of the
open air wagon carrying eligible, single clan women behind them.

“Maybe they’re scared there’ll be an orgy, and
they’re all hiding,” Ranger said with a chuckle, slapping Torolf’s bicep with
the back of his hand.

Jaxon sighed in exasperation, looking from
Ranger’s scruffy, bearded face to Torolf’s clean shaven one.  Both of them had
the kind of looks and attitude which would easily win them a woman if they were
willing to settle down.  Which they weren’t.  No more so than he.  “It’s a
fool’s errand Nicodemus has sent us on.  But we’ve no choice but to follow
orders,” Jaxon of the Black Wolf Clan said, scanning the road ahead of them.

The morning breeze flicked his long brown hair
across his face, making strands stick to his eyelashes and mouth.  He frowned
and wiped his face clean in annoyance.