Hybrid's Love

Copyright © 2012 Seraphina
Donavan

This material may not be duplicated
or distributed to others

without express permission of the
author. E-books are nontransferable

and cannot be sold, shared or given
away, as those actions are copyright

infringement. This book is a work of
fiction and any similarity to persons

living or dead, or events real or
fictional, is purely coincidental.

Dedicated to my wonderful friends
who support me and make fun of me for being a “porn star”. Thanks
for always keeping it real.

Chapter One

Wren Marlowe placed the basket of freshly
rolled silverware onto the shelf by the door directly below the
vinyl coated menus she had wiped down. A total of five customers
had wandered into the old truck stop that night, leaving her with a
whopping fourteen dollars in her pocket in tips. At least the small
trailer that she lived in behind the diner was rent free. Grimly,
she took the bottle of spray cleaner and a towel and began to clean
the ancient vinyl booths, cracks and all. She couldn’t explain the
restlessness that plagued her, but it was there nonetheless. There
was an impending sense of doom, but she knew better than to speak
of it. She had learned the hard way to keep her thoughts, her
predictions, to herself.

As Wren cleaned the booths along the front
wall of the diner, she could look out onto the parking lot through
the grimy windows. He appeared out of nowhere. One minute there was
nothing but an empty parking lot and a deserted stretch of highway.
The next, he was striding across the pavement, his long limbs
eating up the distance. His stride was confident, purposeful, and
aggressive. Predatory, she thought. In spite of that, she found
herself watching him, appreciating the powerful play of muscles
beneath his clothes. Her breath hitched in her chest and her heart
raced, blood rushing through her veins.

As he approached, the blinking neon sign that
announced their 24 hour service cast harsh shadows over his face.
It was both beautiful and frightening. Hard, chiseled features and
slashing dark brows were offset by lips that curved sensually.
Images assailed her, flitting through her mind, both shocking and
erotic. She could see them clearly, his body covering hers, her
thighs parting to welcome him. She could almost feel the weight of
him on top of her, the exquisite fullness of his cock moving inside
her. Other images came, a flood of them, mirroring the rush of
warmth, of liquid heat that now flooded her thighs. Her knees
quaked, and her breathing was ragged.

When he entered the room, he filled the
space. His presence was overwhelming, powerful and frightening. She
noted that his hair was damp, though it had not begun to rain yet.
They were miles from anywhere, and there were no vehicles nearby.
She felt it then, a deep certainty that blossomed within her. He
was not what he appeared. Instantly and with little provocation,
she was intensely afraid of him. She was also terrified of her
response to him, of the spark of lust that had erupted into
wildfire within her. No man had ever affected her so, and he had
done so without even touching her. Instinctively, she backed
away.

“Wren Marlowe,” he said in a deep, slightly
gruff voice, “You must come with me.” His voice caressed her skin,
warm and rough, it raised goose bumps on her flesh. Her nipples
puckered, hardening inside the padded cups of her bra. Desperate to
hold onto some semblance of good sense, she seized the most
disturbing piece of information from his short greeting. He knew
her name.

“No,” she replied, “I mustn’t.” He might be
beautiful and his body might make her mouth water, but she didn’t
know him from Adam. She wasn’t going anywhere with him.

The sensual line of his lips firmed and he
stepped toward her. His movements were slow and deliberate, much
like someone approaching a strange and frightened animal. Without
any real weapon and his large body blocking her only escape route,
Wren dropped the dirty towel to the floor, and hurled the bottle of
spray cleaner still clutched in her hand. She aimed it directly for
his head. He ducked to the side, and it glanced off his shoulder.
It slowed him down not at all and he continued moving toward her,
his face a grim mask of determination.

Wren braced herself, clenching her fists
tightly at her sides. She didn’t know what his intentions were, but
she wasn’t going to give in without a fight. He reached for her,
and she lashed out, knocking his hand away. She lunged to the
right, squeezing past him. He spun quickly, grabbing her from
behind. His powerful arms closed around her upper body, pinioning
her arms to her sides. The lush curves of her behind rested in the
cradle of his hips, and she could feel the hard ridge of his
aroused cock. She fought the urge to press back against him, to
feel his hardness sliding against her flesh. Her body might be out
of her control, she thought, but her mind wasn’t. She renewed her
struggles, but in the steely band of his arms, they were
futile.

In spite of the strength of his hold, he
wasn’t hurting her. Even in her fear, she acknowledged that.
Against her ear, he said, “I will not harm you, Wren Marlow, but
you must come with me now.”

Wren didn’t respond. Her eyes were drawn to
the door of the café which had just opened. Three men walked
inside, their hands covered in leather gloves and the dark hoods of
their sweatshirts pulled up, casting dark shadows over their faces.
Dread filled her, spreading icy tentacles through her body. The man
in the center reached up, pushing back his hood, and what he
revealed elicited a scream of pure terror from her. She knew those
faces. They had haunted her dreams for her entire life.

Rather than flesh, he was covered in scales,
ranging in shades of gray and black. The structure of his face was
vaguely feline, with a wide forehead, narrow chin, and broad, high
cheekbones. His eyes were red, with elongated black pupils,
shielded by nictating lenses. Those strange eyes slashed sharply
upwards at the end, giving the appearance that his face was twisted
in a macabre grin. He opened his small mouth, emitting a wet hiss
and revealing double rows of sharp, jagged teeth.

“She is ours, Kyr,” he rasped.

The man holding her didn’t respond. He simply
clasped her tighter against him, and pressed his thumb against an
intricate emblem on the leather cuff at his wrist. Blackness
swirled about them, and the world simply fell away. Wren felt as if
she were spiraling into nothingness. She tried to scream, but no
sound emerged from her throat as she was sucked into the void.

Had he been alone, Kyr would have faced the
Aldacyians. His need for violence, to release the frustration that
had plagued him had been at war with his higher intellect. He knew
that the three Aldacyian trackers were only the first wave. More
would come. His object wasn’t to defeat them, but to protect the
woman. With that in mind, he had opted for transport.

Within moments of activating the transport
command, they were aboard the small ship that had brought him to
her world. Kyr placed her unconscious form on one of the narrow
berths that lined the main cabin. His eyes traveled over her body,
mapping the generous curves of her breasts and hips, the length of
her legs. Her thoughts had been clear to him the moment he had
gotten close to her. The visions she’d had of their bodies joined
had created a firestorm of lust in him. Unable to stop himself, he
leaned forward, his callused fingers tracing the delicate contours
of her face, before tangling in the rich, auburn curls that tumbled
over her shoulders. She sighed, and his mouth closed over hers,
testing the softness of her full lips, savoring the sweet taste of
her. Reluctantly, he pulled back, forcing himself to focus on the
tasks at hand. He had a ship to pilot, and she would sleep for a
bit longer, an after effect of demolecurization.

While teleportation was something he had
grown accustomed to during his years as a Sentinel, he could
remember the physical misery that had followed it the first time.
She would be nauseous and her head would ache. There was no time to
see to her, however. Though the ship was veiled, it would not take
long for the Aldacyians to locate them. With that thought in mind,
he moved to the command center and began the ignition sequence.
There was a low hum as the engines started. Within seconds, the
ship was rocketing towards the surface of the small lake where he
had concealed it. He needed to reach the safety of the outer
quadrant and the allies of the Core. The coordinates were entered
into the ship’s navigation system and it sped off through the
darkness at a speed that rendered it invisible to the naked
eye.

He turned back to the small cabin where she
slept on, his dark eyes traveling the length of her sweetly curved
body. If the Aldacyians were to obtain Wren Marlow they would kill
her. It would be a death sentence for them both.

Chapter Two

Wren awoke slowly. Her head was pounding and
her stomach rebelled. She squinted into the blue tinted light.
Though it was dim, it still seared her sensitive eyes and the
contents of her stomach threatened to reappear. She swallowed
convulsively, inhaling deeply through her nose and exhaling through
her mouth. Cautiously, she rose to a sitting position and surveyed
her surroundings. “Dorothy, you are not in Kansas anymore,” she
whispered.

The room was stark white, with strips of
recessed light that glowed faintly blue. She was resting on a
narrow bench, again white. It was upholstered in something that
reminded her of leather but wasn’t quite. It was much softer and
remained cool to the touch. Everything in the room was streamlined
and functional, but appeared totally alien to her. It was also
frigidly cold. There was a strange, shimmering blanket folded
across her legs, providing some warmth. In spite of that, she could
see her breath. Beneath the thin fabric of her work shirt, her
nipples had pebbled in response to the chilly temperature. She was
reaching for the blanket, to pull it completely over her, when she
became aware of movement. She looked up into the startlingly
masculine and strangely beautiful face of her captor.

His tall, imposing frame filled the doorway.
He wore the same dark pants that he had before, though the simple
white shirt was now topped with a leather jacket that fitted his
broad shoulders and chest to perfection. There was an unfamiliar
insignia on the right side of his chest, and silver stripes at his
shoulder. The pants were tight, molding to his lean hips and
powerful thighs. A leather belt was slung low over his hips,
containing a holster and a strange looking gun. Another weapon was
strapped to his right thigh. The pants were tucked into tall, suede
like boots with soft soles. They were silent as he crossed the
metal grates that composed the floor. He retrieved a small bottle
from a cabinet concealed in the wall, and extended it to her.

“It will help,” he said.

“Who are you and why am I here?” she
demanded, making no move to accept the offered beverage.

“I am Kyr Nivarre, Rank 4, Core Sentinel. My
mission was to retrieve you from Earth and prevent you from falling
into Aldacyian hands.” It was technically the truth. There were
details that he was leaving out. If he told her that she was
destined to be with him, that she had been genetically engineered
to be his perfect mate, he didn’t imagine that she would respond
well.