Naima: A SciFi Alien Mail Order Bride Romance (TerraMates Book 7) (3 page)

Vanessa gulped audibly, the color draining from her formerly smug face. She hadn't thought anyone would recognize her. When I was searching online for information on TerraMates, the name Vanessa Greer cropped up multiple times. TerraMates took pride in a low divorce rate. Vanessa had broken so many marriage contracts that she might have been single-handedly responsible for most of the TerraMates failures.

The only reason she seemed comfortable here was because she had already done this twice before. On both occasions, her husbands from the planets Dynotek and Mercury-II were so fed up with her laziness and overall piss-poor attitude that they sent her back to Earth. She was making a bundle. I didn't know how she kept scamming TerraMates, but she had a good con and was working it while it lasted.

Vanessa stopped speaking and stiffly slid down into her seat. The loud gossip quickly died down as the women started using their indoor voices. A victorious smile swept across my lips. As I stretched my arms out, cracking my knuckles, another bride took the seat next to me.

"Thanks for saying something. I was dying for her to shut her trap."

My face lit up. It was the bride I spied by the shuttle gate before boarding. Up close I could see her eyes were hazel. She held her hand out to me, and I accepted it, smiling warmly.

"My name's Cheyenne."

"Gabriella."

"Listen, Gabriella," said Cheyenne. Her face became serious for a moment. "I hope you didn't let her words affect you. She's insecure. You can tell by her attitude. Women like her are trying to get a rise out of anyone. It's a defense mechanism they use when they feel threatened."

"Believe me, I know," I agreed, nodding my head. "I saw you with your folks earlier. Your parents look like nice people. You have a sweet family."

"They are," said Cheyenne wistfully. She hung her head low. "It's going to be tough when I'm away. I can't imagine what my life is going to be like without them, but at the same time, I think it's for the best. My new husband seems nice enough, although my mom thinks I'm rushing into things. We were only talking for six months before we decided on a contract."

"Six months? You mean like half a year?" I echoed weakly.

"I know!" Cheyenne's face became bright red. "It does seem a little rash, doesn't it?" Cheyenne mumbled. "How long did you know your husband before you accepted his proposal?"

Ten seconds?
"Uh, about that..."

"What the hell is this?" Our heads swiveled in Vanessa's direction.

"I asked for your oldest wine, and what do you give me? This tastes
disgusting
! Was this fermented from alien shit?" Vanessa snarled. She hurled the bottle at the attendant's head, who stepped aside as it flew past him. "You're lucky I'm feeling forgiving today..."

Vanessa's diatribe cut short as a thunderous, earth-shaking force struck the spaceship, shaking the floor beneath our feet. I didn't know what it was. Meteorite? Missile? Who would want to shoot a ship full of human females? The incident was short and sweet, but the violent chaos that erupted after the collision seemed to drag on forever.

I thought there was some disaster training before the vessel departed Earth, but I didn't pay attention to it. I was focused on meeting my sexy new alien husband. Now the cabin was full of the blood-curling shrieks of women and crew who saw their lives flashing before their eyes. I looked around for my new best friend, Cheyenne. I didn't want to die alone.

The overhead lights started flickering, and I saw the fear on Cheyenne's face presented in snapshots. Her hand reached out to mine and our clammy fingers intertwined. Some other passengers had paid attention to their pre-flight instructions and we emulated them, moving forward and bracing our bodies for impact.

I could feel a change in the way the shuttle was moving. We were going down. We must have been near a planet and gotten caught in its gravity well. The enormous, spinning hunk of metal was free-falling through the air. I was lucky to be strapped into my seat - the contents of my stomach started shifting as we helplessly let gravity have its way with our ship. I had the urge to vomit, but I was moving around so much I didn't even get the chance. I closed my eyes.

Before I knew it, we hit the surface of the planet. The shuttle bounced along the ground before colliding into a large boulder, settling backward as its motion stopped.

As soon as we hit the ground I had the urge to unbuckle myself and get away to safety. My eyes fluttered open slowly. My eyelids felt heavy, and my vision blurred with tears. I could hear and smell clouds of hissing smoke filling the air around me. Cheyenne's groans added even more to my unease.

But Cheyenne wasn't the first thing I saw. As soon as my eyes focused on something, I realized I should have kept them closed. Vanessa wouldn't have the opportunity to scam TerraMates again. Her body was only inches away from my nose. Her collarbone stuck out from her neck at an odd angle, and her empty, glassy eyes stared me straight in the face.

Before I had a chance to react, a blinding light shined into my face.

"You're coming with me, human."

LAZ

I rolled over on my side. My pillow crumpled under the weight of my head. I was awake, but my pounding head and dry throat kept me from the physical act of actually getting out of bed. One of the privates had fiddled with the camp's particular heating system. As a result, my bunker was stiflingly hot and infested with flying pests.

I expected incidents like this. Most of the privates were morons.

My arms and calves were still sore from doing drills with the freshmen recruits. Despite my clear schedule tomorrow morning, I could not drift back to sleep no matter how hard I tried. I typically subsisted on four hours of sleep, so I was restless.

A magfly flitted past my ear. It found a landing spot on my head and clung onto my earlobe. As I raised an open hand to swat it off my ear, I heard the groan of a sinking floorboard. I sat upright and swung my legs off the cot.

My feet sunk straight into the worn insoles of my boots. I yanked on the pull-chain next to my cot. The lights switched on, filling the bunker with a pale yellow glow. I looked around the room. The file cabinets next to my desk were still intact, and the screen of my desktop was blank. I glanced to the left. The supply closet was bolted shut. My hand-held laser pistols were laid out on my nightstand where I had left them. I did a quick mental inventory of all the rifles hung on the wall.

A slow creak sounded on my right. I suddenly noticed the front door was ajar and lightly swinging back and forth. I wasn't alone. I squared my shoulders and tentatively crossed the room. The door clicked as I pushed it back into place. That was my mistake.

The next thing I knew, someone pulled a foul-smelling sack over my head. With my vision impaired and my oxygen supply threatened, my training only allowed me one course of action. I started swinging blindly at my attackers. I heard a loud crash. Was that the front door being kicked open? Footsteps stampeded in my direction, and my arms were pinned behind my back. Multiple hands knocked me off my feet. My body became suspended horizontally. I couldn't fight any longer as my assailants started carrying me away. Further struggling at this point would be futile. I needed to reserve my energy for later.

Although my vision was impaired, it only heightened my other senses. From the fresh chill brushing against my arms, I knew we were behind the bunkers storing our tanks and shuttlecraft. The noise of boots crushing gravel was so crisp that it sounded as if someone was grinding herbs by my ear.

They lowered my body to the ground so I was able to walk, but surrounded me so I could barely move. I marched forward cautiously, feeling a light poke on my right leg with every step. The frosty blade of a knife strapped to my ankle was my last chance of escape. If I could get to it, I would be home free.

My kidnappers guided me into the back seat of a shuttlecraft. Until now, they had yet to slip up. They hadn't even spoken a single word. I supposed they were communicating with hand signals. Even though I was in a sitting position, I found it difficult to move my arms. Two massive bodies boxed me in on either side.

The ground rumbled beneath my feet. I felt my body being pushed back as the shuttle lifted off the ground. The sack over my head made my nose itch, but I couldn't scratch it. I sat perfectly still for the duration of the ride.

The first noise I heard was two beeps from the spaceship, indicating that we were beginning to descend. As the wheels of the craft deployed and we started rolling on the bumpy ground, I flexed my muscles. My legs clenched and I raised my heels off the floor. If an opportunity presented itself, I would be ready.

I felt a breeze of fresh air as the door of the craft opened. My assailants ushered me towards the exit. But as I leaned forward in the doorway, I felt the beefy fingers around my arms loosen. Taking advantage of the moment, I fished out the knife from my ankle strap and lunged ahead. I collided into several of the attackers. Rolling out of the doorway, I yanked the sack over my head and tossed it aside, looking around wildly with my fist gripped around the handle of my seven-inch knife.

"Whoa! Stand down! General – it's us!"

Although it was nighttime, it was still bright. My eyes were used to looking at the inside of a hood. I blinked away the flashing spots inhibiting my vision. As my sight returned, I saw seven figures around me wearing the same gray army fatigues as myself. I lowered my weapon and raised my eyebrows, bewildered. One by one, the best of my front line infantrymen rose from the ground, rubbing their heads and rolling their necks.

"What the hell is going on here?" I demanded, sliding my knife back into place.

"I told you fools this was a bad idea. Surprise?"

Sergeant Major Dallas, my right-hand man, stuck his neck out of the shuttlecraft. The Zagwog refugee loomed over the rest of the crew, retracting a pair of white wings into his back. His eyes became narrow, which only made his ice-white irises brighter in the dark of the night. Gnarled dreadlocks swung around his face as he shook his head. He strode toward me and handed me my coat. I slipped it over my black tank top and turned to look at the four-story building behind me.

Booming, fast-paced music leaked out of the joint's closed doors. Wealthy men in striped mintchilla coats, ape-skin hats, and platinum chains around their necks filed into the entrance. On the rooftop, colorful spotlights projected onto the skies. I read the sign over the door.

"Jewels?" I mused, frowning. "A strip club? Did you boneheads drag me out of bed for
this
?"

"It's a gentleman's club," Kraig corrected. The Command Systems Operator grinned, running a hand through the spiky strip of hair in the center of his shaved head. "We're all gentlemen, right? We thought we could surprise you. Now that you're tied down, we figured we'd throw you the bachelor party you never had."

"Trust me, General," Maxwell, the Artillery Gunner, piped up. "I'm in here at least twice a week getting the VIP treatment. The girls here are unbelievable. They have the finest tits in town. I swear it on my Mama's grave."

"I don't mean to be a buzz kill, but I'm not in the mood."

"Come on, General," Maxwell pleaded. The other crewmen cried out with shared sentiments. "In all my years of service, I don't think you've ever been to a victory party. Not even the one after we busted the terrorists at Palace Square two years ago."

"All right, all right. One drink," I conceded. Sighing, I fell to the back of the line as the eager soldiers paraded into the club.

"King Jacquim and Princess Ayala send their blessings," said Dallas, walking next to me. "He booked us a private room, complete with bottomless drinks at the wet bar."

"He didn't have to do that. Thanks for planning all of this. I appreciate it."

"It's our pleasure, brother. I know this isn't normally your scene, but I'm sure you'll find a way to make it through this torture."

The club was thick with scented mists and pink fog. There was a long phallic-shaped stage in the middle of the room. A voluptuous Maztek woman with bright orange hair suggestively pressed her back against the pole. Her nipples peeked out from the top of her tiny green bikini. With one hand clasped onto the pole, she cupped her other hand around the side of her breast. She massaged her cleavage, exploring the curves of her body to the intense beat of the song playing overhead. As she danced, the hungry men around her repeatedly threw credits in her direction.

We headed for more illicit pleasure. I followed my men to the back of the seedy establishment. Save for a quizzical few, most of the clientele had their eyes glued onstage and paid no attention to the party of guffawing soldiers. I nodded at the pretty-faced cocktail waitresses staring at us. A blushing waitress wiggled her red eyebrows at me as she held open the door to our VIP room. I winked at her, thanking her softly as I shut the door behind me.

The private suite had a tenfold increase in sterility and swank. A fully-stocked bar sat next to the plush, velvet couches. Three soundproof rooms were cordoned off behind red curtains. A dressed table filled with a bounty of roasted meat platters, sabertooth hog sandwiches, and desserts was pushed up against the wall. As a pudgy bartender entered the room and shuffled behind the bar, my men attacked the table of food head-on and started talking immediately.

"Hey, General! Try one of the bluebird drumsticks. They're juicier than that orange-haired stripper's tits."

"Nice. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" I replied, suppressing a grin. I grabbed a skewer and headed for the bar. "I need a drink. You kids have fun."

A few minutes later, six women entered the room. A sketchy individual with the brim of his hat pulled over his eyes followed suit. He carried various sound equipment under his arms. As the man set up his music booth, the women began pairing off with my boys.