Possessed by the Alien King (Fated Mates of the Varool #1)

by Krista Luna

I slid into the orange jumpsuit and sealed it tight all the way to my neck. Then came the dreaded over-tunic. We didn’t know what the stripes meant to the aliens. Were they random? Did they denote rank or family group? With my luck, the pattern printed here would be a grave insult or something. I didn’t see the point of wearing it. No clothing existed in the universe that would fool anyone into thinking I was a varoolian woman. Even though I was a decent height, they’d been taller, more heavily muscled, and certainly not as curvy as I was.

Father and I had made a horrible mistake, and it was up to me to put it right. I owed it to the rest of humanity. And I even owed it to the Varool.

Freaking barbarians, the lot of them. It didn’t matter if they had better technology. They were brutes with their big hard bodies and their lack of shirts and… and… My hands fisted in the delicate fabric. … and I’m going to marry one of them today.

“You cannot, however, blame me for assuming human duplicity,” he said, his voice as cold as the void. “Not when your actions killed every woman and transman of my people.”

“No.” A harsh voice shattered the moment. It was the brute, the king. “Deirdre Hutchins is mine.” The dawning sun of my hope died, snuffed out before it ever burned bright.

My nostrils flared, filled with the stench of inadequate air filtration. How had such a technologically inferior species done such damage to the Varool? If they had not utilized forbidden biological sciences, we would have bested them easily.

Shock jolted through me anew as my zural heart began to beat for the first time in my life. The secondary organ offered the additional circulatory support needed to maintain the hurvon, the larger mating erection.

Anger burned hot in my blood. I flicked my fingers at her. “What is this? You pretend to be Varool? What is next? Skin dyes? Tattoos?” Our stripes were hereditary, not something to be mocked or mimicked. Such tricks would fail to fool any of my people. Yet should I expect anything else from such a duplicitous species?

“Well. That’s all taken care of,” the admiral said, standing and rubbing her hands together. “King Storr, I’d like to invite you and all of your people to a celebration. We’ve arranged a party in the main atrium.” They expected me to celebrate this mockery of a mating? “No. No party.” I shoved to my feet, anger tightening my muscles. “We consummate now.”

“Where is the observation room?” He asked. I spun out from under his hand. “The what?” “The observation room, where people from each species will watch to assure the treaty is consummated.” Watch? He didn’t mean… “No! We don’t do that,” I squeaked, heat flooding my face. God, my voice hadn’t hit a note that high since I turned twelve. I know I had to have sex with him, but in front of an audience?

I whirled. “You could have let me say goodbye!” The brute stood, one hand on a control panel. His face remained carved of stone. “I did. You were permitted to clasp them and say words of parting back on the station.” Anger, hot and sharp, burned away the last of my tears. The freaking asshole!

The backs of my fingers brushed the tips of her breasts—they jutted more than I expected. A varoolian woman’s wouldn’t have been so full unless feeding a rare set of twins. Would the human’s get even larger when she carried my progeny? She gasped. A new smell, musky and alluring, filled the air, and my cock jerked to life, protesting its confinement. Not yet.

“Computer,” I said, also switching to English, “please record the following proceedings.” She rounded on me. “What? You want to make a sex vid?” I frowned. “No. Not a sex vid—an official recording of the consummation of the treaty. Since you would not allow for observers, this will have to stand as a substitute.”

I stepped close and clasped her shoulder with one hand, using the other to control my shaft. Deep-orange liquid, the marking precum made only this once, beaded on the tip. I pressed it to her lower stomach, and the touch of her skin sent a hot jolt of pleasure searing through me. I took a couple of deep breaths to regain control and wrote my claiming glyph.

WHAT THE FREAKING hell? Did he just write on me with his dick? The brute painted me with precum. He drew some sort of symbol on my skin that darkened to orange-brown as I stared.

Then he licked his palm and slapped it over the mark on my stomach. It tingled a little. Then fire flashed through me, burning my nerves and setting my entire body alight. I hovered on the edge of orgasm, my clit throbbing, begging for release. His smell, all smoke and spice, filled my nose and mouth. My heart raced, pounding in my ears. I ached for him, my body empty. “What is this?” I whispered. “It is the mating frenzy.” His deep voice vibrated through me, and my nipples hardened into peaks. Frenzy—the word sounded so wild and untamed. My clit pulsed. I certainly felt like an animal in heat. Every worry I’d had about what the consummation would be like flew out the airlock.

“Not the first time I had sex, but the first with the full size and sensitivity of my hurvon.” His voice dropped to a deep rumble. “The first with my fated mate.” Holy shit! The heat he put into those last words made me tingle.

No! She is the enemy. My cock did not care.

Deirdre Hutchins entered and took the seat beside me, her musky smell filling the air and re-hardening my hurvon. I ground my teeth together.

He looked up at me. “Release your restraints, and I will catch you.” Oh, hell no. I must have made a face because he glared at me. “I am not dishonorable enough to lie. I will do everything within my capability to catch you and see you safely to the ground.” Dammit.

“Holy shit,” I whispered. Storr was a king, a politician. I’d kind of assumed his body was for show, one built from gym time. This? This was sheer athleticism.

“Shit, shit, shit.” “Pray to your excrement deity later.” Excrement what now?

My zural heart sped, stirring my hurvon to life. I growled in annoyance. The crash had deflated it enough that I could pull it back into my body for protection.

Across the clearing, Storr pulled a tab, and a tent inflated out to a decent size, the sides swelling rapidly like a large green balloon, striped with darker slashes of brown. Of course it’s striped. I snorted.

How humbling it was to crave the enemy whose people just tried to kill me.

No. You cannot allow the mating frenzy to sway you. You need look no further than your current predicament to see what her people are capable of!

It was a touching bit of care from someone who probably didn’t like me very much, especially since he seemed to think humans had shot down the shuttle.

Oh, god. His mother. My stomach twisted in knots. I dreaded the answer, but I had to ask. “Did she… was she one of the ones to catch the virus?” He shook his head. “She and my father died fighting the Folri. My mother went down fighting, a warrior queen to the end.”

There are times when leading a life of responsibility seems to kill all of life’s joy. This was one of them.

Thank god Storr was a Varool. I now loved his huge size.

Instead of small punctures, deep gouges with ragged edges tore through his muscle. Moving the wolv-wolf’s entire body using its hold on his arm had worked—but he’d paid a price. He got that protecting me. He saved my life. I had no doubts—the wolv-wolf had leaped right for me. Without Storr, I’d be mauled or dead.

“If…” I raised my voice, and my hand latched onto his good arm, tugging until he faced me again. “If you promise that once we make camp, I get to take care of you as much as I want.” He gritted out a reluctant, “I promise.” But he’d hold to it. That famous varoolian honor was going to work for me for a change.

“I did it!” I spun to face him, rejoicing in my win, and he smiled. He freaking smiled. Oh. My heart skipped. His finely chiseled features meant he’d always been good-looking, but when he smiled, he became gorgeous. I jerked back to facing forward and made my legs move, suddenly amazingly self-conscious. Here I was, a sweaty mess, with who knows what stuck in my hair from rolling around on the ground. And he was freaking gorgeous. It wasn’t fair.

She is my mate, the one other person in the universe allowed to wield it. Yet the image of her turning and plunging its length into my heart lingered, haunting my steps.

“Thank you, Deirdre. You may address me as Storr.” It felt intimate using given names. Something stirred uneasily in my breast. I used my good hand to push up to a crouch. Then I stood. I needed to get moving again.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, and then she huffed. “Fine, you can play lookout but no peeking.” “I do not need to peek,” I said, picking up my yedral blade. “I have already seen everything.”

The movement of the fabric wafted her smell to me, and my zural heart thumped. My hurvon, still semi-erect, flared to full life. I enjoyed her ripe scent, and she had no need to wash on my account. My cock, however, insisted on having her naked. “It is doubtful predators hunt in these conditions. It should be safe.”

The smell of my mate’s arousal tempted me, and I could no longer resist the urge to feast.

What would it be like to kiss him? Did Varool even kiss? Would he tease or take my mouth hungrily? He’d certainly devoured my pussy like a man starved.

Then another thought hit. He shouldn’t trust me. I’m lying to him. The man—the husband—who’d just saved my life.

Her shoulders hunched inward, and she pinched at the bridge of her nose. She lied—she was not fine. Irritation flashed through me. Why were humans so endlessly deceitful?

I crouched so we were on the same level. It must be no easy thing to fear water as she did. “I swear by the Divine Mother I will let no harm come to you.” She let out a breath. “Yeah, okay. Only save some of those prayers for yourself.” I gave a wry smile. “I will do so if you also promise to entreat your god of excrement for success.” Her brow scrunched together. “My god of what?”

He wobbled to his feet and took an unsteady step forward. Letting out a mournful little mew, he stopped. A loud hiss sounded. He was pissing! I scurried backward with an eep as a small yellow stream cut across the hard-packed ground, headed straight for me. The smell of pee filled the air. Storr laughed—actually laughed!—the sound rich and deep. Flutters filled my stomach, and I could do nothing but stare, mesmerized by the breathtaking smile on my husband’s face.

I resisted. “You must have a favorite.” “Well, I like doggie.” What did a canid have to do with anything?

“What is this?” I whispered, looking up at him. “It is my zural heart.” His deep voice rumbled even when he spoke softly, and his hand covered mine. “It beats only for you, my mate.”

When we finished, he spun me around and gathered me into his arms. Lifting me effortlessly, he pressed a hot kiss to my mouth. Yes! Relief rushed through me as I kissed him back. Too soon, he set me down, though he reached out to touch my cheek. “Much as I long to taste you again, we must go. Our people await.”