Alien Tyrant (Fated Mates of the Sea Sand Warlords, #1)

by Ursa Dax

“You have all been specially selected to serve your planet on a confidential mission. This mission is one of the first of its kind, and its secrecy is of the utmost importance. Thus, you were selected and taken before any information could be leaked.”

“Unbeknownst to the public, Earth has a large space program, much more advanced than what you see on TV with rockets and moon-landings. We have been searching for energy and materials to sustain life on Earth, and have been also searching for planets to eventually host human colonies.”

“Um, no,” I interjected. “My area of research is translation in pop culture, specifically the creation of subtitles for popular films and TV shows. I literally watch anime for research. That’s going to do fuck-all on an alien planet. I assure you.”

“Love getting ready to greet some territorial aliens without knowing any bloody verbs or adjectives or the way to say ‘friendly humans, please don’t eat us,’”

I saw her. And it was like everything else ceased to exist. There was no sea of sand, no zeelk, no sky or sun or cliffs. There was only her, shining like a single star in darkness. Shining like a beacon, a sign, a glorious explosion of destiny. My mate.

Never had I known, in all my war-filled life, a poison quite this sweet. So sweet I’d gladly let it kill me. Over and over again.

Well, Cece, you’ve got yourself in quite the fucking pickle.

They don’t have alien horses where this guy comes from? We have to deal with the dino-centipede?

My name in his mouth was terrible and gratifying. Bizarre and enticing. It sent heat down my spine and goosebumps over my skin. It felt like he was recognizing something deep inside me. As if he knew something about me that even I didn’t.

My entire body, my very existence, was for her, now. How could she not see that? And how could she not feel the same?

More kicking and screaming ensued, with angry words I could make out but not understand. Ahh-sole. Tie-rent.

I could practically hear my Grammy speaking through her, telling me to eat my meat and vegetables so that I’d have lots of energy and strength. I guess grandmas getting young people to eat is universal. Literally.

I always knew my crush on the fox in Robin Hood would come back to bite me in the ass.

I will bring her so much pleasure that she is incapable of hiding her body from me. She will bare every naked morsel of perfect flesh in ecstasy by the time I am finished, and she will beg me to mate her.

Zeezee was saying something that sounded a lot like ahfak, our word for morning sun.

And, frankly, it felt good to have someone on my side, someone who, for some reason, seemed hellbent on protecting me. Even if that someone was now sporting a raging erection.

I moved my hand down to explore the two smaller spikes of flesh on either side of his cock. For academic purposes, of course.

A strong warrior who seemed addicted to giving me pleasure, who’d made me a pair of freaking socks, plus new pants and a saddle? My last boyfriend couldn’t have even been bothered to take the trash out.

“YOU MUST LIVE, ZEEZEE. You must. I cannot think without you. I cannot breathe. If you die, I will wander the sands forever bereft without you. I will let the zeelk strip the flesh from my bones, and even that will not be enough to atone. That pain would be nothing to this. You must live. You must fight. You must. You must.”

“Clearly because you are perfect. And you are the perfect mate for me.” Damn. What did I say about this guy having a way with words? If he keeps throwing stuff like that at me, I’ll be mounting him myself.

“I will not tie you up, my beautiful mate. I will not make you stay here with me. But you should know that, if you flee, I will always follow. No matter where you run, I will find you. I will not force you to live as my mate, but I will always be at your side. Until the very end of my days.”

“Forgive me, Zeezee. You have broken open my world and put it back together again. Your words have forged futures I never thought I’d live to see. It is difficult to speak.”

“Your cunt is beautiful. It is so wet for me. And so soft.”

Ah, yes, Officer Celia Heaney, a well-trained, decorated soldier in the regiment of the Department of Linguistics at the University of Toronto.