The Princess and her Alien Rogue: Alien Romance
Table of Contents
Copyright
Foreword
Chapter One – Tallia
Chapter Two – Johar
Chapter Three – Tallia
Chapter Four – Johar
Chapter Five – Tallia
Chapter Six – Johar
Chapter Seven – Tallia
Chapter Eight – Johar
Chapter Nine – Tallia
Chapter Ten – Johar
Chapter Eleven – Tallia
Chapter Twelve – Johar
Chapter Thirteen – Tallia
Chapter Fourteen – Johar
Chapter Fifteen – Tallia
Chapter Sixteen – Johar
Chapter Seventeen – Tallia
Chapter Eighteen – Johar
Chapter Nineteen – Tallia
Chapter Twenty – Johar
Chapter Twenty-One – Tallia
Chapter Twenty-Two – Johar
Chapter Twenty-Three – Tallia
Chapter Twenty-Four – Johar
Chapter Twenty-Five – Tallia
Chapter Twenty-Six – Johar
Chapter Twenty-Seven – Tallia
Get In Touch
Also By Harmony Raines
The
Princess
and her
Alien Rogue
***
All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written consent of the author or publisher.
This is a work of fiction and is intended for mature audiences only. All characters within are eighteen years of age or older. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, actual events or places is purely coincidental.
© 2016 Harmony Raines
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The
Princess
and her
Alien Rogue
Princess Tallia has a problem. She needs a son, but to get a son, she needs a husband.
After the death of her father, she is the sole heir to the throne, on the planet Carinia, the only problem is, the Emissars will only accept a male as an heir. Her only hope is to find a husband, but being cut off from all suitors means finding a good man is never going to be easy.
In a last ditch attempt to find the right man, she goes to visit a psychic, who tells her where to find the answer to her problems – in the form of a seven-foot alien with tattoos, who also glows silver like the moon. With no other choice, she pays him to marry her and father the child she needs.
Johar left his home planet of Limera, choosing to be a free man and escape the fate his father believes is his. He loves the life of a trader, and a rogue. But when Tallia asks him to marry her and father her child, he agrees. For money of course … there could be no other reason he would want to play prince to this princess. Or is there?
Chapter One – Tallia
“Are you sure this is the place, My Princess?” Rian asked, ducking her head to look through the gap in the curtains that served as a door to the tea house. Tallia understood her unease. This was not the kind of place a princess frequented.
“Yes. I am sure,” Tallia said, lifting the curtain and ducking under it. “Stay here, I will not be long.”
“Don’t you want me to come with you, My Princess?” Rian looked scared, and she had every right to be. On Tallia’s instructions they had evaded the watchful eye of her guards, who thought that Princess Tallia was in one of the larger boutiques up in the traders’ quarters, The Silken Promise, trying on silk dresses, not down here in the marketplace amongst beggars and thieves.
Rian knew very well that if anything happened to her princess, she would be held responsible and severely punished, even if she was acting on the orders of Tallia. Tallia had no intention of letting that happen, because she had no intention of anything going wrong.
That was what she had told herself an hour ago. However, the reality of the traders’ market was a lot worse than she had imagined. She had not ventured down here for months, and then it had been with an armed escort. Two women on their own were viewed a lot differently than a princess with sworn swordsmen at her side.
Unarmed, and wearing only peasant dresses, they had been harassed by several men, and Tallia had only just managed to bite her tongue and stop herself demanding did they know who they were talking to?
Certainly if they did, she would now be in a slavers’ warehouse awaiting her fate. Which would probably mean being held to ransom. She was not sure the Emissars of Carinia would pay. It would be a gift to them, a way to get rid of their princess with no blood shed.
“My Princess,” Rian said, her hand on Tallia’s arm, which would earn anyone else ten lashes.
“Yes, Rian?”
“Are you sure this is worth the risk?”
“I have no choice. You know that.”
Rian looked troubled and turned away as Tallia let the curtains fall back into place and looked around the tea house.
The scents of spice and herbs assailed her senses, a heady aroma that mixed together to make her feel relaxed and calm. Trying not to let her guard down as she breathed deeply, she weaved her way through the worn chairs pushed under equally worn tables, most of which were empty, to the back of the shop. Beneath her feet, the wooden floor creaked, making stealth impossible. Tallia smiled. It didn’t matter; she had not come here to hide, she had come here to find answers.
“Can I serve you?” The girl behind the counter looked like one of the slave girls who came from Quara, the planet on the outer edges of the galaxy. They had little technology, and so were easy pickings for the Brigal, who made their trade selling the misery of others. When she took full power from the Emissars, the Brigal would have their Carinian star port permissions revoked. She hated them, but that was a fight for another day.
“I am looking for the owner.” Tallia decided not to act the princess. This called for subtlety; help was more easily given by asking rather than ordering, in her experience.
A wariness came into the girl’s eyes. “She is busy. May I serve you to some tea?”
“You don’t understand. I wish to speak with her.” Her tone hardened enough to make the girl aware that no wasn’t an answer she would accept.
The girl’s eyes flicked backwards, giving Tallia all the information she needed. Pushing past the counter, she headed into the darkness, with the girl calling for her to stop, but she did not physically try to prevent the princess from entering the hallway, where she would hopefully find what she was looking for.
Tallia was quick. Surveying the two empty rooms, and then standing before the closed door of the third, she knew she had found what she needed. Tilting her head, she pressed her ear to the door, and listened. The soft, mesmerizing voice that met her ears confirmed she was in the right place. Slowly, she opened the door, and then slipped inside. The room was purposely dark, the thick smell of incense dulling her senses almost immediately, but she had been taught to ward off the sleep that followed, and for once was grateful of her training. Out of all the training Tallia had wished to undertake, this was one of the only ones that the Emissars had decided a woman was worthy of. Her other skills had been taught in private, without their knowledge.
She drew closer to the c
enter of the room, where a witch light illuminated the face of a woman. She wasn’t old; she wasn’t young. She was ageless, faceless, unrecognizable from one moment to the next. Her features shifted and changed, so that if Tallia was ever asked to describe her, she would be unable to.
Tallia’s presence made the features coalesce, and eyes, piercing in their intensity, flicked open to look at her. Violet, bright as stars, they bore into Tallia, but the princess held her ground, and the woman moved, her hands letting go of the fingers of another woman, who sat opposite her across the small table with her eyes closed.
“There, your reading is complete.” The witch spoke with a strong accent, one Tallia had never heard spoken by any other person in her life. It was instantly familiar to her, and yet unique.
The woman who had her back to Tallia stirred, as if woken from a dream. “And?”
“And take this out to Driole and she will mix the herbs.” The witch scribbled something down on a piece of parchment and handed it to the woman.
“What did you see?” the woman asked, pushing for answers.
“I saw the need for you to take this infusion of herbs.”
“That’s it?” Disappointment infused the woman’s voice, laced with distrust, but she did not voice those sentiments.
“Yes.” The witch sat back in her chair, hands on the table, with her eyes downcast. It was a dismissal, a sign that the conversation was over. Tallia knew: she had been here a hundred times before with her mother, watched the frustration as the witch dismissed her, telling her there was no hope. No hope that she would ever conceive a boy.
Tallia stood still and watched the woman leave. As she passed, Tallia kept to the shadows, her face turned away, she didn’t want to be recognized. She just wanted answers of her own.
“I am busy, child. You should come back another day.”
“I am here now, you will see me,” Tallia said, her voice conveying the authority she demanded. This was no time for subtlety.
“And what can I do for a princess?” The game had begun, but Tallia had no time for games.
“Misha’Ha, you know why I am here.”
“I know why you think you are here. But what you seek is forbidden.”
“Did you tell that to the woman who just left? Or did you simply take her money?”
“I took her money.” Misha’Ha indicated the one silver coin on the table. “And I gave her what she needed. A tonic for her stomach.”
“Cross my hand with silver,” Tallia whispered.
“And I will tell your future.” Misha’Ha sighed. “Those words are not said by me anymore. Your father banned my abilities, do you remember?”
“Of course I remember.” Tallia had been there the day her father had burst in on her mother and Misha’Ha. He had been worried about her mother’s mental state, and followed her here to the tea shop. He accused Misha’Ha of taking money under false pretenses.
“But you never spoke up. You never told your father of the times I refused your mother’s silver coins. He accused me of lies, and you know I never lied.”
“I was a child.”
“But you had a tongue, and a memory.” There was no malice in the witch’s voice;, it was light and smooth, as if they were talking about what fine weather it was today.
“I still do.” Tallia had long since come to terms with her guilt.
“Then perhaps that tongue should tell me why you are here, dressed in such finery.” Now the witch’s sarcasm surfaced.
“I have some silver for you.” Tallia pulled the small pouch of coins from beneath the peasant dress, and placed it on the table.
“If this is a test, then I will pass. I do not take silver for what you want answers to.” Misha’Ha’s eyes did not leave Tallia’s face, and the princess felt all the years of shame bearing down on her. Shame that she had never stood up to her father and told him the truth. She knew why, but had never wanted to put it into words. Never wanted to admit her father would not have believed her. Would never have believed a girl.
“You know what is at stake.”
“Your rule. What is a princess to do if she will never be queen?”
“It’s more than that. You know the Emissars will seize full power if I cannot find a husband and produce an heir.”
“Not just a husband. I have heard tell you need a son.”
“Well, let’s start with a husband, I can work out the finer details afterwards. I need to defeat the Emissars or they will rule Carinia instead of me.”
The woman chuckled, her violet eyes sparkling in the witch light. “I see you are more like your father than your mother.” The laughter left her. “Which is why I cannot help you.”
“Here. Two bags of silver. One for the information, one for your silence. In fact, it would be better for both of us if you took the silver and left Carinia for good.”
“This is my home.”
“No, it isn’t. Your home is on some far-off planet.”
A dark look crossed over Misha’Ha’s face, and for a moment Tallia though all was lost. “Sit down.”
Tallia didn’t say a word. She sat down quickly and held out her hands, as she had seen her mother do countless times before. Misha’Ha took hold of them, her both her hands, the witch’s touch hard, unyielding, as if now she had Tallia in her grasp, she would never let her go; as if the only way Tallia was going to leave here was if she cut her own hands off.
“Relax, little princess.”
Tallia looked up from her hands, and her gaze was captured by those violet eyes. Misha’Ha stared at her, and then the incense began to penetrate her brain. She could not fight it, although she tried.
“Let yourself go. If you do not, I cannot get in.”
“Get in?” Tallia asked. “You mean, inside my head.”
“No. Inside your future.”
Chapter Two – Johar
“We should leave, Johar, the shipment will be loaded,” Krigan said on cue.
“Very well. It is getting late. I will play one more hand with my good friend here, and send him into the poor house,” Johar said, taking another sip of the most disgusting liquor he had ever tasted.
“You are so sure you will beat me?” The man he was playing was a hustler. Johar had picked up on that the moment he had been invited into the game. In his line of work, you got a nose for these things, and in the next round, the hustler was going to make his move. Only Johar had beat him to it.
“So let us make the next game all or nothing.” The pock-faced man lifted the bottle of absilon, and poured some into Johar’s glass. “Drink up, my friend, and let’s play.”
The tokens were dealt, and Johar watched carefully as his opponent shook a single token out of his sleeve, to land in his pile. It was a sleight of hand so quick, so skillful, only someone who had been in the company of fraudsters and liars his whole life would have seen it.
What his opponent didn’t know was that Johar had changed the token when they had shaken hands in the third round of their game, when Johar had won a considerable amount of coin. But he was about to know, in three, two, one…
“What?” His opponent’s scars stood out livid as he realized he had been tricked. He looked at the pile of coins on the table and then up at Johar, who was intent on his own tokens, trying to keep his face neutral.
“Not the hand you expected?” Johar asked easily, as he looked up to see a hatred so intense, he knew this was going to end in bloodshed. Not exactly what he had come here for. But then, trouble seemed to follow him around. Or maybe he sought it out.
His opponent rose up from his chair, his hand going to his side, but his sidearm had gone too, thanks to Krigan, who always had Johar’s back and had foreseen how this was going to end.
“Listen, friend, you know as well as I do, I won fair and square. The only way you were going to win this round was by cheating.”
“Give me back my money,” the other guy said.
Johar rose from his chair. He towered above
everyone in the room, his muscles straining against the shirt he had worn to come into the town. He usually hated wearing clothes on the top half of his body; instead he liked to let his skin, which was covered in silver tattoos, breathe, to feel the air on it.
Not wanting a fight, he tore the fabric from his body, to show himself off in all his glory, and he was glorious, the gasp from the other men in the room proving that. However, it still didn’t stop the hustler from charging at him, head down like a bulleroo. That caught Johar off guard and they both ploughed through the makeshift door of the inn, The Lucky Star, to spill onto the ground. More gasps erupted, followed by excited cries. This was probably the best entertainment these people would have all afternoon, not least because guards patrolled the area frequently.
That was Johar’s problem: he needed this over fast, he did not want any soldiers with their many questions coming across a street brawl. Yet he could not hit this man hard. If he did, he would kill him. Johar knew his own strengths, and also his own weaknesses. He was not a murderer.
Then the hustler pulled a gun out. Of course a man like this would have a backup weapon. Tucked in his boot, this was a laser, small but it would pack a sting like a flangers bite. “Damn it.”
The first shot went wide, readjusting; the second shot was a true aim, but Johar dived to the left and rolled over, springing to his feet ready for the next round. If he remembered correctly, these lasers had a recharge that took longer each time the gun was fired. He counted the time between shots, just as he had counted the time between the lightning and the thunder when he was a child. Three seconds: he dived and rolled again. Five: this time he felt the sting as the beam glanced off his skin. The guy was beginning to read Johar’s body language and predict his movements.
Seven: this time Johar rolled forward. He figured he had enough time between shots to reach the man and knock him unconscious. Smack.
The sound of bone cracking met his ears, but it couldn’t be helped. Kicking the gun away from the hustler, he looked up to see Krigan standing off to one side, with a woman. She was talking to his first mate, and as Johar approached, they turned and walked away. He followed.