The Princess and her Alien Rogue: Alien Romance Read online

  “Krigan. What are you doing?”

  “He is helping me with a task,” the woman said.

  “What task is that?” Johar said, ready to fight.

  “She has a proposition, Johar,” Krigan said. “It’s worth a lot of coin.”

  “But I need to get back to the upper town, so we will talk as we walk,” she said, and another woman appeared, head down, not looking at either Krigan or Johar. By her coloring, Johar would say she was a slave, probably from the planet Tiwnin.

  “No. We stop and talk now.” Johar stopped, and put his hand on his sidearm, not sure if this was a trap.

  “You aren’t going to like it,” Krigan said.

  “Then let’s get it out in the open. I can make a decision and then we can leave.”

  “The offer is simple. I will pay you a million Kerengu coins.”

  “A lot of coin, and the universal currency too. And where does a woman like you get that much coin from? And what does she want in return?” His expression became serious. “I don’t kill for money. You know we don’t take bounties, Krigan.”

  “It’s not exactly a bounty, but it does involve someone’s life,” Krigan said.

  “Whose?” Johar asked.

  “Yours.” Krigan nodded. For a moment he wondered if his old friend was about to sell him out for coin, but then a grin broke out on his face. “She wants to buy your body.”

  “What?”

  “I need you to come with me and pretend to be my husband,” the woman said reasonably.

  Johar stood there, his mouth open, for once lost for words, while Krigan burst into laughter, and kept going until he was doubled up as if in pain, with tears in his eyes.

  “Why?” Johar asked.

  “Because I’m ordering you to.” This seriously tested his temper. He was not used to being ordered to do anything these days. He was a free spirit, traveling where the ship’s cargo took him.

  “Ordering?”

  “Yes. This is my planet. You have a choice: you either make everyone believe you are my husband, or you can go for a vacation in my dungeon.”

  “Your what?” Johar asked, incredulous.

  The woman before him pulled back her hood so that he could just make out her face. “I am the Princess Tallia of Carinia, and I order you to do my bidding.”

  “This just gets better,” Krigan laughed.

  Johar straightened up. “Well, why didn’t you say so, Princess,” he said, emphasizing the word.

  He would go with her, he would do her bidding, but before he was through he would teach her something about ordering people around. But first he was going to see just how far she wanted this mock marriage to go.

  Chapter Three – Tallia

  “Are you sure about this, My Princess?” Those were the words Rian said to her when they had left Misha’Ha’s tea shop. Tallia had wanted to say no, I’m not sure, and she still wanted to say those same words, but it was too late; she had already offered the money and the man had accepted.

  The man. He wasn’t a man, he was a goddamn giant. Pure muscle covered in toned flesh that shone like the silvery moon. That was how Misha’Ha had described him: Find the moon in the stars. Her gift never went so far as to tell a person the name of their true mate; it was more like following a trail of breadcrumbs, which in this case had led her to a hunk of man meat. At first confused, Tallia had gone with the first thing that had come into her head, the inn in the lower market called The Lucky Star.

  “I want the money up front,” her moon demanded.

  She let go of her worry and turned her attention back to him. “No.”

  “Then no deal.” He raised his eyebrows at Krigan and they turned to walk away from her.

  “Half. But I don’t have it with me.” She couldn’t let him leave; she was sure this was the man Misha’Ha had meant.

  “OK. Here’s how it’s going to go down. We go to your palace; you transfer the money. OK. Half the money,” he agreed when she opened her mouth to protest. “When I see it’s in my account, then we play your little game.

  Keeping her expression blank, as she had become practiced at doing, she worked out how she would get the money. She had not thought it through that far. Today’s adventure to the lower market had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. A conversation with the head Emissar, Aleck, had made her think of her mother and how trapped she had been. The pressure to produce a boy had been intense, something Tallia had recently learned to understand completely. Thinking of her mother, her thoughts had then rested on Misha’Ha.

  A dream, a fantasy, a memory? Desperation. That was what had taken her to the tea shop.

  Now she was faced with another problem, but she would work it out, she always worked it out.

  “Very well,” she answered. There were trading accounts she could access, money she could transfer and then pay back later with the sale of some of her mother’s jewels.

  He spoke to his friend. “You know what to do?”

  “Yes, Johar. I’ll deliver the cargo and then return to see if you need rescuing from the life of a prince.” Humor still shone in Krigan’s eyes, yet something else flickered there. She chose to ignore it and not make problems where there were none.

  Then they shook hands, and bent their heads so that their foreheads touched. They were close; they trusted each other. She thought it ironic, that these ruffians, these rogues, could have such deep friendships, while she, a princess, was alone.

  She looked at Rian. That wasn’t true. But the difference was, she owned her most trusted friend.

  “Where to, Princess? Or do I have to wear a collar?” he asked in his overly confident voice. This was like a joke to him, where as to Tallia, it was life or death.

  “No.” Tallia looked at Rian, who looked as if she was going to puke. She should never have put her in this situation. She was mad at herself, everything looked as if it was about to spiral out of control. Maybe the Emissars were right, she wasn’t good enough to rule.

  Fuck them, she screamed in her head.

  “We have to go back to the upper town. I need you to meet us there. I am supposed to be in the Silken Promise, trying on dresses. Do you know it?”

  “I will find it.” He shook his head and walked away, his shoulders shaking as if he were laughing.

  “Come on,” she said to Rian, pulled the hood up around her face, and made her way to the entrance they had used to get down here into the market. It was at the back of the shop, and for a coin or two, the owner, Hosta, a woman who had once been the wife of one of her father’s advisors, would not only let her pass, but lie to her guards too. However, they had been so long, there was a good chance their lie was already revealed and princess or not, she would be in trouble with the Emissars for coming down here to mix with the commoners.

  They were beginning to exert their rules on every facet of her life, grabbing control wherever they could. The Emissars knew that if she didn’t find her elusive husband in the next few weeks, they would take over completely, the reign of her species ended. If she failed to hold onto power, she would be sent a Nunit, where she would be shut away for years, just to silence her. All because she was a female.

  The Emissars were scared the people were growing loyal to Tallia. She fought hard to keep a balance between the Emissars’ demands and how she wanted to rule the planet, but since her father’s death she had been shackled by their laws. For on Carinia, the heir to the throne was always a male, something her mother had failed to provide. By taking a husband, she could buy herself some time, and hope to conceive a male heir; if this happened, Tallia would become queen regent. It would still mean a life fighting for power, but at least the Emissars would not win.

  She swallowed down her panic. To conceive the child, she so badly needed, she would have to have sex. With the moon man.

  “Are you all right, My Princess,” Rian asked.

  “I was just thinking of how big … you know, with the bog-glowing alien.” She looked behind them, but the
re was no sign of the two men. “I’m not even sure what species he is.”

  “Limerian,” Rian said. “I have seen them before.”

  “What are they like?” Tallia asked.

  “They are not always to be trusted.”

  “You mean like with the tokens, with the game he was playing?”

  “In everything. The tattoos on his body. They are made by the Elusive Monks, gifts to help him in his life.”

  “That doesn’t sound like the kind of thing the Emissars are going to like. I’ll have to make him keep his shirt on.”

  “A pity,” Rian said. “But the Emissars will not be happy you have found a man at all, let alone one so … big.”

  They had reached the back door of the shop, and Rian knocked three times as was custom, and then knocked again. The latch drew back quickly and Hosta’s worried face appeared. “Where have you been? Your guards are getting suspicious.”

  “I’m sorry, Hosta, it took longer than I thought.” Tallia opened her purse and gave the lady, who wore the richest clothes in all of Carinia, another two coins. Tallia knew very well that Hosta liked to look the part of a rich woman, but in reality she was living frugally now her husband was dead, with all her coin tied up in the fine dresses in her shop.

  “I’ll tell them you are coming shortly.” Hosta went off, pocketing the coins.

  “I can’t believe the Emissars watch me like this,” Tallia said, looking in the mirror and smoothing her hair. “When I am queen regent, they will have their powers cut. And when I have a son, I will ensure he changes the law so that no princess will ever be treated like this again.”

  “All you have to do is get married and have a child,” Rian reminded her, not unkindly.

  Tallia stood still, her blood cold in her veins and panic filling her head. “This isn’t going to work, is it?”

  “Yes. It is. It has to.” Rian helped Tallia undress and then quickly put her silk gown back on. It was a good thing the slave was experienced in dressing her princess, because Tallia felt unsteady, the shock of what she had done beginning to sink in. She was taking a huge risk, one that might backfire and hurt more than herself.

  “Does it? I’m about to pay a total stranger to pretend to be my husband. Worse, he’s a gambler and most likely a cheat. You saw him fighting outside the inn.”

  “My Princess,” Rian said comfortingly, fastening the last of the buttons running down the back of Tallia’s dress. “You went to your Misha’Ha because you believe in her. Yes?”

  Tallia nodded. Yes, after what she had seen when she was young, she believed in the gifts of the psychic witch. “But I was a child then, what if it was just my imagination or a trick?”

  “You believe in her.” Rian’s voice was forceful but soothing, and Tallia was reminded of just why she trusted this slave more than anyone else on her planet. She was the voice of reason, and devoted to Tallia, and not just because Tallia owned her.

  “Yes.” It would be easier to admit it, to not fight it. However, she was used to fighting, fighting for everything in her life. The death of her father had seen a shift in power. The Emissars seized the chance to enforce their rule, citing that the lack of male heir meant the end of the monarchy on Carinia. Tallia and a few of the richer, more powerful houses had bargained for there to be a period of leniency where the young princess should be given time to find a husband and conceive an heir. The Emissars had hated it, but they had agreed.

  The houses knew they had only bought themselves a breathing space, and the pressure on Tallia was immense. Not that the rich houses ever pressed her to find a husband; they had been banned from the palace. The Emissars wanted Tallia to fail, and cutting her off from any friends or confidants she might have was the swiftest way to ensure that.

  But they had no way of knowing Rian was the only friend she needed. Her greatest confidante was unnoticed by the Emissars; she was merely a slave, of no worth whatsoever. Not that it mattered: their time was up. Only one month remained and she had got nowhere in producing either a husband or an heir.

  “Are you ready? We must leave here, as naturally as possible, and then we go and meet your husband-to-be,” Rian reminded a fraught-looking Tallia.

  “He’s a rogue, they will never accept him.” Tallia shook her head; thoughts of a silver head hewn from a silver body filled her mind.

  “They do not have to. Only you have to. There were no stipulations, you only have to marry,” Rian reminded her.

  She was right, of course. The Carinian population, and the Emissars themselves, were made up of different races. Although none of them were Limerian, they could not object. Or so she hoped, since the Emissars seemed to have made it their life’s work to object to everything that came out of their princess’s mouth. For the last year, since her father’s passing, she had fought for everything. From the amount of coin her household was allowed to spend, to the upholding of laws passed by her father. If the Emissars had their way, they would strip the planet back to how it was a thousand years ago, before the first of her bloodline conquered the planet with their superior spacecraft and weaponry.

  “I’m ready.” She lifted her head, straightened her back, put an expression on her face that was both haughty and cold, and went out to the front of the shop to see the guards stood talking to each other. Only when they cast a glance through the window and saw her did they straighten up and stand to attention.

  “Are you all done, My Princess?” Hosta asked tilting her head forward in respect, although they both knew it was an act. Hosta still thought of herself as a superior member of the court.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Here is the dress. All wrapped up for you.” Hosta handed a dress box to Rian.

  “Thank you. I will send the required coin directly.” It was the price of Hosta’s loyalty, even though Tallia did not need another dress. For Hosta it meant other ladies would see the princess wearing her dress and rush here to buy something similar. Not if my head is no longer attached to my shoulders, but Tallia smiled and kept that thought to herself.

  “My Princess.” One of the guards, Danicle, bowed as she came out. “We were concerned.”

  “I was purchasing a dress. Do you know how much time it takes? A decision over a new dress cannot be rushed.” Her voice was hard, formal. These guards belonged to the Emissar, not to her.

  “No, My Princess.” A look of contempt crossed his face.

  She ignored him and walked off, her eyes searching for the elusive silvery man who should be here waiting for her. He was not. She allowed herself one moment of worry before she lifted her chin up and took a deep breath. She would find another way, yet she was consumed with disappointment that Misha’Ha had made a mistake. One more person she could not depend on.

  Chapter Four – Johar

  The upper town was out of bounds for most of the people from the lower market. Today one of those people was Johar. Maybe it was the dirt on his clothes from the fight, maybe it was the way his tattoos shone eerily in the sunlight, he couldn’t tell, but the guards at the gates turned him away.

  He smiled. One thing about living like this, it gave him a unique insight into the lives of normal everyday people. No wonder on some of the planets he had visited, there had been uprisings where the peasants revolted and took power. Not like here on Carinia, where a spoilt princess got to make up the rules as she went along.

  Although he heard that was about to change, and the Emissars were stealing power back from the monarchy. Good for them, he thought. Wait. He was about to become one of those monarchs, or at least the sex slave of one of them.

  That thought stirred something inside him. It was a long time since he had really desired a woman. A long time since he had lain with a woman. Whores did nothing for him, he needed some kind of deeper connection, it was why he had run from his old life, rather than being forced to marry a woman his father would chose for him for the sake of their clan.

  Was that why he had agreed to be the plaything
of a princess? Because he actually desired her? Maybe. He didn’t know. What he did know was that the life of a trader no longer held the appeal it once had. Krigan would tell him it was his biological clock ticking away. That his sense of duty to his own family to produce an heir to carry on the family name was embedded in his DNA, and his past was now beginning to catch up with him.

  Or maybe he simply wanted to mess with her and make her see that there was no room for princesses in these changing worlds.

  Hell, they even wore those long dresses here. Did they not know they lived in a time of space travel, not fairy tales?

  As he thought, he moved. Away from the guards, he headed to a quiet alley. There he climbed up the wall and onto a window ledge, before vaulting over the outcrop of stone and up onto the roof. He might be big and well-muscled, but he still could move as lithe and as supple as a big cat. The silvery tattoos on his chest gave him those powers.

  He touched one now, and watched it glisten like molten silver under his skin. They were a gift from the Elusive Monks, a clan of magic-keepers who had made their home on his planet when they were cast out of their own. On his fifth birthday they had visited his father, and promised a blessing for the child who would be next to rule, in the form of these tattoos. He hated them, he hated the future they foretold. He did not want to rule.

  And yet you are about to marry a princess.

  Over the roof, he looked down into the upper town. There were no guards here, no eyes to see a man, a ghost, slip down over the building and into a place he did not belong.

  From his viewpoint he looked out across the city and the gleaming tower of the palace caught his eye. What was he doing here? This was everything he despised, everything he had become a trader to avoid.

  Yet her face flashed in front of him, and he knew he would do this, because she had asked him to. No, had ordered him to. It was like a game, and he wanted to see if he could break down the walls of her defenses.