Taken By The Alien Hero (Romance, Alien, Adventure) (4 page)

Chapter Eight

Roshon woke up to bright lights and the smell of jysum.

“Good morning sleepy head. How are you feeling.” Ilham’s cheerful face came into focus.

“Where am I?”

“The infirmary. They say that you should be fully recovered in a few days. There should only be faint scars.”

“That’s too bad. Chicks dig scars.”

“Indeed.”

“What about you, princess? Are you okay?”

“I am very well. I have been given a clean bill of health and cleared for travel.”

“Travel? Where?”

“With you.”

Roshon blinked several times, trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“You are to go with me? What about the guild and the insemination?”

“You cannot fill a vessel that has already been filled.” Ilham beamed. Again Roshon took a moment to fully comprehend what she was saying.

“Are you…bearing young?” Ilham nodded happily.

“We are the first bonded pair to successfully conceive in a generation.”

Roshon would have leaped in the air and roared if his back didn’t hurt so much.

“And the guild?”

“I am still a member, just not in good standing. I am technically a defective. So I am free to go where you go. Once they saw that we really are a bonded pair, they had to let us both go.”

Roshon reached one hand out and caressed the abdomen of his female. His young one was now within her. It overwhelmed him and he was thankful that he was already lying down.

“I should congratulate you both on playing your roles so well,” said Zaffa as she came into view. The matron was met warmly by Ilham.

“This was part of your plan?” asked Roshon.

“Unfortunately I could not think of any way to demonstrate to the Tribunal, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you two were, in fact, a bonded pair. I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. I have my money, my ship, and my female. Life is looking good.” Roshon grasped Zaffa’s hand in both of his own.

“Now where will you go?” asked Ilham.

“I do not know.” Zaffa looked down at her feet. The guild had no more need of her. She was beyond breeding age and had failed miserably in protecting Ilham. She was being pushed into retirement. Roshon and Ilham looked at each other for a moment and agreed silently.

“Why don’t you come with us? I can always use a steady trigger finger and Ilham will need help with the young one when it comes. “

“Truly?” Zaffa’s voice was choked with emotion.

“Truly,” Ilham affirmed “we are a family now.”

Ilham threw her arms around the older female and hugged. Roshon, watching the females embrace each other, understand exactly what his own father had lost when his mother and sister were gone. In these two females, and the young yet unborn, was his whole universe and the only things worth living and dying for.

None of them were sure what to call their circumstance. Perhaps it was a trick of fate that had bound them all together. Whatever the reason, they had each other now. Roshon just hoped he would have the strength to keep them.

Fin.

Chris

I look at myself in the mirror above the hotel sink. It’s clean, crisply clean, a stark contrast to-to, well, everyone else in this room. I’m both crystal-clear and kind of confused as to how we got here, but here we are. I take a deep breath, pick up one of the crisp towels next to the bath, and head to the bedroom.

My wife is sitting on the bed, fully dressed, although she may as well not be. Her chin-length blonde hair is in disarray, and her tights are torn so much they resemble fishnets. One of her heels is broken, and her dress in buttoned up wrong.

She smells of sex. But it’s nothing to do with me. I step over to her and begin to peel back her clothes, starting by easing the top of her dress over her shoulders and popping the few buttons that are actually done up. There are love bites all down her neck-and I mean bites. There are teeth marks, leading all the way down to her breasts and nipples which are slightly bruised and roughed up. Her bra is torn, the delicate lace straps barely clinging together. I reach around her back and undo her bra, so she’s standing topless in front of me.

I reach for the hairbrush and begin brushing her hair through-it’s sticky and crackles with the smell of cum. Some of it is still clinging to her face, but most has trickled off her hair and down her back. She looks roughed up. She is. I want to know why and don’t want to hear the answer.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

She looks back at me, her eyes not embarrassed, not hurt, not humiliated-but gleaming with delight and a hint of arousal.

“Where do you want me to begin?”

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