Alien Savior (Zerconian Warriors Book 5) Read online

  A hand clasped her arm and she turned to look up into Steele’s stern face. “Wait.”

  She sighed impatiently. “For what?”

  “For me. Let the big boys handle this.”

  She smirked. “Big boy? Think a lot of yourself, don’t you?”

  Steele’s gaze grew cold and she wisely shut her mouth.

  He drew his blaster as Deacon and Zuma moved towards the ship. Zuma slammed his hand down on the door three times.

  “Open up,” Zuma demanded.

  Nothing.

  “Willa, run and get your laser cutter,” Rye ordered.

  As she turned, the door suddenly rose and a roar of fury filled the cargo bay. Willa froze, watching in shock as a huge beast of a man jumped from the ship. He looked wild, furious. Eyes glowing red, his chest heaved, sweat pouring from his skin as he glared around him.

  Zuma raised his weapon.

  “Stun only!” Rye yelled out. “We need him alive.”

  The beast grabbed Zuma, throwing him backward. He stalked towards him. Steele quickly shot him with a stunner, and Willa held her breath, waiting for him to fall. Were all Zerconians this terrifying? This animal-like?

  But instead of collapsing, the Zerconian turned, his dark hair flowing out behind him, his anger directed at Steele. He leaped across the room in a flash of movement that stole her breath. One moment he’d been stalking Zuma and the next he stood two feet from Steele.

  Steele shot him again. Then again. Nothing. Holy shit balls. A snarl erupted from the beast. He was going to kill Steele.

  The others were across the cargo bay. Only she was close enough to help. While she and Steele didn’t always see eye-to-eye, she wasn’t about to stand here and do nothing.

  Raising her stunner, she shot the Zerconian. He didn’t even glance her way. What was up with that?

  “Hey! Hey you, stink breath!” She glanced around, looking for something to draw his attention. The only thing within hand’s reach was a small box. Picking it up, she threw it at him. It slammed against him, and packets of dehydrated food fluttered around him.

  Turning, he roared at her. She swore the floor beneath her rattled.

  Uh-oh.

  “Willa, run!” Rye yelled. Around her chaos reigned. People ran. Yelled. But everything moved in slow motion. Noise around her faded until all she could hear was her own breathing, air rattling in and out of her mouth.

  This was what death looked like. There was nothing humane in those red eyes staring down at her. Nothing that gave her a flicker of hope, a chance that she might survive.

  Swallowing heavily, she stood frozen as the Zerconian thundered towards her, his mouth caught up in a snarl. She half-expected fire to flow from his mouth and scorch her.

  “Willa move!” Rye’s voice finally infiltrated the fog, but it was too late. The beast reached for her, his hands closing painfully around her bare arms. “Shoot him! Shoot to kill!” Rye screamed.

  Then nothing.

  ***

  He wasn’t dead.

  Darac stared around the windowless room he lay in, confused. Where was he? Was this the afterlife? But he was breathing. He wouldn’t need to breathe if he were dead.

  Sitting, he gave his surroundings a closer inspection. The room was brightly lit, almost painfully so. It highlighted the stark white walls. Boxes lined the walls. He sat on a hard bunk.

  Where was he? What had happened? Why wasn’t he dead?

  The last thing he remembered was shutting off his coms. No wait, soon afterwards, there had been a jolt. His ship had been locked into the tractor beam of a larger ship. Then he’d lost it.

  And somehow between now and then he’d ended up here. Only where was here? And why was he relatively calm? He had no memory of what had occurred. He wasn’t even sure of how much time had passed. The madness was still there, but it was subdued, controlled. He could breathe without it pushing down on his chest, demanding release.

  He moved around the room, investigating any avenue of escape. But with no windows and one door that wasn’t budging, he was stuck.

  “Hello? Are you there? Let me out.” He banged on the door. “Let me out.”

  Willa glared up at Nolan, their healer. “I’m fine.”

  “You passed out. I need to run some checks,” Nolan told her calmly.

  “I don’t know what happened, but I feel fine. It was that Zerconian. He must have done something to me.”

  “He grabbed hold of you, then you both passed out,” Zuma stated. “The stunner must have finally worked on him.”

  “I shot him enough times to fell an elephant,” Steele said. He leaned against the wall next to the door, his arms crossed over his wide chest, a scowl on his face.

  Did they all have to be in here? It was embarrassing enough that she’d passed out like some weakling, now they were all looming over her, watching her as though she was fragile.

  Well, stuff that shit. She wasn’t putting up with them treating her like she was delicate or ill.

  This was all that damn Zerconian’s fault.

  She sat up. “Where is he?”

  “Lie back down,” Steele said, his voice filled with command.

  “No. Where is he? Is he awake?”

  “Why do you care?” Zuma asked. “He could have killed you.”

  “But he didn’t.” She studied Zuma with surprise as he paced back and forth. She’d never seen him like this. He almost seemed worried. About her. But his concern was misplaced. She didn’t need him fussing over her.

  The door to medical swished open and Rye stepped in. He ran his gaze around the room, taking everything in. His gaze stopped on her. “You’re all right?”

  She lifted her chin, folding her arms over her chest. “Ready to roll, Cap.”

  He raised an eyebrow and turned to Nolan, who nodded. “She’s got a couple of bruises on her arms from where he grabbed her, but otherwise everything seems normal.”

  “See? Now, will you all stop hovering around me, it’s annoying,” she huffed, jumping off the bench and striding towards Rye. “Is he conscious?”

  “Yep.”

  “Is he trying to tear up the ship?”

  Rye frowned. “No, he’s calmed down. I’m going to talk to him.”

  “I’ll come with you.” She wanted to see him for herself. Her oldest brother studied her for a moment then nodded.

  “Sure that’s a good idea?” Steele asked. “He could go for her again.”

  “Like he went for you?” she countered.

  “I had it under control.”

  “Uh-huh, sure looked like it.”

  Steele stepped forward. “You froze when you should have run.”

  Willa glared at him. He was right, but that didn’t mean he had to remind everyone she’d acted like a greenhorn on her first mission.

  This was her third mission, for goodness sake.

  “Excuse me for trying to save your large ass. Next time I’ll just stand there and watch some crazed maniac tear you to pieces.”

  Steele leaned down, his gray eyes piercing and cold. “I can take care of myself, little girl.”

  She ground her teeth together. Condescending, arrogant asshole.

  “You two finished bickering like two-years-olds over the last cupcake yet?” She turned to scowl at Zuma, who grinned. “You want to know what your problem is?”

  No, but she knew that wouldn’t stop him. She placed her hands on her hips. “What?”

  “You’re too alike. It’s like looking at twins.” Zuma stared back and forth between her and Steele.

  “Okay, now you have lost your mind!” She threw her hands into the air. “There is no way I am anything like that tightly-wound, condescending, giant ass.”

  “And I do not resemble a thoughtless, impulsive child.” Steele stormed over to the door, pausing to look back at her. “And my ass isn’t as large as yours.”

  Willa gasped, glaring after him, then sniffed. “He’s deluding himself. His ass is twice as wide as m
ine.”

  “Willa, you coming or not?” Rye asked impatiently. “I don’t have time for games. We’ve got to figure out whether this guy can be ransomed or if I’ll have to kill him.”

  She raced after Rye. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Zuma following her, a cocky grin on his face.

  “What are you laughing at?” she snapped.

  “The magnificent Steele is self-conscious about his ass.” He snickered and her lips curved up.

  “He is, isn’t he?” Feeling happier, she moved faster until she was beside Rye. She still had to jog to keep up with his longer legs. “Is the Zerconian really calm?” It seemed unlikely given how crazed he’d been.

  “Come see for yourself.”

  They stopped outside one of the ships spare bunkrooms. They mainly used it for storage.

  “Oh hell, you put him in there?” Zuma asked.

  Rye raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer to have him in the cargo bay with all the weapons?”

  “No, but I really wish it wasn’t the room that held all the chocolate pudding.” Zuma scowled.

  “Wait, I thought we didn’t have any chocolate pudding.” It wasn’t made with real chocolate, that was too expensive. They didn’t have the ingredients to make it on Joyadan, so they had to bargain for it when they had downtown while on a mission. Zuma claimed he couldn’t find any at his last market run.

  Zuma studied the ceiling.

  “Zuma! You rat.” He had a notorious sweet tooth. “You hid the chocolate pudding.”

  “I was doing you a favor.”

  “How do you figure that?” She placed her hands on her hips.

  “Well, you don’t want your ass to get as big as Steele’s, do you?” Zuma grinned at her.

  Willa punched his stomach. Hard. Zuma bent over, resting his hand on his stomach. “Jesus, Willa.”

  “Enough,” Rye said sharply. “If the two of you can’t act professionally then you can wait out here.”

  “Sorry,” she said. Zuma shrugged, and he pulled his weapon as Rye pressed a button, releasing the door. Rye walked in first, Willa close behind him. Zuma shut the door behind them, then stood in front of it.

  Chaos filled the room. Boxes were turned over, brown smudges of chocolate pudding dripped down the walls and in the middle of it all stood a seething, furious Zerconian warrior. Dressed in tight pants and a vest that bared his thick, muscular arms, he looked ferocious, powerful.

  And hot. Scorching hot. Uncomfortably, she felt her body heating as she studied him. Every inch of him was hard, from his trim hips to his firm thighs and wide shoulders. Wow. She had to crane her neck to stare up into his face.

  A shiver of desire raced through her body.

  Pull yourself together, Willa. He’s not that hot.

  Ahh, yes. Yes, he was.

  “Who are you?” he asked in Standard, the language most races involved in trade spoke, eyes glowing red.

  Yeah, he looked like he’d really calmed down.

  Darac scowled at the three beings who moved into the small room. His breath heaved in and out.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” the smaller male said. “He’s destroyed all the chocolate pudding.”

  Chocolate pudding? Was that what that brown stuff was? He’d upended every can of the stuff, looking for something to use to free himself. The longer he spent in here, the more furious he’d become. The rage that had temporarily been under control flooded him once more.

  “What do you want?” The rage hadn’t completely taken him.

  The taller male stared at him coolly. “My name is Rye Sanchez. I’m captain of this ship. This is my brother, Zuma and my sister, Willa.”

  “Why have you trapped me here?” he asked, his voice guttural.

  “You attacked my men,” Rye stated. He was close enough that Darac could reach out and grab him. It would only take a few seconds to snap his neck. That would draw the other male further into the room.

  Once he took him out then all that would be left was the female. Willa. She was no threat to him.

  “You pulled my ship in without my permission.”

  Come closer, a little closer.

  Rye tipped his head to one side, studying him. “You were heading straight towards a pile of space rubbish. We saved you.”

  “What’s your name?” Zuma asked.

  “Darac.” He slashed his hand through the air. “This is how you treat all those that you save?” His voice grew rougher, the words barely intelligible through his clenched jaw. Anger rolled under his skin, threatening to spill out.

  “His eyes are red again, Rye.” Willa’s voice distracted him, and he turned his gaze to the tiny, dark-haired female. Her bright green eyes studied him. The beast stilled. Why did her voice affect him?

  She stiffened under his gaze but didn’t back away or avert her gaze.

  Brave.

  Or very foolish.

  “Get the female out of here,” he ordered. She should not be here. Females were to be protected. Cherished. Why had the males allowed her in here with him?

  She watched him warily. She should be scared. He was dangerous. If he were fully in control, she would have nothing to worry about. He would never harm a female.

  But then he was not himself.

  Would the top of her head even reach midway up his chest? She was so delicate. Like a doll. Her skin looked silky smooth, her green eyes were surrounded by the darkest, thickest eyelashes he had ever seen. His cock stirred, shocking him. When was the last time he had been sexually interested in a female? Too long.

  And when had he ever noticed a female’s eyelashes? What was going on here?

  “Get her out of here.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not going anywhere, beast man.”

  He snarled, infuriated. Her defiance fuelled his fury. Turning, he slammed his hand into the wall. The pain sent a shockwave through him, and he clawed his control back.

  “Kill me.” He rested his hands against the wall, his breath heaving in and out. He couldn’t face them. If he did, he knew he would attack, and he couldn’t guarantee her safety if that happened.

  “What?” Willa asked.

  “Kill me. Do it now, before I harm someone.”

  He risked a glance over his shoulder at Rye. “Kill me. I do not want to harm you, but I will.”

  “You won’t have the chance to harm anyone,” Zuma vowed.

  A roar of rage erupted from his chest. Willa took a step back, her fear clear to see. He turned towards her. There was something about her.

  Want. I want.

  No. Darac turned once more, slamming his head against the wall. No. Over and over.

  Nothing penetrated the wall of rage surrounding him. It clawed at him, dragging him down into the darkness. One thought remained.

  I will not harm her. I will not harm her.

  Willa stared at the unconscious Zerconian. Blood welled on his forehead where he’d tried to brain himself.

  “Jesus. Jesus,” Zuma said.

  She’d never seen her crazy, easy-going brother so shaken before. Even Rye was speechless. It had taken ten shots of the stunner to take the warrior down, and that might not have been enough if he hadn’t been half-unconscious from his head wound.

  “Willa, get Nolan down here to check him over. Zuma, contact Steele. I want him secured. Properly.”

  Why did he do that to himself? “Does he have a death wish?”

  “I don’t know,” Rye said grimly. “But if he carries on like this, he might yet get his wish.”

  “What’s the next step? Are we still ransoming him?” Willa asked.

  “Sooner we offload him, the better,” Rye replied.

  “And what if they won’t take him back?” she asked. It could be the reason he was floating out in space alone and far away from his fellow warriors.

  Because no one wanted the crazy bastard.

  Chapter Two

  Willa stared down at the unconscious Zerconian. What was his story? />
  And why the hell did she care?

  He was nothing to her. Just a bonus to her share of the pot. Which was going to be quite low unless they hurried their asses up and got their cargo load of weapons to Lilan.

  Nolan had checked him over, bandaging his head. Steele had placed hover cuffs around the Zerconian’s wrists and ankles, securing him to the bunk. There was no mattress, so it had to be uncomfortable, lying on the hard bunk. But he was their prisoner, not their guest.

  So why the hell was she sitting here, staring at him like a nurse watching over her patient? She didn’t know him. She shouldn’t give him another thought. If it wasn’t such a ridiculous thought, she might consider that she was worried about him.

  It was laughable. That so wasn’t her. She didn’t know how to be caring or soothing or any shit like that. All she understood was mechanics. Engines were easy. If they weren’t running right, you fixed them. People were much more difficult. They had feelings and emotions. They wanted things from you. And if you broke something it wasn’t always fixable.

  She shouldn’t be here. She should be getting prepared in case everything went to shit on their mission.

  And let’s face it, most of the time things went to shit.

  They weren’t going to do anything about this guy until after they’d safely delivered the weapons to Lilan. No point in ransoming him, if they weren’t going to make it through this mission to collect the credits. Not exactly a cheerful thought.

  She studied him. Somehow, even unconscious, he managed to look intimidating. Her hands itched with the urge to touch the silken, dark hair lying around his face. His eyelashes were impossibly long. Too beautiful for such a masculine face. With such a strong jawline and structured cheeks, he looked hard. Dangerous.

  There had to be something wrong with him. Some flaw. Maybe he had a pimple. Yeah, a big pus-filled pimple. Nope. Hairy nostrils? Surprisingly not. Maybe he had a hairy back or a small penis.

  Yeah, she wasn’t going to check.

  Was she?

  She glanced down at his crotch. The tight pants he wore didn’t leave much to the imagination. He certainly didn’t seem small. But there was only one way to find out.