Alien beast, p.1
Alien Beast, page 1
part #2 of Warriors of Gehar Series
Alien Beast
An Alien Beauty and the Beast Romance
Lili Zander
Contents
Alien Beast
Prologue
1. Bella
2. Adon
3. Bella
4. Bella
5. Adon
6. Adon
7. Bella
8. Adon
9. Bella
10. Adon
11. Bella
12. Bella
13. Adon
14. Bella
15. Adon
16. Bella
17. Adon
18. Bella
19. Adon
20. Bella
21. Adon
22. Bella
Epilogue
A Preview of Alien in Charge
About Lili Zander
Books by Lili Zander
Copyright © 2021 Lili Zander.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Many thanks to Miranda for her sharp eyes.
Cover Design by Covers By Combs
Alien Beast
This human I’m saddled with is… happy. Cheerful, even. She likes to sing to the cat.
Kill me now.
A year ago, an explosion – the same explosion that killed my best friend's brother – destroyed me.
Ruined me.
Made me look like a monster.
I’m a shadow of the man I once was.
I want to be left alone.
Instead… there’s Bella.
Bella, who sings when she’s happy.
Who likes to talk.
Who is kind to me…even when I don’t deserve it.
She drives me crazy. And yet…
I can’t stop thinking about her.
Touching her.
Making her mine.
But when an enemy reemerges from Bella’s past, I can no longer stay hidden.
And when they threaten her?
They’ll discover why I’m called the Beast.
Prologue
Adon
Hakan Abiri is the Gehar Chief of Staff. He reports directly to the Empress. He’s competent, cunning, and ruthless. If you saw him on the street, you wouldn’t give him a second glance, and that would be a colossal mistake. It is never a good idea to underestimate Abiri.
“I have a job for you,” he says, activating the silencer on the table. “It could get complicated. It requires a certain delicacy.”
Sounds like fun.
We’re in a sketchy bar in one of the seedier neighborhoods in Mihwar. The floor is sticky, and the table looks like it’s never been cleaned. The beer in front of me is warm, flat, and disgusting. In short, it’s a perfect place for a hidden rendezvous.
There’s absolutely no need for the silencer, a device that prevents anyone from overhearing our conversation. That’s just Hakan being his usual paranoid self.
“Looks like you've come to the right person, then.”
“No shortage of vanity, I see.” Hakan gives me a wry look.
I don't respond; I just wait for him to continue.
“Three weeks ago, one of our patrols intercepted a cargo ship in our airspace. Its destination wasn’t the Gehar Empire, but when we ran a check on its registration information, we discovered some anomalies. We boarded it.” He pauses for a second. “It was carrying antimatter guns.”
Antimatter guns. I sit up in shock. The tech has been outlawed across the galaxy. The three dominant species in the galaxy—Geharrim, Human, and Vikari—don’t agree on very much, but on this we are clear. Antimatter weapons have no place in a civilized society.
“That’s not good.”
“It gets worse,” Hakan says grimly. “The guns have found their way into the Larsa underground. There is a turf war between two rival factions, and the bodies are building up. So far, the weapons haven’t made their way into any of the other outer planets, but it’s only a matter of time.”
Fuck. Larsa is one of the nine outer planets in the Gehar Empire. For various historical reasons, they are mostly autonomous, and the Empire rules there with a very light touch.
“While we tolerate a certain amount of lawlessness in the outer planets,” Hakan continues. “This is where we draw the line. Which is where you come in.”
“You want me to kick some ass on Larsa? Take out the underground, clean up the streets, that sort of thing?” I’m not sure why he called this a delicate mission—it seems fairly straightforward to me.
He looks at me like I’m an idiot. “No, of course not. Anyone can do that. I want you for something else. The ship was seized. The crew was questioned, and the ship's log was examined. We've been able to determine that the shipment came from the trading outpost of Voutis. I want you to go there.”
Voutis is a short wormhole flight away from Larsa. I've never been there, but I’ve heard of it. Voutis is the armpit of the galaxy. The outpost is a crime-ridden hellhole, populated by outcast Geharrim, humans, and Vikari. All of them have one thing in common. They thrive in an atmosphere of lawlessness and anarchy.
“Of course you do,” I say, shaking my head. “Why are my assignments never in nice places, Hakan? I’d love to spend some time in Lagash. Susa, even.”
He ignores my comment. “In Voutis, you’ll meet an arms-dealer, a human named Viktor Kozma. Kozma is the go-between. You’re going to buy eight thousand antimatter guns from him. You’ll pay for the guns with this money chip.”
He slides a card across the table. “Coalition?” I ask. Coalition, the currency of choice in the criminal underworld, is a crypto-currency, unmarked and untraceable.
“It’s Coalition,” he says. “But my hackers have added a tracker to it.”
“You’re joking.” I’m genuinely impressed. If Hakan has managed to track Coalition, it's a game changer.
“I don’t joke, Adon. You should know that.” He takes a sip of his beer, winces, and sets it down on the table with a look of disgust. “Kozma is unimportant. I can send in a team anytime to take him out. What I want is the supplier. Somewhere in the galaxy, there is a factory that is manufacturing antimatter guns. That’s my target. Your job is to go to Voutis, meet Kozma, convince him you’re a buyer, give him the currency, and get out alive.”
I spot a giant flaw in his plan. However, since this is Hakan Abiri, it's probably not a flaw; it's just something he's forgotten to tell me. “I am the Third Shield of Gehar,” I point out. “Granted, I am not as recognizable as Jehan, or as pretty—”
“Few people are,” he interjects with a grin.
“Indeed.” My cousin Jehan uses his good-looks and charm like a weapon. He draws all the attention to him so that the rest of us can work in relative anonymity. “I’m assuming you’re going to set me up with a fake identity, but if Kozma is at all competent, he’ll still figure out who I am.”
“I'm counting on it,” Hakan says. “Viktor Kozma is paranoid and extremely difficult to get close to. He’ll be looking for a trap, and so I’m going to let him think he’s found it. He’ll uncover your identity, and then you’ll tell him the real reason you’re there.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Which is?”
“You’re the Third Shield of Gehar. Your cousin Dimek is the First Shield; his brother Jehan is the Second Shield. It is a violation of the code to challenge family. You’re doomed to remain the Third Shield forever, but you’re too ambitious for that. And so, you’re going to make a bid to seize power.”
Huh. It's a ridiculous idea, of course. Nobody who knows me will believe that I would harm Dimek and Jehan. But it’s plausible. Kozma is a criminal, a man who is selling forbidden weapons to the underworld. He will buy my cover story because it's something he would do.
“You’ll need to come across as a mixture of ambitious and self-absorbed,” Hakan continues. “I’ve no doubt that you can do that.”
Asshole. “I think I’ve just been insulted.”
Hakan laughs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Adon.”
“Are you sending me in alone?”
He shakes his head. “No, I don't think that's wise. Someone from my team will go with you, but I haven’t yet figured out who to send. Any thoughts?”
I give it some consideration. I am supposedly a younger scion who is rebelling against his family. If I’m trying to start a revolution, who would I gather to my cause? Who would I recruit?
Then the obvious name pops into my head.
“Yasar Vedad,” I say out loud. “You’re training him to be a spy, aren’t you?”
Fourteen years ago, when Yasar’s mother Amea had died, his father Resul had shocked the Empire by revealing that he had a mistress and a son. Worse, he’d formally recognized this son, Khem, as his oldest child.
Yasar had been the presumptive heir until Resul formally claimed Khem.
Resul died five years ago. Khem is now the head of Clan Vedad, and the Fourth Shield of Gehar. Khem is my best friend, and I know Yasar well. The brothers love each other, and Yasar bears Khem no ill-will. But there are many people in the Gehar Empire who
Hakan likes my suggestion. “Oh, that is good,” he says. “That is really good. Nicely done, Adon. He’s a little young, but Yasar is the perfect choice for this mission.” He gives me a long look. “Are you sure you don't want to come and work for me? You’ll do very well in my organization.”
“You’ve called me self-absorbed, and now you’re calling me twisted. It’s a good thing I have a healthy ego, Hakan.”
He laughs again. “I’ll brief Yasar,” he says. “Your cover identity has already been set up. I’ve sent you dossiers on Kozma and the members of his organization. You leave in a week. Get ready.”
Yasar Vedad is young. He's twenty-one, and he’s incredibly excited to be in the field. I know this because he’s told me how happy he is to be on a mission five times already. “Thank you for suggesting me,” he says, for the sixth time. “If it weren’t for you, I'm not sure Hakan would have placed me in the field.”
It’s hard to be annoyed in the face of his obvious enthusiasm. I look at him, a little bemused. “You do realize this could be dangerous, right?”
Yasar rubs his hands together in glee. “I'm counting on it.”
By the Mother. When Khem told me to take care of his brother, I thought that he was being over-protective, but I’m beginning to understand. I’m thirty, and I feel ancient compared to Yasar.
The first part of the mission goes exactly as planned. We arrive in Voutis, landing in a spaceport in the heart of the settlement. Once we secure our ship, we make contact with a member of Viktor Kozma’s team.
While he runs our fake credentials, we head to the old port. According to Hakan’s intelligence briefing, Kozma’s headquarters is in one of the hundreds of buildings that crowd the harbor. It’s not a pleasant location. The docks reek of old, rotting fish, and the smell is vile.
It’s evening. The sun is setting, and the food stalls, closed during the midday heat, are starting to open. “Oh good,” Yasar says cheerfully. “They sell payali. I’ve heard about it. It’s a Voutis specialty.”
I give the stall he’s eying a dubious look. Payali appears to be a piece of battered fish between two slices of brown bread, doused with a virulent green sauce. “It looks like dysentery is the specialty there.”
Yasar is unperturbed. He makes a beeline for the stall and returns with two sandwiches. He hands me one with a grin. “Come on, Adon,” he says. “Live a little.”
“I’m trying to,” I retort. “Dying of food poisoning isn’t part of the plan.”
He laughs. He looks around and spots a row of fuel-filled drums, stacked against a wall. Fuel drums in a port. This place is a safety nightmare. Ignoring the danger blithely, he hoists himself on one and bites into his sandwich with obvious relish.
Shaking my head, I join him. I examine my fish with deep distrust, but thankfully, before I can take a bite, Kozma’s goons find us.
There are three of them, all human. A short woman, flanked by two broad, heavily-armed men. The woman is wearing a brown robe that covers her from head to toe. She has curly brown hair and flat gray eyes. She was in Hakan's file. This is Greta Gál. Kozma’s sometimes lover, sometimes second-in-command, depending on the day.
“The boss will see you now,” the dark-haired goon announces.
They blindfold us and take us through a twisted warren of narrow alleys. The route is circuitous and designed to confuse us. If we were human, we would both be hopelessly lost. But Gehar senses are stronger than human, and I’m well-trained. We come to a stop only a block away from the payali stall.
A door opens, and we’re shoved inside. Someone yanks off our blindfolds.
We’re here.
Viktor Kozma has set up shop inside a seedy pleasure club. On the stage, two humans perform sexual acts. A throng of people of all races surround them, hooting and hollering and throwing out suggestions of what the performers should do to each other.
I look at them and then look away. I'm not a prude. There are people who work in pleasure houses that enjoy the work, but these humans don’t look like they’re among them. The two on stage look drugged, and they’re desperately thin.
If it were up to me, I would take a blow torch to the entire trading outpost of Voutis.
Viktor Kozma staggers up, a pair of Vikari guards just behind him. He's a big guy, as broad as he is tall. His muscles are running to fat, but this is still a man in good shape.
“Sit.” The arms dealer gestures to a pair of chairs. They’re placed in a way that we are looking directly at the stage. I think it's supposed to distract us, but Kozma has no idea how focused I’m capable of being.
“So,” Kozma sneers. “Adon D’arana, Third Shield of Gehar, and Yasar Vedad, disinherited heir of Clan Vedad. Did you really think I wouldn’t discover your true identities?”
I look appropriately shocked and reel back. “I hoped so, yes.”
He laughs smugly. “Talk, Shield of Gehar. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you. Explain yourself.”
My voice turns to ice. Anything else would be out of character. “I’m not in the habit of doing that.”
Kozma’s coat swings open, and he lets me see the antimatter gun in his hip holster. “Make an exception.”
I’m supposed to be intimidated by the gun. I put on my best terrified face, and Yasar jumps in with an admirable note of fear in his voice. “Tell him, Adon.”
Nicely done, kid. I glance at the two Vikari. “Can we talk privately?”
“Stand back,” Kozma orders his guards. He activates a silencer when they’re out of range. “Talk.”
“We used fake identities, yes, though it’s not you I want to deceive. It’s Hakan Abiri, the Gehar Chief of Staff. The fucker has eyes and ears everywhere. If he finds out I’m trying to purchase antimatter guns—”
“And why are you trying to purchase the weapons?” he interrupts.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I ask bitterly. “I’m the Third Shield of Gehar. Both the First and Second Shields are from Clan D’arana. By the Geharrim code, I may not challenge them. You don’t challenge family. Neither of them shows any signs of retiring. If I don’t act, I will be Third Shield for the rest of my life.”
“Most people would say that that's enough.”
“I am not most people.”
Viktor transfers his attention to Yasar. “Yasar Vedad. Your story at least makes sense.” He turns back to me. “What are you planning to do with the weapons?”
I let my arrogance rise to the fore. “That is none of your business. Make up your mind. You're either interested in my money, or you're not. I can find other arms dealers.”
“Do you think you can get out of here alive?”
“The crypto needs an access code. Kill me and you won’t get paid.”
“We’re at an impasse, then.” There’s a long period of silence while Kozma deliberates, and then he nods. “I like your style, Adon D’arana. We have a deal.”
Phew.
“Your currency card will need to be scanned.”
“A reasonable request.” It hadn’t been phrased as a request, and we both know it. “Bring the scanner here; I won’t let the card out of my sight.”
One of the Vikari steps forward with a scanner. I place the card on it and hold my breath. Hakan promised that this would be okay. If it's not, we’re going to have to fight our way out of here, and I don’t like the odds.
The scanner flashes green. “No anomalies detected.”
