Captured by the Alien Lord: An Alien Warrior Romance (Warriors of the Lathar Book 1)

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Captured by the Alien

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

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  About the Author

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  Captured by the Alien Lord

  Warriors of the Lathar

  MINA CARTER

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  Copyright

  Copyright 2015 Mina Carter

  Cover Art by Mina Carter

  Published by Blue Hedgehog Press: April 2015.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Author's note: All sexually active characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

  Chapter One

  Sergeant Cat Moore walked down the corridor toward the bridge after an all important stop by the coffee machine. To say caffeine was required for the second half of her shift at the traffic control desk would be an understatement.

  The graveyard shift was always the worst, and this one was shaping up to be the shift from hell. They’d already had a near-miss in the fighter bay, and two of the bigger troop transports were sporting brand-new paint jobs after both trying to head out on the same flight vector. She didn’t even want to think about the fact an Argos-class destroyer had also been assigned the same vector. Forget new paintwork. If that had come in at the same time, they’d have been looking at a new docking arm on the base and a casualty count that made her break out in a cold sweat just at the “what if?”

  Sighing, she lifted her mug and sucked down half the blessed java. The sigh of relief escaped her lungs as the hard-hitting stimulant, a compound-caffeine only served in the highly active areas of the base, hit her bloodstream. They did say things came in threes, so surely they were done for tonight?

  Wooogahhh-Ahhh-Wooogaaahhh. Wooogahhh-Ahhh-Wooogaaahhh.

  The sound of the sirens filled the corridor, lights flicking from white to red.

  “Shit.” Red alert. Apparently, they weren’t done for the night.

  Cat threw the half-empty mug at a recycling point, hitting it dead center, and set off down the corridor at a run. She crashed through the double doors to the bridge and emerged into chaos.

  “Multiple ships, port side.”

  “Shields out, sector Four-B!”

  “Launch fighters! Sound all-quarters!” That last was the captain yelling orders from the command circle in the center of the bridge. “Send a message to Earth command that we’re under attack.”

  Under attack? Who could possibly be attacking them? As Cat made her way around the circle to her post, the sound of explosions filled the air, and the deck under her feet lurched, throwing her to the floor. More alarms blared behind her as she scrambled up.

  “Massive damage to sectors three, four, and seven. Hull breach in four. Shit…we’re being boarded.”

  “Marshal internal defenses,” the captain shouted. “Go into Foothold protocol.”

  Cat’s stomach dropped at the words, as she finally made it to her desk. Her hands shook as she logged into her console. Foothold situation was bad. It meant a superior force was attacking the base and had the numbers to take it. Foothold meant they were in last line of defense mode and all sensitive information needed to be locked down.

  She met the quick glance of one of the other traffic control officers. Jessica looked as pale as she felt. They’d all trained for this, but with the only enemy in the area using basic surface to orbit technology, they had never expected to actually use them.

  “Who is it?” she mouthed, her hands working on automatic as she cleared all the recent flight logs out of the system. Any ship coming into or leaving the base logged their journey. Since most of them ended up or started from Sentinel Five, that meant any enemy could discover the location of all Terran facilities if they got hold of the records.

  “No idea.” Jess typed as quickly as she did, clearing records. “They must’ve been cloaked or something. One minute there was nothing, and then we were surrounded.”

  “Internal defenses offline in sector four.”

  “Mass breaches in sectors nine and twelve.”

  “Foothold defenses in sector four and seven compromised.”

  “Someone get me marines on the foothold defenses,” the captain shouted, his deep voice making both Cat and Jess pause for a moment.

  “Too late, Captain. Foothold down. Enemy forces in the central ring.”

  “Divert all marines to protect primary areas. Get them up here!”

  Shiiiit. Whoever they were, they were in the central parts of the orbital base. Cat blinked and renewed her efforts on the logs. She was two-thirds of the way down, her fingers on fire. It would make it so much easier if there was an auto dump on the system, but protocol insisted on manual deletion in case of data loss.

  “Shit, data lock,” Jess cursed, slamming her fist on the table. She looked up at Cat. “I’m still a quarter live. You?”

  “A third.” Her screen froze just at that moment, then her deleted records started to reinstate themselves on the screen. Crap. Crap. Crap. That was so not good. “Captain…” she called out in warning. “They’re in the system.”

  “Fuck it!” The bridge paused as Captain Gregson drove his hand into the arm of his chair. “Kallson,” he looked at Jess. “Try and lock them out. Moore, get your ass into the mainframe and cut all access but to the command consoles.”

  “On it.” Cat was already moving, clapping Jess on the shoulder as she passed, heading for the back of the bridge.

  Adrenalin surging through her system, she yanked open an access panel and climbed through it. There was only one way to access the mainframe, by ladder from the bridge. It was a design feature meant to keep the computer systems protected in the event of an attack. That the computer core was also nestled alongside the main reactor for the entire base, and that someone was firing at the base, was something she preferred not to think about as she started her descent.

  Rather than climbing down, she opted for the quick route. Holding the top of the ladder, she clamped the sides with the insides of her heavy combat boots and slid down the first ladder. Her feet hit the mesh plate with a crash, but Cat didn’t hang about. Rushing around the semi-circular platform, she grabbed the next ladder to slide down it. Then the next and the next. Four down, six to go.

  More explosions rock ed the station, one particularly nasty one almost flinging her from the platform and into the shaft below. Heart in her throat, she clung to the railing for dear life. She needed to move faster. Much faster.

  “Nearly there,” she muttered, her feet hitting the platform. A sign behind the ladder said, “Nine Below Bridge.” Decks weren’t numbered in the bowels of the station core. They were assigned for their position in relation to the bridge.

  Before she could reach the next ladder, there was a crash and boom above her. Instinctively, she looked up to catch the tail end of an explosion. Metal fragments, remnants of bulkheads and ladders tumbled down the shaft, straight toward her.

  Her scream was one of fear and self-encouragement as she raced for the ladder. Just one more flight. The skin on her hands burned as she clamped around the ladder and let go. The slide was more of a fall this time as the station lurched under her. She hit the deck and rolled, the tilt of the flooring allowing her to slide into the doorway recess for the computer core.

  Her head hit the bulkhead to the side with a sickening crack and she fought to remain conscious. Her heart almost broke her ribs with its frantic pounding; she slapped at the access plate and fell through. Immediately she dived to the side and scrunched into a little ball. The metal crashed into the floor of the shaft as the doors slid shut, the narrow gap spewing a deadly spray of shrapnel.

  The barrier closed, and she was on her feet. Running across the floor was like trying to run on a carnival cakewalk. She slipped as the base rocked with more explosions, fervent prayers falling from her lips that one of those shots wouldn’t hit the reactor core above her head. At least if it did, she wouldn’t feel a thing. Death would be quick. Instantaneous. No suffering.

  She grabbed onto the computer core console. For such an impressive system, the main control panel was surprisingly simple. Just three monitors and input panels.

  Something hit the other side of the door, hard.

  It sounded like claws screamed against the metal—fingernails down a chalkboard. Her blood chilled, but she kept typing, even when the door behind her cracked open with a squeal. She drilled down, reaching the star charts and any other information regarding Terra-central system. Metal clicked on metal behind her and her legs began to shake.

  What was back there? She couldn’t look…not yet. A small moan whispered from her lips as, at any moment, she expected a laser bolt in the back. Records collated, she dumped the data, clearing the system finally.

  Data-dump complete. No records found.

  She almost collapsed on the console with relief. Whatever happened to Sentinel Five, these assholes wouldn’t find their way to earth.

  The noises behind her stopped. There was no breathing though. Odd.

  Slowly, Cat turned.

  And looked into the face of a monster.

  A red “eye” in a smooth, flat face studied her. Manlike, it stood on two legs, but there the resemblance ended. It lifted its hand, complete with razor sharp claws and she screamed, the sound of her own terror the last thing she heard as she tumbled into darkness.

  *

  “Well?” War Commander Tarrick K’Vaas demanded as his troop leaders surrounded him. The human base had fallen quickly, their defenses no match for Latharian technology. But then, not much was. In their many centuries of roaming the myriad galaxies, the Lathar had never met a species that could match them.

  “Little to no resistance,” Karryl, one of his senior warriors, complained, his lips compressed into a thin line. “One look at the avatars and half pissed their pants, the rest ran screaming. Did come across some resistance with some of their soldiers. One of the females—can you believe they let women fight?—was rather…determined.”

  The hint of a smile crossed his lips, and Tarrick shook his head. The big warrior loved to fight, always moaning he could never find an enemy worthy of his skills. The fact that he’d thought enough of the human woman to mention her meant she was probably a one-woman army.

  “Gaarn? Jassyn? Talat?” He turned to his other commanders, ignoring the mass of humans the avatars were crowding into the defeated base’s flight deck. Some were bloody and bruised, others even unconscious, he noted as an avatar laid a woman in the same gray uniform as the rest on the deck. He frowned at the blood on one side of her face. If some fool avie-pilot had injured one of the women without reason, he would be pissed. Without women of their own, the Lathar prized all females, even…Tarrick shuddered, the Oonat.

  Unfortunately, the Oonat, with their flat faces and multiple breasts, were one of the few species genetically compatible with the Lathar. He’d never taken one to his bed, but without offspring, he knew that day was soon coming. It would be a one-time stand, though, not even a night. Oonat tended to fall pregnant immediately. With multiple births, he would have the sons he needed to continue the Vaas line and he needn’t bed such a creature again.

  He paused for a moment to consider the unconscious woman. Even unaware, she had curves that caught his interest and triggered something in his male psyche. He couldn’t see her face, but a quick scan of the other females revealed pleasing features, not unlike the Lathar. In fact, apart from their smaller physical size, even the men, they could be Lathar. Almost. Their eyes were different. Not the myriad colors of his people’s.

  “How about the rest of you?” he shot the question at the other senior warriors.

  “Same, Commander.” Jassen was the first to reply. Quietly spoken, he didn’t often speak , but when he did, others listened. “Little to no capable resistance, but a lot of courage. Technological they are eons behind us. The avies seem to terrify them.”

  Tarrick saw that for himself, watching as the remotely piloted avatar robots moved between the humans. They cowered, scrambling to get away from the machines or curling up on themselves when they couldn’t.

  “Have you found her?” he demanded, reminding them of their secondary reason for being here.

  The first was because the station had women, and the Lathar needed women. The second was because of one woman in particular. The one that had sealed the fate of the rest on this little alien base. All his senior warriors had been present when they’d listened to recorded transmissions from this place and he’d heard it. A female’s voice, soft and melodious. Nothing special, but it struck a chord deep inside him, flipped a switch and changed him. Since that day, he’d been stronger, faster, more capable as a warrior.

  “The avies are looking for her,” Karryl answered. “Trying to match a voice print, but nothing so far.”

  “Keep looking,” he ordered, planting his feet in a wide stance and folding his arms. “I want her found…”

  For some reason, his gaze wandered to the unconscious woman again. Would this little creature with her mouth-watering curves be the woman with the bewitching voice? If she were, he would even be content with having to bed an Oonat to bear his sons. Given the Lathar’s twisted history and genetics that had seen all their women die out and breeding with other species almost impossible, there was no way they’d be lucky enough for humanity to be compatible. But he could keep a more pleasing countenance in his mind as he rutted, he could present her with his child to raise as their own.

  A smile curved his lips as he walked across the flight deck. A woman at his side and sons to carry on his name, what more could a warrior ask for?

  Chapter Two

  “Cat! Cat! Oh, god, Cat, wake up.”

  Cat came to, slowly becoming aware someone was rocking her shoulder. Opening her eyes, she slammed them shut as agony sliced through her brain.

  “Ugh…”

  Carefully, she tried again to find Jessica sat over her, concern written on her features. A livid bruise covered one side of her face and her eyes were haunted.

  “What happened?” Cat whispered, her voice barely more than a sliver of sound between them. Struggling to sit up, she nodded her thanks when Jess slid an arm around her. Hell, that blow to the head in the core had really knocked her about. Memory re turned…the metal monster and she gasped. “There are—”

  “Shhh,” Jess whispered, her eyes wide and fixed on something beyond Cat. “They don’t like us talking.”

  “They?”

  Thunk-whir-thunk-whir-thunk.

  The sound penetrated Cat’s consciousness a second before the red-eyed monster from her memory shoved its face into hers. She stifled a scream, scrambling backward and knocking Jess out from its reach, but it followed her. Dropping to all fours, its metal claws scraped on the deck before, like lightning, its “hand” wrapped around her ankle in a punishing grip. This time her scream was real. It dragged her beneath it, her kicks and punches on its metal shoulders and ribcage doing nothing but bruising her. The other hand shot out to wrap around her throat. The tip of the razor sharp talons scraped the back of her neck and her body went weak with fear.

  “Ohgodohgodohgod,” she whimpered, trying to get her own fingers between the metal of its fingers and her throat. If it wanted to throttle her though, she was a goner.

  Its eye focused on her, moving over her face as though searching for something. Finally, it spoke, haltingly, as though unsure of the language. “Talk. More…words. Talk more words.”

  Words? She’d give it words.

  “Get your fucking freaky metal ass off me!” she yelled, and on instinct drove her knee up into its groin area. Her words were echoed by a yelp of pain as her knee reminded her that flesh and bone didn’t come off well in a battle against steel…or whatever these creatures were made of.

  It swiveled its head on its neck to look down at her knee. “You damage yourself. Why?”

  She lost it, screaming back, trying to pry the fingers from around her throat. It was playing with her, taunting her before it killed her. Fuck. That. She wasn’t going down without a fight. Granted, resistance against a creature like this might be akin to an ant arguing with a boot, but she sure as hell was going to try.