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  Hitched to the Alien General

  Warriors of the Lathar

  Mina Carter

  New York Times & USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  Copyright © 2019 by Mina Carter

  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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Also by Mina Carter

  About the Author

  1

  Facing down the most dangerous warrior in the known universe was a bad idea. Facing down the most dangerous warrior in the known universe with a bad arm was suicide. But no one could ever accuse Xaandril, general of the Latharian forces, of being a coward. He centered himself, keeping his breathing as balanced as he was on the balls of his feet and studied the male in the circle with him.

  Warriors crowded around the paint lines on the floor eagerly, jostling for the best place to view the fight. It wasn’t often these two legendary warriors stepped in the circle during everyday training. Even the walkways overhead were crowded, the hum of whispered conversation a buzz in the air like a swarm of gicandatias.

  All to see Xaan get his ass handed to him on a plate.

  Because the male looking at him through narrowed eyes wasn’t just any warrior. No. That would be too easy.

  Daaynal K’Saan was the warrior emperor of the Lathar—a male who’d killed his first assassin when he was just a child and hadn’t stopped fighting since. Like all Lathar, he was a warrior born and bred, honor braids thick through his hair. There was more braid than hair, each of them a battle honor.

  Not that Xaan was counting. He knew how many honors Daaynal had. He knew the blood, sweat, and fury that had gone into gaining them because he’d stood beside him on the battlefield for each and every one, plus more than he could count besides.

  And this fight was going to be a close one.

  Xaan’s eyes narrowed as the two paced around each other, like deearin alphas, the feline males sizing each other up before a battle to the death. He was a big male but Daaynal was easily as large as he was, and as heavily muscled. They both trained daily and had decades of experience on the battlefield and in the fight circles.

  Because they weren’t just ordinary warriors… they were emperor and champion. One had sworn an oath to the empire. The other had sworn to protect him. Right now though, that oath was going to do Xaan draanth all good.

  He moved opposite to Daaynal, watching for the first move. He knew from long experience not to let himself get distracted. Daaynal would kick his ass to the Teranis sector and back.

  Instead of waiting for Daaynal to make the first move, Xaan roared and charged. He was rewarded with a small look of surprise in his opponent’s eyes as he wrapped Daaynal up in a wrestling move he’d recently learned and dumped him on his ass right there in the middle of the circle.

  A shocked gasp went up from the warriors assembled as the two went down in a tangle of limbs to the hard floor. Xaan's shoulder ended up in Daaynal’s stomach as they hit, all the air exiting the emperor’s lungs in a solid ummmph.

  Xaan flipped easily on the floor, twisting with limber grace unusual in such a big man. He managed to keep Daaynal pinned, his good arm around the emperor’s neck as he stretched the other male out with a knee in the small of his back, Daaynal’s spine in a hard curve.

  He grinned, triumph running through his veins as he tried to flick Daaynal’s hair out of his face and hold on at the same time. It didn’t work. The emperor’s long, dark hair obscured his vision, but he didn’t need to see to hold on to his quarry.

  Watching old holovids from the newly discovered Earth had had an unexpected side effect. He’d discovered several new fighting styles to add to his repertoire. Who would have thought that humans, the descendants of a lost Lathar expedition, would have developed so many different and effective methods of combat?

  Daaynal wasn’t a warrior emperor for nothing though. With a heave and a flip, he dislodged the hold and managed to get an arm free to slam into Xaan’s ribcage, just under his healing arm. Agony flared through his torso, transmitted by his ribcage, and greedy tendrils of pain caressed every nerve ending he had. Sucking in a hard breath, he held on like grim death with his good arm.

  Daaynal struck again, the edge of the blow catching Xaan’s bad arm. This time the pain was agony. A burst white-hot enough to rival even the most intense star centered in his shoulder. For a moment it felt like all the damage that had been healed months ago was raw and new, like his shoulder was nothing more than a mass of broken bones and raw, pulped flesh.

  Despite the pain he held on grimly—for all of a few seconds. Through it all, he remembered this wasn’t a fight to the death. He wasn’t on a battlefield. Not anymore. Instead, he was in a fight circle with the male who had been his lifelong friend, and this was a training match, nothing more.

  Even so, he was in a circle with the emperor—a warrior who had never been beaten… who could never be beaten. If Xaan beat him, even in training, Daaynal’s competence as a warrior would be called into question. That would invite challenges for the throne… which, to borrow a phrase from the humans who had become a fixture at court… was a whole level of shit they didn’t need. Not with the uncertain situation with humanity at present and the purists who wanted the newly discovered race wiped out of existence.

  But, all that being said, there was no way he was going to make it easy for Daaynal. He wouldn’t want that. He ruled because he was a warrior emperor, not because he played at it.

  With a groan of pain that was not feigned, Xaan felt his grip slip a little. Seeing an opening, Daaynal slammed an elbow up again, catching Xaan in the side. Pain blossomed once more, but it was an easier agony to ride out this time, nothing like having his shoulder pounded on.

  He was forced to let go as Daaynal twisted, and then he found the tables reversed as the big emperor, ever the quick learner, tried to pin him with a similar move. But he wasn’t going to get caught like that. The press of warriors crowded around the circle snapped back into his awareness as they gasped. He ignored them in favor of throwing himself to the side, breaking Daaynal’s grip and rolling away.

  Beating the emperor in a circle fight would be a bad thing, but he also had enough male pride to not want to be beaten himself. Especially not with a certain delicate human female in the crowds watching the fight.

  Kenna Reynolds, one of the females—women, he corrected himself. They preferred to be called women, not females—they’d taken from the first human base they’d found, stood there, balanced on the edge of the paint line as though ready to throw herself in the circle. Whether to protect him or to protect Daaynal from him, Xaan wasn’t sure.

  His entire body tensed, ready in case she did something stupid and tried to get between them. Ice rolled down his spine at the thought. She was a warrior of her own people, a marine she called herself, and he’d seen her fight, but she was tiny compared to them. She could be so easily hurt. Worse…

  The flick of Daaynal’s gaze toward the human told Xaan he’d been caught, and a smile spread over the big male�
�s face. With a sigh, he swept his hair back off his face and rolled his shoulders until one clicked. Stepping back, he gave a small bow. The respect of one warrior to another.

  “An excellent bout, as always, Champion,” he rumbled in the deep rasp he was known for. “But I have other matters to attend to, so we will have to adjourn for today. Tomorrow I’ll kick your ass good and proper though.”

  Xaan’s face split into a broad grin. “You and whose army, Your Majesty?”

  “I don’t need an army to deal with you, champion or no champion.”

  Their good-natured banter continued as they stepped out of the circle and grabbed the towels they’d left on the bench by the wall. The crowd that had been watching them broke up and returned to their own circles, bouts filling the main training hall.

  Kenna went with a group, he noted, casting a quick glance back over her shoulder toward Xaan and Daaynal. The warriors she was with were younger ones, all eager to learn human moves that would give them an edge against bigger, stronger warriors. It was a technique started on the Veral’vias and was gaining popularity.

  He thought he’d kept his interest to himself, grabbing a towel to wipe his neck down, but he’d learned one thing from being the emperor’s champion for all these years. And that was Daaynal didn’t miss a thing.

  “When are you going to get off your ass and claim that woman?” the big emperor commented in a low voice, eyes bright as he took a long swallow from his water bottle. His pale gaze cut across the hall to where Kenna was training, a lithe figure moving gracefully between the younger warriors.

  Longing and desire rose up, sharp and immediate, as soon as he looked at her. Ruthlessly, he schooled his expression in case they were being watched—the emperor and champion were always being watched in some way or other—but he couldn’t stop the lingering look at the human female.

  He shrugged in reply to Daaynal’s question. He wanted to claim her. More than wanted to. The idea of having her as his mate, of pulling her delicate slenderness against him and claiming her lips for the first time, haunted him at night. Every moment he was around her made it harder and harder to resist the temptation to growl the words and tie them together for life.

  “How can I?” he asked, lifting his damaged arm.

  It moved, but not as easily as before. He’d been lucky. The best healer in the empire, Laarn—Daaynal’s sister son and the empire’s lord healer—had been on hand when he’d been injured in battle. Without his work, Xaan knew he wouldn’t be worrying about a dodgy arm. He wouldn’t be worrying about anything. His wounds had been so extensive he should have been dead on the battlefield.

  But still, a warrior without two good arms was worthless. He was only half the male he should be.

  Daaynal’s gaze flicked down to Xaan’s arm, no longer in a sling, and he shrugged. “So? You’ll get full mobility back… What other male could manage to last so long against me? Even with two good arms.”

  He had a point. Xaan rumbled in the middle of his chest as he took the water bottle Daaynal held out to him.

  “I’m too old for her,” he argued, only to be given a withering look by his friend. “She should pick someone younger.”

  “Trallshit.” Daaynal was having none of his excuses. “You’re a male in your prime. And does it look like she wants a younger warrior?”

  He nodded toward the group Kenna was with. Even from this distance it was easy to see that her opponent in the ring was doing his best to be charming. She dumped him on his ass without batting an eyelid and motioned to one of the others to take his place. The dismissed warrior slunk away to the back of the group, shame-faced.

  “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  It didn’t. Training in the circles was completely different from saddling herself with a male who was only half a warrior for the rest of her life. He kept his thoughts to himself as he drank. Daaynal meant well, but how could he compete with warriors like… well Daaynal himself, and his sister sons. Hells, even Xaan’s own son had found a human female of his own. But they were more progressive, less rooted in the past.

  “Sure… sure, you keep telling yourself that,” Daaynal snorted, grabbing his wrist as Xaan handed back the water bottle. His gaze cut down to the tatty blue ribbon tied around Xaan’s wrist and back up. Xaan’s cheeks heated. Kenna had tied it around his wrist at the court tournament months ago.

  “Perhaps you might want to take the lady’s favor off then if you’re not interested in her. Give others a shot.”

  “Fuck off. It’s just a ribbon.” Xaan yanked his hand back. He’d told himself that many times. That it was just a ribbon. It didn’t mean anything. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to take it off.

  “Yeah… yeah, you keep telling yourself that, lover-boy,” Daaynal winked and threw his towel over one broad shoulder. “Claim her before someone else does. Don’t make me make it an order.”

  * * *

  She could do this court thing. Wear a dress, check. Feel like a princess, check. No one needed to know she had her combat boots on under the swishy full-length skirt or that she had a dagger strapped to her thigh. As her friend Jane was fond of saying… you could take the girl out the marines, but you could never take the marine out the girl.

  Kenna hid her smile and paused in the doorway to the hall. The scent of cologne and leather hit her like a wave with the low hum of voices following closely behind. With several war groups holding positions around the emperor’s flagship, the Miisan-vuis, the large hall was packed with Latharian warriors in their leathers and colored sashes. The occasional female here and there wore silken dresses much like the one Kenna wore.

  A few she vaguely recognized from Sentinel Five, the base she’d been stationed at before the Lathar had discovered humanity, but some were new. Idly she wondered how they’d ended up here, but then she spotted a familiar, determined face in the crowd and grinned.

  Jane, formerly Major Allen of the Terran Marine Corps, now Lady Jane K’Vass, approached with her mate Karryl a step or two behind. Like Kenna, she was dressed in a Latharian-style gown, but silver instead of scarlet.

  “Fucking hell, they’ve crammed them in tonight. Haven’t they?” Jane said, folding Kenna into a quick hug before casting a glance down her in assessment. “You look good, girl. That color suits you.”

  “Thanks,” Kenna couldn’t help a little twirl to show off. Jane’s lips quirked and she reached out to Kenna’s skirts, lifting them a touch to reveal the boots beneath.

  Kenna shrugged. “In case we need to kick ass and take names. Remember Cat’s wedding?”

  “Oh yes. Good times, eh?” Jane chuckled, a wide grin on her face. Cat had been the first human woman married to a Latharian warrior, and their wedding had been gatecrashed by purists unhappy about the union. It had turned into an all-out gun battle until the bride had shot a purist point-blank and proved to all the Lathar that human women weren’t to be trifled with.

  Jane parted her own skirts to give a quick glimpse of her thigh. Kenna grinned. Like her, Jane was wearing combat boots and she had a small handgun in a thigh holster.

  Karryl sighed, shaking his head in fond amusement. “She never goes anywhere without it.” It was easy to tell from the affection in his voice it was something he didn’t discourage. In fact, his tone was proud.

  “Hey, hey, look at you with the short hair. I heard about the promotion. Congratulations!”

  Kenna included him in her good mood, smiling up at the tall warrior. Like the rest, he was dressed in leathers with a wide sash across his chest. But the long hair he’d had the last time she’d seen him was gone, replaced with a short back and sides to indicate his new rank of war commander.

  “Thank you, Lady Kenna. You are most kind.” He inclined his head in reply, but the grin soon returned. When she’d first met him, he’d been rather dour and grumpy, but obviously married life agreed with him.

  “Fuck me,” Jane breathed, the glass in her hand paused halfway to her lips in shock. “Is th
at General Black over there?”

  Kenna followed her gaze across the ballroom to a small, dark-haired woman on the arm of a broad-shouldered light-haired warrior. Instantly she recognized them.

  “It is… was.” She snagged herself a glass off the tray of a circling waiter, a younger warrior pressed into service for the evening. “She’s Dani K’Vass now. That’s Sardaan, her mate. He’s the comms officer on the Veral’vias.”

  Jane nodded, sipping at her drink. It was just fruit juice. As much as human women had proved they were a match for their Latharian mates, some of the alcoholic beverages the Lathar drank could make them seriously ill.

  “I heard there was some bullshit going on back home?”

  “Some?” Kenna sighed. Screw the fruit juice. She needed something stronger for this particular conversation.

  “It’s totally FUBAR down there. Vice President Cole was in talks with Fenriis and the bigwigs before the emperor arrived, which was going well… only then Halland had a brain fart and got in bed with Radcliffe and Hopkins. Hopkins decided it would be a good idea to try and take over the Veral’vias… Yeah, I know. Dumb huh?” she said as Jane blinked in surprise.

  “That’s when Black had to wade in to try and sort it out. She managed to get Cole back but then Radcliffe joined in drinking the loopy-juice and attacked the ship again to try and kidnap the emperor. This time they lost all three teams, BUT…” She held her hand up as Jane went to say something.

  “More importantly, at the same time they managed to convict Cole of vote rigging and fraud. Sent her to Mirax Ruas, which I think is what that over there is about.” She nodded toward where the emperor was surrounded by a small group of warriors from the Veral’vias. Danaar was speaking animatedly, his large body tense.