Alien Mercenary’s Bride (Lathar Mercenaries: Warborne Book 2) Read online

  Alien Mercenary’s Bride

  Lathar Mercenaries: Warborne

  Mina Carter

  New York Times & USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  Copyright © 2020 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

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Also by Mina Carter

  About the Author

  Prologue

  It was the shittiest little market in the back end of beyond but Marika didn’t care. It might have been dirty and rough, mud from the ground staining the hem of her expensive dnarhiat silk gown, but it had potential. Every breath she took in was scented with the fumes from poorly maintained generators and the ships in the yard just outside town.

  It smelled like desperation and freedom.

  “Your father wouldn’t like you being here,” Dav, her bodyguard, rumbled. His disapproval was written in every line of his body and his craggy, cliff-like face.

  “My father doesn’t like anything I do.” Marika shrugged one shoulder in an elegant display of nonchalance. She knew without checking in a mirror that her expression was set to “resting bitch face.” She was an Ingrassia. It was expected and a cover she used often. Right now, she’d never needed it more. If Dav had any idea what she was thinking of doing…

  His silence was more telling than if he’d argued with her. Anton Ingrassia was a difficult man to please with a hair trigger temper and zero patience. She, more than most, knew that of old. As his daughter and the celebrated apple of his eye, the most damage he could inflict on her was with his fists although he was careful never to mark her face. His business partners or those who crossed him were often less fortunate. People would disappear, and she’d learned not to ask. She turned a blind eye and tried to be the Ingrassia princess everyone believed her to be.

  The poison princess had killed all three of her grooms. However, her luck had run out, and the next one would kill her instead.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, getting herself under control. Maxim Martell was an animal. A “business” partner of her father’s, he was a brute. Every time she’d met him, his dark-eyed gaze made her feel queasy, like she needed a month-long bath when he looked over her slender form. Gossip said he liked to inflict pain on his sexual partners and not in a way that was fun for them. Only for him. He’d killed his previous two wives. The second hadn’t lasted the month.

  A shiver hit her. From the sick lust in his eyes whenever he looked at her during the years he’d been trying to persuade her father to sell her to him in marriage, she knew she wouldn’t last the week…

  Locking the thoughts away quickly, she focused on her surroundings. As far as Dav was concerned, she just liked to come to the flea market on Praxis-Four. It was the ass end of the Aridas system, a place polite society didn’t even like to think about, much less acknowledge.

  The more adventurous youngsters might venture out to the bars and whorehouses with a small army of bodyguards so they could then later boast to their friends that they’d rubbed shoulders with the mercenaries and ruffians who congregated here. They bought the high-priced designer drugs their bodyguards deemed safe enough to spoon-feed them rather than the real shit served to the desperate and hopeless in the bars. It was such a regular thing that the brothels brought in more expensive girls every Friday.

  She shook her head as she wandered through the narrow aisles, pretending to browse. Had she been “normal,” she would still have found the market fascinating. Like life, all manner of shit fell until it was caught here, but between the random flotsam and jetsam, occasionally a treasure could be found. Like a moon-bright sapphire hiding in all the costume jewelry or a rare vintage of Tvetchian whiskey in the racks of the wine merchant.

  Or a “princess” desperate for a way out of yet another wedding.

  Keeping her expression neutral, she browsed the aisles, aware of Dav’s disapproving presence behind her. She wasn’t really looking at anything in the stalls. Instead, her attention was all on the people in the market. She needed a way to ditch Dav and his hidden partner, Lenar, and a way off this planet—in that order. The pair were like bloodhounds. Totally loyal to her father, they couldn’t be bribed or threatened, and they’d follow her to the ends of the galaxy unless she got rid of them first.

  Her stomach clenched at the idea of how. Despite her reputation, she couldn’t kill them or pay someone to have them killed, even though there were plenty of candidates on Praxis-Four. No, she needed another way to get rid of the pair... like a riot in the market or something. She looked around in assessment, but other than losing her shit and starting to flip tables, how the hell did she start a riot?

  A deep laugh came from behind her, the sound pleasing as it shivered along her skin. Someone bumped into her, almost taking her off her feet.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry—”

  She turned to find herself looking up at a mountain—a man mountain.

  The biggest guy she’d ever seen stood behind her. Bright blue eyes pierced her, holding her captive on the spot without touching her. Her heart rate kicked up a notch as she couldn’t stop looking. Those blue eyes sat over a straight nose and full lips nestled within a heavy beard she instantly wanted to touch to see if it was as soft as it looked.

  Her gaze skipped down. His clothes screamed mercenary and he wasn’t trying to hide it. Shoulders the size of a transport tanker were covered with a heavy overcoat, the open front hinting at combats and thigh straps for a weapons rig. The weapons didn’t hold her attention, but his thighs certainly did. Thickly muscled and powerful...

  God, what would riding him be like?

  “No, no…” She smiled. “Totally my fault.” Her voice rose a little and she lifted a hand. The movement stopped Dav surging toward him, and another movement out of the corner of her eye told her that Lenar had emerged as well.

  Her lips compressed. Obviously, they considered tall, bearded and handsome here a threat. Well... so did she, but in a totally different way.

  “Please, accept my apologies. Mr...”

  “Errrr… Altav.”

  He looked surprised, his voice a deep, pleasing rumble and she smiled. Altav. It was unusual but rolled off the tongue. Easy to scream... She wondered where it was from. Perhaps from one of the outer colony systems. It almost sounded Edanian... and wouldn’t that be a turnup for the books. The Edanian system crime lords had been nipping at her father’s heels in the neutral territories for years. The idea of using an Edanian mercenary to gain her freedom seemed like… poetic justice.

  His gaze flicked down her in an assessment similar to the one she’d just given him. She bit back her shiver at his appraisal, wondering if he liked what he saw. The small hope died a quick death. How many times had her father told her not to get her hopes up? That she was too small, too plain, and not curvy enough to attract a man’s attention... He told her
how he’d had to buy her grooms’ agreement to marry her in one of his favorite rants.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Altav.” She held out her hand with a smile, forced to shake her head in reprimand as Dav growled in warning. She was only talking for heaven’s sake.

  She held her breath as the big man reached out, waiting for that first touch of his skin against hers. Before he could touch her, though, the man with him shoulder-barged him aside. Tall with scruffy blond hair, he was dressed like Altav but he’d barely registered on her.

  “A pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Ingrassia. But I’m afraid we really have to be going. Our ship is about…” He shoulder-barged Altav again. The bigger man hardly moved; his blue eyes locked onto Marika. “To leave without us. Come on, big man. You know how pissy the boss gets if we’re late.”

  “Of course.”

  She smiled politely, folding her hands elegantly in front of her as the other mercs all but dragged Altav away. He turned to meet her gaze one last time before the crowds shifted like sand and swallowed him up again.

  She smiled without humor, a plan forming in her mind. It looked like she had just found her way off planet.

  All she needed to do now was lose Dav and Lenar.

  1

  Edanian ships looked the same as any other ship. Just… bigger somehow. Not actual size-wise, but the corridors and doors were weirdly large, like they’d been built for giants. That certainly fit. The mercenary she’d met in the market, Altav, had been huge. Perhaps the rest of them were the same size?

  Marika shivered to herself as she huddled in what looked like a cargo hold. Her plan had worked perfectly. The riot in the market had given her the chance to escape. When she’d hidden on the shuttle in the desert scrublands, she’d expected to have to beg the big mercenary to help get her off planet, but the thing had taken off without anyone returning to it. That stroke of luck had allowed her to arrive here unseen. The main ship was smaller than she’d thought.

  It had taken her just a few minutes to escape from the shuttle she’d stowed away on and scuttle down the nearest corridor to find somewhere to hide. She’d been here ever since although she wasn’t sure how long. About a day, a little over… She’d hidden away in a darkened corner behind some crates for most of it, managing to grab some sleep as the engines kicked up. The continuous dull roar had comforted her. It was loud and there was no escape from it, but it meant they were traveling away from Praxis-Four. Away from her father and her murderous would-be groom.

  She’d managed to scavenge a little food from one of the open storage containers and had used the facilities in the corner of the bay when she needed, as quickly and quietly as she could. The last thing she wanted was to get caught on the john. A stowaway caught on the john… She giggled at the idea, hysteria almost overwhelming her. Probably stress-driven due to her situation. Halfway back to her hiding place, she froze as the door to the cargo bay opened.

  Her heart stalled in her chest, her eyes wide on the door like a rabbit in the headlights. Self-preservation instincts kicked in at the last moment and she scuttled sideways behind a wall of crates. She had the vaguest impression of a large man framed in the doorway, the light behind him and his face in shadow.

  Moving on silent feet, she slipped around the back of a group of crates as he stomped in, his low growl threatening but in a language she didn’t understand. Edanian. It had to be.

  Reaching out, she picked up an iron bar to defend herself and slid out from behind the crates. She didn’t have a plan other than to stop him finding her, but the sight of the heavy axe in his hand had her reacting on instinct. Lifting the bar before he could turn and attack her, she hit him in the back of the head.

  He went down, dropping to his knees with a grunt. Her breath caught as blood dripped to the deck plate by his hand. Then he sprawled full length on the deck and her heart stopped as she realized what she’d done.

  “Please don’t be dead. Oh god, please don’t be dead.”

  The metal pipe dropped to the deck with a resounding clang, and in the next moment Marika was on her knees next to the fallen figure of the man she’d hit.

  “Shitshitshit. This is not happening,” she whispered to the empty air as she reached out hesitantly. Her eyes widened as she recognized him. It was the giant from the market earlier.

  Altav.

  He was huge, like a mountain. She’d never seen a guy that big—not even her father’s goons, and some of them were massive. Not as big as this, though. Her hands fluttered uselessly over his broad back, her lower lip mangled between her teeth as she looked at the cut on the back of his head.

  Blood stained the short blond hair, rolling down the side of his neck to drop onto the floor. So much blood. Flowing blood. Her eyes widened. Flowing. That meant his heart was beating… So he was alive. He had to be.

  “Please, I didn’t mean to hit you so hard.”

  She yanked on her sleeve, tearing off the thin billowy fabric to wad against the wound. Instantly it stained scarlet, barely soaking up any of the blood, but it was all she had.

  “But the pipe was so heavy when I swung it.”

  She didn’t know why she was telling him this. He was down for the count, his big body utterly unresponsive. She closed her eyes for a moment, swallowing hard as she recalled the sickening moment the pipe had connected with the back of his head and he’d fallen like a ton of weights. Like a puppet with all the strings cut.

  “Please... please wake up,” she murmured, her small hand on his shoulder to shake him.

  Then she remembered that you weren’t supposed to move someone with a head injury... shit. She froze, hand still on his shoulder and her eyes wide. Had she caused yet more damage?

  His skin was warm under her touch, like rough satin, and she couldn’t help but focus on the feel of it under her fingertips. She couldn’t help tracing a small scar that looked almost like a little crescent moon. How had he gotten it?

  Thoughts of him filled her mind, as they had since that moment in the market earlier. Unwittingly, he’d been her method of escape. Talking to him had rattled Dav and Lenar so much she’d merely had to stumble and fake being unwell, gasping that the mercenary had slipped her something, and they’d been off like a shot to put him down. It had totally escaped their attention the big Edanian had never actually touched her.

  He groaned and she gasped in relief, moving as he rolled onto his back with his eyes still closed. Blood smeared over the floor and over his shirt, but it didn’t matter. She hadn’t killed him. That was what mattered.

  “Are you okay?” She scooted closer, her knees against the side of his massive chest as she patted it.

  It didn’t escape her that his arm brushed against her calf as she knelt. If he were faking this... he could easily grab her and pin her. All her instincts screamed this was a bad idea. She should put space between them and get to a safe distance, but she couldn’t. Not until she knew he was okay. Even though she knew better, she stayed where she was, her hands on his bearded jaw as he dragged in a few shuddering breaths.

  Her eyes wandered over his face. My god, he was even more devastating up close. His features were strong and masculine, even the scent rising from him was rugged… notes of woods and spice, something delicate and floral that shouldn’t have worked but did. Was that a woman’s perfume? Was he married? Her stomach clenched with unexpected jealousy.

  No, no… he couldn’t be married. It didn’t fit with all the fantasies in her head she’d been trying to ignore from the moment she’d met him. Stupid thoughts, her father’s voice echoed in the back of her head. Why would a man like this look at someone like her?

  He swallowed and her gaze riveted to the movement. Swallowing and groaning was good. Right? It meant he was alive, and… she nibbled her lower lip. Didn’t head injuries need the person to stay awake?

  “Hey, big guy…” she murmured, one hand on his big chest as she stroked his cheek with the other. Sense returned for a second as she disarmed hi
m, shoving the big pistol into a gap between the crates behind her.

  “Altav… can you hear me? I need you to wake up now. Okay?”

  Skinny was more than awake and aware, but he kept his big body pliant and lax. He’d come around practically as soon as he’d hit the deck, playing dead as he realized who had hit him.

  With all his senses extended apart from his sight, he tried to pick up scent, movement, or sound… anything that would indicate her two bodyguards were with her. Nothing. There was just her. Her perfume was unmistakable. Unique.

  There was nothing to indicate the presence of anyone else. Either they were alone or somehow humanity had developed the ability to fool a Lathar whose olfactory senses had been expanded. It was one of the DNA adjustments his parents had paid dearly for in all their children before they’d moved out to the Tricerdonian Reach, all designed to help them with their farm.

  Boosted strength and stamina for long days in the fields. Enhanced speed to outrun or deal with predators. Heightened senses… sight and smell, to help them identify problems with crops and livestock. He was the Latharian equivalent of a bloodhound, a talent that had come in handy more times than he could count on jobs. It also meant there was no way a human could hide in here and he wouldn’t know about it.

  He hid his grin.

  His little human had no idea she was all alone with the big, bad wolf. If she did, if she knew what he was, she would run screaming from him.

  He stayed like a limp noodle, liking the way she put her delicate little hands on him. Sure, the back of his head hurt like a bitch, but he was a heavy-worlder. His skull was as thick as the plate of the hull. She couldn’t have hurt him even if she’d been twice the size and weight. All she’d have managed to do was piss him off and make him bleed more.