Alien passion, p.1
Alien Passion, page 1
part #2 of The Alpha Prince of Astia Series
Hannah Haze
Alien Passion
Book Two of The Alpha Prince of Astia
Copyright © 2021 by Hannah Haze
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Cover designed by Merel
First edition
This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy
Find out more at reedsy.com
Thank you again to Jillian for the inspiration behind my alien alpha’s name and to Merel for another gorgeous cover.
Thank you also to my wonderful beta readers, Hannah, Whitney, and Melissa. You have been patient and encouraging and, as always, this story has been vastly improved with your help. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Finally, a massive thanks to Mr D and my sister for your support, and to my children for their inspiring imaginations.
Foreword
This story is set on the planet Astia, in a universe different to our own. Here there are different types of people — Alphas, Omegas and Betas — and the creatures are different, yet similar — shirds, molves and stigs for example.
Chapter 1 — Emma
Space.
Black and cold and desolate.
Yet beautiful. Always beautiful.
The darkness penetrates against the infinite number of stars.
Each unique. Each different. Each light a new spectrum of colour. The way it radiates or sparkles, glows or shines, extraordinary.
I’ve missed this.
I hadn’t known quite how much until the spaceship quit its fierce shaking, buffeted by the air as it left the atmosphere of the planet I’ve been stranded on for over half a year, and entered the calm of space.
Now we glide; smooth and serene.
I close my eyes, fling back my head, and sigh. A strange sense of relief floods my veins and the baby in my belly, only moments ago kicking as I bounced in my chair, lulled to sleep and stilled.
I smile to myself, resting my hand on the growing bump and stroking it in circles as I open my eyes again and stare out at the emptiness around us.
To me, it has always been exquisite. When others had complained of space blindness, their eyes dulled by the plain canvas outside the ship’s window, I’d never been able to agree. To me, there is nothing as beautiful.
Well, almost nothing.
I turn to the large alien at my side and find him watching me.
“Tor, can you keep your eyes on the controls?” I squeak.
He snorts and waves his hand dismissively over the panel. “The thing practically flies itself. You forget Gryton technology is far superior to yours.”
I roll my eyes. “So you keep telling me. Still, I’d feel better if you paid attention to where we are going.”
The crash that left me stranded on the ice planet we’ve just escaped, still lingers fresh in my memory.
I swallow, pushing the images of flashing lights and the frightened eyes of my crewmate away, and focussing my attention back on the stars that streak past the window in rainbow ribbons.
“Is it difficult? The crossing?” I mean dangerous. My travels across the universe have been vast, encountering the battering of asteroid belts, the pull of black holes and the fierce heat of raging sun giants.
But this journey involves crossing to another universe. Tor’s universe. One I didn’t even know existed mere weeks ago.
“Honestly,” he replies, “I do not know for certain. My own journey here was unexpected and unexplainable, but the other Grytons crossed to us safely.”
Yes, a crew of Grytons from his home planet Astia, who’d been sent to rescue us. They now lie dead on the ice. And we’ve commandeered their spaceship.
I nod. “When will it happen?”
He peers down at the monitor, reading a script impenetrable to me.
“Any second now, Omega.”
Omega.
The word still sends shivers of arousal skating up and down my spine and across my skin. It is what he says I am. But the whole concept seems so alien and I am sure I don’t grasp all the implications of what it is to be Omega. Precious, rare, and valuable, but weak and pliable compared to an Alpha. An Alpha like my alien.
Instinctively, I reach for his hand and squeeze it tightly in my own, throwing an anxious glance at Fluffy, my dog, snoozing in the corner behind us. He clearly has no idea what is about to happen and seems just as content as the baby now all the rattling has stopped.
Tor squeezes my hand back, his fingers longer and stronger than mine. My touch ignites the dancing colours in his translucent skin, sending them pulsating up his arm. It is as beautiful as the scene beyond the ship.
“Now,” Tor tells me just as bright light dazzles us both, bleaching everything a ghostly white. It is so piercing it pains my eyes, my head screaming, and I shield my face with my arm, twisting away from the source. It is deafeningly silent, though. Not even the rush of my breath or the beat of my heart audible.
And then just as quickly, it vanishes, and the black of space returns.
A new universe.
His.
Yet it looks identical to my own.
I stare down at my hands, examining my skin, the structure of my bones. I am still me. I am unaltered and the baby inside me still kicks with vitality.
“We’re here?” I ask.
His fingers trip over the buttons in front of him and his shoulders relax. “Yes, we are home.”
Home?
His home. Not mine.
Once again I wonder at the reception I will receive. The Grytons, and the Alpha who rules them, his dad, do not know I am coming.
Tor tells me there will be celebrations — banquets and carnivals. I am the first Omega to be discovered in thirty years. I will bring hope that there can be a future for his race. A continuation of the Alpha and Omega line.
But I’m not so sure. I remember what it was like whenever a new kid started school, the whispering, the suspicious looks, the icy demeanors.
Besides, the rescue party had hardly been welcoming. In fact, they’d tried to assassinate the father of my child.
Yes, forgive me if I don’t share his optimism.
As if he senses my unease, he makes that rumbling purr in his throat, knowing the calming effect it has on my body.
And it works … for precisely five seconds. For precisely five seconds I feel soothed and then the first fireball streams above our window, sending the ship rumbling.
“What was that?” I cry, “Was it a comet?”
But my question is quickly answered as another pummels beneath us. “Shit, that nearly hit us!” I gasp as I watch the burning ball of flame streak away into the distance.
Tor is suddenly tense beside me, leaning forward in his seat, thumping on the controls.
“Those are no asteroids, Omega. We are under attack.”
“Attack? Why the hell are we under attack?”
Fear grips my throat. Air chokes in my lungs. Under attack? Again?
I trusted him and now that decision is looking like a very bad one.
Banquets? Parades?
No, missiles!
He doesn’t answer, sliding up a hologram screen and issuing commands in Gryton to the computer. Images flash up in front of our eyes of three squat ships following in our wake, streaking closer towards us.
“Who are they?” I ask.
“Grytons. But their ships are unmarked. I do not know them.”
“Grytons? More Grytons trying to kill us?”
“Me. Not you.” He jerks a small device from the monitor and brings it to his mouth.
He booms into the device and his words flash up in English on the monitor. “This is Alpha Prince Tor of Astia, son of Lord Qudrat. Cease your fire and stand down immediately.”
The device in his hand crackles but no voice responds and a third shot booms above our heads.
“Reveal yourselves immediately,” Tor demands. “On whose orders are you firing?”
“They aren’t going to answer, Tor. Just get us out of here!”
“I don’t understand—”
But a fourth volley cuts him off, and he growls, grabbing at the joystick in front of him and yelling at the computer. “Manual override.”
“Manual override?” I scream as he jerks the ship violently to the left, swerving down into the space below us.
“I am quicker and more random than the computer and a far more competent pilot.”
I stare at him before being thrown back in my seat as he swerves us around, and accelerates forward.
“Tor,” I yell, gripping the arms of my chair as Fluffy whines and buries his head under his paws.
“Have you ever used a space cannon before, Emma?” he asks me.
“No.” I’m human. Gryton technology is alien and frankly absurd.
“But you can shoot.”
Yes, I can shoot. He has first hand experience of that. My shooting just saved his life. All those years of training to become a space cadet paid off. “We need to take these usurpers out. Their ships are faster than ours and I will not be abl e to shake them off.”
“You need me to shoot them?”
“Yes, Omega. There is a gun towards the rear of this bridge.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I jump from my seat and sprint to the back of the bridge, searching the smooth wall until I find a handle. I press against it and a door slides back, revealing a shooting pod.
It is built for an Alpha, and I climb easily into the tight space, the giant cannon nestled between my knees.
Running my hands over the ridges and mechanics, I search for a catch to release it. I find something which feels right and with a tug I release it, the huge cannon swinging to the right in my arms and rotating my seat with it.
“Woah!” I yelp.
“Omega! They are gaining on us. Are you ready?”
“Yes.” I can see the three ships trailing us, the strange shiny Gryton metal glinting in the light. I can’t see those piloting the ships, but I know they are somewhere, staring right at me.
“How do I fire?” I call to Tor and as the word ‘fire’ flies from my lips, the huge cannon booms and a fireball of our own soars across the space between us and our pursuers. It misses by miles. I hadn’t planned to shoot — the shot wasn’t lined up — and now the ships scatter.
“Shit,” I mutter, angling the cannon to follow the projection of the ship to our right. Another swoops low, a volley of fire bursting from its mouth. “Tor!’’ I warn, and our ship swoops low.
I ready the cannon, waiting until the ship is right in the middle of my line of sight. “Fire!” Another fireball bursts forth. It’s more powerful, faster than the weaponry of these lighter, speedier ships, and it hits the first ship before it has time to swerve. Fire engulfs the ship, an explosion of light and colour, and then nothing, the ship completely vanquished.
I swallow. The power of this weaponry is terrifying. But I’ve no time to dwell on the fact as more shots skirt toward us from the remaining two ships.
“They are gaining on us!” Tor yells at me.
“I know,” I tell him, feeling a little disgruntled that he hasn’t praised me for my first successful shot. Swinging the cannon again, I line up the next shot, the ship in my sights, when I’m jerked violently and the whole ship rattles.
An alarm blares and I close my eyes, waiting for the end.
“It is alright, Omega.” Tor’s words rouse me. “It did no real damage. Keep firing.”
I jolt back into action and find the ship I’d just lost, firing three cannons until I hit him and he too vanishes in a ball of fire.
There’s just one left now. This one is speedy and nippy. It flits and flirts ever closer, and every time I think I have it in my sights, it skips away.
I growl like an Alpha, and clamp my teeth together, determined to get the little knobhead.
I know I need to get him soon. Firing on him too close is likely to damage our own ship as well as his.
The ship fires a stream of volley and Tor has us ducking and diving to survive. It’s like being on a fairground ride. I can barely stay in my seat, but I hold on to the cannon with dear life and fire and fire again, each shot sailing right past our pursuer.
“Come on, Emma,” I say, “come on!” I didn’t come this far for some cocky pilot to take us out. I ram the cannon around and scream, “Fire!” and this time I strike gold, our final pursuer destroyed.
“Yes, Emma!” Tor bellows, and I flop back in the seat, panting hard. I’m covered in a fine layer of sweat and my cheeks burn.
I should feel elation but all that swamps my body is relief and a sickness rising in my throat. I have destroyed three ships with at least one pilot in each, maybe more. And on the ice planet, I killed more. I peer down at my spotless hands, not even tarnished with grit or grime.
I’ve never killed before. My journeys with the space cadets had dangers — vast sections of our universe awash with pirates and terrorists — but I’ve never been in battle before. I knew how to use my weapons but I’d never had to.
I slump back to Tor and reclaim the seat beside him, a shaking Fluffy sprinting after me and attempting to climb into my lap.
I shush him, gently rubbing my hand up and down his spine until he relaxes somewhat and curls up by my feet.
“Some welcome committee,” I mumble.
Tor appears rattled. His face and his expressions are more muted than a human’s — his face barely changes — but I can read the subtle differences in him now, in his eyes, his scent and the colours of his skin.
He doesn’t answer me, his fingers tripping over the controls. “The ship is not badly damaged. It is superficial. We can still make it to Astia.”
“We’re still going to Astia?!”
He turns to look at me. “Yes.”
“Tor, they’re trying to kill us.”
“That was not the actions of my father. We are safe to return.”
I stare at him, aghast. “But how can you be certain? You thought he might have sent those assassins.”
“My father has a whole fleet of fighter ships. If he wanted me dead, I would already be so.”
“So who—”
“I don’t know, Omega.” He sounds irritated. Tor likes to be in control and in command. “But when I find out, I will crush them.”
More nausea swims through me. More death. More destruction. I don’t like the sound of that.
And I wonder again what type of place Astia can be.
Chapter 2 — Tor
I am more angry than I let the Omega know.
If she were not here, I would not have been able to help myself from smashing everything on this ship.
I am an Alpha Prince of Astia. Son of Lord Qudrat, the leader of my planet. And with me is my mate, the human Emma, our child thriving inside her tiny, little body.
My Alpha instincts to protect are growing stronger and more violent with every passing minute. With every fresh kick of my child, with the rounding of my Omega’s belly, with the fullness of her breasts.
I will tear limb from limb anyone who tries to harm them. I will slit their throats and bleed them dry. I will destroy everything they hold dear.
But first I have to find them.
And in that, I am at a loss.
These actions are too subtle for my father, and while I have rivals, such rivalry has always been jovial. I can think of no one who wants me dead. No one who gains from my death. While many suspect I will be the inheritor of my father’s throne, it is not a certainty. He has many children. Many, many heirs. Killing me does not guarantee the murderer will take my place and surely places them in danger if they are discovered.
However, it is not something I can solve now. I must get us home, and hope we are not attacked again.
The ship is also more damaged than I have confessed to Emma. We are, in effect, a lame smuck, limping through space.
I do not like to be so exposed.
But we are nearing our destination. I see it in the distance on the monitor and I feel it in my bones.
And then I see it. The tiniest of specks in the distance. Astia.
I don’t point it out to Emma until it has grown in size; a colourful marble floating in the black abyss. Its blues and greens dissolves into one another and when I turn to Emma, I realise for the first time that her eyes remind me of my planet. How had I not seen that before?
I smile widely at her, an expression I have learnt to mimic from her. The parting of my lips, the flashing of my teeth, the upturning of my mouth encourages the same expression on Emma’s face and she looks most beautiful in these moments.
“This is Astia,” I announce, and Emma learns forward in her seat and examines my planet.
She is silent and to my disappointment, she does not reward me with one of her smiles and I feel a crushing disappointment. My planet is not to her satisfaction. My soon-to-be-mate (for though I have mated with her, I am yet to claim her with a mating bite to her neck) does not approve of her new home. “You do not like it?” There is a little petulance in the cantor of my voice which I cannot help.
“Oh no,” she answers quickly, her palms resting on her belly. “It is beautiful … very beautiful.”
“Then what troubles you?”
“Apart from everyone trying to kill us?”
“We are home now. You see Astia in the distance. We will not be attacked again.”
