Page 3 of Stolen By Her Alien Mate

Aislynn is screaming in my arms, her orb glowing impossibly bright. When I reach the relative safety of the hallway, I turn back around.

Caiside has dropped his ion blade. Now, both hands are raised above his head.

Why did he drop his weapon? What is he doing?

Then, the shuttle above him seems to groan before lurching closer to the ground. It catches, hangs in the air for a moment, then lurches again, stuttering for a moment.

When I realize what is happening, I turn and run.

I don’t look back when I hear the rumble of engines. I don’t stop despite Aislynn’s screams and frantic attempts to break free. I don’t even hesitate at the deafening crash of the shuttle hitting the ground.

I don’t stop until we’re through the dormitory and deep into the servants’ quarters, reunited with the rest of the boys.

When I finally stop running, the walls have stopped shaking. And Aislynn’s glowing orb has gone dark.

chapter

one

Kael

Nerida, primary moon of Perse, Atik System

Rebel base located in abandoned remains of the Telmarine Palace

Even wounded and bleeding, I’m the best pilot the rebellion has, so I’m the one who flies the shuttle full of rescued children from the surface of the planet to the rebel moon base on Nerida.

The surface of Nerida is a vast desert, except for the seven bright green circles that dot the surface. Each green dot of life represents one of the seven ancient clans of Perse.

During the Empire, each clan had a holding on Nerida where a shielded dome protected the palace within from the harsh lunar climate. The palaces were usually occupied by the clans during the summer months. Most were abandoned during the bloody coup that overthrew the seven clans and allowed the Sovereignty to rise to power.

Only one palace is still occupied. Secretly occupied.

I steer the shuttle around the dark side of Nerida, coming low and close to the surface, banking only at the last minute to skim along the dome before stalling out at the top of it. Even if someone was watching with a telescope, the shuttle would be visible from the surface of Perse for only the brief moment before the shields phase open, and I let the shuttle drop straight down. By the time the series of shields open and close, I’ve steadied the shuttle. It’s a tricky bit of flying, but it minimizes the risk of someone realizing this summer palace is still in use.

The adrenaline is running high for all of us. It helps to keep the pain at bay so I barely wince when the shuttle lurches during the drop–as it always does. The wound in my side doesn’t really start to hurt until I’ve landed the shuttle and am helping unload the kids we rescued.

Draeden, who was with me on this mission, hoists a child into each of his arms while giving me the side-eye. “I should have flown.”

I pick up one of the toddlers, not to be outdone by Draeden, even though he’s not wounded, nearly a fist taller than me, and the strongest fighter we have. “You’re a shit pilot.”

“And you’re bleeding all over the place. And your blood is scaring the kids.”

I look around at the faces of the thirteen kids we saved. They range from toddler to about six-turns-old. And, yeah, he’s right. The ones old enough to know what blood is are all crying.

That’s not the worst part though. The worst part is that their tears are silent. Not a one of them has so much as whimpered since we got them onto the shuttle. Some look like stoic little warriors with tight lips and tears streaming down their cheeks. Others have their fists shoved into their mouths to quiet their tears. This is what happens to kids when they have to live in hiding. They learn to be quiet or they die trying.

Before I can think of anything to say, the shuttle door opens, the stairs automatically extending. Jopin, who has taken over running the nursery, is there waiting with a dozen helpers to take the kids and help get them settled.

Jopin gives me a critical look as I hand her the child I just carried down the stairs. “How did it go?”

“We got out thirteen kids,” I tell her.

I see the question in her eyes. I don’t want to tell her that our contact on the ground–who was a friend of hers before the coup–didn’t make it. At least not in front of the kids. The man who died cared for these kids for nearly a moon before he was able to get us word. The last thing any of these kids needs is to relive what happened on the surface today.

I meet Jopin’s gaze, giving her the tiniest shake of my head, my way of letting her know I’ll talk about it later.

She gives a stiff nod, but smiles to the child she’s just taken from me. To the child she says, “You look like you could use a hot bath and some pudding.”