Conquering His Queen: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Zalaryn Conquerors Book 1) Read online

  “And why is that?” she asks him.

  “There’s been a murder.”

  We can hear them well before we can see them. The shouting, the accusations. I know this sound well. It’s the sound of males at their breaking point, about to erupt in a torrent of violence that is as irrational as it is destructive. I know because I’ve been in a crowd like that before, many times. During raids that don’t pan out, during long voyages that ended up twice as long as planned, during idle times on the home planet with no constructive outlets for the violence I’d been trained to commit.

  Bryn is fearless, striding ahead of me. She might be used to commanding humans inside the palace walls, but she does not know what males on the brink are capable of. I can sense the pitch in the voices—it is something not heard but felt. It is the quavering shouts imbued with nervous adrenaline and stress hormones. The air feels sour on my tongue as it passes over my sensory pads. I’m sure that Bryn cannot feel it—if she did, she would not be so keen to stroll right into the middle of it.

  “Bryn,” I call to her. “Stop and wait for me.” She casts me a dismissive look over her shoulder and doubles her pace for three or four steps until she remembers.

  She is not the Queen anymore. She is my Queen.

  I am absolute sovereign of her.

  She stops and waits for me to catch up. Her face is still, her lips taut with worry, but her eyes blaze with defiance. As if she didn’t think I would actually expect her obedience. As if she thought I was playing a little lover’s game with her. I might have made a mistake. I can tell that obedience will not come easily to her. She is likely used to being confined by the strict rules governing the behavior of a King’s daughter, but being beholden to another male is something unthinkable to her.

  Especially the male who just invaded her planet.

  “This is going to be dangerous,” I say. “The men are at their breaking point. They will turn on anyone who will make a likely target.”

  “Like me,” she says. “Should I return to my chambers?”

  “No,” I say. The idea of sending her away disturbs me. I want her by my side so I can keep an eye on her. So I can make sure she’s not up to anything sneaky. “I will keep you safe. You have my word.”

  “Turn here,” she says, pointing down a dark corridor. “They’re at the armory.”

  “Armory?” I say. This is getting worse. Primitive though the weapons may be, an angry mob does not need handy access to anything sharp.

  I see them at the end of the walkway, a group of five humans and five of my raiders. Bantokk is holding one of ours back, but I can’t tell who from this distance. The humans are holding back one of their own, preventing a fight. At least they have some sense.

  “We don’t kill our own!” the human male shouts. “We have honor. Although that’s probably a foreign concept to you.”

  “You think one of us struck down a pitiful, defenseless human while he walked inside the palace walls?” I recognize the voice of the raider that Bantokk is holding back. It’s Blim, a contentious lad if there ever was one. “We kill in the heat of battle, for glory and plunder,” he says. “We do not slink in the shadows like rodentoids. We have no need. Any one of us could slay any human on this planet in open combat.”

  “But not if you didn’t want to be seen. If you wanted to keep the death a secret.”

  “You show your lack of wits,” Blim says. “We would have no need to keep any such killing a secret. This is a Zalaryn planet now. We could kill any human for any reason without any repercussion.”

  “Stop this now!” I bellow when I get close enough to the group. “Blim, you speak nonsense. If you strike down a human without provocation you will face plenty of repercussions, I guarantee it.” I need to be firm with both the Zalaryns and the humans. My last mission… I let things get out of hand. I was too trusting—too weak.

  “Ha!” the human spits.

  “Silence, human,” I roar. If there’s anything I hate more than a cocky Zalaryn, it’s a cocky human. These puny males have much pride and very little prowess to back it up. “Blim is right that we do not lurk in shadows and slay our foes like cowards. If this human was killed in such a manner, it was no Zalaryn that held the blade.”

  “Who in the Hells are you?” the human shrieks. “Queen Bryn, are you prisoner to this brute? We will fight to the death to defend your honor!”

  “And the death it would be,” she says. “I am no one’s prisoner. I am here of my free will, alongside the Zalaryn captain. We are in political negotiations.” I notice that as she speaks the last words, her face flushes red. Yes, we were in negotiations, alright. My dignified little Queen, nude and dripping wet, opening her mouth to accept my thick deposit of seed. That’s not how most ambassadors and heads of state settle matters of land and territory—with one of them orally pleasuring the other.

  I can’t repress my smile at the thought. She is quite a pleasurable female. I will have lots of fun with her during the coming weeks. I already crave her again. I need to explore more thoroughly her ripe curves and have a taste of that delicious sweetness between her legs.

  “Tell me now,” Bryn says. “Who was slain? Who discovered the corpse?”

  The humans tell a jumbled tale, and I don’t pay much heed. It probably wasn’t one of my lads who did it. I had to chastise him publicly for his insolence, but Blim was right when he said that no Zalaryn would feel the need to hide his crime if he’d killed a human.

  Human males are irrational and often insecure of their own strength and ability to protect and provide for a female. They resort to violence quickly, the way small, cornered animals will snap at the hand trying to help them.

  As the humans are telling Bryn the story of how they came upon the corpse, the accusations start again. I’m not surprised.

  “These lot were creeping around, right when we found him,” one of the human males says. “Probably them that have something to do with that shriveled up cow the farmer brought in this morning.”

  “We did not slay your comrade, and we did nothing to your cows,” Blim says, “but if you keep talking, human, you might find that our disposition is less forgiving. This is our planet now, and it’s by the grace of the Void that you still draw breath. And before you—”

  “Silence!” I roar. Could this have just gotten worse? Did he say shriveled cow? Cows are exquisitely rare in most sectors of the universe, but I know all about the shriveled livestock. I need to see one to be sure, but if it’s what I think it is, this planet needs to prepare for even more trouble to come.

  “The next male to speak out of turn—human or Zalaryn—is going to spend the night in a cell.” The conversation dies down to a murmur. “Where is this shriveled cow?” I ask the humans. Maybe this is just some misunderstanding. Maybe the cow contracted a virus native to this planet. Maybe it was part of the herd that strayed away and the farmer didn’t notice it until after it had died and mummified in the sun for half the year. Anything but what I fear it is.

  What my heart already knows is true.

  “It’s with the Astronomer,” one of the males says. I turn to Bryn for explanation, because surely there is one. Why would a scholar of the stars and planets be tasked with inspecting a dead animal?

  “That would be Ardal Sunsweeper,” she says. “He’s little more than a fortune teller.”

  I can tell that she does not know how he came into possession of the animal. I file that knowledge away for later—if she wants to be an effective Queen, she needs to know everything that’s going on in the settlement.

  I address the human males again. “Who brought the beast to this fortune teller?”

  The men look at each other, deciding who should speak. They were chosen to stay behind when my ship landed and other men ran out to mount their sad little defense. These are the men who run the settlement. They are the ones I need to watch out for—the ones who will stage the overthrow. These are the ones Bryn said she would help me convince, help kee
p in line.

  “I asked it before, and now I demand it,” one of the humans says. “Who the Hells are you? Other than the invading creature who now negotiates with our Queen?”

  “I am Captain Vano, leader of the Zalaryn force. This is a Zalaryn settlement now, and any human currently living here is our guest. And we do not suffer fools lightly.” The men talk excitedly with each other, and I don’t need to get the exact translations of their profane curses to understand what they say.

  “You shall treat him with all the respect you treat me,” Bryn interrupts before the human male interjects again. “For I have taken him as my lawful husband and joined our two noble houses. He is equal ruler of this planet and King Regent. You shall address him as King Vano, Conqueror of the Rift and Bringer of Peace.”

  I fight to maintain my composure as she speaks the words. Her lawful husband? The King part I like, but husband?

  This was not part of our agreement.

  She is defying me, trying to manipulate me. I know what she’s after—her scheme.

  The group of human males are so taken aback by this news that they do not notice my own shock.

  “I apologize, Your Grace,” the human says. “I shall take you to the Astronomer so the King might look at the cow.”

  “Thank you,” I say, still not able to believe what Bryn has just done. Her intention is obvious: She thinks that she can persuade me to let the humans stay on the planet. She thinks if she presents a fake marriage to the humans and Zalaryns both, that will pave the way for a dual society. That no humans will have to evacuate.

  But that cannot be. This will be a Zalaryn colony where we can rebuild our race after generations of Sickness.

  Humans have no place here. Not anymore.

  No matter what little tricks Bryn tries to pull.

  I will give her a stern reminder of who is in charge later tonight when we get back to her—make that our—royal bedchamber.

  If she wants me to be King, then so be it.

  But I’m going to show her what happens when she defies her King.

  I have never been here before, the dank basement level of the palace. It smells of dark soil and vegetation. “This door,” Stine says. He has tried to make up for his outburst today, openly questioning Vano’s authority in front of the other councilors. I understand he was just trying to protect me. And himself, of course. For Stine thinks himself my protector and chief councilor, and he is not keen to be replaced by another—least of all by the leader of the alien invasion.

  Stine is trying to hide his disappointment that I have refused his marriage proposal. He hasn’t even brought up the fact that taking an alien captain as husband and King was definitely not my father’s dying wish.

  That was part of what gave me the idea to proclaim myself wedded to Vano. It would stop any lingering notion that Stine has of becoming my husband. It wasn’t my only intention, however. I know Vano seeks to evacuate this entire planet to make room for the Zalaryn colony—but it is a big planet, and there is room for two societies. If we can’t coexist peacefully together, then maybe at least we can coexist side by side.

  Maybe I can get him to reconsider the evacuations. I hope that I can. I can’t bear the thought of having to leave this planet. It’s under my care, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to be the one who lets it fall.

  I told the councilors we were wedded because I imagine that living under the rule of a human Queen and Zalaryn King would get both groups used to the idea of a dual society. Both groups would come to see that our two races could exist side by side. Hells, if the Queen and King can intermingle and live together, then surely the rest of them can.

  I can tell that Vano is already keen to my ploy. He was taken aback by my proclamation, and I know that there will be a price to pay when we get back to my royal apartments.

  Our royal apartments.

  Even though I know he will punish my disobedience, I am strangely looking forward to it. I wonder if he’ll whip me, pinch me—if he’ll take my virginity as the price of my outburst. The mere passing thought causes my nipples to stiffen and rub against the tight silk of my bodice. I hope anyone looking will dismiss it as caused by the damp cold of the basement. Between my legs feels…hungry. Greedy. Demanding my attention, distracting me. There is desire that I have never felt before. The physical pleasure Vano has given me is a new and exciting thing, and my body craves more.

  “Thank you,” I say to Stine. I nod to him to leave, but he does not. I can tell that he’s afraid to leave me alone with Vano. Probably Stine thinks that I’ve been forced into marriage or sexual servitude, or both, but that is not the case. I rode out onto the battlefield of my own free will, with the sole intention of seducing the captain in order to help save the settlement that my ancestors struggled to build. Women trade sexual favors for power all the time—noble-born women even more than the commoners think. Commoners have the luxury of courtship and marrying for love. Noble-born women are put into marriages arranged by their families with little say in the matter. Noble-born women must lie with vile men twice their age and bear their children all for the interests of family alliances or economical maneuvers. My older sister was to be wedded to a man off-planet because he controlled a settlement with abundant salt mines—until we lost her, of course. But my sister was expected to trade her body and freedom for salt.

  Stine is wrong. I was not forced into this. I chose this. As a royal daughter, I had long made my peace with the idea of bedding a man I felt no romantic attraction to, just so long as my planet could benefit in some strategic way. And I could think of nothing more strategic than allying myself with the invader.

  I had expected Vano to agree to my proposal.

  I had expected that he’d want some sexual favor right away.

  I had expected to be stripped nude and bent over the bed, rutted at from behind like a tavern wench trying to earn an extra gold piece from a drunken customer.

  I had not expected that overwhelming feeling of passion when he started to give me orders and demand my obedience. I had not expected that sitting in the chair with my knees spread apart would cause an instant burst of heat, an urgent and demanding throbbing from my clit like nothing I’d ever felt before. No man had ever seen me like that, my sex unfolded and spread, my clit hardened and eager for attention, my opening slick with anticipation.

  I did not expect to enjoy being told what to do. To enjoy demeaning myself on my hands and knees. To enjoy his degrading use of my mouth. It was the exact opposite of what I’d been raised to be.

  And I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t wait for him to do it again.

  I crave that release—not just of the body but of the mind. The joy of submitting to a strong and powerful male—that’s what he said. It is an entire world of delight that I never knew existed.

  One encounter with him and I’m hooked.

  Vano pounds his fist on the heavy oak door of the Astronomer’s rooms, breaking me out of my reverie.

  “Leave us,” Vano says to Stine. Stine looks at me, and I nod. He purses his lips in disapproval but says nothing as he turns and marches back towards the staircase. He thinks I am in danger down here with Vano, but that’s not true. I know that Vano would protect me more capably than a dozen of the guardsmen in royal service.

  Vano keeps banging his fist against the door until a creaky old voice calls out, “Hold on!” It must be Ardal. This Astronomer is a charlatan at best and a malicious embezzler at worst. When I was young, my father barely tolerated his presence. But as he grew older, softer in the head, fearing his own mortality, my father relied on the old Astronomer more and more for fortune-telling and divination. My father put much stock in the advice Ardal dispensed, much to the dismay of Stine and many other councilors. Stine repeatedly warned my father against listening to the Astronomer’s prophecies, but my father waved those warnings away.

  “You are keeping the King and Queen waiting,” Vano says.

  “The King?” Ardal s
ays from the other side of the door. I listen to the sound of his feet shuffling on the floor, a sound like his knee banging into a heavy piece of furniture and a muttered curse.

  The Astronomer opens the door, his eyes bright with wonder, as if he expects to see my father standing in the corridor. But an alien invader is the last thing he expects to see. Vano is a sight to behold, that’s for sure. He towers over all of the men, he wears no shirt, and his hard muscles bulge underneath his red skin.

  “I have taken a husband,” I say by way of explanation. “King Vano, Conqueror of the Rift, Bringer of Peace.”

  “Peace?” Ardal sneers. Now that he’s regained his composure, he’s the same sniveling old man I remember. “Was that peace I heard earlier coming from the battlefield?”

  “My Zalaryn warriors have come to colonize this planet,” Vano says, shrugging. “We came peacefully enough. It was your soldiers who initiated violence.”

  “Peace indeed,” Ardal says. His wire-rimmed glasses sit crooked atop his nose and start to slide down. He pushes them back up with one unnaturally long finger.

  “Show us the cow,” Vano says. “And tell me everything you’ve learned.”

  “Ah, yes, the cow,” Ardal says. “Though perhaps, Queen Bryn, you’d prefer to sit here while we examine the corpse. It is a terrible sight. I can’t have you swooning or vomiting in my workshop.”

  “I have already viewed the thing,” I say, annoyed at his remarks. Ruling this planet might be too big a task for one young woman, but I am no frightened girl, screaming at spiders and checking under my bed for the boogeyman.

  “Then follow me,” he says. His workshop is littered with books and vials and herbs. I think of the sleeping draughts he regularly prepared for my father and wonder if those tinctures contributed to his hasty downfall.

  The cow’s corpse is on a long table, and I understand now why Ardal cautioned against my viewing. He has dissected the creature, and the table’s surface is littered with tools and little jars containing what can only be internal organs.