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

  A dusty old tome is opened upon the table, too, the page marked with a long, woven cord. “I was just finishing my search. Everything appears to be in order.”

  “Search of what?” Vano asks.

  “Omens,” the Astronomer says. “I inspected the liver and the bile.” He points to the jars nearest the open book.

  “Omens?” I ask. We might not have the advanced technology of the Zalaryns, but we are not ignorant fools, either. We study the sciences, and all our children attend school. “We don’t need omens. We need answers. Real answers. The farmers are scared out of their wits. We need to stop whatever is happening to the cows. Has the Chemist examined the corpse? The Agriculturalist? Hells, I’ll get one of the stable boys down here. He could probably tell me something more important than ‘there are no omens in the liver.’”

  “Dear Queen,” Ardal says. “Did you ever stop to think that what’s happening to the cows is a punishment? That we have not properly appeased our gods? I have checked the star charts, and the forecast for this settlement is not good. I fear that this is just the beginning. I mean, look what happened today.” He cocks a thumb towards Vano. “These cows start showing up in the Rift, and then today our settlement is overrun by these creatures.”

  “I’d say you should take it as excellent luck that you have spoken so rudely to your King and Queen and yet your tongue is still rooted in that foul mouth of yours,” Vano says. “Spare us the superstition and tell us what you’ve learned of the cow.”

  “Threat of physical violence,” Ardal says, “is the knee-jerk reflex of the weak mind.”

  “Do you know what happened to this cow or not?” I ask. I hate being down here. I want nothing more than to return to my chambers and take off the formal gown I wear and lie down in bed with a book. I am getting a headache from the constant bickering among everyone. I wonder if Vano will lie with me tonight, if he will strip off my formal gown and take what is his by right of conquest. Even in this dank basement room, the idea arouses my curiosity. I want to feel his hands over my body. I want to hear his filthy words.

  I must keep my head about me, but it is a hard thing. I wonder if this was Vano’s intention all along, to disarm my wits and disorient me by keeping me in a state of perpetual arousal. Now is definitely not the time to be distracted, but I cannot keep my thoughts from wandering.

  “The corpse is dry as traveler’s jerky. The muscles are hardened like shoe leather. The bones brittle, like a moss-eaten log that disintegrates at your touch. Every ounce of blood is gone from its body,” Ardal says.

  “Go on,” Vano says. My new King looks very concerned, and I wonder if he knows more than he’s letting on.

  “And not just blood, but the cellular fluids, too. The fluid sacs that cushion the spine and other joints are empty. The spongy marrow cavity inside the bones is empty. This cow was female, and the milk is gone, the ducts and mammary tissue shriveled like when you singe a hair in a candle flame.”

  “But you spoke of bile,” I say. “Is that not a bodily fluid?”

  “Indeed it is, dear Queen. Your tutors would be proud.” His words are respectful, but his tone and half-cocked smile are not. “The animal had bile in reserve in the gallbladder, as well as chyme in the colon. The stomach, too, contained a small quantity of digestive acid.”

  “The sweet fluids were gone,” Vano says. “But the bitter ones left behind.”

  “Yes,” Ardal says. “I was studying on this matter when you came knocking.”

  “Tell me,” Vano says. “Of the internal organs, were any missing?”

  “Yes,” Ardal says leerily. “What do you know of this business? Is this some alien weapon? Have you been vaporizing our livestock to terrorize us? Is this what you do before you invade a planet?”

  “I want to eat your cattle,” Vano says. “I’m not going to mutilate them.”

  “How did you know about the ovaries?” Ardal asks.

  “Ovaries?” I say, blushing at the word. My tutors were thorough and made sure to teach me about proper female anatomy.

  “I don’t know that word,” Vano says. “But it is the…egg sac, correct?”

  Ardal laughs but nods. “Yes, technically. Tell me what you know of this.”

  “I don’t know anything for sure,” Vano says. He takes my hand and pulls me towards the door. His grip is firm and comforting in this creepy old room. His hand fits snuggly on top of mine, as if they were fitting pieces of a children’s puzzle.

  The Astronomer is alternating between asking Vano questions about the animal’s corpse and hurling accusations at him. Vano ignores him, and I think that any other King would have Ardal strung up by his toes. This more than anything enrages me—I remember how sweetly Ardal spoke to my father and note how impudently he speaks to me and my King.

  My King? Is that what I just thought?

  Something is happening to me—and it’s happening too fast. It has been a long, strange day, but I feel like I have had Vano by my side for much longer than a mere day. It seems like he’s always been here. Like he belongs here. I can’t tell if that’s because he acts like he owns the place or if I am grateful to have someone helping me—someone whose motives I don’t have to guess at. Because Vano has made everything quite clear. He wants my planet and he wants my body. He does not make courtly conversation all the while scheming for a way to take my crown like I suspect so many others of doing.

  As we leave, I see something on one of Ardal’s tables that stops me. It’s a piece of parchment, folded and bearing his official seal. And it’s addressed to Erwill Sonnes, the merchant who I humiliated this morning. That feels like a hundred years ago—could it really have been this morning?

  Why is the head of the merchants’ guild communicating with the Palace Astronomer? The two men could be in collusion. Ardal was no friend to my father, keeping him drowsy and dull-witted with potions and draughts. Do they conspire against me? They would have personal and political reasons for wanting to dethrone me—especially now that I have allied with the alien invaders.

  Once we are back on ground level, I ask Vano how he knew about the cow’s egg sac.

  “Ovaries, I thought they were called,” he said. “I knew they were gone because I have seen this before. Not in cattle, because cattle are exquisitely rare in most sectors of the universe. But other tamed livestock: goats, sheep, pigs.”

  “You know what this is? What a relief. Is it a sickness? How do we cure it? Are the other cattle safe? Do we need to quarantine the farms? Is this going to affect—”

  “Not now,” he says quietly. “Wait until we get to your rooms. We have another matter to discuss first.”

  “What?” I ask. “What could possibly be as important as this?”

  “You told everyone that we were lawfully wedded. That I am King. This is not true.”

  My stomach sinks. I had gotten so wrapped up in finding out what’s happening to the cows that I forgot that I’d told that little lie. Part of me had hoped that Vano would forget about it, too…

  But another part of me hadn’t wanted that. Part of me had wanted him to remember.

  Wanted him to punish me for impudence.

  “They would not have listened to you if I had not. They thought you were my captor. They can understand a marriage. We make alliances through marriage all the time. It was the only way to get them—”

  “Enough,” he says. “It’s done. We will proceed with the lie. Maybe you were even right to do so. You said you would help me get compliance from the councilors and the people. This might be the way to do it.”

  “Yes,” I stammer. “That’s it exactly. This sort of thing is why you need me.”

  “We will proceed,” he repeats. “But only after you face your punishment.”

  When we get to the chamber door, Vano reaches for the knob. Like he owns the place.

  Like he owns me.

  “Stand right here,” he says, pointing to a spot next to the table and chairs where we had our ‘nego
tiations’ earlier. He is not wasting any time, and I can see now that he’s more angered than I had previously thought. I take a few tentative steps toward the spot and then look at him, trying my best to keep my royal dignity—even though I know soon enough he will strip me of it.

  I don’t speak, don’t try to explain myself. I know it’s useless. But I also know that it was the right decision to proclaim us married to the councilors. They would have revolted had they thought their Queen was some pleasure slave to the alien invader. This way is better. They will be placated. They will listen to royal edicts. It will be easier to manage my citizens this way.

  And, with any luck, I may have paved the way for humans and Zalaryns to consider living in a dual society.

  “Put your arms behind your back,” Vano says.

  “Yes, Captain Vano,” I reply. I clasp my hands together, already keenly aware of how this posture makes my breasts stick out. The silk of my bodice is pulled tight, and the outline of my nipples is clear.

  He takes a step toward me, and the anticipation makes me throb between the legs. I press my knees together, clenching my thighs, but it makes no difference. He looks at me, fixes me with such an intense stare that my heart starts to race. He reaches for the hem of my bodice and pulls it down underneath my breasts, exposing them. They’re sticking straight out, bared while the rest of me is still completely clothed.

  “I know what you were trying to do,” he says. He takes both of my breasts in his huge hands and kneads them softly. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from moaning. I do not want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much power he has over me.

  “What’s that?” I ask. My voice is surprisingly even, despite the fact that the alien who landed his spaceship on my soil just hours ago has taken out my breasts and is now fondling them for his amusement.

  “You lied to the councilors,” he says. His fingers start to swirl around my nipples, making them pucker into hard knots. “You said you’d taken me as your lawful husband and King.”

  “I did say that,” I say. I will offer him no explanation until he asks. A rambling justification of my actions will only make me look guilty, when in fact I harbor no such guilt about my decision.

  He tweezes one nipple between his fingertips and pulls on it gently. This time I can’t stop the moan that escapes my lips. He takes the other one in his fingers, too, and begins slowly rolling both back and forth. My thoughts are becoming clouded by lust—and I know that’s his intent. I struggle to keep my wits about me as that throbbing between my legs gets more intense.

  “You think that if we masquerade as King and Queen, somehow both humans and Zalaryns will get used to the idea of living together. That, perhaps, it is symbolic of our two societies uniting as one.” Just then he starts to pinch, slowly but with increasing pressure. It feels good, feels so good, then I yelp in pain as the pressure becomes too much. But he doesn’t relent, just keeps hold of my nipples. I try to squirm away, but that just pulls harder, and I yelp again. He laughs but lets go.

  All of a sudden, I crave his touch again. I want his hands back on my breasts, his fingers squeezing my nipples.

  “It will make governing easier,” I say, but now my voice is unsteady. I am breathing heavily, and it is hard to disguise it. “They will not listen if they think you’re just keeping me as your pleasure slave.”

  “Oh, but I am,” he says. He moves around behind me. I turn to face him, but he puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me away. “Stay right there until I instruct you otherwise. You are here to bring me pleasure—and don’t forget it.”

  He reaches up and plucks a pin from my hair. I feel a tendril unwind and fall on my shoulder as he drops the pin with a tink on the stone floor. “This brings me pleasure,” he says, then wraps his hands around my chest, kneading my breasts. His mouth is close to my ear, and he whispers low and deep, “And if it brings me pleasure to let you issue a royal edict, then you will do it.”

  He takes his hands away from my breasts, and I embarrass myself by letting out a little whimper. He takes another pin out of my hair and drops it on the ground.

  “Everything you do will bring me some form of pleasure,” he says. Tink, as another pin falls. “But make no mistake—you’re not my slave. I am not manipulating you.”

  Tink, tink, tink. My hair is undone, wild and messy. He runs his hands through it, combing for any more pins, and his strong fingers massage my scalp.

  “I am not stringing you along with a trail of sweet lies,” he says. He pushes closer against me and I feel the bulge of his erection pressing into my hands. His own hands are on my breasts again, tweaking my nipples. “I am not promising things with no intention of delivering. I have told you from the beginning. All humans will be evacuated. There is nothing you can do to stop it.” He gives me a sharp, sudden pinch, but this time I do not yelp. I moan and stick out my rump, pushing it against his hard length. I unclasp my hands and caress his cock through his breeches. It’s so hard, I can’t believe it’s not breaking through the seam of his pants.

  “You do this to me,” he says. “You make me so damned hard I can barely think straight.” He unlaces his breeches and pulls them down a little. His cock springs free, and he guides it into my hand. “Touch it,” he says. “Use one hand to cup my balls. Use the other to stroke me.” I do as he says, relishing the feel of this massively hard shaft in my grip. But he doesn’t let me stroke him for long.

  “Take two steps forward,” he commands. “Bend over the table.”

  I do as he says.

  “Lift up your skirts and take down those nice white panties.”

  My bare breasts are pushed against the cold table as I gather my skirts around my waist. I pull down my underclothes and step out of them—noticing how they stick to my skin with a thick layer of wetness as I peel them off.

  “That’s good,” he says. “But spread your legs wider. Then, I want you to use both of your hands to spread yourself apart. I want to see both of your tight little holes.”

  I moan involuntarily at this—partially in shame and partially in arousal. This is so excruciatingly embarrassing I can hardly stand it. But I have never been this excited, this aroused, this eager to do anything.

  I move my hands and spread myself apart, knowing that I’ve exposed both my sex and my bottom to his leering gaze.

  “Turn your head,” he says. “Look back over your shoulder.” I look him in the eye, and the raw masculine power I see borders on the sublime. It transcends anything in my earthly, human experience. He starts to pump his cock slowly. I’m not sure why, but it increases my arousal to see him do it.

  My fingers start to migrate towards my opening, but before I can start to touch myself, he steps forward and repositions my hands. “I own your pleasure, too,” he says. “Any pleasure you get will come from me. And there will be plenty of it—but you still haven’t taken your punishment.”

  “I haven’t?” I say. “I thought the pinches…”

  “Ah, but you liked that,” he says. “What you did earlier, that could be construed as treason. Our races probably punish treason very differently, so I’ll use a more traditionally human form of punishment.” He slides the belt out of his breeches and removes the waist-pouch, setting it gently on the chair. “How many lashes do you think you deserve?” he asks.

  “Lashes?” I ask. I think to earlier this morning, how Erwill Sonnes wanted the miller’s boy lashed.

  “I think one should do it,” he says. He eases the tip of the belt over my rump. It is hard leather, stiff and flat. He trails it down, gliding it lightly over the slit of my pussy. It feels so good to have something touch me there—I’m dying for release.

  “I should thrash you raw, until you can’t sit down for a week. But one will do it,” he says. I feel the air whoosh as he gears up for a lashing. It smacks against my skin with an audible slap. I give a little whimper of pain as the warming sensation spreads. In truth, though, it does not hurt, not really. It
feels good.

  It feels so damned good to relinquish all control. To be reduced to saying, ‘Yes, Captain,’ and following his orders. It’s such hard work to maintain my royal presence, to keep control over the settlement, to shoulder the weight of an entire planet.

  But all that is gone now.

  There is nothing but surrender. Nothing but letting go and waiting for him to tell me what to do. Nothing but desire and the ache of being teased.

  “One lash,” he repeats. “On each side.” He brings down the belt again on the other side, and I welcome that hot, red feeling. I moan and arch my back into it.

  “And one lashing right here,” he says. He probes the tip of the belt between the folds of my sex, sliding it over my clit. I gasp and moan, but he takes it away and delivers a firm slap with it instead.

  “Do you like this?” he says. “I think you do. This isn’t much of a punishment.” He takes the belt and puts it in front of my face. It’s smeared with my essence.

  “Clean it off,” he says. “Lick it. Taste how aroused you are.” I lick my juices off of his belt, ashamed that this sort of behavior has gotten me so worked up. Would this arouse any woman, or am I depraved?

  He throws his belt to the floor, takes one of his thick fingers and begins to swirl it around my clit—but just for a second, lest he give me actual release. He touches my lips, presses his finger at my opening, then trails it up, stopping to rub little circles around the bundle of nerves of my bottom.

  “I bet no one’s ever seen this,” he says, rubbing those slow circles. “I bet no one’s ever touched you here before. Am I right?”

  “You are correct, Captain Vano,” I moan. My voice is not my own—it’s somewhere between a whine and a moan. I am so ready for release, so ready to ride the waves of my pleasure.

  “Were you embarrassed when I told you to bend over and show me your two little holes?” he asks. “Was it uncomfortable?”

  “Yes,” I gasp.

  “This is the lesson to be learned,” he says. “I told you to do something that you didn’t want to do. It was uncomfortable. It went against your nature. But now?” He dips his finger, playing with the wetness. “See how much you like it? You need to trust me. I know what I’m doing. Trust when I say that everything I do is for your own good. I will never lead you astray. I will never ask you to do anything you don’t want to do—or to do anything you are incapable of. Will you trust me?”