The Baylan Chronicles: DRACE (A sci-fi alien romance) Read online

  "Alien magic?” She massaged the center of her forehead. "That would make this night complete."

  He gave her a level look. "I don't care for the term alien, and I do not use ‘magic.’ I merely possess a few traits humans do not." He rubbed his hands together, as if warming them up, then placed them on the hood. "Now come here. This will be good. Trust me."

  Rachel—feeling both tired and overwrought—saw red. "Let's get something straight––I don't take orders from you. You don't tell me to do things like I don't have a choice about it."

  His eyes glinted in the dim light. "You always have a choice."

  With a bunch of powerful people out there hunting her down and everyone thinking she was dead? No, not much of a choice, but she would do her best to control the dynamics of this...association? Relationship? Ugh. She walked to him with a stern look. "Get on with it, Houdini."

  He paused, frowning––likely wanting to ask who Houdini was––then shook his head and "got on with it." He closed his eyes, face set in a meditative expression. The hood of the car began to vibrate, then shake. A dent in the fender popped out to its original shape.

  She stepped back as the sound of twisting, scraping metal filled the air. "What are you doing?"

  He didn't answer. His face shone with sweat. A flush rode his cheekbones. His lips compressed into a line of concentration. The car looked and sounded as if about to give birth. Things snapped, and sparks shot from the sides of the hood. One headlight blinked on, then the other. The engine roared to life, causing Rachel to leap backwards with a yelp.

  Drace slowly pulled his hands off the car and walked over to the driver's side. "I can keep her running more easily if my hands are on the controls."

  As if she was getting behind the wheel of a zombie car. "Be my guest." She gingerly opened the passenger door.

  Apparently Drace's talents extended only to the metal elements of the car, because the seats were a disgusting mess. Grass was trying to grow in the floor mats, but the thing was purring like a well-tuned luxury car. She climbed inside, sat on the mouse-chewed seat, and refrained from complaining about the moldy smell. "You know we have no registration or insurance on this thing. If a cop notices there are no license plates, we're in a lot of trouble."

  "We won't need it for long." He buckled himself in and eased the car forward, out of its weeded thicket. "Which way toward Smithville?"

  "Left at the light," she said. "Why do you want to go there? There's nothing there."

  "Exactly. It's the last town before the Blackridge Mountains. We can rest there and go on foot tomorrow."

  "Go where on foot?" Blackridge Mountains National Park was not an easy place to navigate on foot. She glanced down at her work shoes, which were not hiking boots. "Never mind. I'm afraid to ask."

  "Mountain ranges make good places to hide things. My shuttle is there. We can get to it and I’ll take us both to safety."

  Rachel's heart bumped against her ribs. "Where, exactly, is safety?"

  "My base ship." He said it with pride and more than a little longing. He flashed her a look, brow furrowed, gaze gentle. "Don't worry. This is not an abduction. I won't disappear into deep space with you against your will."

  She rubbed a hand over her forehead, seriously uncomfortable with the idea of being completely at his mercy. On his ship. "No alien experiments? No needles and probes?"

  "No probes." His lips curved wickedly. "Unless you ask nicely."

  Rachel whacked his arm. "I'm being serious."

  The grin spread, becoming wolfish. "So am I."

  A strange little thrill raced through her, settling low in her belly. Maybe being at his mercy wouldn't be so bad. The fact that she liked the thought of it... She frowned and turned away to look out the window.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  "Nothing." She picked at the frayed seam of her seat. "It's not easy to forget that you're not human, that's all."

  He was silent for a moment. "We're not that different."

  "How?"

  Drace steered the car to the shoulder and stopped. His hand slid to the back of her neck, and he pulled her toward him.

  "This." He kissed her. It wasn't gentle. There was nothing playful or surprising or lighthearted about the way his mouth slanted over hers, or how his tongue thrust into her mouth, demanding, claiming. His scent rushed her senses. Perhaps some of the energy he was producing to make the car work also gave off pheromones or something, because Rachel met the kiss and returned it with equal urgency.

  Her body went tight with arousal. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced, and she was plenty experienced in the sexuality department. During the years she'd been on her own, sex had been part of the adventure. Relationships had come and gone with jobs, cities, bus tickets. The fact that she’d been resigned to staying put for a bit and saving some money was something of a miracle. She hadn't met anyone here yet and she'd been perfectly content with that. And then Drace came along.

  Good lord, the man could kiss. His hand cradled the back of her head, holding her in place while his mouth ravaged hers. His lips moved against hers as if he were starved for the taste of her.

  Rachel slid a hand up his chest. His skin was firm and warm and electric under her fingers. His muscles tensed wherever she touched him. He let out a growl and dropped a hand, wrapping his fingers around her thigh and slowly sliding toward her hip. Rachel sucked in a breath when his thumb dipped into the crease between her legs. He brushed his thumb over her sex, which was hot and wet and aching under the layers of cloth. It was the lightest of touches, but she shifted her hips to more firmly seat his fingers into her cleft. He stroked her a few moments more, then traced a line up her waist, along her ribs to the full curve of one breast.

  The center console blocked closer contact, making her give serious thought to ripping the thing right out of the car. She dropped her hand to his crotch and felt hot steel straining against his pants. He groaned at the touch. Her mouth went dry at the length, the size. If he could fuck as well as he kissed, he’d be out of this world in bed. Fresh heat spiraled through her at the thought, but as she was considering riding him in this nasty car, her fingers brushed the bandage on his abdomen. Reality brought her from the hormone-swirled haze and back to sharp focus.

  "No." She pushed away from him, panting as if she'd just run a sprint. "I can't. You're hurt. You a––" she broke off, about to say alien again. "I just can't."

  Drace held out his hands, eyes narrow and sharp. "Okay." His voice was rough. "I get it."

  "You get what?"

  He leaned back on his own seat and sighed. Tense fingers scraped back his hair. "I can see it all over your face––you're disgusted. You still think of me as an alien. A creature.”

  "No." Her brain was soaked in hormones, her underwear soaked in her own juices, and it was taking every bit of willpower to not jump him right here in this filthy, gross car. Disgust was not anywhere on her current list of emotions. "You definitely don't get it."

  "Explain it, then," he gritted out.

  "I don't know how to," she said. "I'm not usually like this. I've had a lot of relationships, but I don't go around fucking guys I just met. Well, not anymore. Definitely not guys I watched almost die."

  "I wasn't anywhere near dying."

  "It looked that way to me," she said. "And then we made out, more than once."

  "I'm aware of what happened, woman. I agree this is not the place––"

  "And there is the very real fact that you are from another planet. I don't know what to make of that."

  He pinned her with his gaze. Blazing silver-blue eyes burned into hers. "We did just meet, and we are going to fuck––since you prefer that term––soon."

  Rachel shook her head even as blood abandoned her brain and heat bloomed in her pussy. "I can't. We shouldn't."

  "Because I'm from another planet?" He raised a brow, looking as if a new thought occurred to him. "Is there another man?"

  A laugh gurg
led out of her. "A little late to be asking, isn't it? But no, there's no one right now, but the other planet thing is an issue." She shook her head. “You don’t understand––I have a life on Earth. I have a grandmother to return to, and I plan to go back to school. Flying around space isn’t part of the plan.” The thought sent fire through her veins, and not the good kind. “Plus, we're different, biologically."

  "Rachel, Baylan men have taken human women as mates for many thousands of years––who do you think the Greek and Roman gods were?"

  Her eyes went wide. "Zeus was a guy from your planet?"

  "The stories have turned fact to fiction over the centuries, but is the concept so hard to accept? These women were treated like queens––becoming them in truth––and successfully bred with Baylan men. I am a descendent of one of those women. You and I are quite compatible, biologically speaking."

  He was watching her closely, gauging her reaction. What was happening here? This was a deeper conversation than Rachel had had with any of her ex-boyfriends, even the ones she'd considered serious. The thought dancing through her head of beautiful, silver-eyed babies wasn't even horrible, just surprising. And overwhelming. She knew little about family, having lost all but her gram when she was a child. Commitment and the idea of discussing it with this guy she just met was absurd in the extreme. Yet it also felt oddly natural.

  She averted her gaze, drawing her hands from his. "I don't want to talk about biology."

  He placed a finger under her chin and tipped her face to his. His eyes glowed with intensity. He held her gaze long enough for Rachel to see the tic in his jaw and the flare of his nostrils. "Talking is not what we'll be doing."

  She couldn't breathe. His words shot a white-hot bolt of need straight to her core. He wanted her. Wanted her badly. And there was really no question that she wanted him just as much.

  He faced forward, clipped his seatbelt back in place, and put the car in Drive. Rachel rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants. She wondered what sex with an alien would be like. So now she was accepting that it wasn't a matter of if she'd find out, but when.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Son of a bitch. Between the wound in his gut, which was going away, and the erection that wasn't, Drace hurt. Add that to the very real problem of finding his shuttle and getting back to his ship, and it was little wonder he had a screaming headache behind his eyes.

  So he drove, unable to completely smoothe the scowl from his brow and unable to stop thinking about the woman in the seat next to him. His mate, of all inconvenient things.

  She was coming with him––that wasn't in question, although he was certain she would question it plenty. She wasn't safe on Earth. That was the reality. Dept. 6 had surely found out who she was and would collect her the instant they found her location. He couldn't imagine her treatment would be much better than his had been, but while Rachel was clearly a survivor, he was a leader, trained to fight, endure pain, and wait for the right opportunities.

  He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Great stars, how her passion had exploded at his touch. Her need was as intense as his. There was no question––their lovemaking would be spectacular. It would bind them together, and it was clear that was something she didn’t want.

  He had never once been ashamed of being of the proud race of Bayla, but things with Rachel would be so much easier if he was a human man. He had a strong feeling that convincing her to commit herself to an alien, as she liked to call him, would be a challenge, especially since doing so would eventually turn her into more of a Baylan than a human. He’d only known Rachel for a short time, but he could tell she was a spirited woman, and all the spirited women he’d known valued adventure and freedom and self-sufficiency. How would she adapt to responsibilities of a Yana-queen?

  CHAPTER NINE

  The mountains rolled like a great gray dragon against the midnight sky. They were in rural territory now, but soon they'd be on the highway where there were a number of motels.

  Rachel stared out the window. When they'd first started driving, she'd asked questions, but as they drove, his answers became shorter, more strained. No matter how strong Drace was trying to be, his pain was obvious. As the miles passed, his jaw locked in a tighter and tighter grimace. It looked as if it was requiring more and more concentration for him to continue operating the car. She'd learned a few things about him and the Baylan people, but still had about ten thousand questions sitting in a queue that would have to wait.

  "Do you want me to drive?" she asked.

  He shook his head. "I'd fall asleep."

  "So? You'd probably heal faster if you slept."

  "True, but the car wouldn't work."

  "I'm having difficulty wrapping my head around this," she said. "You're literally making this thing go?"

  "We didn't stop for gasoline, did we?"

  "Wow." She eyed his hands, gripping the steering wheel. "How do you do it?"

  “I’m too tired to get into it now, but I'll explain it sometime if you'd like."

  "There's a lot I want to know about you."

  He slanted her a glance. "Same here."

  They merged onto the two-lane highway and the little car's engine worked harder to go faster, but Drace clearly suffered for it. His injury interfered with his ability to sustain the vehicle’s power, and Rachel pointed at the first seedy motel she saw. One that was likely to accept cash and ask no questions. Even though she was presumed dead, Dept. 6 would likely be monitoring her credit cards, just in case. “Pull in there. I'll get us rooms."

  "Just one."

  "I don't think––"

  He closed his eyes, dropped his head on the headrest. "We shouldn't separate. I'm not going to attack you, Rachel. I can barely keep my eyes open."

  "Fine." She got out of the car. Probably didn’t have enough cash for two rooms, anyway. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

  He rolled his head, blinked at her with heavy-lidded eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

  She registered for one person under a fictitious name. The guy behind the desk was glued to the Bruins game on TV and barely looked up long enough to take her money and hand her a key.

  The rooms were garden style, with no public lobby to contend with. It wouldn’t be difficult to slip Drace inside.

  She went back to the car, woke him, and helped him from the driver’s seat to their second-floor room. It was as basic as it got, and naturally, because Rachel checked in one person, the room had one king-size bed. She bit her lip, wishing for the option of separate beds. She valued choice, but not above necessities. They'd be sharing this bed because neither of them was going to be a noble idiot and sleep on the floor. Drace looked exhausted. His skin was waxy, and she didn't like how he cradled his wounded abdomen.

  "Are you okay?" She helped him out of the coat. She frowned at his wound. His pink blood was beginning to soak through, and she had no supplies with which to change the dressing. "Oh, I see that you're not."

  "I just need rest,” he said in a gravelly voice. He sat on the edge of the bed and crooked an eyebrow at her. "We're sleeping together, Rachel."

  She glanced away. "I know that."

  “Relax. Sleeping is all I am capable of tonight."

  Her cheeks warmed. "That's obvious." To busy her fidgeting hands, she pressed one to his forehead. He was cool, but she had no idea what a Baylan's proper temperature was supposed to be. "We'll talk about the other thing later."

  "If you mean sex, I told you, we won't be talking." He leaned forward and caught her lips in a kiss.

  Her lips tingling, she pushed him back on the mattress. "Knock it off. You've bled through your bandages."

  He smiled. His eyes closed, first that milky, inner lid, then the outer one. It didn't freak her out this time. "Yes, Ms. Harkett," he murmured. He stretched out his long, muscular body on top of the covers and went still.

  Perfectly still. Alarmed, Rachel laid a hand on his side to check his heartbeat. It beat a slow rhythm against her palm. H
is chest gently rose and fell, but he breathed without sound. Two eyelids, pink blood, heart in a strange place––differences that added up to alien physiology. But he didn't seem alien to her anymore.

  She ran fingers over his jaw, dark and bristling. His lips parted at her touch, but he otherwise didn't move. Rachel let her gaze drift over his sleeping form. He was shirtless, still wearing those ill-fitting pants. In sleep, the markings on his skin darkened to dull pewter. They traced over defined muscles, firm skin. She wanted to trace each one, watch them glow bright at her touch. Her eyes stopped at the blood-darkened gauze patch on his abdomen and she turned away.

  Her own fatigue hit hard and sudden. She showered and eased under the covers next to Drace. She put plenty of room between them, but she couldn’t deny the urge to snuggle against his side. This attraction to him was not something that could be ignored. She was comfortable with him, which was strange. She usually took some time to feel this level of ease with someone. He was foreign and familiar. Strange and perfectly normal. Crawling into bed beside him seemed as natural as breathing. She fell asleep dreaming of strong arms and hot kisses and blazing silver-blue eyes.

  She awoke to just that. Drace's arms around her as morning light filtered through the faded curtains. Firm lips nibbling along her collarbone, teasing her awake. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her fingers slid through his tousled hair as he moved lower, to her breast, bare under her snug T-shirt. His mouth closed over one cloth-covered nipple, pulling it into his mouth. She murmured, arched as a hand snaked under the shirt to her other breast, rolling the mound in his palm.

  He looked up then, one eyebrow raised. "Finally you're awake."

  She frowned and slapped at his hand, which he didn't move. "How's your injury?"

  He braced himself up his elbows and gazed down at her, one hand still lazily massaging her breast. "Fine."

  "Not good enough." She sat up, pushing him off her.

  "You're bossy in the morning."