Pursued: A Sci-Fi Alien Warrior Romance (Raider Warlords of the Vandar Book 4) Read online

  “Tell me, majak.” I steadied my temper and my voice as I reached for a brown knot of bread remaining on my plate. “Are the raiders getting restless? We have not engaged in battle since we left Zendaren.”

  Svar took another drink and shifted on the long bench, his tail swishing behind him like it did when he advised me. “It has been unusually quiet. Vandar are not used to peace.”

  I tore at the knot of bread with my teeth. “We could always find an imperial outpost to raid, although we do not need the supplies.”

  Svar braced his elbows on the table and threaded his fingers together, tilting his head at me. “The warriors would prefer a stop at a pleasure planet.”

  My thoughts wandered to the last stop at a pleasure planet and the time I’d spent with a pair of alluring Felaris twins, and I bit back a growl. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine the softness of their lips on mine and the warmth of four hands stroking my bare flesh. Then I remembered what had happened shortly after the twins had removed my battle kilt, and how quickly I’d been forced to throw it on again and race out of the pleasure house to defend our ship from mercenaries. “Our last visit was hurried.”

  “Most of the crew had barely chosen their pleasurer before we were returning to the ship,” Svar said. “Including me, and I’d picked a particularly appealing Haralli.”

  “You always did like your females with wings.”

  He raised his palms. “What’s not to like?”

  When we’d last been on Jaldon, I’d been majak and not Raas. I’d been crucial to the command crew, but I had not been the Vandar who dictated the actions of the horde. I had not had the lives of so many in my hands.

  I shook my head. “It is too soon after our time on Zendaren to make a stop at a pleasure planet.” I swung my legs over the bench and stood. “The Zagrath may be weakened, but they need to feel our presence.”

  “Which lends strength to your argument that we should commence raiding.”

  I took long steps toward the fireplace, adjusting my shoulder armor as I walked. I was unused to the additional leather covering that further signified me as Raas, and it chafed at me in more ways than one. “Are the defenses on Carlogia holding?”

  “The transmissions from Raas Kaalek indicate they are.”

  Our horde had joined forces with another to beat back Zagrath forces, and restore independence to the planet. It had been a violent battle, and the victory had been sweet. Even thinking about it made my pulse quicken.

  I leaned one palm against the hard, obsidian stone and stared into the fire, trying to temper my desire for battle. “We should remain in our sector. Kaalek and Kratos might have repaired their relationship, but that does not mean Raas Kaalek wants his older brother’s horde in his territory.”

  “It is not his brother’s horde anymore, Raas,” Svar reminded me. “You are Raas Bron, leader of this horde.”

  Tvek, I cursed to myself and curled my hand into a fist against the cool black surface. Why was it so hard to think of myself as Raas? Why did the mantle of warlord feel so oppressive on my shoulders?

  Probably because the title of Raas of the Vandar had been handed down from fathers to sons or brother to brother for generations. I had been Kratos’ majak and closest confidante, but we were not related by blood. His only blood relation on the warbird was Corvak, the battle chief, and Kratos had made it clear to me he did not believe his cousin was the best leader for his horde.

  “You are sure, Raas?” I had asked when we’d stood on the balcony overlooking the feasting hall on Zendaren the night before the horde was scheduled to depart.

  Kratos had clapped a thick hand on my shoulder. “I have never been more sure about anything.” His mouth had quirked into a smile. “Aside from my mate.”

  “The horde has been in your family for generations,” I’d reminded him. “What would your father say?”

  Kratos had flinched at the mention of the Vandar Raas who had terrorized both of us when we’d been apprentices on his warbird. “Luckily for both of us, Raas Bardon is dead. The best thing for the horde is you.”

  I gazed now at the cavorting flames in my new quarters and hoped that Kratos had been right. As a Vandar raider who had led warriors into bloody battles, doubt was not a sensation I knew well or welcomed.

  If Corvak had felt slighted by being passed over for the position of Raas, he had not indicated it. He had also not expressed displeasure when I’d chosen Svar as my majak instead of him. He remained as battle chief to the horde—a job he excelled in and seemed to relish. If he’d been removed as battle chief, he would have also been forced to give up his oblek, and his torture chamber was his sanctuary.

  “How are you getting along with Corvak?” I asked as I turned from the fire to face Svar.

  “Fine, Raas. We each know our positions and do our jobs.” He spun around on the bench and splayed his hands on his knees. “I would say that he hungers for battle more than most.”

  I laughed darkly. “Then you do understand Corvak.”

  “If only there was someone to send to his oblek. That might quench his thirst for battle.”

  I dragged a hand through my long hair and thought about the room attached to one side of the command deck with weapons strapped to the walls and restraining chains dangling from overhead. “I would not wish many to Corvak’s oblek.”

  “Nor I, unless they were Zagrath.”

  A pounding on my door made us both turn toward the steel arch. I strode to it and pressed the panel to one side, causing the two sides to part and reveal my battle chief.

  “Just the Vandar we were talking about,” I said, as I waved him inside.

  He raised a dark eyebrow as he stepped inside, the scar on one side of his face making him look even fiercer than he was. “Oh?”

  “We were saying that your oblek has been sadly underused” Svar stood and walked to join us at the door, the leather of his kilt slapping against his thighs.

  Corvak nodded and he placed a hand on the carved hilt of his battle axe, his tail twitching behind him. “I cannot argue with you, but the news I bring may change that.”

  I exchanged a look with Svar as my heart thumped in my chest. “There is news?”

  My battle chief gave a half shrug. “Not an imperial fleet, or even a Zagrath ship, but we have been tracking an unmarked freighter.”

  My attention pricked. “Unmarked? It is not imperial?”

  “Not that we can tell.” Corvak frowned. “And it is damaged.”

  “Life signs?”

  “The freighter’s hull appears to contain something that is muddling them.”

  My pulse quickened. That could indicate an imperial trap.

  My majak huffed out a breath. “It is a sad day when a Vandar horde considers a damaged, unmarked freighter to be of interest.”

  Corvak slid a cold glance at Svar. “We have boarded freighters before and found them to be carrying imperial cargo.”

  I grunted. We all knew that the last time we’d boarded a freighter, our Raas had ended up taking one of the human females onboard as his captive. The battle chief had strongly opposed the move, and had never warmed to the small creature. “I am not sure the cargo was worth the trouble.”

  Corvak choked back a rough laugh. “I might be willing to agree with you, Raas, but a raiding mission is still a mission.”

  “Especially one that might be an imperial trap. Besides, I have no intention of taking prisoners,” I added. Although I liked the human that Raas Kratos had eventually taken as his mate, her presence had been a disturbance on our warbird, and she was the reason Kratos was gone and I was now Raas. As much as I honored Raas Kratos, I had no desire to repeat his actions.

  “Unless they are meant for my oblek?” Corvak asked.

  I gave him a sharp nod, a sense of purpose swelling in my chest. What I needed to banish my doubt was blood dripping from my blade and battle cries filling my ears. I squared my shoulders. “Vaes! Tell the crew that their Raas has declared
today to be a good day to die.”

  Chapter Three

  Bron

  The steel floors rattled as I made my way through the warbird, Svar and Corvak flanking me as we descended to the hangar bay. Red lights flashed around us, reflecting off the exposed piping and suspended, iron walkways that created the labyrinth of the Vandar ship. Bare-chested warriors leapt from winding staircases to fall in step with us, their echoing footfall joining ours to create a drumbeat as we marched.

  Corvak had sent out the battle call, and the command deck crew had immobilized the damaged freighter. Our horde remained unseen by our prey, thanks to our invisibility shielding. All the ship would know is that they could no longer move. They wouldn’t understand that it was a Vandar attack until our raiding ships locked onto their hull. This was why many throughout the galaxy considered us wraiths—ghost ships who appeared out of nothing and portended death.

  A warrior inside the hangar bay snapped his heels together as I passed through the broad, double doors. “Raiding ships ready for departure, Raas.”

  I inclined my head to him, surveying the black, birdlike ships lined up on the expansive, open floor. Curved wings stretched out from round bellies that were waiting to be filled with raiders, metal ramps extending to the floor like tongues. A wide mouth at the far end of the hangar bay opened up onto space, and an energy field hummed across it, keeping everything inside from being sucked out.

  Pausing at the bottom of one of the ramps, I spun and raised a fist into the air. “All glory to Lokken, god of old!”

  The raiders thrust their fists in the air. “Glory to Lokken!”

  I thought of Kratos, and the many times he’d led us into battle with the familiar chants. I pumped my fist higher. “For Vandar!”

  “For Vandar!” my crew bellowed in reply.

  Even without Kratos leading the charge, the war cry both centered me and fired my blood. Our people had been using it since the days we’d roamed the open plains of our home world. It had been the Zagrath who had subjugated us and forced us to take to space, but we held tight to our traditions. Even though our galloping beasts had been replaced by iron ships, we still traveled in hordes of warbirds, and wore traditional battle kilts with long-handled axes swinging from our belts. Despite our advancements in technology, our beliefs in the old ways remained strong. Valiant warriors would live forever in Zedna with the gods of old, and it was our mission to rid the galaxy of imperial control and one day return our people to the home world of Vandar.

  I pounded up the ramp, and my warriors followed close at my heels. Our bodies were pressed tightly together as we clutched steel beams overhead and the ramp slammed shut, then the engine rumbled beneath our feet and the ship thundered across the hangar bay floor and burst into space.

  As I stood near the open cockpit, I had a clear view of the freighter as we approached. Battered and dented, it did not appear to be a warship of any kind. A powerful memory resurfaced. The ship we’d raided when Kratos had taken the human captive had looked similar to this—like a wounded beast not fit for anything but being put out of its misery.

  “Why do I feel like I have been here before?” Corvak growled, shifting restlessly beside me.

  I swallowed the hard knot of disappointment in my throat, remembering that a battle was still a battle. This ship might still be an imperial trap, I reminded myself. I gripped the hilt of my axe and prayed to the gods of old that there would be imperial blood to spill.

  Our ship clamped onto the freighter with a hard jolt, the docking pincers holding us to the hull as lasers cut through the metal. When the hull was breached and our ramp slammed down, my raiders poured out and assumed our defensive formation.

  I ran out with Corvak and Svar on each side of me. “We’ll take the lead. The rest of you fan out and look for any signs of a crew.” I glanced up. “Do not neglect to search the ventilation ducts and ceiling panels.”

  This ship was not as dated and rundown as the human ship I’d boarded with Kratos. Despite evidence it had been recently attacked—patches and scorch marks on the hull—the interior was in decent repair. The ambient lighting in the narrow corridors was low, illuminating the pale gray walls with a blue glow, and the only sounds came from our footsteps and the occasional computerized beep as we made our way toward the front of the ship.

  Even though Corvak had informed me that our scanners hadn’t been able to detect much in the way of life signs, he’d also admitted the scanners had been blocked. I’d held out hope that this meant an imperial fleet would be lying in wait for us, but there was no sign of that, or even a skeleton crew. What kind of freighter flew with no crew? It wasn’t small enough to be a single-man ship, unless the captain was as bold as he was foolish.

  Raiders peeled off in pairs as we continued through the corridors until Svar stopped and raised a fist. His eyes were locked on the scanner in his hand, and he jerked his head toward the sealed door in front of us. “I’m picking up a life sign, Raas.”

  “A life sign?”

  He grimaced. “Just one.”

  So, the freighter contained a solo captain. I was irritated that all our effort had been for one person, but I was also intrigued. It was unthinkable for a Vandar to fly solo. We lived and fought together, and there was no concept of glory independent of our hordes. The only solo captains I’d met were battle-hardened aliens who came from species that valued living alone, or criminals who were on the run. I lifted my battle axe across my chest, curious what species of creature was on the other side of the door. “Let’s meet this captain.”

  Corvak wedged the tip of his curved axe between the seam in the doors and forced it open with a roar, then he and Svar rushed inside. I followed with a loud battle cry, prepared to dodge blaster fire. But there was none.

  Instead, my majak and battle chief stood on the compact command deck with their axes raised and their mouths open. The captain of the ship was not a brazen soldier, or even a grizzled smuggler. She was a female. A human female.

  But she was not like the female captain who’d greeted Kratos with fury and defiance when we’d taken that ship. No, this creature sat slumped in the captain’s chair with bruises on her face and blood trickling from a cut on her forehead.

  Raising her head, she met my eyes with her own dark, slightly winged ones. “I knew someone would come to save me.”

  Save her? Corvak and Svar both swung their heads to me.

  Tvek. I dropped my axe and groaned. We hadn’t found a worthy opponent or a valiant battle. We’d found someone looking for rescue.

  Chapter Four

  Alana

  “Took you long enough,” I muttered under my breath as voices rumbled outside the door to the bridge.

  Not only had I been floating in space with my engines powered down since second watch, but it had also taken the Vandar longer than I’d expected to reach me. My heart knocked against my ribs as the door was wrenched open, but it was from excitement, not fear.

  It was finally time.

  When they thundered onto the bridge, I kept my brow furrowed and my shoulders slumped to feign weakness. I didn’t have to fake my injuries, though. When I was done with this mission, I was going to find the imperial soldier who’d been tasked with roughing me up and give him a little payback. He’d seemed to enjoy slapping me around a bit too much, and his blows had been harder than they’d needed to be to produce a nominal amount of bruising. As it was, my left cheek throbbed, and I was pretty sure one of my back teeth was loose. It would explain the metallic taste every time I swallowed.

  I waited a beat until I lifted my head. “I knew someone would come to save me.”

  There were three raiders standing shoulder to shoulder in front of me. All were enormous with dark hair spilling over their shoulders. They wore leather kilts and lace-up boots, but little else. Their broad chests were bare except for the black swirling marks across their muscles.

  Correction. One of them was not fully bare chested. He had buff-colored sho
ulder armor that buckled across his chest, and finely tooled leather sheathing his forearms. I assumed he was the one in charge, so I focused my attention on him.

  He groaned and lowered his circular battle axe.

  “It’s another human, Raas,” one of his fellow raiders said in the universal language.

  Raas. The Vandar word for warlord—the leaders of their hordes. I’d never actually seen a Vandar Raas before, and I took a moment to take him in. The warlord’s long hair matched the dark scruff covering his cheeks and framing full lips that were currently curved down in a scowl. A beige tail with a black, furry tip flicked behind him in obvious agitation, making him look every bit the predator. If I wasn’t so deadly myself, I would have been terrified.

  “I can see it is a human.” The Vandar leader narrowed his eyes at me. “Who are you, and what are you doing alone in this sector, female?”

  “Alana.” I made my voice tremble as I spoke, reminding myself that most human women would be petrified to be facing three violent Vandar raiders. “My name is Alana.”

  “And this is a Raas of the Vandar,” one of the other raiders said sharply. “You will address him as Raas, or Raas Bron and you will stand when you do so.”

  My gaze returned to the warrior whose dark eyes had never left me. So, this was Raas Bron. If I hadn’t been in the middle of playing a damsel in distress, I would have cheered. Part of my mission was to find and kill Raas Bron, and here he was, in the flesh. I’d managed to lure the correct Vandar horde straight to me. I stood, making sure to appear unsteady on my feet and to hide my elation.

  The Raas cocked an eyebrow and remained silent, clearly waiting for me to answer the rest of his questions.

  “I wasn’t alone, Raas,” I said. “Not when I escaped from the Zagrath camp.”