Alien Warlords' Heir: SciFi Menage Surprise Baby Romance (Warlords of Octava Book 2) Read online

  As he moved amongst the crowd, Chase was well aware he was drawing many looks. Several of the girls even gasped out loud and the pleased grin on his lips kept tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  How good would it have been to claim one of them for his own, to finally have a fated. To thrust into her wet, tight pussy and fill her with his seed.

  Soon.

  This was his year, Chase was certain of that. All those gorgeous females, one of them had to be his, there was no doubt in his heart.

  One in particular was shining like a star. She shone in the mass of people like they were merely a background to her, flawless ebony skin glistening in the daylight.

  Chase stopped in his tracks. That in itself was something, for a female to make him pay such close attention. She noticed, too and her dark eyes went wide. The warlord could practically hear her gentle gasp of astonishment and then she floated to him as if drawn by powerful magnets, the widest smile he'd ever seen on her lips.

  Every step she took was a little more painful for Chase since he didn't feel anything in his heart. It remained cold and unfilled, aching for a female to ignite the lust and devotion within him. She was beautiful, yes, but that was all there was. She wasn't the one for him.

  Not that he'd ever admit how much he ached for the true intimacy of his fated. He was a Gargon warlord, a leader of his people. With or without the bond, he would have to be whole, even if he felt parts of himself still being missing.

  That was his main issue with Havoc. The man had had the feeling Chase himself desired, the absolute love burning in his heart. It at once infuriated and saddened him. In his grief, Havoc had forgotten all about how good he'd felt when Hannah was alive and allowed it to wither away.

  Ungrateful asshole.

  On the other hand, Chase didn't like to see him tormented like that. After ten years, the pain of loss still showed so sharply. It spoke of how strong and true the bond had been.

  As for himself, Chase had sworn a long time ago that whatever was bound to come would come. If fates decided to leave him alone and unmatched, his bloodline to die, then that was how it would be.

  Gargons could only reproduce with females they were bonded to, that was why they'd dwindled in the years where it seemed as though gods had decided to kill them off as some sort of punishment.

  He loved and hated the Sanguine in equal measures. It was the greatest of the Terran ships, and as such the jewel of the festival whenever it made the trip to Octava. The hope that his true one would be aboard the ship was so great that the disappointment was twice as bitter every time the vessel left.

  The beautiful female was almost before him. Chase shook the misery away.

  "Hi," the female said, stopping a feet from him.

  She was dressed in a long black suit. The pants hugged her thin, long legs tightly while the generous cleavage left little to imagination. Her scent washed over him. A little too strong, even if Chase liked its intensity. Her dark eyes were like deep pits for the soul, reminding the warlord of the vastness of space and the hidden secrets within it.

  "I'm Isabel," the girl continued. "I hope you don't mind me saying, you are the most stunning man I've ever seen."

  Chase chuckled. He didn't miss how the female's hand had twitched, on her way to reach out her fingers and touch him. She ached to, he could see that clear as day.

  "I know you're being kind, but you are from Terra," he said, noticing the way his deep voice made her wince in pleasure. "There could be no equals to me there."

  Her eyes shone like stars, clearly undressing him as Chase ached to do with her. He didn't move, however. Unfortunately, it was only a physical urge. She was not the one meant for him, which was a pity.

  He could only hope the gods had someone even better in mind to tease him so.

  "Still," she said after taking a deep breath, smiling, her eyes speaking of a thousand things she wanted him to do to her. "You know that. You have that something about you that makes women crazy. Even among Gargons, you are... wow."

  Isabel whispered the last word, biting her lower lip slightly. During the whole encounter, she'd barely blinked as though she didn’t want to miss a moment of being able to look at him.

  A shame. She looks healthy and vital. She'd make a good match for me.

  "You are quite beautiful yourself," he replied, surprised when the simple compliment banished all happiness from the female like she was slapped in the face.

  "Quite?" she repeated.

  Chase didn't reply.

  "I see," Isabel said, her shoulders slumping. "I suppose you wouldn't say that if I was your fated, would you?"

  She looked like a baby bird having been kicked from its nest too soon.

  "No," Chase admitted. "I didn't mean to insult you. In fact, I wanted to express my regret over the fact that I didn't sense anything about you. I noticed you in the crowd and I have to say, so far I have never seen your equal either."

  That brought a sad little smile to Isabel's lips. She nodded, not trusting her voice yet when Chase could see the deep misery take root.

  He wondered why they kept doing it, time and time again. Both sides, heartbroken, the females and the warriors both. What kind of torture was that? To stand before a beautiful, willing female and not be allowed to claim her. That had to be some kind of galactic joke.

  The reason why was then shown to Chase. A small distance away there was a warrior, pushing his way through the crowd towards a lovely young woman in blue, her curly blonde hair flying when she turned. Chase could see her eyes go wide as she gasped, looking close to fainting as the warrior caught her in his arms without a word of hello.

  Neither one of them spoke. They stood frozen in that moment, trying to cope with the forces that had to be tearing them apart from the inside.

  Chase tried not to be jealous. The warrior looked capable, and the woman a good fit for him. They were bound to continue the Gargon line soon and bring glory to his people. It wasn't his place to wish misfortune upon others when he wasn't given the same fate.

  Isabel was watching, too. Her dark eyes were sad enough for him to believe her heart was bursting from sorrow. He nearly took a step closer, wanting to pull her into his embrace. A single tear rolled down Isabel's cheek. She wiped it away hastily.

  Obviously the day was not going the way she'd wanted it to either.

  Gargon females were different. They could be expected to shrug off the blow of fate and carry on without a scar. Terrans, Chase had noted, were not so invulnerable. They took things to heart.

  A part of him envied that. He didn't see it as a weakness, especially in females. It was their way to live life to the fullest. Unlike him, they were also free to express it. That was a rare luxury.

  "Is this your first trip?" he asked, ripping Isabel out of her musings.

  "Yes," she said, looking at him.

  The smile returned to her lips, yet there was a false quality to it now. For some reason, it made the woman herself look a little faker for it.

  Chase started to notice the tiny cracks in her perfect demeanor, as though she was a doll put together and carefully held up by strings. Adorned with pretty clothes and flawless make-up, she was gorgeous until you didn't look too close. Then, the pain in her was too obvious to miss.

  Perhaps she wasn't the right person for me after all.

  "Then you have no reason to worry," the warlord offered, motioning for her to walk with him. "There are plenty of women who have found their fated on their third or even fourth journey. The Sanguine, and others of her kind, don't discriminate against those willing to risk their hearts."

  She laughed, nodding.

  "You sound like Dana," she said. "She's our ambassador here. She calls those women masochists."

  "I know of her," Chase said thoughtfully. "We've never met. I gather she doesn't approve of much of this."

  "She's very protective of us," Isabel said with plenty of that emotion in her own voice, walking with him towards the arenas w
here the tournament was about to begin. "I know there are many ways this could all still end well for me. The day is young.

  "The Sanguine doesn't leave for another two days. I can always come back. I can even stay, like some have. Venture further from the capital, see if my luck hides somewhere deeper in your beautiful world."

  "Exactly," Chase said, nodding. "Amuse yourself. Be patient. Gargons believe your fate will find you."

  "One way or another, it finds us all," Isabel agreed with morbidity that didn't fit her young age. "However, that is not a guarantee of happiness."

  That was almost exactly what Chase had thought before. The deep, dark fear of his heart.

  "Nothing is," he replied somberly, the dark edge in his deep voice making Isabel jump a little. "That is not a reason to stop living. I must warn you, Miss Isabel.

  "The greatest curse my species ever encountered is that our lives are not always in our own hands, but in the fickle ones of fate. We have always had obstacles in our way, our bonds are complicated. Yet the worst thing you – or I – could do is to spend our lives waiting. Nothing good will come of that."

  "What if the thing you want is worth waiting for?" Isabel asked and the gaze of her dark eyes didn't leave him for a second.

  Chase stopped, turning to her. With each second, he was tiring of her more and more. Under the pretty facade, Isabel was the type of woman who didn't fare well on Octava. The one who hadn't come in search of love and destiny, but had already made up their mind as to whom they wanted. Not only did she bring up feelings he didn't welcome and fears that were ought to be buried, he suddenly knew that his world would not bring that woman the future she wished for.

  "You dream of shadows," he told her coldly, knowing – from experience and from ancient knowledge both – that it was better to be blunt. "Of paths that aren't yours and destinies that will elude you if you do not stop."

  Her eyes were throwing daggers at him now, yet her fierce spirit kept her grounded.

  "That is cruel, warlord," she hissed. "Even for the likes of you."

  You already know who I am.

  The man she'd come searching for was him. She'd come specifically for him. It wasn't as much surprising as it was unwelcome.

  Things like that happened to his people all the time. After all, images and vids of him were all over the many worlds and territories of the CAS. The warlords of his people were public figures and about half the reason the women aboard Sanguine flocked to Octava.

  Most of them had the good sense to come for someone in general, not a vision they'd already fallen for. It had never worked and never would. Fate didn't favor those who wanted to force its hand.

  "I've been called cruel before and for a good reason," Chase replied, his anger turning the answer into a growl. "Some of it has been deserved. Trust me when I say that I'm trying to save you. Leave this place."

  Isabel looked like he'd struck her, her plump lips quivering. The warlord groaned. If his words carried that much weight, she was already lost.

  "No," she said defiantly.

  He'd expected nothing less.

  "As you wish," he said. "Just remember – fate rules us, but our choices are our own. Go, before I change my mind and send my warriors to physically drag you back to the quest ship."

  Fuming, Isabel opened her mouth to say something. Chase turned on his heel and marched away, heading for the arenas.

  He'd never been so glad for the opportunity to duel his anger away. Battle had a sort of calming effect for him. There, all the complications of life fell away and the world became a much simpler place. Only him and his weapons, against the opponent before him.

  Pure, simple and perfect.

  Perhaps that was his true love, the heat of battle. Not all men were born to love. If he was honest with himself, Chase didn't even know if he had the capability to commit the way bonds demanded. There was bitterness in him that Chase wasn’t sure even fate could overcome.

  Havoc was waiting for him already. He was just in time.

  The callers bellowed out Chase's name as he walked to the arena, still burning with rage. The crowds cheered wildly, the main arena packed with spectators. Out of the corner of his eye, the warlord could see Isabel pushing her way through the people to get a better seat, not having heeded his warning.

  He snarled. The woman was infuriating. Seeing the look of utter indifference in Havoc's eyes, Chase began to think if his frenemy hadn't been right after all for not wanting to come.

  After the duel, they were both free to leave. That would be motivation enough.

  Chase left the rifle on his back. Guns were allowed in duels like all weapons were. Havoc had clearly accounted for that, wearing a sturdier version of his regular armor, making him look positively enormous.

  It didn't matter. Chase refused to simply settle the fight by shooting at his opponent with a long-ranged weapon, even though for all his size, Havoc could move damn fast. There was no fun in that, not for him and not for the spectators. That didn't mean he wasn't going to take the opportunity when it presented itself.

  Instead, Chase unsheathed the long knives from his belt. When they were securely in his palms, the blades reached his elbows. Havoc was grinning now, the first spark of life Chase had seen from him in a long while. He answered with one of his own.

  Fate might not have been kind to either of them, but there was always battle to take the edge off the world.

  Chase set out to meet Havoc halfway. The crowd erupted with a deafening cry.

  Right at the last moment, Chase glanced to the side. The warlord wasn't completely sure himself why he'd done that. It was foolish to get distracted during a duel, especially with an opponent as dangerous as Havoc. Yet something drew his eyes away like they were pulled by a cord.

  He noticed Isabel in the crowd, but it wasn't the dark-haired woman who suddenly drew him in with a force more powerful than gravity.

  Chase's heart nearly stopped, only to restart again, beating only for her. The female standing next to Isabel, looking at him with wide blue eyes, was the single most amazing sight he'd ever seen.

  His fated.

  4

  Dana

  The spectators were confused.

  Rightly so, in Dana's mind. The two warlords who were supposed to give them all a big showdown – they'd been hyping it since the Sanguine docked and the news of both Chase and Havoc having agreed to fight started circulating – had stopped in their tracks. Both were looking somewhere roughly in her direction like they'd seen a ghost.

  There was no mistaking what was going on, of course. Only one thing could make Gargon men freeze like that. They had noticed their fated somewhere in the crowd. Even Dana was looking around to see where the women were, despite the fact she had no earthly way of knowing that.

  Isabel, by her side, was beaming however.

  "I knew it," Dana could hear her whisper. "I knew it."

  Dana's heart leaped. If one of her friends really found her fated, her last trip wouldn’t be so bad after all. She would leave knowing that there was some happiness in the world after all and that the long, arduous trips the Sanguine took had managed to bring people together.

  It would have been the perfect finale for her.

  "Do you feel something?" she asked Isabel, interested. "I thought Terrans didn't feel the bond as strongly as Gargon women do. Is it you?"

  She tried not to let hope seep into her voice too much, just in case it wasn't Isabel's lucky day.

  Looking at the warlords, it would have been such a pity. They were nothing short of the two most gorgeous men Dana had ever laid eyes upon. Even her closed-off, sealed heart beat faster, observing those two with a judging look.

  The two men couldn't have been more different. One was a rough, heavy brute of a man, looking like he was descended from bears and hadn't completely shaken that ancestry yet. The black armor he wore was adorned with red symbols, making it look like he wore a suit of hot coals.

  The deep red ey
es and the crimson lines on his face and bald head only added to the imagery of a man on fire.

  Or he's just very hot. Bad pun. Gods, look at those biceps, I bet he could throw me over his shoulder with one hand and...

  She had to stop there and bite her lip. The day was already hot and Dana was quickly growing concerned that she needed to take a freezing shower when she got back to the Sanguine.

  Merely looking at the giant made her ache for a man's touch more than all the years spent alone had been able to conjure up. He was the epitome of a man, the image of a warrior. And Dana couldn't stop wondering if everything else about the warrior was as huge as he himself was.

  It was hard to focus just on the big guy when the other drew her looks just as much. In contrast to his opponent's massiveness, the other warlord was tall and lean and perfect. The black strands of his hair fell carelessly over his eyes and the look of those golden blue eyes was setting Dana's body on fire.

  She could feel her pussy throb under his burning gaze, her panties wet from simply looking at the warriors. Unlike the giant, the tall warrior was handsome in a far more classical way. His face was clearly the handiwork of gods, with those breathtaking eyes, chiseled features and high cheekbones. For all that, he didn't look any less powerful than the warrior of fire, his strength evident in the way he carried himself. Together, they looked like ice and fire.

  Calm down now. They aren't for you.

  Then, the two warriors began to walk as one, right towards her and Isabel. With how easily they commanded the audience, everyone watching their every move with bated breath, Dana didn't need to ask who they were.

  There was only one warlord on Octava that massively built, and it was Havoc. She knew all about him, just as she knew about the other warlord, who had to be Chase. Between the two of them, they commanded more than half of the Gargon armada.