Hunted by the Alien Pirate: Mates of the Kilgari Read online

  Hunted by the Alien Pirate

  Mates of the Kilgari

  Celia Kyle

  Athena Storm

  Contents

  The Athenaverse Star Chart

  Blurb

  The Story So Far…

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  About the Authors

  Also by Athena Storm

  The Athenaverse Star Chart

  Blurb

  He’s one of the most skilled alien engineers in the galaxy.

  And he’s got my motor running.

  I can’t get enough of Montier.

  Those broad golden shoulders and big arms that want to sweep me off my feet...

  Those alien bedroom eyes that look into my soul...

  Those abs that I want to feast on...

  It’s enough to make any human woman swoon.

  Except we don’t have time to swoon when we’re in constant danger.

  The people who kidnapped me have chased me around the galaxy and they’re not giving up.

  We don’t know why they want me and my friends so much.

  Hell, we don’t even know who they are.

  Until Montier finds something that could blow this thing wide open.

  It’s a gamble, but we’re willing to wager everything.

  It’s dangerous, but the alternative is death.

  This gorgeous horned alien man is my fated mate.

  He’s sworn to protect me till the last star vanishes.

  And now he’s going to lay it all on the line to keep me safe.

  Because otherwise we’re all gonna die.

  The Story So Far…

  The year is 2338. Humanity has weathered it’s infancy and has navigated to the stars. They’ve colonized other worlds and become a space faring civilization and formed the Interstellar Human Confederation.

  Along the way, they’ve come to discover that the galaxy is actually a pretty crowded place. There are several political entities in the galaxy.

  The Trident Alliance is composed of the Vakutan, the Pi’rell, and the Alzhon.

  The Ataxian Coalition is composed of the Odex, Kreetu, Grolgath, and Shorcu.

  The Coalition and the Alliance has been fighting a war for about 350 years. At its heart, it’s an existential conflict that determines whether the known galaxy will be guided by the teachings of the Ataxian religion or by the capitalistic and technocratic tendencies of the Trident Alliance.

  Details are unclear how the war between the Alliance and Coalition started, but atrocities in the name of protecting the innocent have been committed by both sides.

  Several races, trying to remain neutral and unaffiliated with either side have formed a loose political union known as the League of Non-Aligned Races. Each race maintains their sovereignty. Member states meet infrequently to discuss trade and security matters, but no true leadership exists.

  Many races over the centuries have settled and created a political entity known as the Helios Combine, situated between Coalition and Alliance space and next to the Badlands - a region of space with many stellar phenomena. The Combine is known for it’s slave based economy, its capitalist based caste system, and a rigid social class system.

  Humanity had for a long time maintained their neutrality, but after multiple encounters, sided with the Alliance in their war against the Coalition.

  War has been unkind to the humans.

  Against this backdrop, a large IHC freighter, named the Frontier was found adrift in space by a Kilgari smuggler ship called the Ancestral Queen. The women were found either in cryosleep or emerging from it, with no idea how they ended up on the ship other than the fact that they had been arrested by human security on a number of worlds.

  What they discover is that their government has announced that they are terrorists and wanted for acts of treason and espionage. None of the women believes they have done anything to warrant this.

  The Kilgari are aliens that live in a matriarchal society and belong to the League of Non Aligned Races. The Ancestral Queen, led by Captain Solair has brought the women on board and continued to help them as well as integrate those who wish to stay into the crew.

  Some women wish to return to their homes. Very few had any sort of real families. But they all want to clear their name and bring those who are falsely accusing them to justice one day.

  That day has yet to come…

  Chapter One

  Montier

  The pounding of the surf washing up on the pristine, white sand beach mixes with my own grunts of exertion as I heft the golden-hued panel over my head and struggle to fit it into place. Blinking sweat out of my eyes, I check to see it’s arranged properly before snapping it into the housing.

  Nearby, the portable crane sits mired in the sand. I told Solair we should have gone with a hover model rather than a wheeled one, but given how hideously expensive they are I suppose I can’t fault him for the decision he made. After all, it’s not often that one enacts repairs on a sandy beach, even for an atmosphere-capable ship like the Ancestral Queen.

  Besides, I have no need for the crane. I can heft the ablative armor panels all on my lonesome. I’ve been working all day, and this is the last piece.

  Once it’s secured in the housing, I use my self-sealing bolt gun to ratchet it permanently into place. This new alloy will help disperse and redirect energy weaponry away from our hull, an essential upgrade given that we’re now on the Interstellar Human Conglomerate’s shit list. The Queen was never intended to be a warship, but her formidable defenses served us well before we picked up the refugees from the derelict Freighter the Frontier.

  Not that I’m bitter about Solair’s decision to take the human women under our protective wing, not at all. It was the right thing to do from a moral standpoint, and anyway many of them have proven to be invaluable members of our blended crew.

  And I have a very personal, perhaps even selfish reason for my tacit approval. I believe one of the women is my fated mate—Fiona. I’ve suspected for a long time she might be my chosen one, but of course I haven’t had a chance to verify it with a kiss. Now that Fiona is serving as part of the bridge crew, I barely get to see her any longer.

  My face twists into a sour expression even as I fit the last bolt into place. The only reason Fiona was assigned to the navigation console is because my friend Lokyer got himself killed trying to be a hero. Scratch that, he WAS a hero, though it’s most emphatically past tense.

  It’s been a long time since we lost a member of the crew, and I should know. I’ve been serving on board the Queen under Captain Solair since he first inherited the ship. Crew mates come and go, but Lokyer was like family. At times like this, I’m struck by how truly helpless we are in the face of death, in spite of our techn
ology.

  I’ve stripped to the waist, and the stiff breeze coming off the crawling, wrinkled sea feels good as it cools the sweat on my body. I take a moment to soak it in before looking at the gangplank settled in the sand. There are things I could be doing, perhaps even should be, but by my own estimation I’ve earned a break.

  Udrillon is perhaps the most beautiful world I’ve ever been to, with all apologies to my home world of Kilgar. Our society, our race, is very old, and precious little land back home hasn’t been developed. Those areas that do remain untouched and unspoiled are often nature preserves, and it’s forbidden to go there without express approval from the matriarch’s council.

  But here, I’m free to walk through the sand, watch the roaring surf, and enjoy the exotic wildflowers, which seem to spring from every surface, even the strange looking stiff-leaved trees. Just because I spend most of my time in the engine room or in my workshop doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the outdoors. I do so because of necessity, even sleeping in there from time to time. Okay, most of the time.

  It truly is lovely here. Lokyer had always wanted to retire to a tropical world, and this would have been perfect. My heart breaks with sadness at the thought that he never even got to see it before his death.

  As I trudge along through the sand, I encounter others from the crew who are likewise enjoying this paradise for as long as we can. Snippets of their conversations reach my ears, most of it pertaining to the recent mate bonding ceremony of Swipt and Ilya.

  Three of my crewmates have found their fated mates, which is very unusual. That’s not how things normally go in Kilgar society. Females are born at a very low rate, thanks to a long-ago mistake by our society, and one woman might have as many as a dozen husbands, almost always more than one. Fated mates are a true rarity.

  But now there have been three pairings, and with human women, not Kilgari. I wonder why this is happening now, and with such frequency?

  The conversations on the beach halt almost at once as if by rehearsal. I notice many horned heads turning toward the ship. Curious, I look as well, and my jaw falls open when I see what has distracted them so.

  It’s Fiona, our erstwhile nav officer, but she’s out of uniform. In fact, I have to look twice because at first I think she’s naked as the day she was born. As it turns out, she is covered—if you can call it that.

  Her pale face is pulled into a smile, her blue eyes hidden behind dark glasses to blot out harmful rays from Udrillon’s dual suns. I am mesmerized by her curvaceous body, the swell of her breasts and the flare of her hips. Her skin seems to glow with inner light, the vitality of youth apparent in both her flesh and her easy grace of movement. The tiny triangular bits of cloth struggle to cover her nipples and love cradle, leaving little to the imagination.

  Fiona seems completely oblivious to the attention she garners, which might have something to do with the way she stares at her portable datapad and computer unit. When she comes abreast of me—no pun intended—Fiona glances up at last, and our eyes meet.

  Her face is creased with a wide smile, and she offers a little wave. Fiona’s gaze runs up and down my bare chest with what I think—or perhaps hope—is appreciation. Years of lifting heavy ship parts have given me a physique similar to a body builder or professional athlete, but Fiona has always struck me as a woman of a more intellectual milieu.

  I return the wave, my knees feeling weak as she passes by so closely I can feel her body heat. Inhaling through my nostrils, I drink in her scent and exult in its ecstasy.

  Then she moves past me, and my eyes open so widely they nearly topple right out of my head. The back of the swimsuit bottoms she wears is nothing more than a single string no bigger than a data entry stick. I find myself instantly, painfully erect, in both my members.

  I follow her like a lost puppy, staring wistfully at her nigh fully exposed form. For an egghead, she certainly is beautiful, and her manner makes her even more so. Fiona isn’t arrogant despite her high intelligence—unlike Dr. Thrase, who takes every opportunity to display her intellect. That should make Fiona more approachable, yet I’ve not had much of a chance to speak with her, especially now that she’s part of the bridge crew.

  She spreads out a blanket on the sandy beach and sits cross-legged on its surface, deploying her datapad and portable computer unit so she can work outside. Who can blame her on such a gorgeous world as Udrillon?

  I’m trying to be discreet, but I can’t help but stare. Deep down, I know she’s my fated mate, but how in the world would I ever begin to approach her about it?

  Perhaps I’m not so discreet after all. Without looking, Fiona raises her voice high enough to be heard over the pounding surf.

  “It’s okay, Montier. You can come and talk to me.” She turns at last and pulls the glasses down onto the bridge of her nose. “I don’t bite.”

  Chapter Two

  Fiona

  Ever since I began my duties as the Ancestral Queen’s navigation officer, conflict has roiled in my gut. You see, on one hand I love my new job. Love it. The bridge is the brain of the ship, and most of the interesting things that happen either happen there or have their origins in its golden-skinned confines.

  But I’m conflicted because the only way I got this job was due to the death of the former navigation officer, Lokyer. He died a hero, protecting his dear friend Swipt as well as others. This tempers my enjoyment of my new post, though I’ve always loved working with tech.

  And I’m good at it, too. I’ve always been a techie, for as long as I can remember. Further, if my family is to be believed. One of my brothers claims that I was pecking away on Mom’s old datapad when I was barely out of diapers, and my father confirms this.

  So I have a knack with technology, call it intuition, savant syndrome, or just plain high degree of interest. I think perhaps my biggest asset when dealing with tech is that when I run into a problem, I don’t grow frustrated like most sapients do. Rather, I see it as a puzzle, an intriguing challenge even if it proves not to be that challenging.

  Tech I’m good with because it follows solid, inflexible rules. Coding, data, and circuitry all have to obey certain laws of order because otherwise they don’t function.

  Other sapients, people, if you will?

  Not so much.

  Interpersonal relationships were never my forte, even back on Novaria where much of the populace was human like me. Now that I’ve been thrust out into the galaxy at large, I’ve had to deal with other sapients, including the Kilgari crew who rescued us from the derelict Frontier.

  Of course, we wouldn’t have been alive to rescue if not for yours truly and a stroke of blind luck. My cryo pod was one of the ones that malfunctioned and opened early, and just in time, too. I was able to rig a cargo bay up with enough life support to keep us going, for a while at any rate. Solair and the Ancestral Queen literally showed up in the nick of time to save us all.

  So we blended our crew, and for a while I worked down in engineering with Montier, the ship’s chief technical officer. Also the chief hottie officer, because…damn. For an ostensible science nerd, he’s built like a BBL linebacker, or an underwear model. I guess all the heavy lifting he does each and every day as part of his normal duties have paid off.

  Montier is not exactly what you would call a personable sort. Far from it. Many of his own people consider him to be gruff and off-putting in the extreme, which is rare for the polite and well-mannered people he hails from. But I can see past his exterior and know that his perceived bad attitude comes from his strong desire to take care of the ship, and by proxy everyone on board, as well as frustration from those who don’t take as good of care of the vessel as he would want.

  If it sounds like I have a thing for Montier…I absolutely do. From the first time I laid eyes on him, I felt something stir inside of me, not lust, though to be honest there’s plenty of that sentiment as well. Connection? I suppose that’s the right word. Chemistry? I feel it, and I often wonder if he does as well.
>
  Unfortunately, given both his solitary nature and my duties putting me at the exact opposite end of the ship, I’ve had precious little opportunity to explore these burgeoning feelings. Perhaps that’s why I decided to take drastic measures.

  The skimpy little swimsuit I wore out to the beach today was intended to get Montier’s attention in the most lascivious way possible. Judging from the way he’s been staring at me, I’d say it worked.

  When I couldn’t stand the feeling of his eyes boring holes into my back any longer, I invited him over for a chat.

  To my immense pleasure, he accepted, and now he’s crouching down beside me in the sand, the gentle afternoon sunlight reflecting off the golden skin of his chiseled musculature. One look in his big, sensuous eyes and my heart rate increases to a higher tempo.

  “Hey there, big guy. Well, you’re clearly not a vampire. You didn’t explode in the sun.”

  “Vam—pire?” He cocks his handsome face to the side, a slight grin spreading over his lips. “Is that some sort of sports official?”

  “No, it’s a—I don’t know what the word in galactic standard might be—a ghost? A ghost who drinks blood and explodes into fire in the open sun.”