An Alien Mobster for March (Alien Abduction of the Month)

Chapter 1

Cael attempted to make his four blue arms hang naturally at his sides and not fidget.

He was doing a terrible job.

Even his tail was giving away his irritation as it swished back and forth along the ground. His arms itched. That was the problem. He didn't have enough time to find a reputable skin modifier to alter the family tattoos adorning his body. The first modifier he found worked from a sketchy planet skimmer parked in the back alley of a spice den. Not the type of place a prince should hang out.

But Cael never asked to be a prince.

That's the excuse he used with his father during their many arguments. When the king accused him of not taking his duties seriously, Cael accused him of wanting to rule every second of his life like some whip-bearing taskmaster on an off-planet mining colony. Of course, Cael never wanted to be a prince when it came to dealing with boring bureaucratic meetings or learning how to deal with matters of state. But he was all too happy to be the Prince of Zyranth when it allowed unfettered access to adventures and pleasures throughout the known galaxy. Games of chance, women, and wine filled his cup nearly as fast as his inheritance spilled from his pockets. He was more than happy to be the prince then.

But now, here he was, boarding a slaver ship with other Zyranthian recruits, muttering a prayer to the Seven Goddesses and hoping none of them recognized him. With his family tattoos altered so no one would suspect he was the son of the recently deceased king, he could only hope the body modifications and the fact he was boarding a class-D ship filled with former military soldiers would be enough to hide his identity. He was counting on this plan to work his way back to the royal throne—a throne denied to him as the rightful heir and claimed by his uncle. A throne and a role he thought he didn't want until it was taken from him.

A whoosh of pressurized air filled the thrust pod as the shuttle's door opened between it and the attached larger frigate. The nine guards he arrived with stood and lined up to board the new ship—home for the next few weeks as they guarded a load of cargo. Cael still didn't know what merchandise they were protecting, but judging from the large number of recruits, it must be something important.

"Clan?" inquired a guard from the frigate as he approached the door.

Cael hesitated a moment, looking closer to see if the guard recognized him, but only a swish of his tail and a brief look of annoyance flashed across the guard's face at the prince's delayed answer.

"ó-Mordha," Cael responded, giving him the name of a large common clan which, while technically wasn't his family name, housed some distant relatives and made it close enough to the truth.

The guard glanced down at his roster looking for the clan listed there. "Name?"

"Cael," he said truthfully. Enough boys were named "Cael" in celebration of the prince's birth twenty-seven solars ago; it shouldn't be enough for the guard to recognize him as the prince. At least Cael thought so until the guard fixed him with a stare, his heavy-set eyes searching the prince for some unknown clue.

"My mother's side comes from Clan ó-Mordha. Welcome aboard, brother," the guard said, clapping Cael on the back and pushing him aboard the frigate.

Wondering what he had gotten himself into, a breath of nervous air escaped Cael's lungs as he took his first steps aboard the ship.

Cael hadn't intended on boarding the thrust pod when it left his home planet of Zyranth. His sole purpose was to uncover the whereabouts of his most trusted guard, Baelor. He was the closest thing Cael had to a true friend. After the Council of Elders declared no confidence in Cael's ability to rule and handed the throne to his uncle Bres, Cael sought out Baelor, only to find him missing.

When he finally realized Baelor wasn't in the palace, he went to his family home, where Baelor's parents refused to see him. Cael couldn't blame them. He'd lost his throne, his honor, and his self-respect. He wondered if Baelor felt the same. His friend had often warned him of the consequences of his behavior, but Cael had failed to listen. Baelor was always there, standing two steps behind the prince every time his father chastised him for his juvenile antics. He guarded Cael silently as credits spilled through his fingers, credits which could have elevated Baelor's own family from their meager home to one of refinement. He never said as much, but now, with Cael cut off from the royal coffers, he wondered if Baelor had cut him off as well.

"Prince Cael," a voice had whispered that night from the alleyway next to Baelor's home.

He turned to see Baelor's younger sister motioning for him to come closer, her four index fingers bent in a crook and signaling come here. A quick check of his surroundings told him Baelor's parents were nowhere in sight, but he couldn't be sure of anyone else. Without a royal guard, it was foolish for the prince to wander into dark alleys, but he had little choice. He may not have always treated Baelor with the conduct he deserved, but he could still attempt to find out what happened to him.

The young girl placed her four hands around her mouth, muffling her voice as she whispered, "The Regent sent him away. He's sent Baelor with an entire squad to work for Lord Krissayr."

"Lord Krissayr? Are you certain?" Cael disbelieved the girl, but she nodded emphatically.

It only took a bit more searching to find out her information was correct. Cael's uncle, Bres, the Regent of Zyranth, had sent soldiers, including Baelor, to work for the most notorious crime boss this side of the galaxy.

It was common knowledge Lord Krissayr controlled the sale of slaves used both for work and pleasure, in addition to his other illicit acts. During his reign as king, Cael's father had outlawed slavery on Zyranth. Its citizens were forbidden from profiting or engaging in the trade in any way. It seemed his uncle didn't feel the same and was manipulating legal loopholes in order to fill his own pockets.

Cael had only intended to discover Baelor's whereabouts, but after some investigation, it was clear his friend was no longer on Zyranth. Whether of his own volition or forced to work for the mob boss, Cael was determined to find out. It took his few remaining credits to smuggle his way onto the thrust pod. No one was looking for the missing prince. Yet. But he couldn't guarantee how much time he had before his uncle imprisoned him in the palace. He'd been granted regency only until Cael proved his worth to the Council of Elders. But if his uncle got his way, that day might never arrive.

Instead of waiting for his uncle to control the situation further, Cael put his fate into his own four hands, which is how he ended up on a ship following the other guards deeper into the frigate toward the barracks. He wondered just what cargo they'd been hired to protect. Spice? Stolen goods? Forged credits?

Those thoughts were crossing his mind as he turned a corner, and a small, thin being crashed into him with a tray stacked high with food. Bowls of liqua-meal spilled all over the two of them. The dark-haired creature skidded through the slippery goo and fell hard to the floor. A quick scan told him the amount of food this slight being was carrying was obviously too much for it to hold—it only had two arms, after all.

The Zyranthian guard following behind the creature began berating it for its clumsiness, yelling obscenities as he picked up the spilled dishes from the ship's metal floor. Irritated at being covered in the slimy gel, Cael nearly joined in with his own chastisement until the creature looked up.

It felt like she crashed into him all over again.

His breath left his body so hard he couldn't breathe. Big brown eyes stared up at him from behind silky brown-black hair covering most of her face. But her hair couldn't hide the tears pooling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. Yes, this creature had covered him head to toe in filth, but he would invite her to do it again as long as she continued to look at him. In fact, Cael would spill food all over himself as long as she kept looking at him with those beautiful brown eyes—he was so enraptured.

The creature's gaze fell to the floor, and with a snap the spell broke. Cael could breathe once more.

"I'm so sorry," the female said, skimming gel from her legs and climbing to her feet. "I should have paid more attention to where I was going."

"Hrngh . . ." Cael grunted, all logical thought and speech abandoning his brain.

The guard picked up the last remaining dish and scowled at Cael as if this predicament was his fault as well. "You can't report for duty like that. Take her to the cleansing pods, and both of you get cleaned off. I'll deliver the slaves' food."

"Cleansing pods?" Cael repeated, still not able to form a complete sentence.

"She can show you. And clean your garments while you're at it. Lord Krissayr may not be onboard this ship, but we're going to act as if he is. Understood?"

"Understood," Cael repeated and watched as the guard shook his head at him and the small female in disgust.

"And no funny business. These females are property of Lord Krissayr alone. Keep all four hands to yourself. You can look, but you can't touch."

And with that, he walked away, leaving the prince to cleanse himself alone with the most desirous creature he'd ever met.

"The showers are this way," a soft voice said next to him.

Cael looked down to see the female staring at him, her brows furrowed.

"Showers?" he asked.

"Sorry. Cleansing pods, showers . . . whatever. They're down here. I'll show you."

The female turned and led the way down the hall. After a few minutes, she paused before a closed door. It swooshed open with a puff of air to reveal a large empty room. Cael followed her inside and looked around. Cleansing cylinders lined the ceiling every few feet, making it possible for a group of twenty to cleanse at once. Little was left in the way of privacy, but with so many guards on board, one couldn't expect privacy to be of any importance on this ship.

But the moment the female stopped and looked up at Cael with those furrowed brows, her fingers shaking over the buttons of her purple tunic, he realized what this meant for her. She was expected to cleanse herself in front of him, and the idea obviously filled her with fear.

Cael spun around and faced the door. After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat. It had become dry suddenly.

"Proceed." His voice was gruffer than usual. "I'll watch the door."

"Okay," her small voice said behind him, followed by a shaky, "Thank you."

The sound of water streaming from the cleansing cylinder filled the room, replacing the sound of Cael's heartbeat thrumming in his ears. He still felt it pounding in his chest, though. What about this female unsettled him so much? Was it her strange anatomy? He'd seen plenty of two-armed individuals throughout the universe and had become used to the bizarre lack of limbs. Perhaps it was her strange coloring. Her skin was a dark, silky brown, so unlike his own blue flesh. But as he stood there listening to the sound of her cleansing herself, what came to mind were her eyes. So deep brown, they were almost black. Nothing like the silver eyes of his people. He wanted her to look at him again—stare at him so he could observe them further.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she said, "but could you do me a favor?"

Cael grunted, not trusting his voice to give away the strange effect the female was having on him.

"There's a sort of washing machine to the left of the door. Would you please put my clothes in there? They'll be finished in a few minutes."

Cael looked to the place she spoke of and saw the clothing refresher station. What had she called it? A washing machine? Perhaps where she was from refreshers only washed materials. How strange. For the first time, the prince wondered where this creature came from and why he had seen no others like her before.

Her clothing was on the floor behind him where she'd stripped it off. He turned to pick it up and glimpsed her naked flesh wet with cleansing liquid, the foamy bubbles sliding down her skin. Heat flared through his body, and he forced his eyes to look away. He'd promised her privacy. He wasn't about to break his word, even though his cock jumped at the sight of her.

What is wrong with you? Get ahold of yourself. Remember your purpose for being here.

Baelor. Finding him and figuring out what his uncle was up to. That's why he was here. Not to ogle over some strange female, and certainly not to become involved with her.

Forcing himself to refocus, Cael threw the dirty clothing into the refresher. It would only take a few minutes to vibrate the soiled particles from between the woven strands of cloth.

As he closed the lid on the refresher, the cleansing room door swooshed open, and a handful of guards walked in. Their conversation ceased as soon as they noticed the female bathing in front of them.

The one in front crossed his four arms over his chest and stared. "Well, well, well," he said. "Looks like we're just in time for a show."