CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
___________________
Jillian
––––––––
OH, GOD, JJ! You just had to open your big mouth! It’s too soon! He’ll freak!
But it was true. As with everything else in my life, I’d fallen fast for Fin.
Strong hands turned me, tilted my chin.
I met his eyes, his gorgeous green eyes.
“Jillian Jones, you are my fated mate, made by the Divine Mother to be my perfect match. Yet, even without that, I would love you. You are resilient and caring and stronger than you know.”
“You love me?”
“I love you.”
Joy burst through me, fizzing in my blood. I threw my arms around him, happy tears running down my cheeks.
He kissed them away, then kissed me.
And nothing had ever felt more right.
___________________
––––––––
We spent over two days in the cave. The first morning, the roar of loud shuttle engines had echoed through the entire valley.
It had a few tense hours before they gave up searching for me and left.
Humanity’s craft were boxy and old and inefficient, but at least you could hear them.
For the Varool, we had to count on Fin’s knowledge of operational protocol to make an educated guess about when they’d stop searching.
On the third morning, he put on a special uniform he’d had a machine in his outpost make—it looked a lot like his regular one, only it didn’t have a gauntlet control built in.
And instead of black, it matched his skin, stripes and all.
“That’s different,” I said.
He glanced down at his body. “This is actually the other setting for our regular uniforms. We use it whenever it provides better camouflage than black. Without controls, I cannot change the color settings on this uniform, so I thought this made more sense for living on-planet.”
He pulled another piece of clothing out of the bag. “I fabricated one for you as well. Your human jumpsuits are made from inferior fabric, and this pattern is designed to blend in with the most common form of leaf shape found on the planet.”
It was the same tan as his skin, but instead of varoolian stripes, it had a dappled oval pattern in the same dark, orange-brown. As I pulled on the new uniform, I looked around at all of the supplies he’d gathered. A tent, food, water bottles, a medkit. He’d really thought of everything.
Fin bundled everything into the bags he had ready, leaving nothing behind to show we’d ever been here in case either of our peoples decided to do a more careful search.
In the front cave, he rolled the boulder away from the entrance. I hoisted my pack onto my back, certain it was lighter than his, though he’d never admit it.
Billy bolted ahead, happy to be let outside after being cooped up. Fin followed, with me trailing last. I took one last glance back into the cave. What had once been a place of fear had turned into the closest thing I’d ever had to a home.
I stepped out into the bright sunshine of a lovely morning. A cool wind blew over my cheeks, and the sound of the rushing river filled the air. A pair of birds darted overhead, their singing beautiful.
Fin stood bathed in sunlight, looking more handsome than ever in his striped uniform that almost made him appear naked.
I grinned.
“Ready?” He held out a hand.
I placed mine in his, squeezing his fingers. “Ready.”
We walked up the valley, heading out into this lovely world and our beautiful future.
___________________
––––––––
Thank you for reading Possessed by the Alien Guard. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you loved Jillian and Fin, they make an appearance in Book Four of the Fated Mates of the Varool series, Possessed by the Alien Protector.
––––––––
Want to know if more Varool warriors will find their fated mates among the humans? Ready to discover what happens when humans and Varool are forced to work together? Dive into book one of the Fated Mates of the Varool, Possessed by the Alien King!
––––––––
Or read on for a sneak peek.
––––––––
CHAPTER ONE
––––––––
Deirdre
––––––––
TODAY WAS SUPPOSED to be the happiest day of my life.
What a freaking joke.
I guess it could be worse. I could hate the man I was about to marry, but to do that, I’d have to know him.
While the peace treaty stipulated “a personage of the royal line,” the Varool hadn’t given us the groom’s name.
With my luck, it would be an eighth cousin twice removed who lived on their worst ship.
Except the Varool had no “worst ship.” As far as our military could tell, all of the aliens’ high-tech warships were in pristine condition. It was part of why I was in this mess.
The narrow viewport chilled my skin as I pressed my forehead to it, craning my neck for a better view of the planet below.
Storms swirled across the surface of Sagittarian One in brilliant streaks of white cloud.
Every patch of clear sky showed a surface painted in swaths of green, blue, and brown.
The achingly beautiful world was supposed to give humanity a much-needed second chance.
Instead, it motivated us to make a horrible mistake.
If only Dad had found another way. If only the virus had been stable. If only...
I slapped the metal bulkhead and pushed away from the viewport, the sting of my palm nothing compared to the aching tightness in my chest. Wishing wouldn’t wake me from the nightmare the past few months had plunged me into.
I stuffed my tablet in between the clothes in my bag and sealed the whole thing tight before dropping it beside the door.
Amazing to think my entire life could be reduced down to this.
Then again, no one in the fleet had the luxury of much beyond necessities.
We existed on a strict recycling regimen everyone adhered to—even the daughter of the admiral.
At least I wouldn’t miss this tiny room with its scuffed plastic and metal walls. I’d only been on Chandra Station for a few months—the fleet’s science ship, the Copernicus, still felt like home, even though the events of today meant I’d never live there again.
“Deirdre!” My mother bustled into my room, a frown creasing her light-brown face.
Her hair stuck out in all directions in a fuzzy mess of brown.
Mom had given up on taming her curls when Dad died and the survival of every human in the universe fell upon her.
Her dress uniform, on the other hand, looked perfect.
The heavy, dark-blue fabric held the lines of its formal cut with crisp precision. “Why aren’t you ready yet?”
“Ready?” I reached up to touch my hair. The curls felt springy and crisp, a nice coat of gel holding them in place. They were as good as they got, and doing my hair was as good as I got. If hubby dearest didn’t like it? Tough.
“I programmed a special outfit. Didn’t you see it?
” Mom crossed the room in two steps and tapped at the panel on the white plastic wall.
A high whine cut across the pervasive hum of the air circulators.
She jabbed the release icon again, muttering, “Stupid system. Why won’t you work?
” It was a typical refrain, repeated multiple times a day by everyone in the human fleet.
Dwindling supplies and deteriorating equipment forced us to prioritize critical repairs.
Yet her voice held an unusual note of panic, and her movements were stiff and jerky.
My normally unflappable mother would willingly put herself in danger for others, but she hated that I was the one doing so this time.
She’d tried to talk me out of the marriage a couple of days ago, even though I was the only young woman the Varool considered equivalent to “nobility.”
“Here, let me.” Digging my fingernails into the top left crack of the delivery panel, I yanked down and forward at the same time as I activated the release icon. The whine pitched higher as I pulled. Come on, come on. This shit was the last thing I needed today.
The door swung open with a pop, sending me hopping backward to keep my balance.
A rack slid out, holding two garments. The pale-orange jumpsuit would cling to my body, doubling as an emergency spacesuit. The wispy over-tunic of diaphanous white would add a layer of formality and flowing femininity.
I grimaced. Long orange-brown stripes decorated the tunic, meant to match the skin patterns of the Varool. I’d look ridiculous.
Mom hovered, when she probably needed to be in a dozen other places, taking care of any number of countless problems. It turned out having half your population die put quite a strain on running a successful civilization.
I winced, shoving down the rising wave of remorse threatening to swamp me. Today was too important to mess up—I needed to focus.
“Get changed. They’re going to be here soon. And we need everything to be perfect.” Mom’s tablet beeped, and she frowned down at the screen.
“Go on. You have plenty of other things to do.” I shooed her out of the room and fell back against the door.
Perfect? This is about as far from freaking perfect as you can get.
A nervous bubble of laughter tried to break free.
I stuck a knuckle in my mouth and bit down, afraid if I started, I’d never stop.
Once steady, I slipped out of my bright-white jumpsuit, wishing I were in the lab, working on the latest data about the virus’ mutations.
Really, I’d rather be anywhere else doing anything else.
Even the scut work of my fake job sounded really freaking good about now.
There had to be a sewer line that needed unclogging somewhere—there always was.
I slid into the orange jumpsuit and sealed it tight all the way to my neck.
Then came the dreaded over-tunic. We didn’t know what the stripes meant to the aliens.
Were they random? Did they denote rank or family group?
With my luck, the pattern printed here would be a grave insult or something.
I didn’t see the point of wearing it. No clothing existed in the universe that would fool anyone into thinking I was a varoolian woman.
Even though I was a decent height, they’d been taller, more heavily muscled, and certainly not as curvy as I was.
Now they were dead.
Guilt burned acid in my stomach, but I straightened my shoulders. It didn’t matter how much I hated what was about to happen. I’d do it. I had to. Father and I had made a horrible mistake, and it was up to me to put it right. I owed it to the rest of humanity.
And I even owed it to the Varool.
The fabric slid over my skin, clinging like an embrace I didn’t want. Shivers wracked my body as I tried to imagine what the night would bring. Would the Varool really demand that we consummate the marriage immediately?
Freaking barbarians, the lot of them. It didn’t matter if they had better technology. They were brutes with their big hard bodies and their lack of shirts and... and...
My hands fisted in the delicate fabric.
... and I’m going to marry one of them today.
I couldn’t help fiddling with the gauzy tunic as we waited in the space station’s main receiving room. The stripes startled me each time I caught sight of them. With the way they lay over the lighter jumpsuit, I really did look a little like a Varool.
“Stop fidgeting,” Mom said out of the side of her mouth. She pressed a finger to her ear. “Colonel Roberts says it makes you look suspicious.”
I shot a glare at the surveillance camera.
As the colonel in charge of security, Tandy Roberts might have been my age, but she bossed me around as if she were far older.
She’d been a thorn in my side ever since the Varool declared I was to be the first bride, certain I’d screw up and let slip that I was a virologist.
The elevator doors slid open, and men boiled out, every single one of them tall and broad.
The way the high-tech black fabric of their uniforms clung to their muscular thighs and chests was almost indecent.
Each was a walking lesson in Varool anatomy, which turned out to be very similar to human.
Like Sagittarian One below us, both of our home planets had been seeded with the same early sparks of life.
Separated by parsecs, the three solar systems were relatively close when compared to the breadth of the galaxy.
Every human shifted uneasily as the hulking guards spread across the room, blasters and knives strapped to their hips. One of them grabbed Travis’ upper arm and dragged him forward. The guard barked something harsh in his own tongue, pointing at Travis’ beard.
Four men moved forward from the back, naked from the waist up.
These must be the royals. The Varool believed in showing their “true selves” during important negotiations.
And their true selves revealed a lot of skin—all of it stretched tight over bulging muscles.
They also wore long swords belted over their hips like warriors from ancient times come to life.
The largest of them took Travis’ arm and turned to my mother, his deep-green eyes glaring. “You said all of your men were dead. Now you have lied about this, too?” His English was excellent, and his accent had the crisp bite of perfect enunciation.
But the rest of him... God! He was an enormous brute of a man, all muscle and strength.
His shoulders were easily twice as wide as mine, and my head barely reached his shoulder.
He looked like he could bench press a shuttle.
The orange-brown stripes decorating his torso and arms only highlighted his muscles.
Short, straight black hair did nothing to soften features made of a series of sharp angles that were too hard for beauty.
He was gorgeous.
And about to out Travis in a horribly public way.
Anger flushed hot through my body, and I darted forward to peel the man’s fingers from Travis’ arm. A jolt shivered through me—his skin was so hot! It was like trying to bend solid steel. I got nowhere. Less than nowhere—I hurt my hand. “Let go of him!”
“Explain!” the large Varool snapped.
I searched Travis’ face, praying my fellow scientist would forgive me. He gave a tiny nod, even as his light-brown face scrunched in a grimace.
I looked up at the brute. “He’s... he’s a transman.”
“Transman?” His brow furrowed. “The translator chip lacks this word.”
“He wasn’t born a man but became one later.”
The brute released Travis. “I apologize, we had transmen too.” He leaned forward, looming over me.
At above average height, I wasn’t used to being loomed over. My heart ticked up a notch.
“You cannot, however, blame me for assuming human duplicity,” he said, his voice as cold as the void. “Not when your actions killed every woman and transman of my people.”
I wanted to shout that it hadn’t been planned.
The virus was only supposed to make the Varool sick so they’d think they were biologically incompatible with Sagittarian One.
The mutation was unprecedented and inexplicable.
Also, hadn’t humanity paid enough by losing everyone born with XY chromosomes?
I opened my mouth, but guilt crashed over me, churning my stomach. The Varool was right. Humans had made the virus, humans had released the virus, and humans had lied when the Varool asked if we knew why their women were ill.
The lie had delayed the search for a cure.
Both species had paid—and paid dearly.
Today was supposed to be the first step in repairing the damage, a step only I could take. I owed it to everyone to do my best to make this work.
The retort died on my tongue.
Mom used the lull as an opportunity to step forward. “I am... Admiral Hutchins.” After all these months, she still hesitated to claim Dad’s title, even though she’d been his vice admiral for ten years. “Welcome to Chandra Station.”
The brute thumped a fist to his chest. “I am King Storr, Third of this line and protector of the Varool.”
This was their king? A jolt of anxiety shot through me, setting my heart racing. Oh, god, I won’t have to marry him, will I? The treaty agreement stipulated a “high-born” bride and groom. Without human royalty, I was the closest thing we had.
I also owed a far greater debt that this sacrifice would barely begin to pay.
One of the other aliens stepped forward. Younger and slimmer—though he still looked like a bodybuilder compared to most humans—he had a much friendlier face. “I am Prince Lun. I am the groom.”
A breath rushed from me in relief. Maybe it won’t be so bad after all. Lun looked nice—pleasant even—especially when compared to the glaring king.
Mom waved a hand toward me. “This is my daughter, Deirdre Hutchins, your bride.”
I offered Lun a smile, which he returned.
“No.” A harsh voice shattered the moment. It was the brute, the king. “Deirdre Hutchins is mine.”
The dawning sun of my hope died, snuffed out before it ever burned bright.