Alien Want (Most Wanted Alien Brides: Kantenans #2)

Chapter 1

STRON

One month before

Stron stretched on his bed, shifting back and forth. The sheets barely covered him.

Not that he cared.

He sat up and ran his hands over the curve of his horns on the sides of his head- a natural reaction when he woke. When he was a child, he would stroke the horns to see how much they had grown every morning. Now, it became part of his wake-up ritual.

“About time you woke up,” came a sensual female voice.

Stron smiled and looked toward the entrance. “Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?”

She raised her eyebrow. “Goodbye would mean that we meant something to each other, Stron. You and I both know that's not true.”

He shrugged. “I would think a female of your breeding would practice better manners, Patrie.”

He climbed out of the bed and Patrie watched him.

She usually did.

He was a fine Kantenan to look at.

“I would think you would be more blasé about our informal relations.” She crossed her arms. “Are we still informal?” While she stood straight to keep up appearances, there was emotion in her eyes.

Emotions were bad.

Neither of them had wanted anyone to get too close to them, and they both agreed to the arrangement at the start.

Neither of them wanted a mate. They both knew what mating looked like when Kantenan biology took over, and the matches weren’t the best, intellectually. But it also meant that there was a cycle to everything, as well.

“Things are changing.”

It was time for him to end this, for his own benefit and for hers. Though he was less angry about the end of this relationship. It just meant the beginning of something new. New beginnings were always pleasant things.

He stretched, and his fingers grazed the curved ceiling above him.

“It doesn't have to.” She came closer to him, her lip quivering.

He hated when females got clingy at the end. He was always forthright and explained what the path of the relationship would be, and what it would not be.

He felt last night that Patrie was getting a little too connected, and he decided then it was time to make a change.

“We're at the end of our path, Patrie.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You don't care? At all?”

Stron shrugged. “We had a nice run. It has been fun, but I think it's time we moved on. Headed off into our own veins of life, without this.”

She blinked. “What if I don't want to?”

“I don't think it matters,” he replied. “As much as we fuck, we don't knot. So, it doesn't matter, now does it?”

“How do you think? We just haven't--”

He wrapped the sheet around his middle. “Patrie, all good things end. Don't be a baby about this. It's time for you to leave. For good.”

She blinked. “I cannot believe you would attempt to--”

“Do what, exactly? End a physical relationship that had no connection?”

“Maybe not for you.”

She ran her fingers over the wood trim along the doorway, before looking at him again. “Maybe you're lying to yourself to stay with me.”

“Maybe you just refuse to connect with anyone.”

He shrugged. “It doesn't matter either way, because you won't grace my bed again.”

She shook her head, the emotional expression shifting to anger. “You don't want to go down this trench with me, Stron.”

He wasn’t intimidated by it. “And what trench is it? You're merely looking desperate now. And we both know that's not a good look, not on a Gol-Vett.”

She snarled at him, her armor extending from her brow. “Don't you dare--”

“Goodbye, Patrie,” he said as he started escorting her to the carved wooden door. “Find your mate on the path of the best vein.”

“You've met someone, haven't you?” She asked at the door.

“If that was the case, you would not be here.”

She snarled. “You had better hope I don't meet her.”

“Is that a threat, Patrie?” he asked. “Because you know how I feel about threats.”

He exhaled, and his armor came out, running down his arms like lattice, ready to take out anyone who dared attack his potential.

Even if she didn't exist.

“I am the daughter of--”

Stron cut her off. “And I'm the son of a name too. Now get going. I'll have anything you left here delivered.”

She opened her mouth to object, but he shoved her out of the residence and onto the sidewalk of Carvonday, the province he lived in.

He sighed and rested his head on the door after she left.

Ending relationships was never fun.

But it had to be done.

She was getting clingy and boring anyway.

His alarm began to ring.

Time to head to the exercise gym.

Stron spun his large, two-bladed staff, the ju-nak, around as he met Khalzin in the center of the exercise floor, ready to fight.

He was ready to work off any lingering frustrations from Patrie. He had some, not a lot, but he hated when they became so attached.

Kantenan bonding connected two almost immediately. If they were meant mate, there would be no question about their connection.

Patrie and he had not felt that bond.

He would have thought she would understand that from the beginning. But she, like others, tended to want to hold onto something that didn’t exist.

It frustrated him.

When Khalzin had requested an early meeting at their usual gym, he had been happy to accept the invitation.

“Engaging early,” Stron said.

Khalzin nodded. “Wanted to get ahead of others.” His stance was off, and he looked like he was simply following the flow if only to get through the warming up workout. Something was going on with his friend, and he didn’t like that.

“Shall we?” Stron asked.

Khalzin bowed, and Stron returned the gesture. Stron raised his weapon.

He launched at him, but Khalzin hesitated. “You are distracted today,” Stron said as he started in again.

“I have a lot on my mind,” Khalzin replied as he blocked two shots.

“Go see someone. Get frustrations out.” Stron’s weapon hooked on Khalzin's. They were locked up for a moment before the twang of metal echoed in the practice room as they pulled apart.

More Kantenans preparing for their daily workouts were filling in.

Stron preferred the room when it was empty.

More room to throw Khalzin around.

“You are not one to speak,” Khalzin said. “Did you or did you not have to--” He swung hard, pushing back against Stron. “--face a tribunal last month?”

The tribunal should not have happened. He did not break any laws. Made some questionable decisions in the name of the Ruler of the Green, his father, but he didn’t break any rules.

Still, the Coalition decided he needed a reprimand.

“That wasn't my fault. You know that.” He turned sideways and got control of Khalzin, ready to send him to the floor.

“It was never his fault,” another voice from across the room added, making Stron freeze.

Khalzin took advantage and countered, sending him backward a few steps. Stron spun his ju-nak, his fingers finding their position in the heirloom weapon that had been crafted many generations before him.

“You do know what you speak,” Stron said, glaring at Dhomhes. “My tribunal was not my fault.”

Dhomhes came closer, the smile on his face and wicked glint in his eyes reminded Stron just how many informants that Dhomhes had. His family was not the highest esteemed in Kantenan, but they always seemed to know everything that was happening both on and off world.

“If it wasn't then why were you at a tribunal at all?”

“Do you have to be such a snake,” Khalzin asked.

“He's always a snake,” Fiviel said as he stepped next to Dhomhes. “Makes him the most dangerous male in this room.”

Stron barked in laughter. Dhomhes like to think he was dangerous, but really, Stron could take him. And they both knew it.

“You don't think I'm dangerous?” Dhomhes asked, stepping closer to Stron. “You might be surprised what I'm able to accomplish.”

Stron spun, his ju-nak brought around to Dhomhes. “Shall we go a bit and find out?” Throwing Dhomhes around on the mat would be very satisfying.

Dhomhes put his hand up. “Fighting you doesn't interest me. You're obviously full of your own strength with the weapon of your family. Am I armed?”

Stron sighed. Of course, he resisted.

Khalzin gestured to Dhomhes. “Behind your back.”

“You seem to know me well.” Dhomhes yanked out knives, his ancestral family weapon. He was good with them, better than when he used a ju-nak.

Not as good as Stron, though. He would fight him regardless of the weapon choice.

Stron shifted his stance, prepared to fight with Dhomhes and remind him exactly which Gol-Vett he was dealing with.

“What do you want?” Stron asked.

“There's so much that I want,” Dhomhes replied.

“This was not your conversation, Dhomhes,” Khalzin said. “You can move along and perform your own workout.”

“Defending your friend? How nice of you,” Dhomhes said.

“He doesn't defend me,” Stron said, snarling.

“I'm not the one you need to be concerned about,” Dhomhes said, smiling that wicked grin of his. “I didn't receive an executive order from the Coalition.”

“What's he going on about?” Stron glanced at Khalzin.

“I intended to speak to you about that.”

Dhomhes crossed his arms. “Go ahead. Tell us.” For a moment, Dhomhes’s gaze shifted to Fiviel, and the two exchanged a knowing glance.

What did they know that he didn’t?

Stron didn’t like being the last one to know anything.

“Why would he tell you anything?” Stron said and shook his head. What did he know? “You seem to think you know what's going on.”

“I always hear whispers.”

They were certainly not the only ones here now, and several combatants in the room were watching.

And listening.

Whatever this was, it must be in the rumor veins already.

“I am working on bringing in a new option for the mating pool,” Khalzin muttered.

Stron studied his friend. Khalzin's father had been in the sciences, and Khalzin also had a mind for it.

Stron considered that the dating pools had just grown thin as of the last few years, that perhaps he was too blocked to meet someone.

But if Khalzin is seeing something similar in his data, then maybe it is not just Stron who feels the pinch.

Fiviel raised his eyebrow, shifting from one foot to the other. The faintest grinding of gears could be heard when Fiviel’s mechanical knee shifted. “Did you find a pool of females in the mountains who were desperate for a fresh group of males to meet?”

“That would be nice,” Stron said. “New faces and all.” They all could use a new pool of mates.

“New faces are part of it,” Khalzin said. “I need volunteers to help me prove a theory for the Coalition.”

“Whatever it is, my friend, I will assist,” Stron said. He knew Khalzin would not ask if he did not truly need the assistance, and Stron would never leave him stranded.

“Thank you, I hoped you would be willing. However, you need to know what it requires before you commit.”

“And it is a commitment,” Dhomhes said.

“Do you want to tell them, since you seem to think you know everything,” Khalzin snapped.

“No, please. You're doing fine.”

Khalzin grimaced. “The Galactic Alliance has a program where they bring willing alien mates to different worlds to procreate.”

“You want me to mate with an off-worlder?” Stron asked. Was that even possible? The Kantenan mating was limited to their own people.

Wasn't it?

“In a matter of speaking.”

“There is no matter-of-speaking,” Fiviel said. “We mate with them, or we don't.” Leave it to Fiviel to break it down.

Even Khalzin seemed to recognize the clarity of his statement.

Dhomhes grinned, looking far too eager to hear the details of this.

Stron wanted to knock that cocky smile off his face.

“It is a program for the science of it. They bring the willing females. We bring the males, and we choose our mates. If we have a connection, we get to mate. If not, they leave.”

Stron didn’t say anything, but his friend was not explaining himself well.

“How many volunteers do you need?” Fiviel asked.

“Three, to start.”

“And you,” Dhomhes said.

Khalzin nodded. “And me.”

“Why are you doing this?” Stron asked. “Is this part of your educational research?” He knew Khalzin had been researching the Kantenan genome for years, but he didn’t realize his education had gone in such a direction.

It went against the Kantenan religious doctrine to mate with off-worlders, after all.

Which only intrigued Stron. What made it so important to make such a drastic change in the way their people had lived for centuries.

Khalzin sighed. “Our genome is stretched to the limit. It will not take long before we are all related to one another. We need to bring fresh genes into our pool before that happens.”

“Our people have been isolated for far too long,” Stron said. “It would be good to be more open to others.”

“So, you think bringing in new species will help refresh our genome?” Dhomhes asked.

“I think it is what we will have to do if we want to continue to exist and thrive.”

“That sounds challenging,” Fiviel said. “How do you know that the females can carry our breed? What about the differences? Won't it make the crossbreeding fail?”

“The Galactic Alliance's scientists believe they can handle that. We just send them our genome details so they can select those who fit.”

“But it is for testing. It will not be a true commitment,” Dhomhes said.

“It is to be a true commitment,” Khalzin said. “We cannot agree to do this, and then throw the females back if we do not like them.”

“You seem to forget that we cannot just make a child with anyone. We have to connect. There are physical reactions that we cannot control,” Stron said. “The connection must be solid.”

“And the odds of you finding this across the stars seems massive,” Fiviel said.

“I cannot promise anything. But all I need to start are volunteers willing to try,” Khalzin said, his voice shifting from uncertainty.

“It will not work,” Dhomhes said.

“Thanks for your confidence,” Khalzin glared at him.

Dhomhes shrugged. “But I will help you.”

“As will I,” Fiviel added.

Khalzin blinked. “Truly?”

“If only to prove that it won't work,” Dhomhes said.

Khalzin sighed. “Your objections are noted.”

Stron shot a look at Dhomhes. Dhomhes merely gave that smirking smile of his. Stron turned back to Khalzin. “We have your back, my friend.”

Khalzin nodded. “I appreciate that.”

They started to walk off the center practice mat.

“You know, I have heard stories of other humanoids mating with Kantenans. Away from our system, of course,” Stron said, softly to Khalzin. “To my mother's great dismay.”

Khalzin smiled. “Yes, she would hate that idea. As does my mother, I'm sure.”

“Have our mothers been spending time together again?”

“Probably.”