Return of the Alien Warrior (Treasured by the Alien #15)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

The door sealed behind Melissa with a hiss that sounded almost satisfied, and she stumbled forward, catching herself against the cold metal wall before her knees could buckle.

The sterile white interior obscured the ancient stone that made up much of the lab complex, but the pristine surroundings couldn’t soften the fact that she was a prisoner, locked in a cell on an alien world with her son.

As if in response, Robbie gave a soft, hiccupping cry that was somehow worse than screaming would have been.

“I’m here, baby.” She pushed off the wall and crossed the cell in three unsteady steps. “Mama’s here.”

He lay in the crib they’d provided—a clear plastic box with white bedding that never seemed to stain. His tiny fists waved in the air, dark eyes wide and searching until they found her face. The crying softened to a whimper, and her chest unclenched just enough for her to breathe.

She reached down and scooped him up, pressing him against her shoulder with one hand while the other rubbed small circles on his back. He was warm and solid in her arms. In a world that had become a waking nightmare, Robbie was the only thing that made sense anymore.

“Shh, shh. I know. I know, sweetheart.”

Physically she knew he was fine—the temperature in the cell was kept at an optimum warmth for an infant, the miraculous diapers kept him clean and dry, and she’d fed him before she’d been taken away.

But he’d been left alone and helpless while she was dragged off to yet another examination, and this one had lasted longer than usual.

The alien male who oversaw the process had observed her with flat, emotionless eyes, asking embarrassingly personal questions that her translator implant rendered into clipped, emotionless English.

Have you experienced any unusual discharge since the birth?

Are your milk production levels consistent?

When did the offspring last feed?

Offspring. Like Robbie was a product coming off an assembly line.

But she’d answered him because the sooner the examination was over, the sooner she could return to her son.

In the two weeks she’d been confined to this facility, she’d already learned that refusing to cooperate only made things worse for both of them.

She settled onto the narrow cot bolted to the wall, cradling Robbie in the crook of her arm.

He was already rooting against her chest, his mouth opening and closing in that instinctive way that meant he was hungry.

She shifted the hospital-like gown she wore for her tests aside and guided him to her breast, sighing when he latched on with single-minded determination.

“There you go,” she murmured, stroking the soft fuzz of dark hair on his head. “That’s it.”

For a few precious minutes, she could pretend they were somewhere else. The quiet nursery with pale yellow walls and a mobile of dancing stars that she’d decorated with such joyous hope. The smell of baby powder and clean laundry instead of recycled air and antiseptic.

But the fantasy never held for long.

She looked around the cell—clean, white, sterile. A container for a specimen, not a living space for a person. Nothing that could be used as a weapon or that could be leveraged for escape. She’d checked. Multiple times.

Even if I could escape, where would I go? She knew they were on an alien planet, but she had no idea where it was located or if the rest of the population was as ruthless and uncaring as her captors. It still has to be better than this. I just need to wait and watch. Find an opportunity.

Robbie’s suckling slowed, his eyelids growing heavy. She shifted him to her other breast, pressing a quick kiss to his soft curls. Her miracle baby. The child she’d always wanted, achieved through science rather than nature.

And wasn’t that the cruelest irony of all?

As Dr. Melissa Desai, director of one of the most prestigious reproductive health centers in the United States, she’d spent fifteen years helping couples conceive, supporting women through difficult pregnancies, and advocating for better fertility treatments and maternal care.

She’d published papers and given lectures.

She’d trained the next generation of specialists.

All because she believed—truly, deeply believed—that everyone deserved the chance to build a family.

And now she was the subject of a breeding experiment, her reproductive capabilities catalogued and quantified by creatures who saw her as nothing more than an incubator.

The memory of her abduction still surfaced at odd moments, vivid as a fever dream.

Robbie had been restless all night, barely sleeping, and she’d decided to take him for a walk, hoping that a little fresh air would be good for him.

But as she pushed his stroller through the quiet park opposite her home, a thick mist began to drift through the trees, muffling every sound and turning the world white and mysterious.

Shivering, she’d turned for home, but she was too late. She hadn’t heard the footsteps behind her, but some sixth sense had her starting to turn just as a spike of pain flashed through her neck and the world went dark.

She’d woken in a room much like her current cell, strapped to a table, surrounded by two males that looked almost human until you got close enough to count their fingers. Six on each hand. Sharp teeth behind thin lips. Eyes like pools of blood set in white, plastic-like faces. Aliens.

She was still grappling with that reality while they calmly discussed their plans for her. They didn’t bother speaking to her directly, but their conversation made her purpose all too clear.

Breeding stock.

They’d chosen her specifically because she’d had a child—because it proved her fertility and because her child would provide a control for their experiment.

At least that meant that they’d let her keep Robbie.

It was the one mercy in this nightmare, though she sometimes suspected it wasn’t mercy at all.

She would do anything they wanted if it kept him alive and healthy.

Based on the other fragments of conversation she’d overheard, females were valuable because of a plague that had swept through their society.

Many females had been lost and even more children.

She could sympathize with them, she truly could, but that didn’t mean she was prepared to sacrifice her life to find answers for them.

Of course, the Vedeckians, her original captors, had no interest in the issues encountered by other species. All they cared about was profit and, in her case, it seemed to be considerable. A mother and child pair, perfect for their client’s requirements.

Robbie had finished nursing. He pulled away from her breast with a soft pop, milk dribbling down his chin, and blinked up at her with those dark, trusting eyes.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she whispered. “Whatever it takes, I will find a way to get us out of here.”

It was a promise she had no idea how to keep. But she would find a way. Somehow.

She settled Robbie against her shoulder and patted his back gently until he burped, a surprisingly loud noise for such a small body. In spite of everything, she smiled.

“Such a good boy.”

She rocked him gently. He fell asleep almost immediately, worn out from crying and feeding, but she couldn’t bring herself to put him down.

For a long moment, she just sat there watching him breathe.

In, out. In, out. The steady rhythm of it was the only thing that kept her from falling apart completely.

But eventually she made herself put him down and went to the small sanitation unit to wash away the lingering remnants of the examination.

Her muscle ached, her head throbbed, and the places where they’d taken samples stung with a dull, persistent burn.

Exhaustion washed over her, but she couldn’t sleep.

She needed to come up with a plan.

Her existence had a predictable routine. Examinations each morning. Meals delivered through a slot in the door at consistent times. The lights dimmed during the sleep cycle. Routines meant patterns. Patterns meant predictability. And predictability meant potential weaknesses.

They think I’m helpless, she thought. Scared. Compliant.

Scared? Yes. But compliant? Never. She had always been stubborn. Pigheaded, her mother used to say. Once she set her heart on something, she didn’t let go. And right now her heart was set on only one thing—finding a way to free herself and her son.

She might not have much, but she had her mind. Her training. Her ability to observe and analyze and wait for the right moment.

And she had Robbie. The tiny, precious reason to keep fighting when everything else felt hopeless.

She’d wanted a child for years. Decades, really, if she was honest with herself.

But her career had always come first. Medical school.

Residency. Fellowship. Building a practice, then expanding it, then turning it into one of the leading reproductive centers on the East Coast. There was never a right time, never a suitable partner, never enough stability to justify bringing a new life into her chaotic schedule.

And then, on her thirty-seventh birthday, she’d looked in the mirror and realized she was running out of time. The irony wasn’t lost on her. A fertility specialist who’d waited too long to pursue her own fertility. She could have laughed if it hadn’t felt so painfully predictable.

Artificial insemination had seemed like the obvious choice. She didn’t need a partner. She didn’t even want one, not really, not after the disastrous engagement her family had arranged for her. What she wanted was a family. A child to love and raise and watch grow into their own person.

And now here she was.

Thirty-eight years old, trapped on an alien world, the single mother of a baby boy who might never see Earth’s sky again.

Don’t, she warned herself. Don’t go down that path.

Robbie stirred in his crib, making a small, sleepy sound and pulling her back from the edge of despair.

She looked over at him, her heart swelling with that fierce, overwhelming love that still took her by surprise.

She’d known motherhood would change her—had counseled countless patients through the emotional upheaval of new parenthood—but knowing it and experiencing it were very different things.

Now nothing in the world mattered more than that tiny human being. For him, she could brave anything.

He settled back into stillness, and she sighed, her eyes closing as another wave of exhaustion swept over her. She was still trying to come up with a plan when it tugged her under.