Snowed in With the Alien Doctor: Warriors of Etlon Read online

  And not just survive. Clover had a thriving business and was well on her way to having a down payment on a bigger ship, maybe a colony ship, where she’d be a captain and take her passengers far, far away from the threat of the Suhlik.

  Clover had been very young when the golden space lizards had descended to Earth and began to run amok killing things. Her father had delighted in smooth talking his way onto the first Mahdfel ship he could, dragging his young daughter with him. They’d hopped from ship to ship before finally settling with “Uncle” Garn, a purple, shriveled up old alien that looked like a raisin past its prime.

  One day, the two men had left her to mind the ship. She was fourteen by that time and plenty capable of running most of the ship’s functions by herself. Garn had come back covered in blood, announced that her dad wasn’t coming home and then locked himself in the cockpit for a day.

  Dad had run a risky life, she told herself. He was bound to get into a position eventually that he couldn’t talk his way out of.

  Garn kept her on, and she kept the books. She didn’t find out until much later that Garn actually tried to sell her to the Mahdfel, but they only took women who were older than eighteen. No one else he offered her to could meet his price, so he figured to wait a few years and then take her lottery money by default.

  According to the Mahdfel contract with Earth, every single woman of an age had to register and be tested yearly for a match against the warriors currently looking for a mate. If such a match were found, their families were handsomely rewarded for the loss of their daughter.

  Too bad for him, the old raisin had kicked the bucket right before her eighteenth birthday. Clover had flown under the radar for a month, registered Garn’s ship as her own, taking over all of his legitimate contracts, letting the more risky stuff slide. With a better head for business, Clover had updated the ship, streamlined the cargo and made more money than Garn ever had with his slightly underhanded deals.

  The life worked for her. She had no home but her ship. And that was just fine.

  Clover did not need a husband. Or children. Or someone to hold on to her every night of the week.

  Her console beeped at her. The passenger code had been inputted into the hatch. Her mystery guest had arrived. Clover was not feeling sociable. She was feeling a bit hot and bothered and ready for a really long session alone in her cabin. She set the ship lights to direct the passenger to his cabin. She left a little welcome message and when he marked it read and ready to go, she notified the station, released the clamps and off they went to Earth.

  Would she even recognize it when she saw it? She hadn’t been back since she was twelve. Knowing her father, he’d probably been running from something. And Garn hadn’t wanted to have his little orphan prize removed from his possession so he’d steered clear.

  There was very little to feel nostalgic for anyway. Most of her memories were of bad shelters, people coughing and her father wheeling dealing his way from one person to another, never quite getting them all that he promised.

  Clover didn’t even remember her mother. Her father had never spoken of her and now that he was dead and she was old enough to be curious, there was no one left to ask. She didn’t even have the names of her grandparents.

  It probably wouldn’t be too difficult to show up and locate a few DNA matches and see if they were still alive. It wouldn’t hurt to actually have someone to leave her ship to when she crossed over into the great beyond or whatever.

  It was a possibility to consider. And she had about two weeks to mull it over. For now, she was plenty busy setting the course and checking all the local intel logs to make sure the flight path didn’t go too near any hot zones. If her passenger wanted super speed, he shouldn’t have booked with her.

  Orth. What kind of name was that? At least it was short. His last name looked nearly impossible to pronounce. She hoped he was some old and wrinkly thing that would laugh at her jokes but stay out of the way. If he was Mahdfel, that was not a high chance. Mahdfel didn’t really get old. They stayed young and in peak physical condition and died in battle for the most part. He’d give her a sniff and then order her about and then she’d smile and nod and do exactly whatever the hell she wanted to do. But if he were mechanically inclined, she would definitely set him to work and investigate that thud-thud noise. Mahdfel loved to be productive. Just mention a problem and they got to work on a solution. She couldn’t argue with generally competent free labor.

  Mr. Teeth would have been fun to watch bend over acting all efficient. Clover shifted in her seat. First things first, though, before she let her imagination run away with its new toy. Set out the ground rules with the new passenger, play the hostess and then she could go take care of her nagging sense of horniness.

  Everything in the cockpit was good to go. The ship practically flew itself once the coordinates were inputted. Clover stood and headed toward the passenger cabins. Her quarters were about four times bigger than the small rooms that lined the hallway. She lived here. They were just temporary rooms for passengers. The bulkheads actually had several configurations. She could accommodate a couple, a small family or more commonly, several solo passengers. Most of the space was, of course, reserved for cargo, but on this trip, they’d be flying mostly empty. The Mahdfel money made up for it, and with a guaranteed pick up on Earth, she’d be sitting pretty with a fairly simple run.

  Clover pressed the button near the door to announce her presence. She plastered her best hostess smile and waited. The door slid open and Clover took a step back. There was Mr. Teeth and he had shed his more formal space station uniform for a planetary one. She’d seen them before on some of the warmer planets. He wore nothing but a pair of tight shorts, and hell, she couldn’t help stare at his cock progressively getting harder and more pronounced as she stood there.

  “You are not my passenger.”

  “I am. Orth.” He said it carefully, in Mahdfel common, to make sure the translator didn’t muck it up again.

  Clover crossed her arms over her chest, more to hide her tight nipple points than for any anger she felt, but then as she processed the day, she realized something.

  “You did this on purpose. You canceled my shipment so I’d have to take you.”

  “I will not touch you unless you wish it.”

  And that was exactly the problem. Her body screamed for him and his hot naked chest. The black tattoos were swirling with colors and was it her imagination or were they starting to glow? She’d never seen a Mahdfel with glowing tattoos.

  “I’m going to take you back,” she managed to say, finally tearing her eyes away from him.

  “You have already accepted the contract, and I do indeed need to get to the Terran moon.”

  “This is not going to work.”

  “It will.”

  “So you’re just going to walk around like that all the time?”

  He looked confused. He saw nothing wrong with his appearance. Honestly, there was nothing wrong visually about this guy. He was tall, muscled with creamy green skin that she wanted to taste.

  He should wear clothes. People wore clothes.

  “No,” Clover repeated.

  “I do not understand.”

  “You are wearing itty bitty shorts and you’re, well, happy to see me.”

  “I am happy to see you. Seeing you is a pleasure.” The huskiness in his voice revealed that he would definitely love to see more of her. Naked.

  “Your anatomy is-”

  “I am a medic. I understand all medical terminology and conditions. If you are referring to my erect status, that is a natural function when so near a potential mate.”

  “Exactly. So are you just going to walk around here with your shorts tented?”

  “The sensation will grow less intense with time, I believe, but if it bothers you, I will attempt some relief.”

  Great. Now she was going to picture him lying in his bunk, cock in hand, jerking off that green monster. She wondered how far his cum would shoot from it. Would she have to clean the ceiling?

  He followed her gaze up, puzzled. Clover shook her head and sighed loudly. “I know Mahdfel are all about control and that crap, but seriously. Why even put yourself through it?”

  “Because you will change your mind.”

  “Dream on Teeth Man.”

  “Orth.”

  Even his name sounded like a whispered lover’s promise. Steer away from that one.

  “Doc. No. Scrubs.” Nice. Safe. Innocuous.

  “You may call me whatever you like.”

  Clover rolled her eyes. Half of her wanted to actually put his stubborn ass to the test. The other half wanted to be two sectors away from him. If she turned around and declined the contract, two things would happen. First, her nest egg would be blown. The Mahdfel would lay fines on her for breaking the code. Secondly, she could count any lucrative shipping deals gone. The Mahdfel were long lived and had an even longer stubborn streak. They never forgot a broken promise.

  Another distant possibility was that in ten months when her lottery date came up, she’d be matched with Scrubs in the end anyway. And if she wanted the chance to run, she’d need all the money she could scrounge.

  There was nothing that said she had to be a gracious host while ferrying him across the space between the outpost and her former home planet.

  “Fine. I’m sure you can figure out the meals and there’s a standard reading library available. Feel free to wander anywhere except my private quarters, except I wouldn’t go into Cargo Bay Three. I think some of the Cartuga melons I carried on a trip before last went a little off and I still haven’t been able to get rid of the stench.”

  “Perhaps dinner—”

  She cut him off right there. “Like I said. A Mahd
fel doc should be smart enough to push a few buttons.”

  “I meant with—”

  An imaginary alarm beeped on her com unit. “Oh, I gotta take care of that. Have a safe and uneventful trip.”

  A moment later, she was halfway down the corridor, praying that she didn’t look like she was fleeing.

  Chapter Four

  Orth

  This was unacceptable. They were nearly halfway through the trip and he had not seen her for more than a few flashing seconds. They were on the same vessel, and yet, except for her tantalizing scent, he could imagine that he was completely alone. She should be employed as a spy for all her talents at avoidance and being nowhere to be found.

  Orth was true to his word. He had tried finding relief, but still, the urge to bury his teeth in her neck and claim her despite her objections was nearly overwhelming. His cock sprang to attention every time the vent kicked on to circulate the air, bringing refreshed whiffs of Clover. He dreamed of her, touching his skin, running her fingers up his thighs and circling the head of his cock with her lips. He would thrust home to the pleasure of her wet mouth. She looked up at him with devotion before disappearing in a wisp of memory.

  Orth needed to get out of his cabin. Unlike the station, there was very little room for running in large circles, and he refused to use the dinky treadmill she kept in a confining room that could hardly be called an exercise gym. He usually preferred to rely on his meditation and stretch routines, but today, he needed to get out and work on the problem. He needed to figure out how to tempt his mate into at least considering him.

  Orth was running out of time. Once he arrived at Shackleton Crater Lunar Base, he’d have little time to pursue her with the full intensive coursework he needed to complete. When he was done, he’d be shipped back to Etlon to see to the Terran females there, never to see her again. He had to think, create some reason for interaction, for putting her in closer contact with him, so she could change her mind.

  Orth paced the ship, considering and discarding idea after idea. None of them were safe or sound enough to win his mate’s affection.

  It was difficult business, winning a mate. Now was when he wished he had his mother to ask for advice, but she was gone. After her mate, his father, had died slaughtering Suhlik in battle, she had raised her son, and as soon as he had entered the academy, she caught a ship and left to wage her own personal war against the golden lizard bastards. Orth had heard nothing from her for three years. He could only hope that she had died as gloriously as his father, taking more Suhlik down with her than a legion of Mahdfel.

  That was what Orth chose to believe. And that would be how he would remember her, unless he heard differently.

  His mate kept a tight ship, Orth decided as he made a third turn around the space. Everything was neat and tidy, every tool was in its place and there didn’t seem to be clutter anywhere. It would be a lovely place to live. He itched to see her personal quarters though. What objects did she hold sacred? Did she like soft velvety sheets or mounds of pillows on her bed? Was it as small as his bunk? He could make due with such quarters for a while but if he planned to bed her properly, he’d need a bit more space for them to stretch out.

  Orth was already planning to ask for some leave between his training and placement. He could easily accompany her on a few runs, and then they could make the run to Noven 90. Once there, he would have plenty of time to convince her to park her ship and stay within reach.

  All of his plans meant nothing if he couldn’t convince her to even sit and visit with him for a bit. He needed a reason, a good solid reason, to get her to come out of her quarters and actually talk to him.

  Orth subconsciously closed in on her quarters, as if his thoughts had been pulling him there. Near the door, he heard something that put all of his Mahdfel senses on high alert. It was his mate. And she was in trouble.

  “Clover.” He heard it again, from behind the door. A death moan if he’d ever heard one. He tried to open the door but it was locked. For a split second, he was tempted just to use his brute strength to smash it in but cooler thoughts prevailed. He was a medic and medics used intellect to solve problems. They also had medical overrides to nearly every lock in the known system. He placed his palm on the pad, typed in his code and the door smoothly slid open to reveal his mate.

  Clover was sitting on a chair, wearing only the thinnest of black silk shifts. Her right leg was propped up on a desk and the other was thrown wide. All his attention centered to her hand, which rested in the juncture of her thighs. Her head snapped up from where it had hung over the back of the chair. Her eyes widened with surprise and her jaw hung open as if she wished to speak but had no words. She had not been in any kind of medical emergency. She had been trying to make herself cum.

  “I thought you were injured.”

  “How did you-” Her face was still registering shock more than anger. Her arousal hung in the air so thick he could taste it.

  “I apologize. Had I known you were not injured, I would not have-” Orth couldn’t honestly finish that sentence. Had he known she had been on display behind the door, her folds wet and slippery for him, he couldn’t vouch that he would not have opened the door. But it was open and his cock was straining to be inside her.

  Orth approached her. It was a good sign that she hadn’t immediately started screaming for him to get out but if he didn’t make progress during this encounter, he wasn’t sure he’d get another chance. After all, bursting through the door, claiming he thought she was suffering from a medical emergency was an excuse that only worked once, despite the fact that he couldn’t possibly do anything about it now.

  His nearness finally seemed to penetrate through the surprise, demonstrating to her how vulnerable she would be if he chose to do something decidedly un-Mahdfel-like. He would not take her without permission. That didn’t, however, stop him from taking a taste.

  He knelt in front of her, savoring in the sight of her so close up, face flush with desire and her cunt wet and slippery and swollen.

  “What are you doing?” It was a whisper, as if she were afraid of the answer.

  “You are obviously in need of assistance,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “No, no. I think I was doing quite fine on my own.”

  “How many orgasms have you had?”

  “I was just getting started.”

  “How many would you like?” He lifted her leg, spreading her even wider for him. Orth delighted in the fact that there was no resistance.

  “I don’t know? Two or three? This is a ridiculous conversation.”

  Two was a ridiculously low number in Orth’s opinion. He didn’t plan to stop until she was thoroughly exhausted. Orth bent his head and took a little lap of her cunt. The first taste of her sent his head spinning. The second, harder, fuller stroke of his tongue nearly had him spilling in his shorts.

  “Oh my holy fucking fuck!” Clover seemed to appreciate it too.

  He found her clit and swirled his tongue over it and his sweet salty mate threw back her head, bucked her hips and found her first climax. He watched as it rolled over her, muscles tightening, hands gripping the chair with a death lock for a moment then relaxing. Just as she had nearly gone limp, he started in earnest. He alternated between flicking her clit with his tongue and thrusting it deep inside her. Her hands moved to her breasts, pulling the flimsy fabric out of the way so she could twist her nipples. Cries ripped from her throat as she tightened on his tongue and when she crested that wave, Orth thrust a finger inside her and played with her clit with his tongue. He enjoyed the litany of nonsense that came out of her mouth as she rode his finger and his tongue. Orth was quite sure he could continue this until the end of his days. The only nagging problem was his insistent cock.

  When he lifted his head and stood over her, she was indeed limp. He freed his cock from its painful confines.

  “I will not claim you unless you ask me. I have made you that promise.”

  Clover lifted her head up. She reached for his cock. Could there be such pleasure in the world as her hands just resting warmly testing the weight of his cock? “One night.”

  “No. Forever.”