Daegon: Alien Warlord's Conquest (Scifi Alien-Human Military Romance) (7 page)

I
mpressions were funny things
.

When she first set foot on the
Wraith
, it, along with its master, had seemed intimidating and dark. Now, emerging alive and victorious from Daegon's fighter, it was like coming home. The warlord walked by her side, instinctively staying close. Despite them making it back to his flagship safely, he seemed to be tense and alert, especially when it came to her.

Or maybe it was simply her wishful thinking.

Zoey said nothing, waiting while Daegon dealt out orders, the first of which was having a technician come and check out her glove.

Carefully, the man first turned it off. While Daegon consulted his officers, the technician who seemed to know the Yemalan weapons well, introduced the basics to Zoey.

"This dial here lets you change the impact of the shock," the man explained. "And the knob here turns the glove off. You seem to have already figured that out."

"Yeah," Zoey said, smiling. "By trial and error, keeping a distance. So tell me, what's the scale with this thing? Is the lowest setting still deadly or is it more like tickling?"

Now the technician grinned, although Zoey noticed the way he forced himself to become serious in the next moment, glancing at Daegon with a worried expression.

"I haven't tried them all out," the man admitted. "But yes, the lowest setting is going to cause something like a muscle spasm or a twitch. The highest will fry the victim in his skin."

Zoey nodded, listening carefully, absolutely intent on becoming proficient with the glove.

After all, it was the perfect weapon for her. It didn't require much physical strength – which she lacked anyway – but she could put her agility and speed to use. Of course it meant the attacker had to be very close, but it was better than nothing. Paired with a gun, it worked.

Zoey paid attention to everything the technician said. She definitely didn't want to accidentally kill herself – it would have been an embarrassing way to go.

As she worked on her own defense, Zoey listened to Daegon and his warriors speak as much as she could. The Yemalan mothership was still running, but it was limping now. There would never come a better chance to catch up. The fighters were already in range, but Daegon didn't want to send them in without the
Wraith
's support.

As much as she understood from the quick and precise instructions Daegon fired at his subordinates, her safety was to be top priority for everyone staying aboard.

Zoey frowned.

The warlord used military terms, of course, but basically Daegon told them to wrap her in a protective blanket of swords and cut everyone who tried to approach to pieces.

Nice. Very romantic. But not gonna happen.

Having heard the words "don't let her out for any reason", Zoey finally interfered.

"I will not be cooped up like that," she said firmly. "I already spent some time as a prisoner. I don't want you to treat me the same."

The hurt look on Daegon's face when the warlord turned to her was almost enough to make her take back her words.

"I would never treat you like that," he said, his voice gentler than ever before.

"I know," Zoey explained quickly, "that’s not what I meant. I just don't want you to stick me somewhere out of the way where I don't know what's happening."

Daegon didn't reply. Instead, he left a fierce-looking warrior called Yarl in charge of the rest of the preparations and took her away from the others. They walked through the corridors – blessedly lit now – and finally reached a huge set of double doors that required Daegon’s handprint to open.

Stepping inside, Zoey realized she'd been brought to his private rooms. She didn't know how she could be so certain, but something about the chambers spoke of him.

They were sparse but impressive. The walls were lined with trophies and weapons – a testament to his prowess and position. There were other items too, mementos and personal belongings, neatly arranged on shelves and displays. She let her eyes wonder, feeling like she was glimpsing a side of him that Daegon didn't share with just anyone.

However, an unpleasant thought followed – who
did
Daegon invite to his rooms?

Zoey found herself ridiculously jealous of a woman or maybe even women she didn't know. Perhaps they didn't even exist, although she found that hard to believe. Daegon was a clan lord, surely he could have any woman he liked.

And probably has.

The thought had a bitter taste to it.

All those images were gone in an instant when Zoey felt herself being turned around and found the warlord's arms around her. It was for the best that the glove was turned off – she had pressed her hands against his armor without realizing.

Zoey stared up at the amazing eyes she'd come to long for and sensed her body leaning into the embrace as if it was the most natural thing.

"I won't let anything happen to you," Daegon said and his words carried such conviction that Zoey almost forgot all her concerns about the coming war.

It was more than a promise, it was a threat to the whole world to leave her alone. Zoey could imagine Daegon's enemies freeze on the spot that very second, contemplating if going after her life was worth dying for.

She didn't know how to respond. It was safe to say that Zoey had had the most extraordinary day of her life. Everything she had known in the morning had been turned upside down.

She was beginning to think she should have asked Mara James different questions, starting with whether the chieftain had flipped her world around in the same way.

Zoey had never fallen for a guy that hard that fast. Back on the mothership, chased by the man she knew would show her no mercy, her heart had called to Daegon. Against all odds, reason, and even luck, he'd found her.

She was beginning to think it was something else altogether. The way he looked at her now, his entire attention focused on her alone, made the word "fate" come to her mind.

"And what about me?" Zoey heard herself ask. "I’m supposed to stay here, locked up? Blind, deaf and unaware of whether you live or die."

That brought a smile to the warlord's lips.

"You may find that hard to believe," he said, his voice heavy with amusement. "But I'm told I'm not completely useless in battle. You don't have to worry about me."

Zoey glared, amazed at how easily they'd gone from a formal relationship to something much deeper.

"You are not immortal," she said seriously. "A stray shot, a lucky hit and you'd be dead like anyone else."

"That is true," Daegon agreed, but the smile stayed. "That is the life a warrior leads."

"So you can't blame me for worrying."

The warlord cocked his head to the side just a bit, looking at her with curiosity.

"I'm not," he said, "I find it quite charming, in fact. Even though you're questioning my capability as a warrior. This is why I brought you here. If my men heard you, they would consider it an insult to my honor."

Zoey sighed deeply, making Daegon laugh.

"I don't think I'll ever understand warriors," she said, "or Corgans, for that matter."

"You do, better than you think," Daegon replied, pulling her closer. "But none of this changes anything. I will lead the attack, as is my place. And you can't be there. After what you told me, you're bound to be a target."

All that made sense, but it also made Zoey's insides turn. The thought of being left behind to wait was unbearable. She'd experienced moments like that before.

Her parents had died in a shuttle accident back on Terra. Zoey remembered sitting in the hospital, unable to do anything but watch the seconds tick by on the clock.

The walls had closed in on her; the minutes had stretched like ages. Every moment that the door didn't open brought the realization closer – her parents were gone and nothing she'd done had helped one bit.

She didn't know how to express all that to Daegon, especially since he was right. A healer would have helped her parents and a great warrior could have aided Daegon, but she was neither.

She wanted to say that there had to be something she could do, but the warlord seemed to read the request from her eyes. The amazing, strong arms around her tightened once more.

"I think I understand the chieftain a bit better now," Daegon said, and Zoey could see that it wasn't easy for him to accept that. "He admitted that his bride had turned his world around in an instant. I thought he was using it as an excuse, but now I know better. I can't imagine a world where you're gone or hurt. Don't make me lose you."

Zoey thought he wanted to say more, but her heart was beating loud enough for her to hear it. She'd assumed that the strange sensation she felt, pulling her to the warlord against all sense and reason, had been one-sided. Sure, the man thought she was a fine piece of ass, but every time he spoke it became clearer to her that they were in it together, that his feelings were deeper than he was letting on.

She didn't pull away when he leaned in to kiss her. Nothing in the world made sense that day, but Zoey felt that her head was clearer than it had been in ages.

His lips touched hers softly at first, then more demandingly. Zoey felt his hands slip into her hair, gripping her head gently while his mouth was hot and passionate against hers. Their tongues danced as the warlord tasted every inch of her, making her feel like she was floating in a current.

She didn't want it to end, ever, throwing herself freely into the stream. Daegon felt like the only solid thing in the world and she clung to him like a lifeline, holding on for dear life. She was running out of oxygen but breathing didn't seem to matter, not when she was being kissed like that.

It hurt to want him so much, to press herself against him so tightly that they were almost one.

Then the dream ended. With another soft kiss to her lips, Daegon pulled back and Zoey was – literally – swept up into another, even better fantasy.

The warlord lifted her up and carried her to the bed. Zoey didn't think about protesting once, although she knew that "compromised" was the least the Union was going to call her if they found out.

That was
not
one of the tactics of negotiation she'd had in mind, but Zoey didn't feel like they were conducting business right at that moment.

It was their time, personal and secret. She let Daegon lower her to his bed and laughed when he climbed on top of her.

"That armor of yours will get in the way," she pointed out, but the warlord didn't listen.

Instead, he kissed her again, driving all other considerations from her mind. There was nothing to be done, no way to resist him, and Zoey couldn't find one inch of herself that would have wanted to. She'd spent years working for others, putting the interests of the Union before her own.

Now she wanted something for herself.

The kiss was nice, but the bed was soft and comfy too. It had been a long day for Zoey. A sharp spike of sadness went through her when she remembered that it had begun on the ship that was now gone.

From there to Gaiya to the
Wraith
and kidnapped by the Yemalan mothership... and back again. It was hard to believe it had all fit in one day.

She was exhausted.

The kisses were soft now, gentle and sweet, and she felt utterly at peace in Daegon's firm embrace. Thinking that she was only going to rest for a while, she laid her head against his chest plate. It wasn't the most comfortable place in the world, but Daegon was like a safe haven for her.

Her drowsy eyes opened once more to see him cradle her into his arms, leaning against the wall behind the bed. Zoey wanted to ask if he had done it on purpose, but the tiredness finally caught up with her.

In the safety of Daegon's arms, she dared to sleep.

L
eaving
Zoey behind to sleep was harder than Daegon had expected.

She looked so peaceful and sweet as she rested, her long dark hair spread on the pillow like a silky cloud.

Daegon had been raised as a warrior, his life had always been filled with fighting and hardship. Every day was as tough and unyielding as he was. That was how Corgan warriors lived, clawing their fates out of the paths they were offered.

The little Terran was bringing out emotions in him that were utterly alien to the warlord. It should have been her that was out of place in his quarters, but it seemed the exact opposite. Daegon felt like his rooms weren't a proper place for this beautiful creature. She deserved light and freshness, and most importantly, a world where her life wasn't in danger.

He wanted to lie down beside her and bury his face in Zoey's long curls. Nothing more. Simply to be with her. The sensation was utterly unexpected and unique in its intensity.

The warlord had never felt anything even remotely like that towards any female he'd had. With every second that he spent looking at Zoey's sleeping form, his previous brief companions grew fainter in his mind.

Eventually Daegon had to reluctantly leave the room, telling himself that everything he was about to do would help keep her safe.

It was a whole other world out there. As the doors to his quarters closed behind him, Daegon felt like he was stepping back into the life he'd known before he met Zoey.

Something about it felt off. The warlord struggled to relate the feeling to previous experiences. The closest he could think of was when a warrior picked up a badly made weapon. It did its job, but it was a poor substitute to a real blade that fit naturally in his hand.

Daegon left guards at the door to make sure Zoey had everything she needed when she woke up. He felt guilty about leaving her out of the preparations, but he didn't want her anywhere near the Yemalan.

It would have been unfair to say she had nothing to do with what was going on, since Daegon was certain the enemy had timed the attack for her arrival. The idea that they'd laid in wait for her made his blood boil.

Execute
, the word Zoey had used rang in his head.
They wanted to kill her, publicly.

Daegon knew what that looked like. The Yemalan were a vicious species that didn't shrink from any tactic, including trying to intimidate Corgans. It didn't work, but they kept it up in the hopes that it would wear them down and the displays were always gory.

His own brothers endured that fate with stoic stubbornness befitting a warrior when they were captured. The occasions were rare, but not impossible. Daegon had seen it happen once or twice, being too far to help. He'd refused to turn away, honoring his warriors by witnessing them face death.

The Yemalan were cruel and precise and even some of the best and battle-hardened warriors had screamed in the end, when there was barely anything left of their bodies and their resolve finally crumbled.

The Corgan way of building their strength worked against them when faced with an opponent like the Yemalan. They prided themselves in knowing how to keep the warrior alive for hours, days even, while picking him apart the way the priests had put them together.

Daegon had seen a man live without his primary heart, one of his lungs and most of his intestines. That was to say, the warlord had seen him breathe. He wouldn't call it living, merely existing.

And
that
was the fate the traitor had planned for Zoey.

The rage that gripped his heart was nearly blinding, but Daegon forced it down. He would keep it for later. Recklessness had its place in battle, when it called for leading by courage, but it did not help him plan his revenge. He'd let the anger out when he saw eye to eye with the one who'd betrayed them all.

Yarl came to report to him and his expression told Daegon everything. The warlord's glare nearly made the other man stop and back away, but he regained his composure.

Months had passed since Daegon had finally made the ship his, but it
was
his now. Every breathing soul aboard the
Wraith
belonged to him, ready to carry out his will. As if he wasn't just one person, as if the entire clan were an extension of his limbs.

Yarl waited until Daegon nodded for him to begin, already moving to the bridge.

"It's the Yemalan," the warrior said. "They've repaired the damage faster than we'd predicted, but that's not the main problem."

"Speak," Daegon said gruffly. "I don't need more delays."

"They have allies," Yarl said simply. "It is clear they were expecting us to give chase. The Yemalan fleet has been waiting. The mothership slipped into their ranks. The heat signatures, flight patterns and everything else are so similar that..."

The warrior trailed off, but Daegon already realized.

"We don't know which ship it was that attacked Gaiya."

"Yes," Yarl admitted. "The bridge has a few ideas, but none of them are foolproof."

"That's fine," Daegon growled. "They are
all
the enemy. And the traitor in their midst can't hide from us."

"True," Yarl agreed, but he was still frowning. "And this is where it gets worse, lord."

We lost the ship we were pursuing and it's not even the worst news?

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Daegon felt himself grinning. Right in the middle of the action, that's where he thrived. No second-guessing, no uncomfortable choices. Only the purity of a righteous battle.

"Isn't it now?" he asked, his tone low and threatening. "What else?"

"They are all on course to reach Poural in four days."

Daegon froze, directing such a piercing gaze at Yarl that this time, the warrior truly did take a step back.

"Are you
absolutely
sure?" the warlord demanded.

"Yes, lord," Yarl said.

"If that is their target... You must be certain of their course."

"We are."

Daegon turned on his heels and proceeded to the bridge, marching right past the bridge captain and turning to the communications officer.

"Contact the chieftain," he ordered. "Now. Tell him it's urgent."

Behind him, Captain Tuval said nothing, letting Daegon do as he pleased. The warlord usually left the day-to-day organization on the ship to him, only taking personal command of the
Wraith
in deep space battles. Otherwise, Daegon was the first on the surface, partaking in the real fight.

Like Brions, the most feared members of the Galactic Union, the Corgans avoided space wars. They showed nothing of the greatness of the men fighting, only the intelligence of their mechanics. Daegon had won several such battles and forgotten them the very next day.

However, he did remember his greatest duels.

The officer he'd addressed was working frantically to tune the
Wraith
to the chieftain's location. Daegon waited, forcing himself to be patient. It wasn't easy to find someone who was more than likely to be in transit as well.

Then the monitor before him came to life. At first, it showed the crackling interference of other beacons between the two ships, but then a man appeared on the screen.

Like Daegon himself, Nadar Brenger was tall and powerful, looking like he'd been carved out of stone instead of having been born. The chieftain's deep blue eyes were darker than ever before. On any other day, Daegon would have thought it was his rocking position that troubled the other warlord.

Now he knew better. Nadar Brenger looked ready to murder, but it wasn't the disobedient clan lords that were the target of his wrath. He hungered for the blood of the ones who had attacked Gaiya, the world where Mara James and the chieftain's unborn child lived.

The same enemies that Daegon was chasing.

"Chieftain," he said. "I have news for you, but I need answers first."

Many people – his warriors, the other clan lords, Zoey – had recently asked him what he thought of the chieftain; only Nadar Brenger himself had never questioned Daegon.

As the other warlord gave him a hard look, the glare making Nadar appear older than his years and Daegon think of his loyalties.

Nadar Brenger was a leader unlike any other before him. No other clan lord would have replied to a demand like that with a snarl, "Insolent brat. Ask what you need."

That was the reason Daegon liked the chieftain, even if he didn't agree with him on everything (or anything, more often than not). The man didn't think his pride was worth more than the fate of all Corgans.

Unlike the long row of egocentric, maniacal, self-serving chieftains they'd had, Nadar Brenger truly
was
a leader of his people. That's why he was so unpopular. Daegon wondered if he knew that.

"Where are you?" he asked. "And is there any more activity around Gaiya?"

Mentioning that name made the chieftain's eyes flash, but like Daegon, he suppressed the rage burning within him.

"En route to Gaiya," Nadar Brenger said. "And no. All the enemies are gone. I assume you're dealing with them."

"Going to, yes," Daegon replied calmly. "What are the other clans saying?"

The chieftain smiled. There wasn't an ounce of warmth in the expression, but Daegon wasn't surprised by that. The answer was pretty glaringly obvious.

"You can imagine," Nadar said with a fierce smirk. "I might as well have bombed the shrine myself for all the difference it seems to make to them."

"But no rebellion?" Daegon pressed on.

The chieftain's eyes narrowed and Daegon could feel his defiance resonate even through the monitor before him.

"
No
," Nadar hissed. "I will not have Corgans fight among themselves. Not now. We are on the brink of being great again."

Funny you should say that. The man who is willing to sell our worlds to the enemy thinks the same.

"I'm afraid it's too late for that," Daegon said, continuing before Nadar could interfere. "It was more than a Yemalan raid meant to discredit you. They are organized this time. One of the clan lords is helping them. He's promised them the world they've always wanted."

It seemed even Corgans weren't immune to shock. For a long moment, Nadar Brenger said nothing. He didn't even move, although Daegon could see his powerful form shake with barely contained rage. Finally, in a voice broken by fury, the chieftain asked, "
Who
?"

"I don't have any proof yet," Daegon said. "But I would bet my life it's Arboc."

When the chieftain bared his teeth in a feral growl, Daegon knew he agreed. All Corgan clan lords were born killers, with quick tempers and a certainty in themselves you could bounce mountains on. But Arboc matched that with a dark mind. He was the newest of them all, having killed his old lord even after Daegon had taken up his position.

And Arboc had never made a secret of how deeply he loathed the chieftain.

Nadar Brenger said what Daegon was thinking, "That spineless coward," he roared. "He doesn't have the strength to face me in a duel and
this
is what he dares!?"

The chieftain's reaction was so vivid that several bridge staff edged away from the monitor. Daegon stayed, unflinching.

"It is even worse, chieftain," he said. "I have been following the Yemalan for almost two days now. The course of their fleet is clear."

When Nadar didn't reply, Daegon chose to just say it.

"It seems the world he promised the Yemalan is Poural."

He had expected the chieftain to explode hearing that, but he barely reacted. This time, his flashing blue eyes suddenly became very sharp. A long silence set, during which the chieftain stared at him.

"Arboc is a traitorous coward scum," Nadar Brenger said at last. "But I see he is not as stupid as I'd thought."

Daegon didn't reply.

"Clever," the chieftain hissed, and the intensity of his gaze was almost searing. "To put my fate in the hands of another."

The bridge behind Daegon was so quiet he could have heard a feather drop. No one dared to even breathe as the two clan lords contemplated each other.

When the chieftain spoke, he confirmed the theory that had already formed in Daegon's mind.

"Gaiya was a distraction," Nadar Brenger said. "Arboc knew I would rush back here. He knew you would be the one chasing him. It makes sense. It would take three days for me to catch up with the
Wraith
. So he gives you an option. By going after my home world, he forced you to choose. If Poural falls, I doubt I'll be a chieftain much longer. Everything you do from now on is a sign to the others. If I can't protect my own world, if I can't control you... It's over. Even if you try and fail, it ends. The other clans will rise up against me. All of them."

Daegon still didn't reply. He knew all that as well.

Instead, he looked at the man who ruled all Corgans. For now. The chieftain was right, after all. If Daegon chose to betray him – and yes, even if he failed him – Nadar Brenger would face the accusations of their entire species. Losing an entire Corgan world? That had never happened, in all their history. No chieftain could survive that. Nadar was one of the most feared warriors, but he wasn't immortal and there was bound to be many challengers. Sooner or later, he would slip and fall and die.

The traitor had put the destiny of the Corgans in his hands. If Daegon didn't like the way the chieftain was leading them, all he had to do was stand aside.

Everyone had asked him what he was going to tell the Union's ambassador.

On the monitor, there was no fear, no regret and no hint of yielding in Nadar Brenger's eyes as he asked, "Will you fight?"

That was reason enough for Daegon.

"Yes, chieftain," he replied seriously, as though it wasn't a question at all.

Of course, it really was not. Two men wanted to lead the Corgans to greatness. One was willing to fight for them until the bitter end at the hands of his subjects. And the other sold them to the enemy.

To Daegon's eyes, there was no choice in sight.

Nadar Brenger was still looking at him. The chieftain's gaze didn't betray any of his feelings, nor whether he'd gotten the answer he'd expected.