Page 5 of Tamed By the Alien Warlord
There were whispers. A Combine vessel raided last cycle. A human contractor gone missing.
I call up my internal files. It checks out.
Coincidence? Or bait?
I could ignore it. Should ignore it. But then her scent pulses through the recycled air again, thick and heady like a drug, and I can’t.
The stories come back. Jalshagar. Myths. Warnings. Promises. Fates sealed in heat and blood.
Bullshit.
But she fits in this cell too perfectly. Her defiance feels designed to match my fire.
And as she tosses restlessly on the cot, sweat dampening the collar I left on her, her scent sharpens—ripe, undeniable.
She's my fated mate.
And I don’t want to admit it.
CHAPTER 3
GEORGIA
Being collared sucks.
But being ignored? That’s worse.
Lanz hasn't come back, not since the moment he shoved me to the floor like a bad idea and stormed off. And now I’m left pacing this absurdly clean brig, watching the Reaper pirates through the thick-glass wall.
They don’t notice me. Or, if they do, they don’t care.
Pirate etiquette is primitive but simple. Whoever hits hardest, rules. Disputes end in punches, body slams, or plasma standoffs. No one bothers with verbal sparring unless it ends in blood.
I watch one fight break out over a ration bar. The winner doesn’t gloat. Just takes his prize, snarls once, and leaves his opponent groaning on the floor. And no one interferes. The hierarchy is clear: if you’re strong, you get what you want. If you’re weak, you're lucky to keep your boots.
It should horrify me. And it does, on a surface level. But also… something about it is honest.
No one talks about challenging Lanz. That part is very clear. They defer to him like he’s a force of nature. Not out of fear—at least not just that—but reverence. Like he’s more than a man. Like he’s the storm they all ride in on.
So naturally, my idiot heart keeps wanting to know what it feels like to be touched by lightning.
Footsteps echo down the hall. I recognize the gait—long, deliberate, powerful. I steel myself, spine snapping straight. When he enters, I’m already standing. Waiting. Arms crossed over my chest like armor.
Lanz fills the doorway, every inch of him etched with the kind of lethal grace that should not be allowed in one body. “You behave better when you’re bored,” he says, voice low and mocking.
“Must be your company,” I fire back. “So uplifting.”
His gaze drags over me like a scanner. I can’t tell if he’s checking for weapons or just enjoying the view.
Probably both.
“You still talking?” he says.
I smirk. “You keep showing up. Must be something here you want.”
He steps inside, lets the door seal behind him. The energy shifts immediately. Denser. Thicker. Like the air is considering catching fire.
“I’ve got terms,” I say before I can overthink it. “I help you expose the Helios Combine. You help me find my sister.”
