Alien Lord's Captive: Warriors of the Lathar, #1
By Mina Carter
4.5/5
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About this ebook
She's trained for everything up to and including alien invasion. One problem. No one told her aliens would be so damn sexy.
It's simple. When her base is attacked by aliens, Cat has to fight. Whenever and however possible. But the alien leader, Tarrick, has her in his sights and she has one choice. Come to his bed or things go badly for her friends.
Determined to resist, it's hard to remember what she's fighting against when her alien captor is built like a god and his touch sets her body on fire. She only has to fool him for a while, just long enough to get the information they need to escape. Long enough to find out her alien captor isn't the monster she thought...
But when the time comes, will she want to leave?
He needs a female, or they all die.
His species is dying. Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but with no females, their days are numbered. Finding a base full of females is a bounty Tarrick can't ignore. Nor can he ignore the delicate little female who stirs his blood yet dares to defy him at every step.
Then a dangerous rival challenges his claim on Terran space and all it's females. He can't afford to lose control, or his clan is doomed.
When his treasured female is taken, he'll do anything to rescue her. Including starting an intergalactic war…
**Contains three previously released serial novellas: Captured by the Alien Lord, Saved by the Alien Lord, and Bonded to the Alien Lord. If you have already purchased these novellas, please do not purchase this book.**
Mina Carter
Mina Carter was born and raised in Middle Earth (otherwise known as the Midlands, England). After a slew of careers ranging from logistics to land-surveying she can now be found in the wilds of Leicestershire with her husband, daughter and a cat who moved in and never left. Suffering the curse of eternal curiosity, Mina never tires of learning new skills which has led to Aromatherapy, Corsetry, Chain-maille making, Welding, Canoeing, Shooting, and pole-dancing to name but a few. A full-time author and cover artist, Mina can usually be found hunched over a keyboard or graphics tablet, frantically trying to get the images and words in her head out and onto the screen before they drive her mad. She's addicted to coffee and Dairy-lea cheese triangles.
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Reviews for Alien Lord's Captive
86 ratings3 reviews
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Excelente novela, muy buena trama, tal vez un poco de explicaciones no seria malo. Pero estuvo buena.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Love the bad a$$ females, not so sure about the rest but being that it is a series it was good enough to warrant the next read.
1 person found this helpful
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5An excellent and enjoyable read. The Lathar have no women. Their women were noncombative and fragile. The women they captured are fully trained military. Not a fragile flower in the bunch. It was great watching this warrior race being surprised that these women are badass warriors in their own right. It was great fun watching as they (the Lathar) realized that humans were intelligent and courageous. Then the surprise as they discovered that humans are fully compatible with the Lathar and were actually a descendant of the Lathar. I fully enjoyed this fast paced and often humorous tale. I recommend highly.
1 person found this helpful
Book preview
Alien Lord's Captive - Mina Carter
1
Sergeant Cat Moore walked down the corridor toward the bridge after an all important stop by the coffee machine. To say caffeine was required for the second half of her shift at the traffic control desk would be an understatement.
The graveyard shift was always the worst, and this one was shaping up to be the one from hell. They’d already had a near-miss in the fighter bay, and two of the bigger troop transports were sporting brand-new paint jobs after both trying to head out on the same flight vector. She didn’t even want to think about the fact an Argos-class destroyer had also been assigned the same one. Forget paintwork. If that had come in at the same time, they’d be looking at a new docking arm and a casualty count that made her break out in a cold sweat just at the what if?
Sighing, she lifted her mug and sucked down half the blessed java. The sigh of relief escaped her lungs as the hard-hitting stimulant, a compound-caffeine only served in the highly active areas of the base, hit her bloodstream. They did say things came in threes, so surely they were done for tonight?
Wooogahhh-Ahhh-Wooogaaahhh. Wooogahhh-Ahhh-Wooogaaahhh.
The sound of the sirens filled the corridor, lights flicking from white to red.
Shit.
Red alert. Apparently, they weren’t done for the night.
Cat threw the half-empty mug at a recycling point, hitting it dead center, and set off at a run. She crashed through the double doors to the bridge and emerged into chaos.
Multiple ships, port side.
Shields out, sector Four-B!
Launch fighters! Sound all-quarters!
That last was the captain yelling orders. Send a message to Earth that we’re under attack.
Who could possibly be attacking them? As Cat made her way across the bridge to her post, the sound of explosions filled the air, and the deck under her feet lurched, throwing her to the floor. More alarms blared behind her as she scrambled up.
Massive damage to sectors three, four, and seven. Hull breach in four. Shit…we’re being boarded.
Marshal internal defenses,
the captain shouted. Go into Foothold protocol.
Cat’s stomach dropped at the words, as she finally made it to her desk. Her hands shook as she logged into her console. Foothold situation was bad. It meant a superior force was attacking the base and had the numbers to take it. It meant they were in last line of defense mode and all sensitive information needed to be locked down.
She met the quick glance of one of the other traffic control officers. Jessica looked as pale as she felt. They’d all trained for this, but with the only enemy in the area using basic surface to orbit technology, they had never expected to actually use them.
Who is it?
she mouthed, her hands working on automatic as she cleared all the recent flight logs out of the system. Any ship coming into or leaving the base logged their journey. Since most of them ended up or started from Sentinel Five, that meant any enemy could discover the location of all Terran facilities if they got hold of the database.
No idea.
Jess typed as quickly as she did, clearing records. They must’ve been cloaked or something. One minute there was nothing, and then we were surrounded.
Internal defenses offline in sector four.
Mass breaches in sectors nine and twelve.
Foothold defenses in sector four and seven compromised.
Someone get me marines on the defenses,
the captain shouted, his deep voice making both Cat and Jess pause for a moment.
Too late, Captain. Foothold down. Enemy forces in the central ring.
Divert all forces to protect primary areas. Get them up here!
Shiiiit. Whoever they were, they were in the middle parts of the orbital base. Cat blinked and renewed her efforts on the logs. She was two-thirds of the way down, her fingers on fire. It would make it so much easier if there was an auto dump on the system, but protocol insisted on manual deletion in case of data loss.
Shit, I got a lock,
Jess cursed, slamming her fist on the table. She looked up at Cat. I’m still a quarter live. You?
A third.
Her screen froze just at that moment, then her deleted records started to reinstate themselves in front of her. Crap. Crap. Crap. That was so not good. Captain…
she called out in warning. They’re in the system.
Fuck it!
The bridge paused as Captain Gregson drove his hand into the arm of his chair. Kallson,
he looked at Jess. Try and lock them out. Moore, get your ass into the mainframe and cut all access to everything but the command consoles.
On it.
Cat was already moving, clapping Jess on the shoulder as she passed.
Adrenaline surging through her system, she yanked open an access panel on the wall behind the captain’s chair and climbed through it. There was only one way to get to the mainframe computer, by ladder from the bridge. It was a design feature meant to keep the computer systems protected in the event of an attack. That the computer core was also nestled alongside the main reactor, and that someone was firing at the base, was something she preferred not to think about as she started her descent.
Rather than climbing down, she opted for the quick route. Holding the top of the ladder, she clamped the sides with the insides of her heavy combat boots and slid down it. Her feet hit the mesh plate with a crash, but Cat didn’t hang about. Rushing around the semi-circular platform, she grabbed the next ladder to slide down it. Then the next and the next. Four down, six to go.
More explosions rocked the station, a particularly nasty one almost flinging her into the shaft below. Heart in her throat, she clung to the railing for dear life.
She needed to move faster. Much faster.
Nearly there,
she muttered, her feet hitting the platform. A sign on the wall said, Nine Below.
Decks weren’t numbered in the bowels of the station core. They were assigned for their position in relation to the bridge.
Before she could reach the next ladder, there was a crash and boom above her. Instinctively, she looked up to catch the tail end of an explosion. Metal fragments, remnants of bulkheads and ladders tumbled down the shaft, straight toward her.
Her scream was one of fear and self-encouragement as she raced for the ladder. One more flight. The skin on her hands burned as she clamped around the rails and let go. She fell more than slid as the station lurched under her. Hitting the deck, she rolled, the tilt of the flooring allowing her to slide into the doorway recess for the computer core.
Her head hit the bulkhead with a sickening crack and she fought to remain conscious. Her heart almost broke her ribs with its frantic pounding; she slapped at the access plate and fell through. Immediately she dived to the side and scrunched into a little ball. Metal crashed into the floor of the shaft as the doors slid shut, the narrow gap spewing a deadly spray of shrapnel.
The barrier closed, and she was on her feet. Running across the deck was like trying to run on a carnival cakewalk. She slipped as the base rocked with more explosions, fervent prayers falling from her lips that one of those shots wouldn’t hit the reactor core above her head. At least if it did, she wouldn’t feel a thing. Death would be quick. Instantaneous. No suffering.
She grabbed onto the computer console. For such an impressive system, the main control panel was surprisingly simple. Just three monitors and input panels.
Something hit the other side of the door, hard.
It sounded like claws screamed against the metal—fingernails down a chalkboard. Her blood chilled, but she kept typing, even when the door squealed. Whatever was on the other side was coming through. She drilled down, reaching the star charts and any other information regarding Earth’s central system. Metal clicked on metal behind her and her legs began to shake.
What was it? She couldn’t look…not yet. A small moan whispered from her lips as, at any moment, she expected a laser bolt in the back. Records collated, she hit delete and cleared the system.
Data-dump complete. No records found.
She almost collapsed on the console with relief. Whatever happened to Sentinel Five, these assholes wouldn’t find their way to earth.
The noises behind her stopped. There was no breathing though. Odd.
Slowly, Cat turned.
And looked right at a monster.
A red eye
in a smooth, flat face studied her. Manlike, it stood on two legs, but there the resemblance ended. It lifted its hand, complete with razor sharp claws and she screamed, the sound of her own terror the last thing she heard as she tumbled into darkness.
Well?
War Commander Tarrick K’Vass demanded as his troop leaders surrounded him. The human base had fallen quickly, their defenses no match for Latharian technology. But then, not much was. In their many centuries of roaming the myriad galaxies, there were only a few species that could stand up to the Lathar.
Little to no resistance,
Karryl, one of his senior warriors, complained, his lips compressed into a thin line. One look at the avatars and half pissed their pants, the rest ran screaming. Did come across some problems with some of their soldiers. One of the females—can you believe they let their females fight?—was rather…determined.
The hint of a smile crossed his face, and Tarrick shook his head. The big warrior loved to fight, always moaning he could never find an enemy worthy of his skills. The fact that he’d thought enough of the human female to mention her meant she was probably an army all on her own.
Gaarn? Jassyn? Talat?
He turned to his other commanders, ignoring the mass of humans the avatars were crowding into the defeated base’s flight deck. Some were bloody and bruised, others unconscious, he noted as an avatar laid a female in the same gray uniform as the rest on the deck. He frowned at the blood on the side of her face. If some fool avie-pilot had injured any of the females without good reason, he would be pissed. With no females of their own, the Lathar prized all females, even…Tarrick shuddered, the Oonat.
Unfortunately, the Oonat, with their flat faces, were one of the few species genetically compatible with the Lathar. He’d never taken one to his bed, but with no offspring, he knew that day would come soon. It would be a one-time stand, though, not even a night. Oonat often fell pregnant immediately. And with multiple births, he would have the sons he needed to continue the Vass line.
He paused for a moment to consider the unconscious female. Even unaware, she had curves that caught his interest and triggered something in his male psyche. He couldn’t see her face, but a quick scan of the other females revealed pleasing features, not unlike the Lathar. In fact, apart from their smaller physical size, they could be his species. Almost. Their eyes were different. Not the myriad colors of his people’s.
How about the rest of you?
he shot the question at the other senior warriors.
Same, Commander.
Jassen was the first to reply. Quietly spoken, he didn’t often speak , but when he did, others listened. Little to no capable resistance, but a lot of courage. Technologically they are eons behind us. The avies seem to terrify them.
Tarrick saw that for himself, watching as the remotely piloted avatar robots moved between the humans. They cowered, scrambling to get away from the machines or curling up on themselves when they couldn’t.
Have you found her?
he demanded, reminding them of their secondary reason for being here.
The first was because the station had females, and the Lathar needed them. The second was because of one female in particular. The one that had sealed the fate of the rest on this little alien base. All his senior warriors had been present when they’d listened to recorded transmissions from this place and he’d heard it. A female’s voice, soft and melodious. It had struck a chord deep inside