Thabo (Scifi Alien Romance) (Galactic Mates) Read online

  Thabo

  Galactic Mates

  Luna Hunter

  Contents

  Copyright

  Newsletter

  Also by Luna Hunter

  1. Riley

  2. Thabo

  3. Riley

  4. Thabo

  5. Riley

  6. Thabo

  7. Riley

  8. Thabo

  9. Riley

  10. Thabo

  11. Riley

  12. Thabo

  13. Riley

  14. Thabo

  15. Riley

  Epilogue

  Also by Luna Hunter

  About the Author

  Copyright 2016 Luna Hunter.

  Published by Luna Hunter at Amazon.

  This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All characters represented within are eighteen years of age or older and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This work is property of Luna Hunter, please do not reproduce illegally.

  Created with Vellum

  Thank you for picking up this book! Thabo is the first book in the Galactic Mates series. Each book can be read as a standalone, but if you want all of the backstory, I recommend reading the Zoran Warriors books first. You can find the links on the next page.

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  Enjoy!

  Also by Luna Hunter

  Zoran Warriors

  Alien General’s Baby - Jillian’s Story

  Alien Warrior’s Baby - Kaitlyn’s Story

  Alien Soldier’s Baby - Kelly’s Story

  Alien Guardian’s Baby - Isabella’s Story

  1

  Riley

  I should not have worn heels.

  The red shoes are killing me, but my boss, Orson DuPont, insisted I’d wear them. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, trying to alleviate my pain and kill the time, but it’s hopeless.

  We’ve been waiting for the Zoran for hours up here on Vonnegut Station. It’s my first time up in space, but my nerves are making it impossible to enjoy. The ferocious warriors could arrive any moment now… and the anticipation is killing me. I’ve heard many things about the multi-colored barbarians; none of them good. They sound like brutish warriors to me.

  I didn’t graduate cum laude in Intergalactic Politics from the University of Washington to interact with such a primitive race.

  Sure, technology wise, they’re extremely advanced. Way more than us humans, which is why we need them. However, I don’t consider any species that bases its whole society on masculinity to be advanced, no matter what my professors may have said.

  The Zorans are literally the textbook example of an ‘alpha’ race. They are incredibly tall and as strong as an ox. They value physical strength over all else, and their strongest warriors lead.

  Which makes it all the more baffling that Jillian Archer, one of Earth’s brightest scientists, decided to marry the silver-skinned King Vinz. I looked up to her, but that’s one choice I just can’t wrap my head around. It did open up Human-Zoran relations though, and how!

  “Is that them? Ohmygoshohmygosh. How does my hair look? Is it okay? Why are you looking at me like that? God I look like I’m wearing a trash bag, don’t I?”

  Michelle Coors, my colleague, is freaking out, and I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. She hastily adjusts her long, blonde hair and tugs at her form-fitting pencil dress. Even if she was wearing a trash bag, she’d still be most beautiful woman on this entire space station. It all comes so easy to her. From a slim figure to dimples in her chin and a beauty mark on her cheek – she has it all.

  Unlike me. My brown hair is always unruly, no matter what I do with it. None of the dresses my boss insists I wear seem to fit properly, and these damn heels are killing me.

  What’s taking them so long?

  “Relax,” I tell Michelle. “You look perfect. Stunning. Gorgeous. Just stop fretting, you’re making me nervous.”

  “Sorry!” she says. “I’m just so excited! Do you think they’ll want to, you know… mate with us?”

  “W-what now?” I stammer.

  Mate?

  “Yeah,” Michelle answers, keeping one eye on the door at all-times. “Mate. Why do you think DuPont made us wear these dresses?”

  Heat rises to my cheeks instantly. No matter what my boss wants, I am not mating with some seven feet tall, broad-shouldered alien!

  I don’t want my first to be a Zoran, of all species.

  “I’ve heard Zorans go crazy for humans,” Michelle continues, not realizing she’s freaking me the hell out. “I mean, there’s Jillian Archer, and that reporter, what was her name again? Kaitlyn? Plus, I heard Jillian’s assistant, Kelly, also got herself a warrior,” she rattles on as if they’re lottery winners. “Can you imagine? We could be next!”

  I can imagine alright… but I’d rather not!

  “How does that even work, physically?” I say. “They’re so much taller!”

  “I’m sure they can find a way,” Michelle answers, suggestively wiggling her eyebrows.

  Why did I even ask?

  “There you are!”

  I turn on my heels to find my boss, Orson DuPont, waddling towards me, with Captain Simopoulos by his side. They look almost comical: Two round, plump, balding men walking as fast as they can, but their expressions are anything but humorous. My boss looks like he’s about to burst. His face is as red as a tomato, his tie undone, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead.

  “Harpy, where are my files?!” DuPont barks at me.

  Harpy. It’s his idea of a joke to call me that. As if I haven’t heard that enough in high school…

  “It’s Harper, sir,” I say, flashing him my most confident smile.

  His angry gaze doesn’t fade. Maybe I picked a bad time to get sassy…

  “Here they are, sir,” I say as I hand him a stack of manila folders. I don’t understand why DuPont insists on having me print out every single document, as everything is digital nowadays, but he demands it. Sometimes I think he just likes making his interns sweat.

  He grabs the files from my hand without as much as a thank-you and pushes his way past us, Captain Simopoulos following him into the conference room.

  “What crawled up his ass and died?” I ask Michelle the moment the monumental oak doors close in front of us.

  Her blue eyes go wide. “You can’t say that,” she hisses.

  “Oh relax,” I tell her. “He can’t hear u—”

  “RILEY HARPER!”

  My boss’s booming voice makes me wobble on my heels, my heart leaping into my throat. With the look of a frightened deer I open the heavy doors. “Y-yes, sir?”

  The files I had so carefully arranged are sprawled out all over the immense conference table. I can’t focus on the beauty of the room, the round, glass dome that provides a perfect view of Earth, like a blue jewel hanging in the dark sky – DuPont’s beady eyes demand my attention.

  “Where are the files on the Intergalactic Alliance? I specifically asked for them! Don’t you read your messages? What the hell do I pay you for? This is a mess!” he says, sweeping all the papers off the table in an angry huff.

  Those files are in the mess you just created, just like you asked for, jerk. If you took one second to look at the index I so painstakingly made, you’d have found them. And I’m an intern, you don’t pay me doodly squat.

  I swallow all those words, putting on my best fake-smile. I’ve had to perfect it ever since I started working for the orneriest man in existenc
e. Opportunities like these, working directly for the Minister of Interplanetary Affairs himself, don’t come along often for fresh-faced graduates like myself. That’s why I grin and bear it.

  Just a few more months...

  “I’m sorry, sir,” I lie through my teeth. “I’ll get those files for you right away.”

  I turn and close the door, resting my back against it. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, my hands clammy. For a second I feared he’d heard me and I’d be out on my ass.

  My big mouth is going to get me killed one day.

  “What happened?” Michelle asks, her eyes as big as saucers. “Did he hear you?”

  “No,” I say. “He’s just having another fit.” I run my hand through my unruly bush of brown curls. “I have to go print some files. Be right back.”

  I wobble on my heels, looking for a workstation to print my files. I’ve only just managed to find my way in the ministry’s gigantic office in New York after two months of working there. Vonnegut Station is a maze to me. I make my way through the many small corridors and find an unattended desk.

  I log in, and a few minutes later I’ve printed the Intergalactic Alliance files for my boss. For the second time today. When I glance at my watch I see to my horror it’s already been twenty minutes. DuPont is going to kill me if I don’t hurry up!

  I swipe the papers from the printer and run down the hall, as fast as my heels can take me. I go around the corner and run straight into a brick wall.

  It’s red and black, and as hard as stone.

  Except it’s not a wall – it’s a seven-feet-tall, flame-red alien warrior. The papers fly up into the air, whirling to the ground around me like snow. Time seems to pass in slow-motion as I tumble over backwards, my eyes locked on the steely-eyed Zoran in front of me. His eyes are as orange as the setting sun, his skin the color the of flames.

  Hugging his huge, fit body is an obsidian black armor that’s so snug he’s damn near naked. Every muscle is perfectly defined, like a Greek statue of old. Within a flash his hands are underneath me, stopping my fall.

  One red hand resting firmly on my ass.

  I look up at him, my stomach fluttering. His face is hovering only inches from mine, and I feel the heat radiating off him. His thick, kissable lips curl up into a cocky smirk.

  “Watch yourself, human,” he says, his voice a low growl.

  For some reasons my knees are weak, my whole body flushed as red as he is, and I rest my hands on his chest as he helps me to my feet.

  His huge, broad, muscled chest, seems to go on forever, like Olympus Mons. My hands drift down, memorizing the feel of his perfectly sculpted abs, the heat in my core rising another few degrees.

  I glance up to see him raising his eyebrow at me, that panty-melting smirk still etched onto his chiseled face, and with a jolt I realize I’m absentmindedly fondling a foreign dignitary.

  A human purser comes running around the corner, dripping with sweat. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees the tall Zoran warrior.

  “There you are,” he says. “Please, General Thabo, sir, let me escort you to the conference room. Please.”

  From his pleading tone I understand he’s been trying to get the Zoran warrior upstairs for quite a while, but the brute has been wandering the halls instead. No wonder he’s so late!

  “I can find it myself,” the warrior growls.

  “I’m going there as well,” I say as I kneel down to pick up the papers from the floor. “Let me be your guide.”

  The Zoran smirks down at me. I’m kneeling in front of him, my face level with the immense bulge in his jet-black armor “You can be a whole lot more,” he says.

  Did he just insinuate…? What an asshole! Michelle was right, these Zorans are just walking and talking cocks.

  Big, firm, throbbing cocks. Perfectly outlined. Ten inches long, and thick too.

  Involuntarily I lick my lips, and a warmth spreads through every fiber of my being. I wonder if his cock is as red, as angry, as intimidating as he is…

  What am I thinking?! I stand up and straighten my dress, trying my best to forget how good his hand felt on my ass, how firm his hold was, how he made me feel absolutely weightless for a split second.

  If this Zoran thinks he can rattle me, he’s got another thing coming.

  “This way, General Thabo,” I say, my voice pure business.

  I lead him towards the elevator, and he follows me without a moment’s hesitation. I feel his orange eyes burn into my back the entire time. When we step into the elevator, he’s standing so close his hot breath tickles the back of my neck. The elevator shakes and I stumble backwards – damn heels! – planting my lower back right into his astonishingly hard bulge.

  I’m glad he doesn’t react, for I’m already embarrassed enough as it is.

  Just when I pushed those sinful thoughts out of my mind, the universe throws me right back into his firm, hard clutches. Once this meeting is over, I’m going to take one long shower. To wash the Zoran’s scent away… and maybe do something else as well…

  We reach the conference room, and I’m glad this confusing moment is over. Michelle’s jaw drops when she sees me leading the giant Zoran along. I nod at her to open the door, and after she stares for a moment with her mouth hanging open, she regains enough composure to open the oak doors for us.

  Orson DuPont and Captain Simopoulos are waiting inside, their expressions grim. The moment they see General Thabo they light up, fake-smiles adorning their chubby faces. They both extend their hands toward the red giant, but he walks straight past them.

  It gives me immense pleasure to watch someone put DuPont in his place.

  “Here are the files, sir,” I say as I leave them on the round conference table. My boss doesn’t even acknowledge me, confirming my suspicion that he didn’t even want the files. He was just on another one of his power-trips.

  I head towards the door as fast as I can without breaking into a run. On any other occasion I’d love to sit in on a meeting like this, watching the minister work from up close, but the Zoran’s hungry eyes make me feel a kind of way. Annoyed. Bothered. Confused. I’m getting the hell out of here and taking that shower. I deserve it.

  I’m only two feet away from freedom when my boss’s nasal voice pulls me back, snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.

  “Harpy, Michelle, stay,” he says, once again getting my name wrong. “Take notes.”

  I freeze, my hand already on the handle of the door. I briefly contemplate telling him to shove it… but my common sense wins out.

  “Yes, sir,” I say, taking my place at the workstation in the corner of the room, where Michelle joins me. She’s got an excited grin on her face, smiling broadly at me. We couldn’t be in more different mindsets right now.

  When I glance up I see General Thabo’s brightly colored eyes are locked onto me as he mentally undresses me from across the room. I quickly look back at my keyboard, pleading for my cheeks to stop burning.

  I don’t want to give the brute the idea that I like his unwanted attention.

  “General… Thabo, was it? Am I pronouncing that correctly?” Orson DuPont starts, his hands folded in his lap. The ornery man I’ve come to know as my boss disappears like snow before the sun, and he’s replaced by a sleek diplomat.

  Thabo grunts a response. The chair he’s in is way too small for his large frame. He looks like an adult in a kid’s seat. Damn it, I promised myself I’d stop staring at him.

  “My name is Orson DuPont, and I’m the minister of Interplanetary Affairs for the human Federation, and this is Captain Simopoulos, the commander of this space station. First off, I’d like to formally extend my gratitude for the Zoran’s quick response to our inquiry, and—”

  “Who is she?”

  “Excuse me?”

  The ruby-red warrior points straight at me. “You didn’t introduce the female.”

  “She’s of no concern,” my boss says. “Now—”

 
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Thabo growls, his panty-dropping eyes staring straight at me.

  Who turned up the thermostat in here?

  “Very well,” DuPont says, confused. “That is Riley Harper, an intern.”

  So he does know my name.

  “And I’m Michelle Co—”, Michelle pipes in, but the Zoran cuts her off.

  “Does she have a mate?”

  What?

  DuPont looks at me, a confused look on his round face. He can’t expect me to seriously answer such an uncalled for, private question! The status of my mate, or lack thereof, is no one’s business but my own.

  “No,” Michelle says. “And neither do I, by the way. We’re two unmated, human females. Just throwing it out there.”

  She beams her perfect smile at Thabo, her back straight, her breasts jutted out. She desperately wants to take the fire-red alien warrior off my hands, and I hope she succeeds.

  I think. To my surprise, I’m irrationally jealous all of a sudden. The thought of Thabo taking Michelle hurts me in the pit of my stomach, like a slow, deep burn.

  “Right,” DuPont says. “Now that’s cleared up, let’s get back to business. I want to discuss the proposal we sent you.”

  “Didn’t read it,” Thabo replies. He doesn’t look at Michelle or my boss – he’s only got eyes for me. For some reason, I find that fact relieving.

  The room is silent, and DuPont is absolutely perplexed. He’s a man that is used to always getting his way, like a tiny dictator, but the Zoran general in front of him doesn’t even care to look at him.

  “I-I’m sorry?”

  “Didn’t have time,” the Zoran answers. “Summarize it.”

  “R-right,” DuPont stammers, completely out of his element. He starts wading through the large stack of papers in front of him, and panic takes a hold of him. Simopoulos is sitting next to him, his hands folded in his lap, totally nonplussed.