Mated to the Zoran (Scifi Alien Romance) (Zoran's Chosen Book 1) Read online

  Mated to the Zoran

  Zoran’s Chosen Book 1

  Luna Hunter

  Copyright 2018 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.

  Contents

  Blurb

  1. Anaya

  2. Theros

  3. Anaya

  4. Theros

  5. Anaya

  6. Theros

  7. Anaya

  8. Theros

  9. Anaya

  10. Theros

  11. Anaya

  12. Theros

  13. Anaya

  14. Theros

  15. Anaya

  16. Theros

  17. Anaya

  18. Theros

  19. Anaya

  20. Theros

  21. Anaya

  22. Theros

  23. Anaya

  24. Theros

  25. Anaya

  26. Theros

  27. Anaya

  28. Theros

  29. Anaya

  30. Anaya

  Preview of Alien General’s Baby (Zoran Warriors Book 1)

  Also by Luna Hunter

  The Mating Star aligns.

  Anaya's having a tough week. Ever since the Rift opened up, she's been having 'episodes'. That's to say, the young woman has suddenly realized she has telepathic powers.

  It's quite unnerving.

  And then there's Theros: A silver, tall, gorgeous Zoran warrior who has shown up out of nowhere and who claims that they are both Chosen and that the Mating Star Prophecy is coming to pass.

  That's also quite out of the ordinary.

  And what about the megacorps who want to abduct her and use her powers for their own gain?

  Also definitely not good. Not good at all.

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  Happy reading!

  Chapter One

  Anaya

  I tuck my blushing pink hair into my workcap as I hurry through my morning rituals. Most people assume I dye my hair this color, but it’s all thanks to my partly-Zoran DNA. It’s not easy being a half-blood, but I make do. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and force myself to stop rushing.

  “I am at home in my body. I accept my powers. I accept myself,” I say to my mirror image.

  I do this exercise every day. I got it out of a book on affirmations recommended to me by Mikael, and I’ve been dutifully using it to maintain a firmer grip on my mind. The stars know I need all the help I can get ever since the Rift appeared…

  Slipping on my gravity boots and my orange-pink Corlis Station uniform I pry my eyes fully open with a shot of HyperJava and a bowl of Meteorz cereal. I savor the chocolaty taste as I watch the Feeds, hoping for an update on the Rift. Unfortunately, none of the talking heads have figured out what the gaping vortex actually is.

  I quickly tire of the many advertisements and I deposit my swiftly-emptied cereal bowl in the autowasher, ready to face another day.

  Except… I made a promise to Mrs. Goram. One I have to keep.

  I take a deep breath and force myself across the residential hall to my neighbor’s door. I fish the key she’s entrusted me with out of my pocket and sneak into her apartment, quickly and carefully, approaching the food dispenser as quiet as an Yssonian.

  If I’m lucky I might just get out of here quick enough to catch doorside shuttle-service to my booth.

  I agreed to feed my neighbor’s pet because she’s just the sweetest old thing. However, every morning that kind old lady is off to her Bingo League, I curse myself for my generosity. I want to avoid waking that Glug she calls Cuddles at any cost. Luckily, this is where my Zoran genes pay off. My genes aren’t prominent enough to be visual (besides my pink hair), but I’ve always had enhanced senses and abilities.

  And since the Rift my senses have been through the proverbial roof, but that’s a story for another time…

  I peek around the corner and look at the Glug. To my relief, the large, hairy beast is sleeping, and to my horror, it’s grown another couple of feet since last week. At this rate, it’s going to burst out of this apartment in less than a month! How is Mrs. Goram ever going to deal with that?!

  I know that, technically, I ought to report her to Station Patrol. This is a clear violation of the law. I could never do that to her though. Station Patrol would put Cuddles down without a second thought. Life below Tier1 clientele isn’t exactly valued on Corlis. If you’re not spending any credits, you’re costing the Station credits.

  Mrs. Goram found Cuddles in the park, discarded by tourists after its cuteness wore off. Glugs are teeny and adorable when they’re young, but by the time they’re six months old they’re big enough to eat two men for lunch. I do wonder what my neighbor is going to do when the beast reaches puberty. It’ll grow as big as a dragon!

  I don’t have to heart to turn her in, but having a Glug across the hall is definitely a hazard. Even with house training, all bets are off if it ever gets a taste of blood in its maw.

  I lower the food lever as quietly as I can.

  Clink!

  The food dispenser clinks as the food pellets fall into a bowl down below, loud enough to disturb the beast’s sleep cycle. His ragged breathing has me on edge as I pull the level once more to cover lunch.

  The hairs on the back of my neck rise up in telepathic-alarm as the lever clicks back into place.

  He’s waking up.

  I turn to face the beast. Its eyes, each as unsettlingly large as my own head, are looking right at me. I do my best to smile through the fear.

  “There, there, beasty,” I say. “Your food is over there. Not me. I’m not food. Nope. Nope. No—”

  The Glug lurches towards me, seeking affection I’m not ready to give. I throw some of the food pellets his way, hoping it’ll distract him.

  Unfortunately for me, Cuddles doesn’t care about breakfast. Right now, the beast wants to make friends. I freeze in place as the giant, glittering tongue extends towards me.

  Ugggghhh.

  Moments later I’m covered with a ridiculous amount of alien drool, dripping from head-to-toe with a rain of neon spittle that’s going to take three showers to wash off.

  I hate Mondays.

  It takes several more yanks of the food dispenser’s lever to divert Cuddles’s attention away from me. My gravity boots squelch every step of the way as I finally leave. I quickly call Sanura to cover for me, which she’s not too happy about. Only after I pledge a favor I know I’m going to suffer for does she agree to cover my spot at the Corlis Check-in Booth. If Mikael was stationed on my floor this week I wouldn’t have had to ask Sanura, but alas.

  “Took you long enough.”

  Sanura is glaring at me with her yellow cat-like eyes, her matching nails rapping impatiently on the counter. My co-worker is a full-body AI — her full name is actually CS-AI409-XF, but she prefers Sanura.

  And Sanura doesn’t like to wait. Unfortunately, it took me over an hour to scrub the thick Glug juice off my skin.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Thanks for covering for me.”

  “Did Kovachs see you?”

  I shake my head. I managed to slip by our manager undetected, thanks to my Zoran genes. If only I had been sneaky enough to avoid that coarse,
wet Glug tongue…

  “You know you’re going to pay for this, right? Sending me into work on my day off?”

  “I know, I know,” I say. “Thank you. Again.”

  Sanura whirls around, vacating my booth.

  “This Vechin is all yours. Good luck.”

  Great, a Vechin to start my Monday with. Off to a great start!

  The tall, insectoid species have an inherent distrust of all things non-Vechin. And on Corlis, that’s almost everything.

  I slide into my booth, take a deep breath to steady myself, and put on my best customer-service smile.

  “Welcome to Corlis Station. How can I help you today?”

  The alien starts rattling off questions right away. I answer the Vechin as politely as possible, but he’s glaring at me with his many eyes regardless of how hard I’m trying to make him happy.

  “How do I know the menu ingredients are ethically sourced?” he barks. “Are the harvest-workers adequately compensated?”

  Stars give me strength.

  “If you’ll look to the seal of the Intergalactic Committee’s approval, sir, you’ll find—”

  “Anyone can fabricate a seal of approval. You haven’t answered any of my questions! Is this what they call ‘service’ on Corlis nowadays?!”

  I learned a long time ago not to take the accusing tones the Vechin like to employ personally, however, knowing that and doing that are two different things all together…

  “I can assure you it’s authentic, and that the workers are fairly compensated for their harvest contributions,” I answer, but I can see from the glint in his eyes it’s hopeless. When a Vechin has worked himself into a tiff, there’s only one way to defuse him. It’s rather pricey, but I don’t care.

  I’ve had about all I can take today. Kovachs can take it out of my pay if he likes, but I need all the mental peace I can scrounge up the moment. Cuddles has sucked up the reserves of patience I’ve been storing up all weekend with one big, wet lick, and ever since the Rift was broadcast live on station wide galaxy-comm, I need to to very careful with my temper.

  I’m not a 100% sure what the connection is between my abilities and the Rift, but I’m halfway convinced I’m responsible for the fire in the replicator on level 9, and the pod-washers flooding the Auto-Laundry machines on level 4. Already I can feel my temper start to flare…

  That sorta thing kinda keeps you on edge.

  “We usually don’t do this for customers, but for one as detail-oriented and socially aware as you, we can make an exception,” I grit through my teeth, trying to keep my incoming headache at bay. “Our station has struck a deal with the Dithra of Ultra VI, so that we can provide our VIP guests with the best nectar in the galaxy.”

  The suspicion fades from the Vechin’s eyes, and it is quickly replaced with nectar-lust. His kind are unable to resist it. The insectoid is doing his best to maintain his composure, but I know I’ve got him.

  I upgrade the Vechin’s status on my dashboard with a few simple clicks.

  “Here is your access-pass for the Nectar Lounge on the 72nd level. The first batch is on the house. Enjoy.”

  “Well… perhaps this time, I’ll partake,” he muses. “Thank you.”

  Luckily, that’s far, far away from my booth…

  “How’s your Monday?” Mikael asks.

  Clear-blue eyes look at me warmly from underneath an unruly mob of black hair. That’s how you can tell the AI apart — their radiant eyes. They are almost too lifelike, filled with wonder, with heart, with intensity. Human eyes are almost dull in comparison. His model number is CS-AI301-XT, but he goes by Mikael, which is a lot easier to remember.

  “You don’t want to know,” I sigh as I sit down. The food court is buzzing with activity, but Mikael saved a seat for me. He is a total sweetheart.

  “Oh, this sounds good.”

  “Really, you don’t want to know,” I say as I unwrap my food. Today I’m treating myself to a Dithran-Chute burger and a Marbit-root salad. Mikael has his standard bowl of Synthfood sitting in front of him, which activates his flavor-receptors. Technically he doesn’t need to lunch with me, being an AI and all, but I’m very glad for his company.

  When full-body AI’s were first introduced I’ll admit I was a bit unsettled, like most people were. Digital lifeforms, just walking and talking, acting like regular folk? It’s unnerving at first. However, to my own surprise I got used to it really quickly. They’re just as alive as us regular people. Different, sure, but life is life. I struck up a friendship with Mikael, and he’s been my best friend ever since.

  “Try me.”

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  He covers his heart in mock-offense. “How dare you insinuate otherwise?”

  “I’ve told you about Mrs. Goram right?”

  I relay the story of my unfortunate morning to Mikael, and at the end, he’s in stitches. Looking back, I suppose I can see the humor in it as well. Sure didn’t feel like that at the time though!

  Mikael has a playful bent that helps keeps me sane. Without his humor, the corporate machine that is Corlis would drive me insane. I look forward to having lunch with my best friend every morning — it’s the highlight of my day. Without him, I don’t know what I’d do.

  It’s my job to accommodate every Tier1 patron with a fat credit-stack as best I can, but on days like these I wonder when, if ever, I will find what I want most. I earn enough to pay rent, but at this rate, I’m never getting off this station either.

  Sure, things could certainly be worse for me, but I can’t help but wonder if I’ll still be here in twenty years doing the exact same thing. Will I still be an Infogirl then? Do I keep doing the same thing, day in day out, forever?

  There’s got to be more to life than that.

  “How are things with Shinji?” I ask, trying to rouse myself out of my slump as best I can.

  A dark cloud forms on Mikael’s face. He was made to communicate, so I can read his expression like a book. I don’t need my Zoran senses to see that he’s hurting.

  “Not good,” he says, absentmindedly stirring his Synthfood. “He’s been spending more and more time on the lower levels. Barely has time for me.”

  “I’m sure it’ll work out,” I say.

  “I’m not so sure. What was I thinking, falling for a top-tier AI like him? He’s out of my league. Literally!”

  “Well, if things don’t work out, there’s plenty of AI in the sea, right?”

  “There’s no one like him,” he sighs wistfully.

  I tell him to hope for the best, but honestly, I don’t have a heck of a lot of experience in the arena of love. Being able to sense bad intentions has crossed a lot of men off my list. Instead, I’ve learned to enjoy diginovellas and Dithra takeout.

  We finish up our lunch and turn our attention to our ongoing game of Marbitian Checkers. This is how we always spend the last five minutes of our break. So far Mikael is on a 84 to 0 winstreak, but I’ll beat him one of these days, I’m sure.

  The game provides a satisfying escape from the emotional meltdown gnawing at my brain, and I find my mental acuity is second to none today.

  “Nice move,” he says when I capture one of his peons. “I’m impressed.”

  “Thanks.”

  I look up to see Mikael looking at me strangely, his perfectly manicured eyebrows raised.

  “What?”

  “Your lips didn’t move,” he says.

  “Pardon?”

  “When you said ‘Thanks’? Your lips didn’t move. Instead I heard it… in my mind.”

  We both know what this means, and we exchange a long, silent look. I feel myself turning pale. My abilities are accelerating. I don’t like it one bit.

  “S-sorry,” I stammer.

  “You’re changing, Anaya. Don’t apologize,” he says with that telltale look of AI curiosity in his eyes. “I know you’ve always been different, but I had no idea you could do that.”

  “I-I have to go.”

/>   I depart, despite the fact that I’m a few moves away from beating Mikael for the first time. I don’t care, though — I’m too busy freaking out. I was so in the zone that my mind had started wandering, and I somehow hacked Mikael without even realizing it. That is bad. That is really bad. If this ever comes out… Luckily, Mikael is not the sort to report me.

  Technically, you’re supposed to register anything out of the ordinary to Station Patrol, and this certainly fits the bill, but I definitely don’t want this going on my record.

  I’m like my father in that way. I know what my Zoran ancestors experienced. Dark forces tried to control them, to use their strength for their own gains. I don’t want to give ‘the system’ anymore leverage over me than it already has.

  For the rest of the day I try to keep my emotions in check, counting down the seconds to the end of my shift. I just want to get home and bury myself in the new release of my favorite diginovella series.

  Only a few minutes left when…

  “You’re late! Again!”

  Kovach’s hard voice makes me flinch. I glance over my shoulder to see Nevaeh is getting an earful from our manager.

  “Sorry!” she says. “The babysitter was late, and there was a delay on the trains, and—”

  “I don’t care! That’s the third time this week! I’ve had enough!”

  Nevaeh was recently blessed with twins, a boy and a girl, and since then she’s been a few minutes late several times. Everyone understands — except for our manager.