Nero (Scifi Alien Romance) (Cosmic Champions) Page 2

  “Cookie Bandit coming in. The view is astonishing. Every single time. Over.”

  “Enjoy your time up there. Over.”

  I glance to my side to see Geoff glaring at me.

  “Cookie Bandit? Seriously? You couldn’t think of anything better?” he bites.

  “What?” I ask my co-pilot. “You don’t like it?”

  “I loathe it.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  “We’re not here to have fun. This is our job.”

  “If this is our job, then it’s our job to have fun.”

  Most of the other pilots consider Geoff a real pain-in-the-ass, but he’s not so bad. You just have to learn how to ignore most of what he says. If you manage that, he’s a pretty good co-pilot.

  “I can’t believe you’re so cheery all the time.”

  “I can’t believe you’re so morose all the time,” I counter. “Look at this view. Just look at it!”

  “It’s Earth,” he shrugs. “Big whoop.”

  “So I guess everyone’s right when they call you a grouch, hm?”

  “Better than what they call you.”

  “Oh, now you’re just being mean,” I laugh. “Why are you so angry today?”

  “I just want to make it back home, in one piece preferably,” he says.

  “Me too, buddy. Me too.”

  There’s a cute little puppy waiting for me back home. My neighbor’s mother fell ill, so I’m looking after her dog while she’s out of state, but the little rascal has already stolen my heart with its big fluffy ears and big puppy eyes. If my neighbor thinks she’s getting her puppy back, well… she’s right, but it’ll hurt me more than I thought possible.

  This was supposed to be my weekend off, but they called me in at the last moment.

  I agreed under the condition they’d call me Cookie Bandit the entire time, in honor of my neighbor’s pup, because that’s what he is. A scoundrel who steals cookies.

  And hearts.

  Of course, I couldn’t take the cute bugger into space with me, so he’s now staying with my other neighbor, Leslie. She’s a darling, but she has trouble walking, and the puppy is one energetic pupper, with the boundless energy of a newborn… so I really like to get back home as well.

  “I don’t like flying a new ship,” Geoff continues complaining. “Too many things can go wrong. I don’t like being a guinea pig. And I especially don’t like not being the one holding the control stick.”

  “Ah, so you’re jealous,” I tease Geoff as I wiggle the stick. “You got stick-envy.”

  “Be careful with that thing,” he mutters. “If you crash us into the moon, I’ll never forgive you, you know. I’ll haunt your ass.”

  “Noted. However, there’s nothing out here to fly into—”

  “Warning! Warning! Collision course detected!”

  I utter a cry as something big and gray seems to materialize out of thin air right in front of us, coated in purple light. I press the stick down and the spaceship lurches to the side, my stomach doing a somersault.

  “What the fuck was that?!” Geoff screams.

  “I don’t know,” I say, sweat trickling down my brow.

  We barely missed that thing, and I mean barely. That was too close for comfort. Way too close.

  We’re out here in space, with the best radars possible. They are tracking every meteorite, every satellite, every square inch of space debris that is floating around Earth is continuously mapped and tracked… so how did that gray cylinder just pop out of nowhere?

  “Control, are you seeing this?!” I ask.

  “Yes, we are. Are you safe? Over.”

  “We’re fine, I think. Over.”

  I glance down at my control panel, but nothing is lighting up. Nothing is telling me we’re about to die out here.

  “Good. Come back i—”

  The connection suddenly cuts out.

  “Control?” I ask. “Control? Come in, control?”

  My lips are dry and I try to keep the panic from breaking into my voice. This was supposed to be a standard mission. Take the new ship for a spin and head back to Earth. Back in time for dinner.

  The com crackles back to life.

  “Cookie Bandit?” a deep voice says. It’s strangely familiar, yet I can’t quite place it — but it doesn’t sound one bit like Control. “What kind of name is that,” the voice curses under his breath. “What kind of two-bit show is NASA running here?”

  “Yes?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at Geoff. He shrugs and shakes his head.

  “This is General Bowers. I need you to take that pod in. That is a direct order.”

  General Bowers?! That’s the highest ranking officer of the entire armed forces. Only the President outranks him. Why would he be on the line?

  “Do you copy, Snow? Do you copy?”

  “Sir, yes sir,” Geoff cuts in on the line. “We read you loud and clear.”

  I shake my head at Geoff and disable my com.

  “I’m the one in charge here,” I say. “Don’t make calls on my behalf!”

  “You’re not in charge, you’re a pilot, like me,” he counters. “That’s General fucking Bowers on the line.”

  “We have no idea what that thing was! It could be dangerous!”

  “Whatever it is, the army wants it.”

  “I’m not in the army,” I say. Not anymore.

  Geoff laughs. “That doesn’t change a damn thing. Now, I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life in jail for treason, so I suggest you turn this ship around.”

  “They wouldn’t dare.”

  “Do you really want to find out?”

  I curse under my breath.

  And turn the ship around.

  The big, metal pod hangs still in the air. Ominously. It’s about ten feet high and covered in strange marking, something akin to hieroglyphs. I’ve got a real bad feeling about this…

  I open the cargo bay doors and maneuver the ship so that the metal device slides into the belly of our ship.

  “This is Cookie Bandit, coming in. Package is secured. Over.”

  “Good,” Bowers answers. “Return to base, there will be a team waiting for you. In the meantime, go down and see what you can learn.”

  “Sir?” I ask. He can’t be serious. I’m not touching some alien artifact.

  “That’s an order. I want to know if that thing is North-Korean. If they’ve got warp-technology, than we’ve got no other option than to declare a preemptive war. Time is of the essence. Go!”

  “You heard the man,” Geoff says. “I’ll fly her home, you go and see whatever that thing is.”

  “What? No! You go!”

  “He specifically gave you the order, didn’t he?”

  I can’t believe this.

  I woke up this morning with my only plans beings taking my (okay, my neighbor’s) cute labrador puppy out for a nice long walk — and now I have to check out some alien technology to see if we should declare nuclear war on the North-Koreans?!

  This day can’t get any worse.

  With every fiber of my body fighting against me, I head down into the belly of the ship. The walkway down towards the cargo bay is long and dark and I’ve never felt quite so alone. There’s something just not quite right about all of this.

  The giant metal pod looms up in front of me.

  It’s even bigger than I thought. Big and gray, covered in strange markings, this thing looks decidedly alien.

  Except aliens don’t exist. Of course.

  Suddenly, the pod opens with a loud hiss.

  What I see makes my heart jump into my throat.

  There’s a gorgeous man inside of the metal pod. Seven feet tall, if not more, with bronzed, olive skin. He’s wearing metal armor, like some kind of ancient warrior, with a red cape hanging over his broad shoulders.

  I know one thing: This man is not North-Korean.

  I’m not sure he’s even human.

  As strange as it sounds, he looks more like some semi-divine
being. A perfect specimen if there ever was one.

  Impossible, of course.

  Aliens aren’t real.

  That’s the one thing I’m sure of.

  Aliens aren’t real.

  And then his eyes open, his powerful gaze landing right on me, and suddenly I’m not so sure of anything anymore, except for the fact that my core is burning with the heat of a thousand suns…

  Chapter Three

  Nero

  My vision clears — and what I see is the most gorgeous creature I have ever seen looking at me quizzically, her head cocked to the side, a frown on her face.

  Her gorgeous face.

  Her curves beg me to touch her, her navy-blue uniform barely containing them. Her dark hair is just asking to be wrapped around my fists as I thrust into her dripping wet cu—

  I stumble forwards, out of the metal pod and drop down to my knees. My mind is swimming with thoughts, with fear, anger, lust, and guilt.

  A crushing, all-compassing guilt.

  What was father talking about? Something about my history, my fate? Were those his last words?

  His last words.

  Magnus Bruttius’s cold smile is burned into my retina.

  You.

  Me.

  What is there I don’t know?

  I’ll never be able to ask father.

  Gaius Octavius, the paterfamilias of House Octavius, died in front of me, like countless others did, like Romulus did… and for what? For me?

  Who am I?

  I’m just a soldier. A warrior. Good at my job, but nothing special. No one that’ll be remembered.

  So why is the emperor-killer out for my blood?

  “Are you… okay?”

  The gorgeous creature voice reaches my ears. It’s every bit as beautiful as she is. I’m surprised she speaks the Elban tongue — I’ve yet to meet an alien race who can master its intricacies.

  I glance up at her, taking a moment to drink in the sight of her, from head to toe. Try as I might, I can not make sense of it.

  There are no female Elbans. We are a race of male warriors. We protect other species, and in return, they send us tribute.

  Their women.

  The strongest in our Houses breed with them, and new Elbans warriors are born from those unions.

  And so the cycle continues.

  Yet this strange creature, this beautiful woman standing in front of me… looks just like a female Elban.

  She is not as tall, not as strong as an Elban, but her skin, her face, her body — it’s like mine.

  Except she has full breasts, curvy hips and thick, desirable lips.

  This can’t be. This must be some kind of Bruttius trap, a mind-trick being played on me. I rise to my feet and grab her by the neck, lashing out like a wounded animal. I lift her up easily.

  “Who are you?!” I growl. “Where are we?!”

  Her hands go to my wrist, her feet flailing around helplessly.

  “Let go, you brute,” she says, barely getting the words out. “You’re choking me!”

  I press her back against the wall and lean in close, studying the fine features of her face.

  A part of me thought she might be a shapeshifter, an illusion meant to trick me, but no. Her skin feels warm to the touch. And her smell — it’s nothing like a doppelgänger.

  Her scent is sweet and rosy, pleasant, like the advent of spring, like a hot, soothing bath.

  The kind of scent you want to get lost in.

  I lower her to her feet, and she gasps for air. Watching her chest rise up and down as she breathes makes my cock harden, and I shake my head.

  Focus, Nero. Don’t worry about knocking her up. Think. Where are you?

  My eyes take in the room. Everything around me is made of metal, and in the distance I hear a faint buzzing.

  We’re not on Elba anymore.

  Father must have teleported me away somehow.

  “You speak English?” the woman asks, rubbing her sore throat. “I take it you’re not a North-Korean agent, so… who the hell are you?”

  I push my shoulders back. “I am Nero Octavius, of House Octavius. I speak Elban, as do you.”

  I do not know what this English is, and I resent being called it.

  “Uhh, whatever you say, Nero,” she says, slowly backing away from me.

  “Halt,” I growl. “What is your name?”

  “Victoria Snow.”

  “Are you in league with House Bruttius? Don’t you dare lie to me.”

  “House what-now? I’m not in any… I work for NASA. This is an American ship, if that… answers your question.”

  That raises more questions than answers, for I have never heard those words in my life.

  The helplessness of it all overwhelms me, and I belt out a primal scream. My place is by my father’s side, by Romulus’s side, fighting and dying for my house.

  “Victoria, what the hell was that?” a voice coming from the female’s helmet says.

  “We have a bit of a …situation,” she answers, her eyes not leaving my body for an instant.

  Victoria

  “What do you mean?” Geoff asks, blowing up my headset.

  “I don’t even know where to begin explaining,” I say truthfully.

  The man in front of me is unlike any man I’ve ever seen before. He’s so damn tall and broad-shouldered. He looks more like a marble statue, like some kind of godly Roman warrior than a human being.

  His metal armor, the red cape, his chiseled jaw, his muscled forearms, the freaking sword strapped to his waist…

  Seven foot tall Roman warriors aren’t supposed to appear out of metal pods in the middle of space.

  Yet, he’s not an illusion. Nero Octavius is standing in front of me, as bright as day. There’s no denying it. I felt his touch. His fingers wrapping around my throat.

  He lifted me up as if I was weightless.

  No man has ever done that. No human man.

  I’m starting to doubt everything now. Aliens don’t exist… but there’s no other explanation. Nero is an alien. A celestial being.

  An angel, perhaps.

  It’s either that, or I’m having the most vivid dream possible… but I don’t believe that. My heart is racing too fast, my palms are too sweaty, my core is burning too hot for that.

  I’m equal parts afraid and intrigued by the alien warrior — but as our eyes meet, and I see the lust burning in his eyes, fear wins out.

  He has more strength in one finger than I have in my whole body, but Victoria Snow doesn’t go down without a fight.

  “Holy shit!” Geoff curses, breaking the tension. “We have ships coming in out of nowhere! Fu—”

  The ship suddenly lurches up, and I tumble forwards. Nero breaks my fall, my face pressed right into his neck, my chest pressed against his, my hips straddling him.

  I sit up, placing my hand on his chest. My fingers have a mind of their own, and they runs down his body. I subconsciously wonder how he feels underneath that armor of his.

  The ship is rotating on its axis, Geoff is cursing in my headset and all kinds of alarms are going off in the distance, but for a second, I only have eyes for Nero.

  Our gaze meets, and it’s electric.

  I feel something hard press between my legs, and I don’t dare to look if it’s his sword, or a different, equally dangerous package…

  “They’re docking! I can’t shake them!” Geoff screams, and his warning is finally enough to break the spell.

  “Docking?” I ask. “What do you mean?”

  What the hell is going on?

  “House Bruttius,” Nero growls. I can feel his voice rumble down in my stomach. “Get behind me.”

  What happens next doesn’t just change my worldview — it shatters it.

  The very wall itself lights up with sparks, with red hot lines like molting lava appearing on the walls. Nero hops up to his feet and pulls out his sword, the metal edge gleaming in the fluorescent light.

  A square is
cut out of the wall and kicked in, hitting the ground with a loud thud.

  A man jumps down.

  He’s wearing full body-amor, like some kind of medieval knight. It’s painted jet-black, with a golden snake curling it’s way down his chest. A helmet obscures his face, and in his left hand he wields a sword, a shield in his right one.

  Are we… are we being attacked by sword-wielding aliens?

  The man charges at Nero, who is rooted to the spot. The black knight raises his sword up high and strikes down.

  My hands cover my face, though I look through the gaps between my fingers. I don’t want to look, but I have to.

  At the very last moment Nero steps to the side. The strike misses him, and the man tumbles forward, brought out of balance by his own momentum. Nero thrusts the tip of his sword in the small gap between the man’s chest piece and his helmet.

  Blood gushes out like a busted faucet, thick and red, and the man gasps, his hands covering the wound, stumbling on the floor, slipping over the pooled blood.

  Seconds later he stops moving.

  I just watched a man die in front of me.

  “Wh-what was that?” I stammer.

  “House Bruttius,” he replies calmly. “Stay put, that won’t be the last of them.”

  More black-clad knights appear, and Nero dispenses of them one by one. He is incredibly agile, dodging every swipe, every blow the knights try to land. I don’t think a single blade touches him.

  I’m mesmerized by his movements, the way his muscles bulge, the strength and sheer ruthlessness that he possesses. For a moment I even forget the danger, the fear gripping my throat.

  Not that I could ever love a brutish warrior like Nero Octavius — not rationally, at least. My body, however, has different thoughts… thoughts that need to be suppressed.

  When the supply of black knights comes to a halt, Nero turns back to me, his body covered in blood — and his eyes widen with shock.

  The next moment an arm is wrapped around my throat from behind, and I’m lifted right up into the air.

  “You’ll make a fine breeder,” a voice whispers into my ear.

  “Let her go, Magnus,” Nero growls. “Let her go. Now.”

  “Why would I? I’m only just getting started,” the man responds.