Alien Rogue's Price

By Nancey Cummings

Everything has a price.

The question is, are you willing to pay it? I’m not pretending to be good or honest. I’m a businessman and those who call me a pirate don't get a chance to say it twice.

I have a stowaway on my ship. Meyet. Everything in my body cries out for the soft human woman: her curves, those lips, bright eyes, and the way she smiles at me. Is Meyet my fated mate? Does it matter when we argue constantly? Who is she to question how I run my ship? But I know I would be empty without her wicked smile and sharp tongue.
The problem is, she’s running from two very dangerous men. Can I be the male she deserves and defend her? Will I fight for what is mine?

Am I willing to pay the price to keep her?

Standalone novel. Happy ending. No cheating. No cliffhangers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Menura Press
• Release date: Oct 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370329298

Nancey Cummings

Nancey writes fun, fast and flirty scifi romances featuring feisty heroines and out-of-this-world heros. Nancey lives in an old house with her husband and two cats who have complaints with management. When she’s not writing, she enjoys video games, horror movies and anything involving time travel.

Book preview

Alien Rogue’s Price

Alpha Aliens of Fremm 4

Nancey Cummings

Just a Little Taste

Ruush exhaled slowly and tension visibly drained from him. Tell you what, Meyet. We can come to an accord on this.

I folded my arms over my chest. I don’t see how. If he left me on this rock, I’d talk my way onto another ship. Even a slave ship if I had to. Swift and Gentle would kill me, of that I was certain. But continuing to live as a slave was better than the alternative.

A wager, he said.

I tilted my head, curious. You’ll cheat. That’s what you rogue types do.

A card game?

Do I have ‘chump’ written on my forehead?

The Fremm barman was back in the room, gathering up the empty glasses. He laughed. I like this one, Ruush. She’s on to you.

A game of skill? Chance? A drinking game? Ruush’s eyes gleamed. Oh, he was having a good time.

Tell me about the hoop challenge, I said, addressing the barman.

Marks of surprise burned on his brow. My eyes drifted from the barman to Ruush. Their skin tone was different but their features so similar, I was ashamed I didn’t see it earlier. Ruush was a grayish slate blue, but the barman was a lighter, brighter blue grey. They were brothers, or at the very least, related. Now that I saw them side by side, I noticed something else. Ruush had never betrayed his thoughts or emotions with the luminescence of his skin, the luminescence that every Fremm had. He was either a master at controlling his emotions, or he wasn’t a full-blooded Fremm.

If he was a Terran-Fremm hybrid, then that only went to prove my theory that hybrids were the most gorgeous of species’.

Now I was blushing.

Ruush cocked an eyebrow at me. Go ahead and tell her, Dashle. My brother, by the way. I’m sure you noticed the similarity.

It’s pretty straight forward, Dashle said. You get a metal plate. You toss it through the hoops. Each hoop is a little smaller than the one before. Clear all the hoops, free booze.

Did you devise the game? I asked, not taking my eyes off Ruush. I folded my arms over my chest, studying him.

Nope. Came with the bar.

Has anyone ever beaten it?

Not in the ten years I’ve owned the place.

I cocked my own eyebrow at Ruush. I liked the sound of this game. What’s a jarhead?

An old Terran word for soldier.

Has your brother ever tried his hand?

Doesn't have to, Dashle said. He already drinks for free, the bum.

Perfect. Hoops it is, Ruush.

Ruush leaned forward. He was close to me now, the heat of his body making me shiver. Terms?

If you get the plate through all the hoops, I go along with your plan. No arguing, even though I hate it. If you lose, I serve as the ship’s doctor. I might even be gentle when I stitch you together.

Ruush shook his head. Not good enough.

What do you mean? I was giving him everything he wanted a few minutes ago.

If I win, you go to Avalon and play doctor with me but I also want… He leaned forward and whispered in my ear.

My eyes went wide. A hot, fierce blush overtook me. I slapped him.

He grinned as he rubbed his jaw. Is that a yes, kitten?

Barely able to control my pounding heart, I looked over the table. All eyes were on me. I don’t really have a choice, do I?

Sure you do, Ruush said, heading for the front of the bar. It’s just not a good choice.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Also Available

About the Author

Copyright (boring stuff)

Chapter One

Meyet

Okay, so this wasn’t good.

Swift waking me in the middle of the night was never good. It meant someone was bleeding, shot, stabbed, or otherwise broken.

Blood. It always meant blood.

Swift stood at the foot of my bed. Get dressed, Terran. Merely a shadow in the dark, I recognized the Tal male’s intense voice.

I clutched the sheet to my chest. What is it? I asked.

My father needs you.

Shit. This was worse than a fractured bone or a shooting. Calmness Yvar, my indentured master, was ill. I needed to think fast, work faster, and save his life. I tossed the blanket aside, ignoring Swift's hungry gaze. I was wearing a tank top and panties and nothing else. With a blush, I reached for my sleep pants and pulled them on quickly. Thank the Stars I didn’t sleep in the nude. Nope, too risky with so many men on the compound. Not taking time to brush my hair, I grabbed my med kit.

Ready.

Nearly at the door, Swift grabbed my waist and pulled me toward him. The light downy fur of his coat pressed against my bare arms. Exposed, I wished I had the foresight to wear more modest sleep clothes, despite the heat of Talmar. He brushed the hair back from my face. A claw softly scraped down the side of my cheek. His breath, hot and close on my skin, rolled my stomach. I turned my face away and closed my eyes.

You look so peaceful when you sleep, Meyet, Swift said. So tender. So appetizing. Next time I wake you from sleep, I will do it between your thighs, pretty Terran.

Revulsion churned in my stomach. Your father-

Is dying. I know his words. You’re off limits as long as he’s alive.

I gulped, relieved. Swift would honor his father’s command. For now.

Consider this motivation to keep my father among the living, he said, releasing me with a stinging swat on the butt. He laughed as I scurried down the hall, clutching the med kit to my chest.

This wasn’t the first time I’d been awoken in the middle of the night to rescue my poisoned, injured, or otherwise dying master. Calmness was a notorious crime lord on Talmar and he wasn’t a nice person. Nice people didn’t push Dust, loan shark to the desperate, enable gamblers, keep sex workers addicted to Dust, or run crooked casinos. Calmness, understandably, had numerous enemies and had already survived several attempts on his life. Tonight would not be the night those enemies succeeded. Not if I wanted to live.

So how did a nice, clever girl like me end up working for the most notorious crime lord on Talmar?

My father had a small gambling problem. And by small, I meant huge. He was several thousand credits in debt to nasty, nasty people. The kind of people you didn’t cross. The kind of people, funnily enough, you didn’t want waking you in the middle of night, and certainly not the kind of people you traded your daughter to because there’s no chance in hell you’ll work off your debt.

One guess what my father did.

Traded me away to erase his gambling debts, you say? You’re a smart cookie.

Being the slave to Calmness Yvar wasn’t the worst thing in the universe. I mean, it was pretty bad. Technically I was held in indentured servitude to work off my father’s debts, but that’s the fancy word for legal slavery. My position in the compound could have been a lot more... unstable. I was clever and Yvar always had a need for clever.

In retrospect, my life would have been simpler if I had concrete skills like cooking, fighting, or cleaning. I had to be clever. So Yvar sent me off to school, which added to my debt, by the way. He’s a businessman, not a charity, as he frequently reminds me.

So I went to medical school. Thugs, smugglers, and other less law abiding types always needed a private physician. Honestly, Calmness Yvar treated me well enough. No one touched me, thank the Stars. The henchmen respected me enough to leave me alone. I had a comfortable place to sleep, the best foods, and Yvar always traveled, so I got to see plenty of the galaxy.

Here’s the thing, though… counting yourself lucky to have enough food to eat and a place to sleep was no type of life. I wanted so many things, including a family, but I was never going to be free of the debt. I would always be Calmness’s slave.

As long as he was alive.

Calmness kept my room near his in the compound. Down one hall and around the corner and I was there. From the doorway, I surveyed the situation. Malik, a fighter, stood in the corner, looking stoic and vaguely concerned. Gentle, the crime lord’s other son, crouched at his father’s side, holding a glass of whiskey to the man’s lips. The crime lord himself rested on the bed, foot elevated. His skin flushed rosy, showing through his light grey fur. Perspiration beaded his forehead. His tail lashed out angrily from the bed and his ears, normally tufted and tall, lay flat.

Calmness’s eyes met mine. Poisoned and injured, possibly dying, the man still commanded me. I hated him.

It was a snake, he said.

I immediately yanked out the pillow and lowered the affected foot. Don’t give him booze, you idiot, I said, smacking away the whiskey.

He wanted a drink, Gentle replied, voice a growl. Great idea, pissing off the psychopath son, Meyet. Good job. Normally Gentle’s displeasure would terrify me but this was my domain. I was impertinent in the face of danger, and Gentle was very, very dangerous.

I bit back my retort. Why didn’t Gentle take his father out for a vigorous jog around the compound, since he was set on helping the venom do its job? Instead, I clipped a small plastic cube to Calmness’s index finger. His vital stats immediately transmitted to my data tablet. Blood pressure was low. Temperature was high.

How long ago was the bite? I asked. I examined his eyes. No drooping, yet.

Ten minutes maybe, Calmness said.

Any nausea? Stomach pain? Headache?

Yes to all three.

Can you describe what bite you?

It was a snake.

Fantastic. A snake. Talmar had several native venomous snakes. Anything more specific? Color?

Calmness shook his head. Double fantastic.

Well, Boss, the good news is that I have a wide range of anti-venom stocked.

And the bad?

If we can’t identify what bit you, I might administer the wrong anti-venom and kill you.

Gentle grabbed my upper arm and spun me around, lowering his face to mine. He snarled, spittle on his lips. I didn’t flinch, refusing to let this big bully get the better of me. Mind how you talk to your master.

I jerked my arm, trying to pull away but could not break Gentle’s grip. It’s science. Venom works in four ways: attacking local tissue, causing internal bleeding, attacking the nervous system, or the heart. Never two or more. Cytotoxins, hemotoxins, neurotoxins and cardiotoxins, if you’re curious. Not that I believed the big bully really cared. Showing off my education added a layer to my armor. Being clever meant being valuable to Calmness, and being valuable meant no one could hurt me without pissing off the Boss. At least while the Boss still breathed.

So give him all four.

The anti-venoms work in radically different ways. Giving your father the wrong one will hurt him more than help. We’d lose time waiting to see if it worked and the damage would be irreversible.

Let Meyet do her job, Calmness said. He didn’t lift his arms or wave his hands when he spoke, which was unlike him. Another symptom, but it didn’t not narrow down the species of snake.

I went to Calmness’s side and picked up his hand. Can you squeeze? He did so, weakly. Push. Again, weak. How do your limbs feel?

Like lead. What does that mean?

More symptoms let us narrow down the type of snake that bit you.

Gentle pushed me away from his father, causing me to stumble back two steps. Don’t stand there and take notes. Do something for him!

I am! He was the worst, hot tempered and violent. I’d seen the effects of his temper and patched up plenty of people with whom he’d disagreed. I’d rather Swift were here, trying to grope or pinch my bottom. At least he’d let me do my job.

Let the doctor do her job, a voice said from the door. Speak of the devil. Swift entered the room and placed a hand on his twin’s shoulder. Gentle’s tail ceased its angry thrashing and stilled. The brothers were identical but I never had a problem telling them apart. It was in the eyes. His eyes vacant and angry, Gentle constantly scowled. Swift’s gaze was hungry and greedy, always eating up a pretty woman. Their light grey skin, covered with soft

Reviews for Alien Rogue's Price

[Marg Campbell-McCauley · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Humour and heart and pathos- you will enjoy this one