The King (Zolan Book 3) ✓

2

VADNAR

After traveling to the edge of my territory, chasing off the wild beast that has been destroying my harvest, I returned to the farm expecting to find it as I left it. Instead, I found two strangers. An adolescent alien male in my shed, and a female that put hesitation in my steps.

I've never fallen to a knee for anyone, but she nearly put me down.

I've seen many absurd things on Zolan, but nothing like her. She is short in height, but what few feet she owns are molded by her curves. From this distance, I can't see the small details, but I can tell her body was made to warp a male's mind with its twists and dips.

Her hair is like nothing I've seen before. Tied low to the base of her neck, puffy in volume. Most Zolanos have black, straight, hair. Those with lighter hair color are considered to be gifted by the gods. I don't think this is a gifted mortal, however. I think she's a goddess. With her dark, drown skin that radiates in the sun, she was made to evaporate breaths.

A beautiful female that has no place on my rotten farm.

I stomp across the grass, and she instantly notices my figure. I may not be beautiful or radiant, but I have my own ways of demanding attention.

I scowl at the woman with a mean roll of my lip. I don't know where the fuck she came from, but she needs to return. Was she sent here? Did the slavers catch wind of me already?

With my instinct for survival roaring, I snatch the female's arms– thin and frail. She's not a goddess, but that doesn't disarm her.

I lean my face in. My nose skims her smooth, silky neck as I inhale deeply. Her racing heartbeat tickles my nose like a morbid joke.

I search for the scent of juji– the powder made in slave camps that clings to everyone's skin. I don't smell it on her. She must have not come from the camps.

I return her to the ground, standing toe-to-toe with her. She's trembling, and although there's a hot sun above us, I suspect that I'm the red giant that's terrifying her.

I curse and step away. I want her to be intimidated, not terrorized. But I have little experience handling females. I stay on this isolated farm, and I mind my business.

"Tell me your name. How did you get here?"

Her jaw trembles, but she doesn't speak. This isn't good. I know this woman has secrets, but so do I. Her appearance and existence, didn't shock me for long because I've seen far more gutting things in this world. I'm a man on the run, and I don't have time for distractions as alluring as they may be.

"You must get off my property. I will pay for your room and board at the inn. Go south." I lift my hand to point right as a bony foot slams into mine, and little hands shove at my chest.

She bolts, and I curse—not from pain, but the sight of her softly curved buttocks that gently jiggling with every step. I am a farmer attracted to juicy, blooming fruit. This female is as colorful and shiny as the best of the harvest comes.

And it's not just her beauty–– fuck, I wish it was that simple. She has spirit. Audacitity to trespass on my land and stomp on me.

I give chase, needing to stop her before she trips over the chopped wood ahead. It doesn't take much effort to reach her. Within seconds, she's in my arms, screeching and kicking.

I exhale, wondering how I got myself in this situation.

A yell makes me turn around. The adolescent male is here, watching with wide eyes from afar. Unlike the female, he is pale skinned.

I lift one arm to signal for him to stay where he is and to not try anything foolish. I don't want to restrain him and risk hurting the child.

After a few minutes, the female is calm, and I release her. I take steps away, giving her space, and the adolescent male watches from afar with shaking knees.

"I am not here to hurt anyone," I say, and point to my house, then at my chest. "I am only protecting my property and solitude."

The female looks from the house to me, and slowly repeats the pointing motion.

I nod, and we stare into each other's eyes. Now that we had our first communication, something has shifted between us.

"Dionne!" The child yells.

She takes a few steps away from me, and then she scurries to the child that's frozen in his spot with fear.

I let them go, knowing they're going to my shed. I head into my home in search of supplies to hand to them. They look like they need the help. I'm definitely not using this as an excuse to see the female again.

I shove dried jerky, furs, bowls, and other items into a sack. I hold a vase of water in my other hand and approach my shed.

Hearing yelling from inside, I run into the shed and find the adolescent shaking the female by her shoulders. Although he is younger, he is taller and bulkier than her. And judging by her whimper, she is hurting.

"Release her!" I boom, and he all but drops on his ass.

I duck into the small shed and leer over him. If he were an adult, his guts would be decorating these walls.

I look at her. At Dionne.

"Come," I grit, slamming the things on the table, surprised the vase didn't shatter.

This rebellious teenager will have to make do with these rations. For now, I need to separate these two and find a way to communicate with the female.

So she's coming home with me.