Pursued: A Sci-Fi Alien Warrior Romance (Raider Warlords of the Vandar Book 4) by Tana Stone (ebook reader txt) 📗

hordes. I knew the empire was using me for my looks as well as for my skills as an assassin. It was expected that I would use all my skills to make the Raas trust me, even if that meant seducing the brute and letting him claim me.

The thought of using my body didn’t bother me. Sex had always been part of my arsenal. I’d learned early that males could be easily swayed by their cocks. The Vandar Raas would be no different.

I entered the compact bridge and saw the imperial soldier waiting for me. I’d almost forgotten this part of the plan.

“You are ready?” he asked drawing back his hand.

I fisted my hands, both pissed I hadn’t gotten my menashi after all, and to brace myself for the blow. “Let’s do this.”

Chapter Two

Bron

My majak leaned back on the bench and took a swig from his goblet of Vandar wine. “The Raas quarters suit you.”

I took a gulp of wine, letting the sharp tang fill my mouth and burn its way down my throat. I placed my goblet on the shiny, ebony table that seemed too long and imposing for only two warriors. Then again, everything about the spacious suite felt like too much compared to the officer’s quarters I’d previously occupied.

Peering out the wall of glass that overlooked the inky blackness of space, I blew out a heavy breath. “I keep expecting to see Kratos.”

It had been many rotations since Raas Kratos had given up his horde in favor of staying on the Vandar colony of Zendaren with his human bride, who was expecting the first Vandar-human baby. Even so, it felt surreal that Kratos had appointed me to succeed him as Raas, and I was now occupying the Raas quarters that had once been his. I had spent much time in these quarters conferring with Kratos, but never had I expected to be residing in them myself.

My eyes scanned the large space with gleaming floors and walls as black as the eternal night beyond the glass. Chunky, dark furnishings were sparsely arranged and bolted to the floor so they would not slide during battle. The fire inset in one of the walls crackled with blue flames, producing dancing shadows in the dimly lit room, but not much heat. Not that I minded. Vandar needed little clothing, and we were never cold. Even the large bed, with its imposing headboard fashioned from iron battle axes welded together, was only covered in silky sheets the color of blood—a change from the black ones Kratos had used, and one of the few alterations I’d made to the Raas quarters.

“Of course, he is missed.” Svar rested his thick forearms on the table. “But you have filled his boots admirably, Raas.”

“I have yet to be tested.” I flicked my gaze at the warrior who’d served with me on the command deck, and whom I’d elevated to the position of my first officer. “Neither of us have.”

Svar met my eyes and nodded, obviously not taking my statement as a rebuke. “Because the Vandar have struck important blows to the empire, and our horde was part of that.”

He lifted his goblet to me in toast. I joined him, clinking my glass with his and chugging the last of my wine. Instead of warming my belly, the pungent wine tasted sour as it twisted in my gut.

What he said was true, but it did not make me feel better. Along with two other Vandar hordes, we had destroyed an entire imperial fleet and prevented them from reaching our secret colonies and kept the Zagrath admiral from communicating his knowledge of our hidden people to the rest of the empire. As far as we knew, the Zagrath empire was back to square one in their hunt for our colonies and in their attempts to weaken us.

But all this had taken place before I’d taken over as Raas. Since I had been given control of the horde, things had been unnaturally quiet. We’d been patrolling our assigned sector with almost no incursions, and the Zagrath appeared to be in retreat, which was a victory for everyone in the galaxy who opposed imperial rule. Despite our apparent win, I could not allow myself to celebrate too much. Since I’d taken on my role as Raas, I had been unable to shake the sense of foreboding that dogged my thoughts and chased away my sleep.

“Until the empire is destroyed, our mission is unchanged,” I said, my voice a throaty rumble.

Svar nodded. “But perhaps it is less difficult.”

I shrugged. I’d chosen my majak because he had the ability to see victory in defeat. That, and I trusted him to be honest with me. Even still, I had not told him the nagging sense of doom I’d felt since our horde had lifted off the surface of Zendaren, and I’d officially been the warlord of my own horde. Admitting this would be admitting weakness, and I had watched Raas Kratos and his father Raas Bardon before him enough to know that weakness was a luxury a Raas could ill afford. Of course, I had not had a father to teach me like Kratos had. Was that why I felt tendrils of unworthiness snaking through my mind? Did I fear that my humble origins as an orphan made me weak?

I did not feel weak, but I did feel an uncontrollable frustration with my new role. Being called Raas did not fill me with pride like it should have, and that stoked a burning fury deep within me—one I fought to control.

“Tell me, majak.” I steadied my temper and my voice as I reached for a brown knot of bread remaining on my plate. “Are the raiders getting restless? We have not engaged in battle since we left Zendaren.”

Svar took another drink and shifted on the long bench, his tail swishing behind him like it did when he advised me. “It has been unusually quiet. Vandar are not used to peace.”

I