Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 66904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I found an alien alpha to breed me.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1 BREEDABLE
Lettie
“They’re breedable.”
Rough voices growl with lust in the depths of night. Their large, masculine frames are silhouetted in the light of an alien moon. Their words rumble through a soft evening breeze, rough, callous tones describing graphic acts and deeds.
I am crouched so close to them I can smell them. They have a particular masculine musk, something like sweat and seed mixed with an almost explosive odor. It shouldn’t be attractive, but with every breath I draw faint traces of it into my lungs and feel a particular arousal growing inside me. There’s a little electric tickle running over the hair at the back of my neck and arms. This is the way my body tells me I am in danger of a very specific kind.
They are discussing me. Well, not me specifically. They are discussing my kind. They don’t know me, or the fact that I’m here. I remain hidden in dense foliage, blending in with my surroundings, being as close to nothing as is humanly possible.
This is what I do. I make myself disappear. I become nobody. I am less than a whisper on the wind. They will not catch my scent. They will not catch sight of me. They will not catch me, period.
Years of practice mean that I do not have to shift to get more comfortable. I do not have to scratch any little itches. I will not sneeze. I have trained stillness into my bones…
“Fucking them would be like fucking food.”
“Hot food.”
Crude words, and even cruder mental images. I don’t let either one of those things put me off-balance. I keep my position, and I do not allow myself to react.
“The alpha and the enforcer are obsessed with their human captives. Their holes must be so fucking tight.”
“They might have been tight once. They’ll be stretched by now.”
I have overheard a lot of bawdy conversations before in bars and jails and pirate stations across the universe. These outlaw saurians are falling prey to every male stereotype possible. Does it occur to them to think beyond the potential of a sufficiently hot and lubricated channel? I think it is terribly boring to be fixated on such a simple piece of anatomy.
I tell myself I’m above such things.
I’m an intellectual. I’m a professional. I’m a fucking pirate. And I am here to get my captains back from the clutches of these overly amorous aliens who don’t seem able to think beyond the end of their no-doubt impressively scaled cocks.
They lower their voices as the conversation turns from sex to something more dangerous.
“How many do you think we’ll be able to capture?”
“All of them.”
“Will there be enough for all of us, I mean? Or are we going to have to share sloppy human holes?”
“You’d be lucky to get a look at one of them. I bet Wrath takes the lot for himself.”
“He always shares the loot.”
“Once he’s broken them all in, maybe.”
I feel my eyelid twitch in irritation. They have no idea who or what they are dealing with. The fact that our captains have been taken and appear to be warming the beds of two of the most dominant aliens in their civilization does not mean we are all ready for the claiming. I do not know why Captain Sullivan and Captain Raine have allowed themselves to be defiled, but I swear the first saurian who so much as attempts to lay a finger on any of the rest of us is going to regret it.
I will not be the next human to warm a saurian’s bed. I am sure of that. I have dedicated my life to being two things: stealthy, and dangerous. Sometimes, it feels like half the crew of the Mare doesn’t even know I exist. Truth is, I like it that way. It’s better to be invisible to the world. Keeps me safe from little dangers like gossip, and even more safe from bigger dangers, like feral alien males whose sex drives are clearly out of control.
“Time to check in. Do you have that device?”
“It’s fiddly. Looks like something the alpha uses. Don’t know why Wrath wanted one of them.”
“I don’t care why. I’ll take any opportunity to steal from Thorn.”
There’s bitterness in their tones as they discuss the saurian who controls their little lives. Alpha Thorn is the, well, alpha, of Grave City. His word is law. But these saurians don’t know many words, and law is one of the many they’ve failed to learn.
They lift up their purloined device and mess with it a little. It’s nothing special, but I imagine it seems like magic to these backward aliens. Saurians have basic tech. The same sort of tech that we humans would consider ancient. I’m surprised they’ve managed to turn it on.
My quiet sneering disappears into absolute fucking horror when they activate the camera, as I realize that they’re not trying to take pictures of a pretty night sky.