The Mad Lieutenant Read online K. Webster (The Lost Planet #3)

Categories Genre: Alien, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Lost Planet Series by K. Webster
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Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
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And I am selfish.

I want her by my side.

I will protect her from any beast out there. Any storm. Anything.

“We must make haste then,” Avrell growls, motioning for us to follow. I’ve never seen him so maddened. Calix, yes. Breccan, most definitely. Never Avrell. With the arrival of our aliens, it’s as though we’re all performing at elevated levels of protection and determination. We care for them, and they are vital to our success of continuity on this planet.

As soon as we make it into the corridor, the screams of the mortling echo louder than before.

Avrell stops and turns abruptly. Sadness flashes in his dark eyes. “He’s losing too much weight. Another five, maybe six solars, and…” His brows furl together. “I need you back, a ronking rogcow in tow, within four. We cannot take any chances, Draven. Sokko’s tender life depends on it.”

Molly and I both nod our nogs.

Time is of the utmost importance.

***

As we gather supplies, my eyes drift to Sayer. He has Molly pulled close as he speaks to her. She doesn’t seem to be in duress, so I allow his proximity for now. When Jareth pops in between them, slinging both of his arms across each of their shoulders, the only thing that stops me from ripping him away from her is her loud chuckle.

She is not frightened.

Galen hands me a pouch, drawing my attention away from the other morts and my mate. “This is dried chaxen. You will need it.”

I open the pouch and peer at the green dust. “What is it?”

“It’s derived from mosshay I grow in my lab. It’s something rogcows eat. Where it can be found, the rogcows are plentiful. Sometimes it grows in patches near Lake Acido after a drenching geostorm. When the mosshay is dried out and crushed, it becomes this dust.” He tugs at the pouch strings to close it. “Sprinkle it around your camp at night. Leave a trail of it from the facility to wherever you go. If the winds are just right, the rogcows can smell it from farther than the eye can see. They will come.”

“Are you sure?” I ask.

He frowns for a moment, uncertainty glimmering in his black eyes. Then, he lifts his chin. “It has to work, Lieutenant. It absolutely must.”

He stows the pouch in a large bag. We have to go on foot, so everything must be carried on our backs.

“Here,” Oz says, striding around the corner with a small zuta-metal box in his hand. “It’s the best I could do on such short notice. A vacuu-pod. Smaller than the vacuu-room I made for Calix and Emery. The entire unit has decontamination properties. You’ll notice there’s a sheen of white powder once you open the pod. It’s a cleansing agent that sucks and eliminates harmful toxins both in the air and on surfaces. I apologize that it’s small, but it will do the job.” He flashes me a wide grin, showing off his double fangs. “Might have to hold the mate close. Not much room in there.”

I let out a warning growl because I don’t like the way his eyes travel over her. He tosses me the vacuu-pod box and bounces down the corridor before I can give him a good knock to his nog. I shove the box into my pack and rise to my feet.

Breccan enters the corridor where we’re all standing, his features haggard and weary. He stalks over to me, standing too close for my comfort. “Thank you, my friend,” he rasps out. “This journey is important.”

“We’re gonna wrangle you a cow,” Molly assures him, coming to stand beside me. Her hand threads with mine. “Isn’t that right, mate?”

I don’t correct her to tell her that it’s called a rogcow. It warms me how sure of our success she is.

“If they exist, I will find them,” I growl in response.

The mortling’s screams echo louder than before, causing Breccan to shudder. Despair is reflected on his features, and it makes me want to bring him all the rekking rogcows on this planet.

“You’ll leave at first light,” he grunts out. “It’s too late to set out on the journey. Rest your nogs for now.”

I finish packing up while Molly interrogates the remaining morts in the corridor. She’s asking about the terrain, the weather, and creatures we may encounter. Pride surges through me. She is my mate. I have never had a partner to assist me on a mission. Typically, I do solo missions if possible. When the other morts come with, they do one thing, while I do another. Sometimes, Breccan injects himself to aid me, but I never need his assistance.

I don’t need Molly’s assistance either.

But I want her company.

She bends to push something into her bag and puts her juicy round rump on display for me. My cock thickens in my minnasuit. The urge to rut against her becomes a maddening roar inside my nog.


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