The Alien King Takes His Omega: Volardi Redemption, #1

Chapter One

PETER

PLANET EARTH

My Pa's voice drew out under the hot Tennessee sun. Still ain't sure if they invaded. A mustache as snow-white as his messy hair twitched as he thought aloud.

His thin leathery hand gripped the side of the wooden fence. He looked at the white and black cows munching on the lush grassy field. Decades of working the farm under the searing humid Tennessee sky darkened his skin. If not into leather – at least into something close to it.

Well… it's either tanned from the sun or black from the coal mines.

Beyond the unsold cattle were two useless red barns. If we were lucky, we would've sold grain like Nate's dad, but hardly anyone's buying meat these days. Cows used to be profitable but were now expensive pets. My nose wrinkled at the pungent earthy smell. Stinky ones too.

I don't think he expected an answer, so I gave none.

His statement was typical here and around the world. For decades we wondered what aliens would be like. The drive-in theater had them as slimy invaders or cute and cuddly creatures.

Over six feet of muscle warrior with tattooed flecks over their chest and shoulders isn't cute.

The Volardi could have taken over the planet, and perhaps they did.

The military fought them – even if our extraterrestrial visitors did nothing threatening. Well, their white-crystal ships appeared over several major cities. Then they hovered there… for days. Maybe it was a show of force or it took a while to learn our language. Nobody knew.

Most governments tried talking to them, and others made demands to silent visitors. Meanwhile, television and the internet were full of speculation. Reporters said every day was more time to study our planet and figure out our weaknesses. Russia got fed up and launched a nuclear missile, which seemed awfully stupid. If it worked, you had a mile of white crystal raining down on a city and the people under it.

And you started an intergalactic war.

I remembered the missile dissolving into grey dust before blowing away in the wind.

Eventually, the ships opened, and we got our first look at aliens. Figured they had pointed ears or were some blob with tentacles, but no… they were human – sort of. Taller and broader than most men, but with purple eyes and spotted skin stretched over hard muscle. So much, they'd put our bodybuilders to shame.

In instinct, I flexed my arm and saw a hint of the bicep. My sis Becky teased she was stronger than me.

Yeah, well… she got lucky during those fights. Also helps her that she's taller.

Wish I had my Pa's height. Instead, I got the same messy mop of hair as my Ma used to say. Although mine is still brown. Beyond that, I take after my Ma more. Folks say I look like her, especially around the cheekbones.

Maybe it's because we had the same height?

My Pa's drawn-out voice took me out of my daydream. I'd leave all this to you Peter, but…

I nodded. Not much more needed saying. Thanks to the Volardi, you didn't need real meat. They had these crystal boxes that could make most items. No weapons, of course, or high-end stuff.

Most material needs were met if you didn't exceed the monthly allowance. You could have a ready-to-eat synthetic hamburger, a bottle of whiskey, or a new set of clothes. I suppose it kept people from getting too hungry or miserable if they couldn't find work.

It didn't pay rent, property taxes, college, medical bills, and a hundred other things you still owed.

Thought they'd solve our problems, I said.

My Pa laughed, but it sounded hollow as he looked down into my eyes. Let me give you some truth, son. When good things happen, they reach us poor people last. He coughed, and each follow-up hack was louder. My lips thinned. He wasn't old, but the coughs were longer and louder than before. Years of farm work, side jobs in the coal mines, and cigarettes weren't a good combination.

I took a step toward our house and waited. He was the man of the house, and I couldn't disrespect him by telling him what to do – even if it was subtle.

Pa finished his coughing fit before he nodded. His voice was raspy when he spoke. Let's get to the house, boy. See if your sister's gotten dinner ready for us.

***

I yelled, Where's dinner?

My sister Becky folded her arms and leaned back against the kitchen sink. Her boobs rose and added to an already trashy look. They were big, not porn star huge, but enough to entice the guys. She tied the blouse above a belly button ring. It was a way to get back. Pa didn't care for it and mentioned how Ma wouldn't put up with it.

Her hair was pulled back and judging from the heavy brown eyeshadow and pink lipstick, she was about to go somewhere.

A date with Nate. Ugh.

Becky raised her sharply arched eyebrows, and her eyes bugged out as she spoke. Because there's no need for cooking. She pointed toward the garage. We have a box, so let's use it.

Pa slammed his fist down on the thick dining table, then winced. "I'll not bring that alien shi... stuff into this house. His cheeks puffed out while he collected his thoughts. It's their way to get you dependent on them. 'Sides... every woman should know how to cook."

"And every man," said Becky.

Here we go again, I said.

Because it's true, she said. There's no reason you can't cook something yourself, Peter.

My Pa's voice was quiet. "Becky. Your Ma cooked and cleaned. As did the women before her."

But it's different now–

He held up a hand.

I kept most of the smile from my face.

"I'll not have a daughter of mine not know how to cook or clean. 'Sides... it's time for you to think about settling down. You're getting to that age."

I'm only–

Less than a year from being an adult. Your Ma got married at eighteen.

Becky pointed at me. What about Peter? He's older.

Pa and I spoke in unison. It's different for men.

Her hands balled into fists. Augh...

Our shelf life is better, I said. Men age like fine wine and women get old.

And what would you know about being a man… runt?

Pa's voice was quiet. "Enough. I won't be here forever. Rebecca Lynn, you need to think about finding someone. That gentleman friend of yours. His father's well off, and you could do well to marry..."

Nate's an asshole.

Language, young lady.

Yeah, Becky. Language, I said with a smile. Learn how to act like a lady.

My Pa's shoulders rose, but he said nothing to me. If you don't like him, why are you two dating?

Her lips pressed together. He's just someone to date.

And to give you things, I said. Did he give you that necklace because you two are–

Shut up!

Pa let out a long, shrill whistle, and we both stopped. Becky, food on the table in thirty. As for you boy, let her be. I'll be in my room.

He got up with a groan I heard more often before he shambled out of the kitchen. Once I didn't hear the shuffled slides on the wooden floor, I spoke. I hope you're happy. He's sick, and you're riling him up.

Her teeth clenched. Me? You're the one talking about how I'm...

Fucking Nate? I asked.

She punched me in the arm, and I winced.

That's none of your business.

But you are, I stepped back near the door. Why else would he be with you? You're an easy–

I ducked the thrown wooden spoon and stepped out of the room while the woman made a meal for the men as was proper.

***

My steps were slow as I walked down the hallway to my room. I knew when to stop teasing, but what I said earlier was true. Nate was an asshole, but he had money. Even in a world with alien technology, that still meant something. He dated Becky because she put out, and that's how she got her jewelry. I suppose she could use the SmartBox, but Pa would get angry if she used it.

Maybe we don't need a SmartBox.

If Becky could, well, grab Nate permanently, we'd be set. Usually, I'd follow the Bro code and pick him over Becky, but Nate was just… so Nate. Tall, thick muscles, and always driving that red, hover Corvette down the dusty country road.

Privileged asshole.

I wasn't a fan of a girl trapping a guy, but a married Becky could make my life easier.

I frowned at the thought of being dependent on her.

No, it wouldn't be that, but since I'm her brother, I'd be around the business movers and shakers. Some of that money would land on me. Of course, he'd have to marry her. Ain't no way he'd settle without something to force–

A familiar, muffled cough yanked me out of my daydream. I turned my head toward my parent's room and the closed wooden door with chipped paint. Although I suppose now, it was just Pa's room.

His raspy voice drew out, "I need more time. Please. You got to give me that at least."

My eyebrows rose as I gently leaned an ear against the door. The voice was quiet, but I got the tail end. Nobody's buying cattle. Yeah, but we can work out something... It was several more seconds before he continued. As usual, he coughed more. You can't take it, and you know there's no way I can come up with... There was more muffled conversation, but I couldn't hear no matter how hard I pressed against the door.

I stepped away quickly from the door in case he was near. Without thinking, I found myself back in the kitchen. Becky raised a wooden spoon and then lowered it. Her face softened as she saw me. What happened?

It took less than a minute to repeat what I heard and my speculation.

Shit. The farm? It's been in our family forever. It wouldn't be so bad if he used that box, she said.

He's got pride.

Fool's pride, you mean.

I shook my head. You don't understand. You can't be a man and be dependent. 'Sides that wouldn't make a dent.

How much is it?

I don't know. I couldn't hear through the door.

Then, I'll speak louder next time, Pa said. I turned to the kitchen entrance. If I were feeling better, I'd tan your hide for listening. He entered, then paced back and forth before continuing, What does it matter? Suppose it's best you know so you can prepare. Bank's taking the farm in ninety days. Thirty-three thousand, four hundred dollars, and nine-two cents. He blinked once. That's what you didn't hear through the door.

He breathed in deep. Old chest muscles bigger than mine pushed against his flannel top. Five Lynn generations, and I'm the one that lost it.

That wasn't true. The farm was okay until the Volardi arrived. Pa had the rotten luck of selling cattle in a lousy market. Folks were still buying from farms, like grain. It was cheap enough, and folks like Nate's dad promoted it as 'All Natural.' Pa just wasn't a marketer.

His fingers tapped the side of his jeans. We'll talk later. He jerked his head toward the stove sizzling with a thick hamburger in a black cast-iron skillet. Don't worry about dinner. I lost my appetite, like the farm.

We watched him shuffle off again.

Becky whispered fast once he was far away. We wouldn't be in this situation if you got a job.

I can't make that much around here. What about you?

She jerked her head back. Me? I'm not an adult. What can I do?

The words came out without thought. Marry Nate.

What? The guy's an asshole.

A rich one.

Yeah, and he'll move on when he's tired. For now…

… you'll fuck him and get what you want.

She held up a fist, and I backed up. Even if she was a girl, she was stronger than me.

I took two more steps away for the next part. He'd marry you if you… you know. My hands went out, and I mimed a pregnancy belly.

Her eyes widened, and her face reddened. I'm not getting pregnant, so you can stay and leach off Pa or Nate's dad.

I stiffened as I waited for a hit or a spoon. Instead, Becky strolled past me – although she shoved my shoulder. Hamburger's yours. She turned. Need to get ready for my date tonight. Her voice curled into a smile. And I will be fucking Nate, but we're using protection. Lots and lots of protection…

With that, she turned, and the hamburger sizzled behind me.

I stood there while a thought lingered in my head amid the grease pops. Instead of denying it, I let it in.

What if you weren't using protection?

***

Chapter Two

MATROS

PLANET AUGO

Deeper. Down into the black.

I dove into the murky underwater canyons near my island castle. A long trail of bubbles pointed downward toward my regular seclusion spot. It wasn't an escape from my duties, for I'm a king, not a coward. This was a momentary spot of reflection. A time to think and ponder upon my responsibilities so I might make the best decision.

It was an indulgence too. Didn't I deserve that?

Away from everyone. By myself. Brine around and in the veins, as my First Father would say.

Although my Oma and the only parent I have left would remind me, I'm alone on land too.

There was a time when I didn't come into the waves alone. A memory replayed of my mate and me. It was two months after our bonding. My Femeni's smaller body against my larger Soturi frame and our dark hair shifting in the waves. With my muscles, swimming was no effort.

It was for him.

My lips pressed together while I remembered. Zan was Femeni, but he wanted to prove he could always be at my side.

He had a Soturi's heart.

Every stroke and kick made it increasingly hard to see around me. Only the faint bio-luminescent pink from a school of swimming pesci provided a hint of light. Even without sight or a mirror, I could sense the frown on my face.

Perhaps it was a combination of annoyance and shame. I couldn't say why or maybe didn't want to admit the reason. My Oma survived the plague while my beloved did not. After that, Layt, my Dara and second mate, fell to death. The reason was different, but the result was the same. If I had any tears left, they would have washed away in the ocean current around me.

I found a spot of warm water and floated with open eyes. The Ryba wouldn't dare attack so close to my home, yet why take foolish chances? My soldiers and royal staff knew where I was, even if they pretended otherwise.

I breathed in deep, only mildly aware of the oxygen converter's low vibration. There was enough power left.

What shall I do?

The most pressing question of all. A single answer would let me decide what path to take. Even if it's difficult, at least I would know what to do.

I willed an answer, and none came despite my best efforts. There was a good reason for my questioning, for our empire never experienced anything like this.

Nearly nine-five percent of our Femeni are gone.

Is this how we're defeated?

We weren't outmaneuvered politically or defeated on the battlefield. Perhaps that would make it easier. Two warrior races against each other like in the stories of old.

My lips thinned.

They couldn't defeat us, so they went after our unborn children.

It was an evil smile perhaps but one for the dead. Gloom reptilian corpses as far as their empire went. We may join them soon, but they went first.

Yet, some Femeni like my Oma live.

Those that did were in isolation in case the contagion persisted or mutated. Mine was in a personal force field, and the only exception was within his room. Even then, I made sure the medical field encased it.

Regrettable but necessary.

My legs kicked as I fought against the swirl of currents. The oxygen converter counted down and beeped as my heart rate rose. Koale, my First Father, was gone, as was his Dara.

Subjects that would never dare rise against us now tasted fear as a hungry renkin full of teeth would scent blood in the waters.

All this danger surrounds us as water, and my Oma wants me to seek a mate. Madness.

I slapped my hand together even if there wasn't anyone to see the gesture. Now is not the time.

The warm current left and turned cool amid the time I pondered. I spent the remaining time in a plea to the All-Father for guidance, even if I didn't really believe. As expected, nothing came.

I put this off for far too long. It's time for our discussion.

***

The Ryba wisely didn't attack. Several other rulers were more permanent in their methods. I preferred to start low and escalate if needed. I could execute an enemy after attempting peace, but the reverse was impossible.

Yet, we are in changing times, and perhaps the old ways aren't best anymore.

I approached the white sandy beach as salt water dripped over my bare chest and arms. Like my First Father, I had his wide body and dark hair. Gerlari, my First Guard, says I have my Oma's kind smile and the same deep purple eyes.

The water-soaked kilt around my waist hung heavily against my flexed thighs. I smiled at the grinning face of my Oma standing on the beach. Age was both kind and unkind to him. His purple eyes weren't as faded as they could have been. His hair was as white as the ice near the poles of our planet. The flecks along his shoulders and chest kept their dark shade. Fading was common with older Femeni – especially the sick. I took his darker color as a hopeful sign.

The Earthlings didn't have the same chest flecks but could breed with us – after modifications. We could have modified them further, but it was inside that mattered.

Sometimes existing was enough. My gaze lingered on my Oma, and I smiled. Yes. Existence is treasured.

He survived this new dark age while many of his fellow Femeni did not. Still decent looking for advanced middle age, but far too old to add to the repopulation efforts.

Yet beyond precious. His slightly purple force field flickered in the island sun.

There was a smile on his face. Perhaps genuine, but I could sense the sadness. He wanted freedom, and I couldn't give it. I wasn't cruel to Femenis like some. Even before the plague, I understood how necessary they were, but many of my fellow Soturi didn't agree. They learned the lesson after the plagues, but it was too late. If I could be certain he'd not die, I'll let the force field go.

Maybe one day he'll feel the sand under his foot