The Runaway Alien (The Lost Planet 9)

She has another glorious orgasm, as though the pain sent her over the edge of pleasure. I tuck that away in my mind for future lovemaking sessions. With newfound fervor, I drive into her over and over, intoxicated by her cries of pleasure until I find my own release. My sac tightens and then I release deep within her body, spurting my seed all over her fertile womb.

As soon as the toxica hits her system, her entire body goes limp. I keep my cock nestled inside her, to work as a plug of sorts to keep my seed inside her for maximum mortling-making effort, but lift up enough to see her pretty face.

“Mine,” I rumble. “My beautiful, fierce mate. My zelfyre. My Stella.”

Tears well in her eyes. She doesn’t need to speak for me to understand. We’re mates and what we have is special. The forces of nature brought us together and gave us happiness.

“I love you,” I tell her. “I always will. From now and then after, in The Eternals. It’s my solemn vow to be the best mate, the best friend, the best lover.”

We stare at each other for an indeterminable amount of time. Eventually, she gets her movement back. A slow smile curls her lips up and her fingers run up my side, gently tickling my ribs.

“I love you too,” she whispers. “My handsome, caring mate. My partner. My Galen.”

EPILOGUE

BRECCAN

Ten Revolutions Later…

Mortuus.

The Lost Planet.

Dwindling population.

Until a miracle happened. My miracle.

Aria, my lovely mate, was the catalyst for change on our planet. A rebirth. Quite literally. And now…now, we have everything.

Mates.

Growing families.

Happiness.

It’s hard to remember the times when we were held captive by fear. Fear was as regular to us as training or hunting. A part of each solar, gnawing at us much like hunger would. Never forgotten.

Fear is a part of our past now.

A fading memory that stings when you linger on it too long, but is easily pushed aside by the solar to solar activities. Our Faction teems with life now, threatening to burst at the seams with growth.

How many revolutions was it since I sat in the command center, guiltily harming myself with the sun’s rays against my sensitive skin simply to feel something on the outside rather than the heartache within?

My heart never hurts these solars.

“Poppy?”

The soft voice in the darkness pulls me from my early solar musings and to my mortling, Catori. Even in the dark, she is my sun. Except, rather than burn my flesh, she warms every part of me.

Aria calls Catori Daddy’s little girl.

“Yes, sunshine?”

“I’m hungry.”

Aria, still asleep, stirs when I chuckle. Our little mortling, only five revolutions old, is always hungry. Her appetite rivals a starved sabrevipe.

“We better get you something to eat then. Meet me in the Great Hall?”

“Hurry. I can smell canellabloom rolls!”

I fight a smile as I kiss my mate and slip out of bed. Quickly, I dress in a minnasuit and exit our room without waking Aria. The cavernous tunnels indeed smell of baking canellabloom spice. This, according to the human females, is almost an exact replica of their beloved cinnamon and a favorite used in much of the cooking around here. Catori loves canellabloom rolls.

For the past ten revolutions, the extensive tunnel system beneath our old Faction has become our home. When the Earth II War destroyed most of our building, it had seemed impossible to rebuild a home. Rather than trying to erect the Faction that was beyond repair, we took to outfitting the tunnel system to house our growing community.

One solar, when Sokko and Catori are older, we might take them on an exploration mission to look for a more habitable location for our group. Until then, we’re happy right where we are.

I follow the smell into the Great Hall. It’s a large, cavernous room fashioned with tables and chairs. Sayer and Stella make a great duo when it comes to providing meals for everyone. I find Catori seated next to Henry, watching as Stella, belly swollen with child, drizzles something sweet on the canellabloom rolls. Even though he’s a male and has eight revolutions on Catori, they’re almost the same height since he’s fully human, whereas she’s part mort. She’s my daughter through and through—bulky and ferocious—even as stocky as her older brother. At only five revolutions, she can already whip most of the other mortlings on the training mat. Something Aria says I’m not allowed to be proud of, though secretly, I am.

“Good morning,” I greet as I stride over to them. “Smells decadent.”

Stella smiles. “Thank Sayer. This cream he made is so sweet and perfectly complements the rolls.”

Sayer, who’s squatting by the firepit, poking at some meat that’s sizzling, nods his nog at me. “Morning, Commander.”

“Carfey?” Stella asks, pointing at a steaming cup waiting for me.

“Ewww,” Catori complains. “Carfey is gross.”