Odd Coupling

Odd Coupling

Jaylee Davis

Smashwords Edition

Edited by Marisa Chenery

Cover design by April
Martinez

Copyright 2015 Jaylee Davis. Published
by Forever More Publishing, 31 Wycliffe Place, Kitchener, Ontario,
N2M 5J6, Canada. All rights reserved. No part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in
any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or
otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.

ISBN:
978-1-92785-980-3

Smashwords Edition, License
Notes

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the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. The
characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the
author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any
resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is
completely coincidental.

Bethany Montgomery’s peaceful life is
shattered when an alien ship crashes near her isolated South Texas
ranch. She rescues the huge feline pilot before a murderous gang of
local ranchers can capture him. She’s determined to protect him.
Falling in love with him isn’t part of her plan, but her heart
won’t listen.

Vren, a D’Lyrian warrior, survives the
crash, but he’s not out of danger. The locals think the only good
alien is a dead one, and they’re hot on his trail. The human female
who comes to his aid doesn’t seem to fear him, even after he hisses
at her for grabbing his tail. Coupling with her should be the last
thing on his mind, but her scent calls to him. Has he finally found
his life mate only to lose her?

Chapter One

“
The Krellian transport has
surrendered. Break off pursuit.” Tram’s order blared from the
comm-unit. “Return to your ship, Commander Vrenden.
Now!”

Vren reluctantly powered
down the weapons on his one-man striker and then changed course.
The other two fighter ships in his battle group were on their way
back to the
Explorer
, one of three Alliance space cruisers in orbit around the
planet identified on their star-charts as Q4S10P3 now known as
Earth.

“
Acknowledged! With
protest.” He hissed as his target slipped away.

“
State your grievance,”
Tram came back, sounding bored, almost as if he’d just stifled a
yawn.

“
My third kill banner needs
one more notch before it’s complete. The opportunity
escaped.”

“
Noted and filed along with
your other grievances, commander, in the holding tube awaiting
waste burn.” He huffed out a wry-sounding laugh before he cut the
communication.

Commandant Tram was his
superior, but he was also a trusted friend, and Vren had pushed
their friendship today. He’d insisted on leading the striker group
into battle, and he was well aware Tram wasn’t pleased with him.
Nagging reminders of past lectures echoed in his mind.
It’s too reckless for a captain to take an
unnecessary risk when there are other fighter pilots under his
command, who are quite capable of leading the mission.

Unlike him, Tram wasn’t warrior-born.
His friend would never fully understand how difficult it was to
order members of his crew to fight without him.

One tap to a button on the console
allowed the auto pilot to take over. He tried to relax while he
kept a close watch on the sensors. The striker’s cockpit was
comfortable for a normal D’Lyrian male, but he was much larger, and
the cramped space limited his ability to move. At the moment, his
tail, which was trapped beneath his left thigh, tingled from
limited blood flow. He shifted to ease most of his weight onto his
right buttock to relieve the pressure.

His tail felt better, but his
irritation remained high. No doubt his adrenaline levels were off
the chart. Like all males of his kind, he relished a good fight,
but ever since his ship had arrived at Earth he’d been stuck on
diplomatic missions while his striker pilots provided escort to
hordes of ambassadors as they traveled to and from the planet. When
a few Krell fighters had tried to escape, he hadn’t been able to
resist the opportunity. He detested letting even one of the pirate
ships slip out of his sights.

The other strikers in his
group would reach the
Explorer
ahead of him since he’d chased the small Krellian
fighter well past the planet’s moon before being ordered back. Now
he had to slip into orbit and meet up with his ship on the far side
of the planet. As soon as he secured his ship in the docking bay
and then filed a full report about their encounter with the
Krellian slavers, he’d make a brief appearance on the bridge before
he slipped away to his favorite sleeping chamber for some much
needed rest. He yawned in anticipation.

Warning lights suddenly flashed across
the console. Instantly alert, he switched to manual. The sensors
remained clear, no contacts. He powered his weapons to full, not
taking any chances.

Seconds later, a blaring alarm
sounded. “Collision, collision…” the computer warning
repeated.

Vren changed course and dove straight
toward the planet. The alarm fell silent. Something wasn’t right.
There was only one way to find out. He had to continue and enter
the atmosphere to rescan. Sensors reacted strange when
circumstances were unusual. Earth qualified. It had a strong
magnetic field and radiation belt that could scramble the signals
despite his ship’s shielding. If not that, a giant solar flare
eruption could disrupt his instruments enough to give a false
reading.

His striker automatically
made the conversion from space vessel to aircraft. In seconds, he
discovered what had set off the alarms. Another Krellian transport
escorted by three fighters headed straight toward him. The
Explorer
would intercept
the larger ship, which could easily carry over one hundred slaves.
The Krell must be desperate. It was foolhardy for them to attempt
such an escape when the Alliance had three star cruisers in orbit
around the planet.

He veered to evade them and
then sent an automated notification to the
Explorer
to alert them of his
position. He barely managed to transmit a brief verbal
report.

“
Engaging three Krellian
fighters.” Afterward, he was too busy to respond to the
acknowledgment his people sent back.

He went after the smaller ships,
hitting them hard. His first attack destroyed one, but the other
two were more elusive. If he targeted one, the other zeroed in on
him before he could fire.

In seconds, the battle took them
closer to the surface. The thicker air slowed the bulkier Krellian
fighters while his ship’s design was more aerodynamic. His striker
was as nimble in the atmosphere as it was in the vacuum of space.
In a surprise move, he rounded on one of the ships and fired,
destroying it with ease.

The other one came at him, and he
fired. His blasters ripped into it, but as the craft broke up, a
large section slammed into his ship. There was no time to evade the
hit. The debris took out his anti-gravity control and auto
stabilizers before it smashed into the stern. He lost power. Two of
his ship’s three thrusters were damaged, completely worthless. At
the mercy of gravity, it spun out of control and plummeted toward
the surface.

He wrestled with the manual controls,
and discovered he could fire the one good thruster in short bursts
while he held the stabilizer control in place. A weaker pilot
wouldn’t have had a chance. Every large muscle group in his body
strained and threatened to buckle under the pressure. No matter how
hard he struggled to slow his descent the ground approached too
fast, and the collision alarm shrieked louder with each passing
second.

He had no regrets. He’d die
in battle, as all warriors hoped to do, with three kills to his
credit. His parents, siblings and litter mate would be proud of his
honorable death. Commandant Tram had several fleet officers more
than capable of taking command of the
Explorer
. At the final moment, he
fired the thruster until it overheated and failed. Gravity won. The
last sounds he heard was the crunching and grinding of twisted
metal as the ship crashed. The impact jolted him so violently the
harness restraints around his waist and chest loosened. A split
second later, something hard clipped his head.

* * * *

Vren woke to a pungent odor that
filled his nose. Sharp pain lanced through his head as he forced
his eyes open. Nearby, a raging fire’s thick cloud of smoke
billowed across him. The searing heat forced him to shy away. A
quick survey of the area revealed how lucky he was to have
survived. He’d been thrown clear of the cockpit.

His head throbbed, but he managed to
scramble a safe distance from the mangled striker. What remained
was hard to recognize. The heat that radiated off the wreckage was
still hot enough to ignite any surrounding foliage. Fortunately,
the wind was calm, and the hard-packed soil that surrounded the
crash site was clear of vegetation, which prevented the fire from
spreading.

He peered through the thick smoke in a
futile attempt to locate some type of landmark to help ease his
disorientation. All he saw was bare ground and patches of eerie
shrubbery gathered under the limbs of frail-looking trees. Their
growth seemed stunted. It was hard to imagine how anyone could live
in such a desolate place. Yet, there he was, alive and stranded on
a less-than-welcoming world with no idea of how fast or when he
might be recovered. A disturbing thought crossed his mind.
Surviving the crash might be the easiest part of his
ordeal.

He performed a quick physical
assessment, and found a mushy lump on top his head near the base of
his left ear. The injury was responsible for the blood that clouded
his vision. He swiped a forearm across his eyes to wipe away most
of it with his sleeve. The rest of his body seemed uninjured. No
sharp pains hit him as he slowly stood.

Smoke billowed from the wreckage. It
filled his nostrils and made it impossible for him to scent any
information about his immediate surroundings. Fortunately, his ears
weren’t impaired. He heard strange noises in the distance, and the
sounds were coming closer and closer.

Unknown life forms
approached his position. They barked and yelped, similar to young
Novyr nerts
. Not
possible
. He was certain the Novyr wouldn’t
bring any of their younglings to the surface.

Perhaps some of the local inhabitants
had seen him crash. Did they intend to offer aid? He got his answer
in the form of a black, four-legged creature when it charged out of
the brush and stopped near the edge of the clearing. The animal
growled and flashed a mouth full of sharp teeth.

Vren greeted the intruder with a
warning hiss, then bared his teeth. Seemingly unafraid, the
creature growled more viciously. A brief acknowledgement of
admiration for its bravery crossed his mind before he dropped to a
crouch in preparation for an attack. The animal didn’t disappoint
him.

The beast charged. The second its
collection of jagged teeth came within biting range, he jumped to
the side, then pounced onto the animal’s back. As anticipated, his
greater weight forced it to the ground while he grabbed the top of
its snout. He held tight and used his free hand to grip the lower
jaw in a vise-like hold. In one fluid motion, he stood and lifted
his struggling captive off the ground. To gain complete control, he
clamped his thighs around its lower body.

The beast gave a strangled yelp when
he wrenched his hands apart to break the lower jawbone before he
tore it away from the head. He tossed the severed jaw aside to free
his hand, then extended his claws to their full length. He plunged
them deep into the upper abdominal cavity to snare vital organs.
With one powerful down stroke, he eviscerated his
opponent.