The Princess and her Bounty Hunter: Alien Romance (Fated to the Alien: The Psychic Matchmaker Book 2)
Authors: Harmony Raines
Tags: #General Fiction
The Princess
and her
Bounty Hunter
***
All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written consent of the author or publisher.
This is a work of fiction and is intended for mature audiences only. All characters within are eighteen years of age or older. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, actual events or places is purely coincidental.
© 2016 Harmony Raines
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***
The Princess and her
Bounty Hunter
A distress signal sends Princess Tiana racing across the galaxy to rescue a child.
A psychic’s clue sends T’Makizomo racing across the galaxy to capture his next bounty.
Two worlds are about to collide!
Mak
is on the trail of a bounty with a huge price on his head. When the trail goes cold, he visits Misha’Ha, a psychic, and blackmails her into helping him. The only catch is, the information doesn’t lead him to his bounty, it leads him to a princess.
Tiana has sworn to save Larka, who has been snatched from her mother’s arms and is being held on a slave planet. But as soon as Tiana leaves the safety of her home planet, she is attacked. Despite a badly damaged ship, she manages to outrun her attackers, before she crash lands on an alien planet.
Stranded, she’s not sure she will survive the night, yet alone make it off the planet, which means Larka will be sentenced to a life as a slave.
But when help comes from an unlikely hero, can Tiana persuade Mak to put aside his own hunt, and help her fulfill a promise?
He wondered if he had made a mistake coming here. Or more precisely, if the trader he had persuaded to give him information on how to find the woman he was searching for, had done a number on him, and sent him on a wild goose chase halfway across the galaxy.
It all looked too
genteel
. That must be one of the most underused words in Mak’s vocabulary, but it perfectly described the neat little tea shop, in a part of town frequented by the richer members of Trealian society. A glance at the menu, handwritten in swirly writing, and a look through the big stained-glass windows to the neat tables, covered by pristine white tablecloths, confirmed his suspicions. He was going to look as out of place as a
quasimid
in a bathing pool. People would take notice, and then get out as quickly as they could. He had that effect on people.
Maybe it was his size: at approaching seven feet tall, he towered above almost everyone who wasn’t a Virdian. His broad shoulders and chest were an expanse of bone and muscle that put any intelligent person off taking him on in hand-to-hand combat, unless they were desperate to escape him. Although, he was never short of desperate damsels in distress wanting to cry on his broad shoulders; but, most often, his size and appearance made ordinary people uncomfortable.
He straightened up, made sure his fully charged side lance was covered by his long, tanned leather coat, which hugged his shoulders and flared out at the bottom, making it easy to fight in. Although it covered his clothes, it made him distinctly noticeable, especially when the other people in the shop were dressed casually, not for battle; they wore tunics and soft shoes, not Virdian body armor and hard boots.
Oh well, he had endured worse than the stares he was about to receive. He very much doubted he would get stabbed by anything more lethal than eyes in this place. These men, sipping their herbal teas, would probably run rather than confront him, even if he walked up to them and stole one of their delicate pastries with his giant hands.
Not that he was going to be confrontational. Not as long as the woman he had come here for gave him what he wanted. And all he wanted was information. Very specific information.
The door swung open easily; it was well oiled, the paint fresh. The tea shop had been an ironmonger’s last time he had passed this way. Now the only metal inside was spoons for stirring tea and forks to stop the patrons getting their fingers sticky on their fancy iced cakes.
He smiled at a woman seated at one of the tables, who looked as if she was about to drop her cup of
teomil
tea
,
trying to put her at her ease. She might need a refill of the soothing beverage before his visit was over. However, his smile seemed to work, because the next look she gave him was accompanied by eyelashes being batted.
If she had any idea of who he was, and what he was capable of, both in and out of the bedroom, she would do more than bat her eyelashes.
Tempting,
he thought. He hadn’t had a woman like her for months, the sort who would let him have his way with her, make her submit to him in ways that she would never dream of. If drinking tea with that soft-suited wimp she sat at a table with was the highlight of her day, then he would teach her about real men. Although, one-night stands were not as satisfying as they used to be, he must be getting old, or soft.
A stirring in his pants reminded him he was still virile and in no way soft, but Mak reined in his thoughts. He was here on business, not pleasure. Time was short: he was not the only one on the trail of the bounty he was searching for. Not surprising, since the prize was huge, enough to keep his village fed all winter.
Approaching the counter, he saw the young woman look up, her eyes narrowing as she saw trouble on two legs coming her way.
“Can I serve you?” she asked all the same, her accent telling him she was from Quara, and most likely a slave. Still, she looked well fed and cared for; most of the women taken from the poorly protected planet were sent to brothels all over the galaxy. A tea shop must be heaven compared to what men, and certain women, would subject her to in some of the places he had visited.
“Tea,” he said simply.
She rolled her eyes at him. No, she was most definitely lucky if she was a slave and still had an attitude like that. “What kind of tea?”
“What kind do you have?” he asked, a wicked grin on his face.
She opened her mouth to say something, but instead pointed to the sign. “They are all listed there.
If
you can read.”
“That is rude,” he said, leaning on the counter. “I think I would like to talk to your owner, and see what she has to say about your cheek.”
The girl didn’t flinch; if anything, her face hardened. “And what? Ask her to take me outside and whip me for my insolence?”
He laughed. “I get the feeling she doesn’t care how insolent you are. So why not just tell Misha’Ha I’m here to see her, and promise I won’t stay long enough to frighten off your other customers.”
She winced at the name he used, but covered her expression quickly. “My mistress is not here, not that she would see a man like you anyway. And we don’t like threats,” the girl said, and huffed, turning to gather up a tray.
The shop door behind him had closed. He didn’t need his eyes to tell him the couple sat in the window seats had left. His senses were incredibly heightened to the presence of people; it was what kept him alive, it stopped him getting ambushed, and it had once stopped him getting knifed in the back.
“We could play this game. Or I could walk over to the
radgraph
and ask them to send a message to a
certain
princess in Carinia. I hear she has put a price on a
certain
psychic’s head.”
That got her attention. Her hand gripped the tray so tightly, he could see the whites of her knuckles straining to burst out of her skin. He stood up, adjusting his coat, letting her see his side lance. The Virdian were the most sought-after bounty hunters in this galaxy or the next, and Mak was the most sought-after bounty hunter of all the Virdian. She wouldn’t know it, but he carried was latest model, with a laser beam that could cut through heavy steel, and a pulse blast capable of killing a man at thirty feet. But he suspected she would know any lance could maim her from ten feet, and that usually was enough encouragement to get his own way.
“She’s still not here,” the girl said.
“Then maybe you should tell me where she is, or when she will be back.”
The girl looked at the doorway and then back to Mak. “She went to the market. She will be back in about half an hour. If you sit and wait, I’ll fetch you some tea.”
“What kind of tea?” he asked with a wink. Her hands flexed just a little. He smiled. She was wondering if she could hit him hard enough to knock him out. “Right choice,” he said as she set the tray down and turned her back to him, spooning tea leaves into a pot and then pouring hot water on them.
When it was ready, she turned back to him, placed the cup on the counter so hard he thought the delicate china would shatter, and said, “Corner, don’t talk to anyone, don’t insult anyone.”
“Thank you.” He took the cup and went to a table out of the way from the other patrons, those that hadn’t already fled. It suited him. He could sit with his back to a wall, and his face to the door. That was one of the simplest ways to stay alive. Oh, and he had no intention of drinking the tea, although he would make her believe he was. Some of those herbal teas could knock a man out, and he needed all his faculties to deal with the woman he had come here to speak to.