Alien Bond (Alien Attachments)

Alien Bond is a short story sequel to the Alien Attachments series by Sabine Priestley.

After the fall of their empire, the Sandarians struggled for order and peace, hiding their existence from the people of Earth. Until now. Under the guardianship of the Sandarians, it is a new world where fleets of ships circle the globe to protect the vulnerable human race.
 

Kara Heroshi breaks free from a controlling adoptive mother to begin a new life in London. She is both captivated and fearful of the alien Sandarian ship shining above the skyline of London—a beacon of power and allure.

Torril Anantha struggles to acclimate himself to life on Earth. The frailty of humanity disturbs him. But when one black-haired beauty ensnares his senses as well as his heart, he finally faces the difficult truth—his psi-mate is human.

While Kara is lured by the seductive Sandarian male, can she overcome her fears of being controlled and solidify the bond with Torril—the alien who is fated as her one true mate?

Warning: Hot and steamy content intended for 18+

Kara Heroshi leaned back in the lawn chair and let the sun warm her skin. There was nothing, right here and now, to suggest the lives of humankind had recently changed forever.
 

London’s Hyde Park hummed with tourists and locals. And
them
too, no doubt. She winced as two small children bolted past, nearly knocking over her soda. Their mothers followed a few paces behind, not bothering to reprimand them.
 

Kara adjusted her chair to sit upright so she could eat her lunch. Everything about the park looked so normal. She reached for her hotdog and took a moment to savor the flavor. “God, these are good. Evil, but delicious.” She was a purist, relish and mustard—perfect. Her friend Zoe, who’d taken her under wing when Kara arrived in England, preferred to desecrate hers with chili and onions. Kara wrinkled her nose. There was no accounting for some people’s taste.

They weren’t the only ones who’d decided Hyde Park was the place to be. One did not waste a sunny autumn day in London stuck indoors. Kara pulled a strand of hair out of her mouth and held it up. The once brilliant red had faded. Time for a color change. She eyed the hairs critically. Definitely not mustard yellow. Maybe purple this time. She sucked off the offending condiment and tucked the hair behind her ear.

The vibrant greens of summer had faded into autumn. This was the time of year when you soaked up the sun at every opportunity.
 

“Hard to believe it’s been almost a year,” Kara said.
 

“Do you see any?” Zoe stopped to let a dab of chili fall to the ground between her feet.
 

Kara laughed. “Classy, Zo, very classy.”
 

Zoe shrugged.

“I think there were a few by the arch on our way in.” Kara swept her hair up in a high pony tail to get it out of the way. “Hard to be sure.”

“I never thought I’d feel sorry for beautiful people,” Zoe said.
 

“They can’t all be so good looking.”

“Every one I’ve seen has been.”

“Still,” Kara said, licking her fingers, “I had a guy the other night at Shepherd Market tell me I looked like a Sandarian.”

Zoe snorted. “That’s got to be the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.”

Kara fixed her friend with a wide-eyed glare. “I told him that’s because I was. You should have seen the look on his face. He so wanted to believe it.”

“You’d think your Steampunk attire would have been enough to clue him in.”

“Please,” Kara said. “First of all, he wasn’t that bright, and second, Steampunk rocks. It’s only a matter of time before they try and join our awesomeness.” A bit of relish dropped from her lips and landed in the middle of her cleavage. “Nice.” She fished it out and flicked it onto the grass. “Can you imagine one of their ship’s captains decked out in Steampunk garb?”
 

Zoe burst out laughing, sending bits of chili flying.
 

“Class act, Zo.”

“Your fault,” Zoe said. “But that would be totally awesome.”

“I know, right? Can’t you just see it?”

They laughed, and again Kara thought how weird it was to feel so normal. People still asked, and would probably ask for the next generation, “So where were you?” It was the conversation starter, the ice breaker, and the common ground all humans claimed. A little over a year ago, the now famous Cavacent clan had made their presence known. First to governments around the world, and then to all mankind. They came from a planet called Sandaria and told of a fallen empire. As though ripped from a science fiction novel, they spoke of a Galactic Trade Organization, an interstellar military, and other alien worlds. They claimed to have been guarding Earth for hundreds of years with an elite team called Earth Protectors. EPs for short. The entire clan had relocated to Earth some fifteen years ago. They made it clear that without their presence, Earth, or at least the humans living here, would have been wiped out long ago. And then the refugees came. They’d lived on starships that had hovered outside of major cities around the world. Proof of human’s inferior technology and their own peaceful intentions. After the first year, the ships had retreated to orbits around Earth, and while many Sandarians only visited the surface, more and more had moved down permanently. They were beautiful, rich, and possessed powers humans could only dream of. Something called psi. They could move things, and directly interface with technology using only their minds. Crazy shit like that.

Kara finished her hotdog and leaned back into the public lawn chair. They’d be stored for the winter soon. She unzipped her boots and pulled them off, setting them next to her. They were tame by Steampunk standards, ankle-high black leather with brass wheels and cogs attached. It was a work day after all. She stretched her legs out and flexed her feet. Her red mini-skirt and tailored black button-up shirt gave a strong impression without being obnoxious. As an editor for a London independent paper, she could only go so far, unlike Zoe, who worked two floors up for a marketing company where creativity ruled. Kara cherished the weekends when she and Zoe vied for the coolest outfit.
 

“What time is it?” Kara asked, eyes closed. The warmth of the sun on her face felt like heaven.

“Twelve thirty-five,” Zoe said.

“Another ten minutes, and I’ll need to head back.”

“Me, too.” Zoe inhaled sharply. “Kara, look.”

Kara opened her eyes a fraction.
Shit.
“I saw them on the news a few nights ago. That poor woman. Can you imagine?”

“Poor woman? Are we talking about the same thing here? She’s bonded,” Zoe made quotation marks with her fingers, “with a perfect male specimen, who—”

“Alien.” Kara ground out the word.

“Fine, alien, who happens to be beyond gorgeous.”

“They can’t all be beautiful.”

“I know that.” Zoe elbowed her. “Will you let me finish? She’s bonded to this perfect being, which apparently entails pleasure like nothing we’ve ever experienced. No contact required, although it’s supposedly better if they do touch, and”—Zoe held up a finger to shush her—“it lasts a lifetime.”

Kara sat up and shoved her foot into a boot, then grabbed the other one. “Bonded. Lasts a lifetime. Sounds like slavery to me.”

Zoe followed suit and got her things together. “Hey, I know independence is a big thing for you, given your dragon mother and all, but everything I’ve read says this bond is amazing. Look at them. They scream happy.”

The brunette clutched the alien’s arm and laughed at something he said. They stopped and kissed before continuing on.
 

Kara grabbed her bag and stood. “Yeah, well, let’s check back with them in six months. No way that kind of control is going to be healthy in the long run.”

“Who says it’s control? If it’s mutual, no one is in control,” Zoe said.
 

Kara gave Zoe a hand up before heading out of the park. “How can anything be mutual with an alien? They’re not even human, remember?”

“That report on their DNA said that—“

“Doesn’t matter. They came from the fricken stars. Landed ships all across the globe. That’s not human, regardless of what they look like.”
 

They were approaching Bayswater Road when Kara’s skin flushed warm from top to bottom. She stopped and glanced down. It felt as though she’d been dipped into a hot tub. It was a warm day, but not this warm. Her body tingled before the feeling settled between her legs. Shallow breaths shuddered in her lungs as her entire body quivered on the verge of an orgasm.
Oh, no.
 

Zoe’s voice echoed in the background, impossibly far away and unintelligible. Kara blinked as her vision blurred then narrowed to a single point. Images of the news broadcast containing the “happy couple” flashed across her mind.
 

“It was brilliant,” the brunette had gushed at the anchorwoman. “I was shopping with my mates, and we were looking at this great outfit when all of a sudden I…well…” The woman had laughed nervously and blushed. The perfect man next to her had taken her hand and finished for her. “The bond started.”

“Yes,” the brunette had continued. “I had tunnel vision. All I could see was him. Literally.” The couple had shared a private laugh, and the anchorwoman had flung some more questions at them.

Pleasure pulsated through her.
No, please no.
She fought for control, body tensing. She turned her head to the left and locked eyes with a man across the street. He, too, stood still. And he was perfect. And totally wrong. Over six feet and broad shouldered, he wore a suit that had to be custom tailored. He looked like a banker or a billionaire. Not the kind of man to be seen with a woman with fading red dye in her hair and Steampunk boots.

He had black hair and a five o’clock shadow that accentuated perfectly sensuous lips.

 
They’re all perfect.
   

His steel blue eyes poured into her soul.
 

Pleasure mixed with panic held her captive.
I will not be controlled again.

The look of shock on his face turned to one of joy. When he smiled, the effect was deeply physical. Kara’s body hummed, and she balanced on a thin wire.
 

“Beautiful.”
His voice echoed in her head, enticing her to go to him. He took a step toward her, a euphoric look on his face.
“Is she mine?”
 

Terror ripped through her and broke the spell. She saw the recognition on his face before she reeled around, grabbed her head with both hands, and bolted back the way she’d come. Only she wasn’t bolting. She struggled with every step, like she’d done in her dreams as a child, trying to escape her mother’s iron grip. Trying to run but only moving in slow motion. Panic engulfed her.
Breathe, Kara.
Taking one step at a time, she focused on the tips of her black boots. Her body started coming off the crazy high, and her vision returned. Her movements became easier the farther she went.
 

“Kara, what the hell’s wrong?” Zoe’s voice. “What are you doing? You’re going the wrong way. Kara!” Zoe grabbed her arm. “Shit, girl. Are you having a stroke?”

Kara shook her head. “Keep walking, Zo. I have to get out of here.” Her head spun. The park was no longer anywhere near normal, and she tried, without success, to reign in her thoughts.
This can’t be happening.
Her chest tightened, and her heart pounded.
No. I am not yours. Bastard.
She tried to get a grip
.
Like the Brits said, “Keep calm and carry on.” She let out a slightly hysterical laugh, and then forced herself to take a deep breath.
 

“Kara?”

The worry in her friend’s voice allowed her to focus.
 

“What’s happening? You’re pale as a ghost, and I’m pretty sure you stopped breathing back there.”

“Zoe, I…” Kara shot a glance behind her. The man was nowhere to be seen. Her shoulders loosened a fraction. She lowered her voice and leaned in a little closer. “I… Just now…” She couldn’t form the words. If she said it out loud, it would be real.
“I think I’m getting sick. I need to go home.”

Three days later Kara sat at her desk, red pen in hand. Every second of every day she watched and waited, wondering if he would show up. She’d made herself crazy trying to stay busy and not think about the alien. She’d dyed her hair a brilliant blue. Twice. The nights were worse. When she did manage to sleep, she dreamt of being in his arms. The euphoria of his touch and the fear of being trapped had combined into a magnificent nightmare. She had bolted awake last night. He’d been on top of her, slamming into her, making her come and suffocating her all at once. She shivered at the memory, her body betraying her. Picking up the nearly whole, and now rock-hard, bagel, she threw it into the trash. After a bite or two, food had lost its appeal.
 

She focused on her anger. It gave her the feeling of control she desperately needed. She played out a rapid fire tap-tap-tap with her pen on a notepad. Anger was better than the fear that threatened to overcome her.