Page 5 of Tamed by the Alien Warlord

LANZ

S he’s still in my bed when the alert chimes.

Sprawled across dark sheets like she belongs there, limbs tangled, collar catching the low lights from above. She breathes deeply, unaware of how loud her presence has become in my life. I don’t know how she got this deep under my skin—but she has. And now, she’s in my blood.

I tear myself away from her before I do something even more reckless than what I’m about to plan.

The Helios Combine has fortified an outpost on Kura Nine, guarding encrypted tech and munitions. Word from informants says the garrison is light. I don’t believe them. But I need the data. We all do.

The briefing is short, brutal, and to the point. My crew’s tense, scenting blood in the air. I lay out the strategy: hard insertion, breach, neutralize, extract logs.

Simple. Clean.

Until she walks in.

Georgia—barefoot, bristling, her camera drone hovering behind her like a devoted pet. Still collared. Still mine.

“I’m coming,” she says without preamble.

“No,” I grunt, not bothering to look up.

“Yes.” Her tone is iron wrapped in honey. “You need footage? I’m your girl.”

“I need warriors, not soft-bellied observers.”

She steps closer. “You need someone to show the galaxy what Helios is doing out here. I don’t need to fight—I just need to see. ”

“See from the brig, then.”

“I’ll be where the truth is. With or without your permission.”

I growl. “You’re bait. Distraction. Liability.”

“And yet here I am.” She flashes a grin that shouldn’t make my pulse jump. “Besides… you’re already distracted.”

She’s not wrong.

Damn her.

“Fine,” I say at last. “But you follow my lead. You stay behind cover. You do not remove the collar.”

She touches it absentmindedly, like it’s become part of her. “Wasn’t planning to.”

I wonder if she knows what it means now. What it says to every Reaper who looks at her. That she’s taken. Claimed. Protected.

Mine.

When we board the drop ship, she straps in across from me. Her foot taps restlessly, her eyes scanning the faces of my crew. Some sneer. Some ignore her. None speak. The collar does the talking for her.

As we breach Kura Nine’s upper atmosphere, I lock my gear down tight. Her drone clicks softly behind her shoulder. I know she’s terrified. But she hides it with practiced arrogance.

Our boots hit dirt under a barrage of plasma fire. The Combine’s idea of a “light guard” involves full-body armor and repeaters mounted on turrets. Half my squad scatters under cover. I signal for a flanking maneuver, my second spearhead diving toward the side access port.

Georgia stays low, exactly where I told her—crouched behind a crushed lift cart, drone hovering, filming everything.

And then one of them spots her.

Helios soldier—tall, mean-eyed, too smart for his own good—breaks formation and bolts for her with a shock baton in one hand and a pistol in the other.

She freezes. A second too long.

And I’m already running.

The shot fires.

I leap.

Pain is fire and thunder all at once as the bolt slams into my ribs, throwing me sideways into the scorched ground. The shock baton grazes my shoulder, but I don't care. My body takes the brunt.

She’s unharmed.

I can’t breathe.

Her hands are on me in seconds. “You stupid, lizard-blooded idiot—what the hell was that?!”

My lungs wheeze, then catch. “You’re welcome.”

She glares, tears and fury burning behind her eyes. “I didn’t ask you to do that!”

“Didn’t need to.” I stagger upright, bone plates already knitting, muscles reforming. “You’re mine.”

She makes a choked sound—anger, frustration, something else she doesn't want to name. “That’s not how humans work.”

“Then adjust your programming.”

We move again, and my rage burns brighter with every step. I carve through the Combine soldiers like a reaper from the dark, my blade singing a song of vengeance. My warriors rally, voices rising, their losses avenged in every death dealt.

By the end, we’ve lost nine. A third of our force.

But the outpost is ours.

Smoke curls from the walls. Sparks flicker from shattered terminals. And Georgia moves through the wreckage like a ghost, eyes sharp, scanning every display, every file, every hint of something more.

She finds it near the central uplink tower—a half-intact data node, charred but readable.

Her fingers hover over it, hesitant for once. When the screen flickers to life, I see the truth in her eyes before she speaks it.

“She wasn’t taken,” she whispers. “Jasmine… she wasn’t captured.”

My heart sinks.

“She was sold. ” Her voice cracks like glass.

I kneel beside her. She’s staring at the logs. Transport orders. Authorization codes. Helios Combine signatures.

“Trafficked,” she murmurs. “By the same bastards I worked for.”

She looks… shattered. But then her spine stiffens. Her hands curl into fists.

“I want names,” she says. “I want dates. I want blood.”

My claws twitch. “You’ll have all three.”

She turns to me, breath ragged. “You mean that?”

“I don’t make vows lightly.”

A long silence stretches between us. I reach out and brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek. She doesn’t flinch.

“I’m coming with you,” she says.

I nod. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The drone hums softly above her. Her jaw sets. Her rage simmers.

And I know—without question—that if I had to leap in front of another bullet for her tomorrow, I would.

And not just because of the collar

She looks at me differently tonight.

Not just with that usual spark of rebellion behind those gorgeous green eyes—but something deeper. Softened. Grateful.

Which I hate. I don’t need thanks. I don’t need praise. I kill Helios Combine personnel for sport, not sentiment.

Still, her voice is gentler than usual when she speaks.

“I want to thank you,” she says, standing just inside our quarters. Her wild red curls are messy from her fight earlier, her dress slightly askew, freckles darkened by sweat and fury. “You didn’t have to help me find Jasmine. But you did.”

I grunt, turning away, stripping off the last of my armor. The ship hums quietly beneath our feet—alone now, silent, drifting in orbit. No threats. Just her. Just us.

“I did it because Helios is a rot that needs to be cut out,” I say. “Your sister was just… conveniently in the same direction.”

“That’s not true.”

She moves closer. I can hear it—the subtle hitch in her breath, the quiet pad of her bare feet on the metal floor.

“Maybe,” I admit.

And then I feel her.

Her fingers touch my hip lightly, sliding over the lines of bone spurs that frame my flank like armor grown from rage. She kneels behind me. I turn my head slightly. Enough to see the look in her eyes.

That look wrecks me.

“I’m very, very thankful,” she says, voice dipped in honey and smoke.

And then she’s crawling.

Crawling toward me on hands and knees like a predator. Or prey pretending not to be thrilled to be caught. Either way, she ends up between my legs, looking up at me like I hung the stars. My cock stirs immediately, thick and heavy, already halfway hard.

“You don’t have to?—”

But she just smiles .

“I want to.”

And she takes me in her mouth.

Fuck.

Her lips wrap around the head of my cock, tongue swirling in slow, maddening circles. I groan, one hand gripping the edge of the nearest wall panel to anchor myself. Her mouth is hot . Her tongue glides along the ridges that trace the underside of my cock, teasing the spurs at the base.

They twitch when she hums.

She knows exactly what she’s doing. It’s not just devotion—it’s control . Her hands stroke the base, her tongue worships the tip, and she moans like I taste better than air. I watch the way her hair falls over her shoulder, those full lips working me over like it’s her divine mission.

My jaw clenches. I can’t stop watching her.

“Georgia…”

She pulls back slightly, just enough to drag her tongue up the full length before sinking down again, taking more of me. Her throat stretches. She chokes just a little—but keeps going. I hear the wet sound of her spit sliding down my shaft. My hips buck.

She smiles around my cock.

That’s when I realize it—she’s playing with me. Testing my control. Pushing me to the edge on her terms.

Not tonight.

I growl low in my chest and reach down, fisting a hand in her curls. I tug her back just enough to slide out of her mouth, and her lips are swollen, glistening.

“Not so smug now, are you, little human?”

She tries to play innocent. Tilts her head. “Was I smug, Daddy?”

That word snaps the last thread of my restraint.

I move fast.

I haul her up off the floor, spin her around, and slam her back into the bed. Her breath escapes in a sharp gasp. I’m on top of her in an instant—my cock dragging across the slick heat of her pussy. She’s soaked.

“Gods, you’re ready,” I growl, grinding the tip of my cock against her clit.

She whimpers.

I grip her throat—not tight, just enough to hold. Just enough to own . Her eyes go wide. Her thighs part.

“You want to be used?” I hiss. “You want to thank me like a good little whore ?”

She moans helplessly. “Yes—please— use me. ”

I slam into her.

Her pussy stretches around me, slick and perfect. My cock sinks in deep, spurs flaring gently to press against her inner walls. She screams—raw and beautiful—as I start to move.

Fast.

Brutal.

Every thrust makes her body jolt beneath me. Her back arches. Her nipples scrape against my chest. I keep one hand around her throat and the other buried in her hair, anchoring her as I fuck her into the mattress.

She’s not quiet.

She begs.

She sings for me in moans and broken curses. Her body clutches mine like it’s trying to pull me deeper. And gods help me, I give her everything.

“You’re so tight,” I snarl. “So fucking wet. ”

“I—Lanz—I can’t?—”

“You can . You will. You’ll come when I do.”

Her pussy spasms around me, already teetering on the edge.

“You feel that?” I growl. “You feel that stretch? That ache? That’s your body knowing exactly who it belongs to.”

Her nails dig into my back. Her teeth find my shoulder. She sobs something that might be my name.

I kiss her—hard, claiming, brutal.

Then I grab both her thighs, slam them back, and fuck her even deeper. My cock hits her sweet spot again and again. My spurs flex at just the right angle.

Her scream is primal.

“Now,” I roar. “Come with me. Now, Georgia.”

We shatter together.

Her pussy milks me as I spill into her, hot and thick, pulse after pulse. Her entire body convulses beneath me, her moans turning to sobs as we ride the storm. We don’t separate. We cling , hips locked, breaths tangled, sweat and heat and heartbeat blurring into one.

I don’t pull out. I don’t move. I just wrap my arms around her and hold her close, pressing my forehead to hers.

“I love you,” I whisper against her ear. “More than you’ll ever know.”

She trembles in my arms, clinging tighter.

“I love you too, Daddy,” she whispers back, voice wrecked and raw and so damn real.

And for a while, we don’t speak.

We just hold on.

Like letting go might break us.