Page 7 of Tamed by the Alien Warlord

LANZ

H er scent clings to the cockpit.

It doesn’t make sense. There’s no reason for it to be here. She never stepped foot in this part of the ship. But it’s in the air, ghosting along the metal, seeping into my lungs.

I pace like a caged beast, every step echoing across the deck.

The descent has started. Her shuttle glides toward the Earth First moon station like a docile prey creature approaching the den of its predator.

She’s playing the bait.

My jaw clenches. Every instinct I have screams at me to rip the planet apart and drag her out by her hair. But I can’t. Not yet.

Instead, I busy myself with violence.

The raid team awaits in the armory bay—hulking figures sharpening blades and arguing over kill counts. Blood-paint stains their armor. Their snarls echo. These are not the sort of warriors who crack jokes mid-battle or compare conquests like drunk mercs.

These are the ones who like hurting things.

Rix is first to speak. “We go on your signal, Captain?”

“When I call, you burn the sky,” I reply. “Nakamura’s facility gets reduced to smoke and scrap. No survivors.”

“Any exceptions?”

“One.”

The others go still.

“She wears a collar,” I say coldly. “You see her—you protect her. Anyone who so much as touches her without my command—dies screaming.”

Grunts of approval. Blade clinks. Bone-sharp smiles.

I stalk back to the command chair and drop into it, the screen blooming before me with Georgia’s feed—borrowed directly from the spy-drone on her borrowed ship, still connected to our uplink.

And there she is.

My mate.

My torment.

She’s standing in the sterile white lobby of Nakamura’s pleasure wing, all soft fabrics and submissive posture, her voice syrup-sweet. “You must be Dr. Nakamura,” she coos.

My claws dig into the armrest.

He’s tall. Thin. Polished like a synthetic. His smile is too smooth. His fingers twitch as he studies her like a prized acquisition.

I don’t growl. I don’t scream.

But I watch.

She’s flawless. Her tone is breathy, but her eyes are calculating. Every head tilt is rehearsed. Every giggle? Weaponized.

“May I say,” Nakamura purrs, “the agency undersold your beauty.”

Georgia laughs—a soft, tinkling sound. “They do that. Makes the surprise sweeter.”

He offers her a drink. She accepts. Doesn’t sip.

Smart.

He touches her wrist.

I crush the armrest.

Metal splinters under my grip. Sparks spit out, and I don’t care.

“I’ve studied Companion profiles,” Nakamura says. “Their dedication is unparalleled. But I must ask… do you know what your duties here might entail?”

Her eyes sparkle, even if I know it’s all act. “Emotional support. Conversation. Discretion. I believe your exact words to the agency were ‘no strings, no scandal.’”

His smile widens. “Just so. Though most Companions eventually become permanent… partners. If they’re pleasing.”

She dips her head. “Then I’ll have to be very… pleasing.”

My vision turns red.

She’s doing it right. She’s playing the game. Not a single word has been a lie—but none have been the truth either. That’s what makes her so damn good at this.

But it hurts like a blade between my ribs.

I don’t want her to be good at it.

I want her here.

Biting me. Yelling at me. Pulling my focus with every toss of her messy hair and every smart-ass quip about warlords and space drama.

She belongs at my side. Not playing pretend in a snake pit of human rot.

And then the bastard kisses her hand.

Not just a brush of lips.

No. He lingers.

His mouth touches her palm like he’s branding her. Like he’s claiming something.

And I break the other armrest.

No warning. No hesitation. It snaps in my hand, and I let the shattered pieces clatter to the deck.

She doesn’t pull back.

Not physically.

But I see it.

The flicker of disdain. The buried loathing.

She’s still mine.

But when this is done, Nakamura won’t be.

I lean forward, voice tight. “Get the team ready.”

Rix blinks into the comm. “Thought we were waiting.”

“We are. But we’ll be ready early.”

“You worried?”

“I’m done waiting.”

I watch Georgia’s smile harden by degrees as Nakamura leads her deeper into the facility.

I watch every muscle twitch.

Every gesture.

Every damn fake laugh.

And I remember the way her lips felt against mine just two nights ago.

She’s brave.

Reckless.

Just like me.

And I hate this plan more than anything I’ve ever hated before.

Because if anything happens to her…

There won’t be a moon left.

Only ash.