Sneak Peek – Beast Charming

CHAPTER ONE

Warlord Tane, Miami Event Center, ‘The Bachelor Ball’

“Warlord Tane, may I present…” Chet Bosworth, with his overly large teeth and puffed hair, paused to look at the card he held in his hand. “The lovely Miss Patricia Wentworth from New York.”

He shouted the announcement as if he were calling a horse race and was oh, so excited to see who would finish first. I took the young lady’s hand in mine and tried not to look intimidating.

“A pleasure,” I repeated to Patricia, for the forty-seventh time. Leaning over, as I’d been instructed by Bahre’s beautiful mate, Quinn, I dutifully held the female’s small hand in mine and bowed at the waist. I believed meeting all of the females currently in line would be a waste of time. I knew, even before Patricia had approached, that she was not mine. My beast knew as well. I had walked the room earlier, passed by each of the females in their fine gowns as they lined up, eager to enter and meet the beasts.

The young woman nodded her head and walked away, her expression carefully composed. I did not wish to disappoint any of the worthy females present. My beast would choose our mate, not I. And he was not interested.

“I do not know how much longer I can endure.” I whispered the confession to Warlord Bahre where he stood next to me at the base of an elaborate stair. The fucker’s response was to laugh at me.

I discreetly elbowed him in his ribs, then turned to face the forty-eighth female being introduced to me.

None of the female’s present were my mate. I already knew this truth and yet I had to endure several more hours of Chet Bosworth and his pontificating nonsense.

My beast and I were both losing patience.

As if on cue, Chet’s conspiratorial whisper carried to both me and the young female approaching. “Hold your breath, people, as the alien, Warlord Tane, meets the next gorgeous woman in attendance. Celine Legrand travelled all the way from Gatineau, Quebec, Canada, more than sixteen hundred miles, to win this Atlan beast’s battle weary heart.”

The young woman blushed at Chet’s words. I greeted her, bowed and released her with a gentle shake of my head. I did not need to tell these females they were not mine. They all appeared to be familiar with what had happened when the prior beasts on Chet’s ridiculous show had found their mates.

If Celine were mine, she would already be in my arms. More likely over my shoulder so I could carry her somewhere private and pleasure her properly.

Without a live television audience.

Celine Legrand took a step back and then hurried away.

“Another strike out!” Chet smiled directly into the camera and winked at the lens. “That’s forty-eight in a row, my friends, but there are hundreds more waiting to meet our handsome prince. Is true love in the air tonight? Will one of these women be the answer to a broken-hearted beast’s most fervent wish? Or will this lonely beast, this wounded veteran who has already been rejected by his own people, be doomed to face the executioner?” Chet twirled around in his black pants and long, bright blue jacket, which nearly swept the floor behind him like a bird’s split tail. His teeth were too large for his face and his hair stood up on his head like thousands of small wooden sticks. He smelled like chemicals and false manhood and fear. He glanced from me to the camera and kept talking. “The gowns. The glamour. The suspense. We are still looking for our princess. Don’t move a muscle. We’ll be right back with more from the Cinderella Ball after a brief message from our sponsors.”

Glamour? Gowns? Suspense? This was no game. Not for us, the beasts whose Mating Fever raged in our blood.

Did this idiot not understand what was at stake?

The blinking red light on top of the camera went dark and Chet lifted a hand to summon one of his servants over to put more powder on his cheeks and nose. He shooed her away nearly as quickly, grumbling. “This is a dud. The whole damn thing. If one of these big aliens doesn’t sniff his true love soon, we’re going to have to move on to plan B.”

Plan B?

I heard the low growl rumbling through my chest before I realized I had moved to stand immediately behind the human idiot. “What is this Plan B?” I asked.

He spun around, his mouth opening and closing like a fish’s. “Um. Oh. Excuse me.” He stepped back and I didn’t press forward, afraid I’d give in to the urge to crush his skull. “That was nothing. I’m sure there is a woman here that can, you know…satisfy your beast.”

“There is not.”

His mouth went from opening and closing to gaping. “What? How do you know? You haven’t even met—”

“I have scented every female in this room. My mate is not here.”

“But—”

I turned to find Quinn and Bahre had followed me. “Oh, no. Tane. I’m so sorry. We can try again.”

I shook my head. “No. Get one of the others to stand here. I am done.” I took a step toward the exit. Stopped when Chet dared wrap his hand around my arm and pull me to a stop.

“You can’t leave! We’ve been promoting this for weeks. We’ll lose our sponsors. You’re the main event, Tane.”

“Warlord.” I knew the beast had reached my eyes, felt the heat of the transformation pushing to break through. I had not given this fool permission to speak to me as a friend.

“Warlord Tane. Of course. My apologies.” He was whining now. I glared at his hand and he pulled his arm back is if burned. “Please. These women have flown in from all over the world for a chance to meet you and the others. If you leave, this will all be for nothing.”

I’d break his heart with a fist through his ribs if he didn’t stop talking.

“My mate is not here.”

Chet sidled up to me like we were friends. We were not. “You know that, and I know that.” He held his hand out and moved it in a slow sweeping arc that encompassed the entire event space. “But they don’t know that.”

As I watched, some of the television crew’s handlers, as Chet called them, stepped in front of the line of ladies waiting to meet me and began sorting them into small groups. The females varied in every possible way. Some were very young, probably virgins who would need delicate handling. Some looked at me like they wanted to ride my cock and knew exactly how to make sure we both enjoyed it. Some short, for a human, some tall. All different skin tones, hair colors, sizes and dress styles.

Quinn had kept her promise to me and the others. There were over three hundred eligible females at this event, dressed to enchant, to seduce. My beast hadn’t shown even a flicker of interest so far.

Quinn stepped between me and Chet with a sigh. “I’m so sorry Tane, but he’s right. If you leave, the other women will be upset that they didn’t get a chance to meet you. They won’t understand. It would be a public relations disaster for The Colony and I don’t think we would be able to convince any more women to take a chance and attend something like this. If you leave, it might even discourage women from volunteering to be brides. Please, if not for yourself, stay for the others. Maybe one of them will find their mate tonight.”

With a sigh, I looked up to where Kai and Egon stood, several paces in front of me, acting as guardians and guideposts to the line of females eager to be introduced. They, too, inspected the human women gathered, looking for their own mates.

All the earth-bound Atlans were present. Velik, the Atlan guard from the Interstellar Brides processing center here in Maimi. Kai. Egon. Not to waste an opportunity, each governor from The Colony had sent six warlords each.

There were nearly fifty Atlan Warlords at this ball. Two dozen Prillon warriors patrolled the perimeter of the building, here at Warden Egara’s behest. They were not Atlan, but there was nothing stopping them from finding an eligible, willing female to claim as their own.

The last thing we needed, according to the warden, was any kind of incident that would hurt the Coalition’s image as Earth’s benevolent protectors.

What had begun as Quinn’s simple idea had turned into a media circus.

Warden Egara’s words, not mine. She was here somewhere as well, talking to the women who would not be chosen, encouraging them to volunteer to be Interstellar Brides. The processing center could guarantee them each a match with a worthy Coaltion fighter be that set of three Viken fighters, a pair of Prillon warriors, or an Elite Everian Hunter. There were more, the cyborg survivors on The Colony. The Forsians. Hyperions. Atlans. Xerimans. Alerans. All worthy males who had fought to protect the planets in the Interstellar Coalition. All looking for a female. Eager to claim a mate, to be matched by the most advanced psychologic program in existence. Warden Egara could promise then a happy ending, a mate to protect and care for them. I could promise nothing.

“I will stay.” Quinn looked relieved. Chet Bosworth looked annoyed. Bahre’s face was carefully blank, as was mine. I would not deny my fellow warlords, nor the Prillon warriors guarding the perimeter, the opportunity to mingle with so many willing females. Perhaps one of my brethren would be luckier than I.

For them, I would bow and greet over three hundred females.

By the gods, it was going to be a long fucking night.

I settled back into position at the base of the stairs, prepared to behave and speak niceties for the next few hours.

“I feel like a prized stallion on display,” I grumbled, eyeing yet another camera crew perched on the balcony above us, filming everything for the rapt television audience.

Bahre chuckled from where he stood behind my right shoulder. “That’s exactly what you are, my friend. You are the star of the show. If you leave, all of this will stop.”

“So we have established.” I turned to frown at his attire. “And why are you dressed all in black, like a shadow, and I am wearing this?” I tugged on the rigid cotton collar and Victorian Ascot necktie choking me. “I’m no Prillon. I do not require a collar.”

“You look amazing.” Quinn stepped close to brush an imaginary piece of lint from the dark red shoulder of my gold embroidered jacket. She smoothed the fabric. “You are playing the part of a fairy tale prince. We’ve been over this.” Her smile was radiant. Beautiful. Her simple black gown hugged every curve and perfectly accented her golden hair and fair skin. She was the perfect complement to Bahre.

If I could find a human female like Quinn to calm my beast, I would be blessed indeed. “Besides, every single woman in here is drooling over you guys. All of you.”

I looked around and had to agree with the lady’s assessment. I was not the only Atlan who had stuffed his body into tight white pants, frilly white shirts and the stiff red jackets with gold buttons. The costume I wore was made complete by golden ropes and tassels on the shoulders.

When the television show’s make-up specialist had approached, I’d growled at the poor thing. I had stuffed my body into stretchy white pants. Putting rouge on my lips was out of the fucking question.

We all looked ridiculous. However, we deferred to Quinn’s advice. She assured us this strange attire would please the human females, make them less afraid of our large sizes.

We were all desperate enough to do whatever she asked. Mating Fever raged in my blood, as it did in the others. We were running out of time.

Kai and Egon were similarly dressed, as were the unmated Atlans sent from The Colony. The Prillons were far luckier in their black pants and dark coats. As security, they were not meant to draw attention. The ballroom opened to a high ceiling filled with two rows of crystal chandeliers. Around the perimeter of the ballroom, a second level, lined with arched balconies, provided the perfect vantage point to watch over the dance floor. Standing beneath each arch, staring down at the gathering of humans, stood either an Atlan or Prillon guard, some crammed next to the large camera equipment the humans were using to record every movement, every word. Everything.

Thanks to Warlord Maxus, the Coalition Fleet had become aware of Nexus Six’s and the Hive’s growing interest in Earth. Prime Nial had ordered two dozen Prillon warriors sent from Prillon Prime to safeguard each human continent. An additional contingent of warriors had been installed at the Interstellar Bride’s processing center here, in Miami, and at the other processing stations around the globe.

The human governments had been warned. Yet, when we petitioned them to allow extra protection on the ground, they refused. Prime Nial and the governors on The Colony had taken matters into their own hands. If Nexus Six had taken a special interest in Earth, ignoring the threat would not improve the situation.

Additional protection was in place whether the humans wanted to acknowledge us or not.

Chet’s high pitched whining interrupted my musings.

“Warlord Tane, may I present Miss Anja Kunkel of Hamburg, Germany?”

With a sigh I returned my attention to the task at hand and gently took the lady’s delicate hand in my own.

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