Alien Embrace Read online

  ALIEN EMBRACE

  Clans of Kalquor Book 1

  By

  Tracy St. John

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  © copyright September 2010, Tracy St. John

  Cover art by Erin Dameron-Hill, © copyright June 2013

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s

  imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or

  events is merely coincidence.

  Kindle Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  To my beloved Friends of Kalquor, thanks for everything.

  Chapter 1

  “You’re being watched,” Ambassador Vrill whispered to Amelia.

  Of course I am. I’m the guest of honor and the only Earther here, the redhead thought. Still, Vrill’s excited tone raised goosebumps on Amelia’s bare arms. She checked the fiery red and gold gown that had been custom sewn for her there on the planet Plasius. It managed to cover her where it should – barely.

  She still couldn’t believe Vrill had convinced her to wear the almost non-existent dress. The Plasian must have snuck something in Amelia’s drink before they’d gone shopping. There was no other explanation.

  The neck of the sleeveless gown plunged to below her navel. It was bad enough the fabric was whisper-thin; she had to be careful her movements didn’t shift the barely-there bodice to expose her entire chest to the crowded room. Since she was amply endowed, the meager bit of fabric was constantly endangering Amelia’s modesty.

  The halter of the dress would have left her entire back naked but for her hair. Her tresses were caught back from her face in glittering combs. The weight of all that hair flowed in a waved auburn river to her waist. Amelia found the feeling of her hair on bared flesh wickedly seductive. It was an unfamiliar if titillating sensation; she usually wore her hair in a ponytail. With a shirt on her back.

  Beneath the waterfall of hair, the shadowed cleft of her buttocks disappeared into the intricately laced train, which made up ninety-five percent of the gown’s fabric. It was constructed from heavier material that swept the floor. When Amelia walked, the drag of the train pulled at the dress, making the front stretch taut against her torso. She felt sure no one was guessing how she looked naked. Every curve of her body must be blatantly obvious.

  The worst part of the dress was its scrap of a skirt. The hem in the front was barely a scandalous inch below her sex. Her long, golden-hued legs were framed by the cascading scarlet and gold fabric.

  Dress codes on Plasius were definitely different from morality-driven Earth. The seductive Plasians knew much about allure and cared little for modesty.

  “Who is watching me?” Amelia whispered back to Vrill. Her eyes darted over the crowd assembled in Saucin Israla’s home. High-ranking Plasians of the government and art guild swarmed the ballroom, flirting with one another. In darkened corners where overstuffed couches lined the walls, movement Amelia dared not watch too long indicated coupling had already begun for some lovers. Their soft moans provided a background hum to the other partygoers’ easy conversations. An occasional cry informed anyone who cared that bliss had been realized. To say Plasians were not scandalized by public displays of affection was putting it lightly.

  The room was for public functions but still managed to create an aura of seduction. Amber colored fabric swathed the walls, and golden lighting globes drifted across the ceiling, giving the room a soft, dreamlike quality. The gentle illumination provided shadowed areas for amorous activity.

  The globes also highlighted the fantastic but pornographic mural on the ceiling. Amelia had snuck many a glance at the painted figures cavorting overhead, each passionate scene more explicit than the last.

  Despite the subject matter, there was no doubting the talent of the unknown artist. If Michelangelo had painted orgy scenes, Israla’s ballroom ceiling might have been his work.

  Amelia’s scan of the room met many eyes, and all nodded in respect. The party was for her, Plasius’ first Earth artist-in-residence.

  Vrill’s eyes, streaked like black marble, smoldered. Amelia recognized her friend’s arousal with amused embarrassment. The willowy Plasian’s bronze skin glistened. The thick olive mane on her head, more like fur than hair, moved as if in a breeze. Her body heat released the perfume globules woven in her scant gown’s ice blue fabric. The air grew heavy with the sharp scent of spice, Vrill’s preferred aroma. Her voice rose to its usual husky tone.

  “You’ve caught the attention of a Kalquorian clan. If stares could burn, you’d be on fire now.”

  Kalquorians! Amelia froze. For a moment she forgot to breathe. “Are you sure there’s a Kalquorian clan here? Israla said nothing of them attending.”

  “I’d know and want a Kalquorian if I was blind.” Vrill’s dark gaze ran over the Earther’s face. “That puts you in a spot, doesn’t it? I mean, since Earth refuses to treaty with Kalquor. Your people speak against them at every Galactic Council meeting.”

  Amelia swallowed. Her voice sounded defensive to her own ears. “Our leaders consider them a threat, especially to Earther women.”

  Vrill smirked. “That’s because every one of your leaders are male, and they don’t want their women running off to join clans. All of you would, if you had just a taste of what the men of Kalquor offer.” Her expression changed to one of concern. “Would your government make you leave Plasius if they knew a clan was here?”

  “Not if it’s just one clan and I stay away from them.” Amelia heard the uncertainty in her own voice.

  “Good! I don’t want you to go. Don’t worry, my friend. If you decide not to stay away from the Kalquorians, I’d never tell.” She tittered.

  “Where are they, Vrill?? Amelia continued to look around but only a forest of tall bronze Plasians greeted her eyes.

  Vrill pulled Amelia a few steps to one side. “Now you should be able to see them. They’re in the middle of the room, a little behind you and to your right.” She pointed.

  Amelia twisted her head to look in that direction. Her tensed neck muscles creaked. She saw the men staring at her immediately. Even from the distance of half the immense ballroom, it was impossible to miss the monumental differences between the Kalquorians and Plasians.

  The three aliens towered over the tall Plasians. Where the Plasians were soft, thin beings, the Kalquorian men looked sculpted from granite. Where the Plasians were slightly curved, the Kalquorians bulged muscle. The Plasians broadcasted their readiness to receive pleasure; the Kalquorians looked capable of taking it by brute force.

  Vrill whispered in her ear, “Someone’s thinking naughty thoughts. Your skin is as red as your hair.”

  Amelia’
s whole body flushed with heat. Her gown’s scent wafted over her; the aroma of a summer night’s breeze after a thunderstorm. Fresh, new, and somehow electric.

  The Kalquorians looked like Earthers who’d eaten steroids from birth. There were numerous differences to be sure. Outside of the size disparity, Amelia knew from reports that they had fangs that folded to the roofs of their mouths when not in use. Supposedly a Kalquorian’s bite sent an intoxicating venom into its victim, leaving him or her drunk and incapable of defense.

  Otherwise they were very much like Amelia’s species. In fact the resemblance was shocking. It was whispered, though not around those in Earth authority, that Kalquorians and Earthers might have a common ancestry.

  According to historians, an alien race had fled a doomed planet millennia ago and settled on Kalquor. Theories abounded that some of the Kalquorian ancestors had also settled Earth. For believers, too many similarities between the two races existed for mere coincidence.

  Such ideas were taboo on Earth. Anything that contradicted the Church’s edicts was illegal to consider, much less discuss. Earthers were God’s chosen people; Kalquorians were viewed as poor copies, perhaps even emissaries of Satan.

  Amelia privately prided herself on her more open views. Once off Earth she’d discussed the possibilities of Earther/Kalquorian species ties with her alien friends. Her small circle of Plasian associates had been shocked and delighted to meet an Earther willing to entertain the idea in depth.

  For her part, Amelia reveled in the freedom of being away from Earth’s religion-based regime. She’d seen too much corruption and too much damage done in the name of God on her home planet. While she still believed in a higher power that would punish evildoers, she felt it was more kind than vengeful, more forgiving than damning. It was this view that allowed her to happily reside on Plasius. Despite the sexual decadence of her Plasian hosts, she tried not to judge them.

  If only she could get her emotions to agree with her reason, she often lamented. She was still too conditioned by her restrictive upbringing to be comfortable around the amorous race.

  In the brief glance Amelia allowed herself, she noted all three Kalquorians had black hair, wide foreheads, and strong jaws. Their skin was dark, like Earthers of Middle Eastern origin. Despite herself, she appreciated the strength of their features, too masculine to be attractive in Earth movie star fashion. Hollywood’s current crop of leading men were sometimes prettier than their female co-stars and androgynous enough to pretend sexlessness.

  She jerked her eyes away from the clan’s penetrating stares. Her clinging scrap of a dress provided no obstacle to their evaluating gazes. She looked down to see the erect buttons of her nipples press against the tissue-thin fabric. She blushed anew at the sight of her body’s brazen spectacle and crossed her arms over her breasts. How naked she felt! She shivered.

  “I didn’t realize Kalquorians were so … big,” she said. “Are clans always made up of three men?”

  “Of course. There’s the Dramok, the clan’s leader. That one’s wearing a government insignia, so he’s an official of rank. A member of the Royal Council, I believe. He’s wearing the black formsuit with blue trim. Those formsuits are nice, aren’t they? You can tell exactly what you’re getting. That Dramok has a lot to offer a lucky female.” Vrill licked her lips.

  “He has a commanding presence.” Amelia thought about the lean, stern features and piercing gaze of the man Vrill identified as the leader. In that brief glance, his eyes seemed to search her very soul. She shivered again and wished she could control her body’s reactions. “What about the others? What are they?”

  “That monstrously huge Kalquorian wearing the green tunic is an Imdiko, the clan’s nurturer. If his face wasn’t so sweet, he’d be scary, wouldn’t he? I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone so big outside the Tragoom race. That’s an Interstellar Medical Council badge on his shirt. Only the top doctor from each planet can sit on that council.”

  “And the third man? The short one?” Amelia almost laughed at calling someone who easily topped six feet tall ‘short’. However, he was the smallest of the three aliens.

  “He’s a Nobek, the member charged with the protection of the clan. He’s wearing a Kalquor Global Security formsuit. Very impressive credentials on all three,” Vrill purred. “The situation must be dire on Kalquor if such an important clan is searching off-world for a Matara.”

  Matara? Amelia wondered. Her excellent grasp of the liquid Plasian language omitted that term. It sounded too guttural for Vrill’s tongue. The ambassador had actually almost barked the word.

  Vrill fluttered alabaster eyelashes in the Kalquorians’ direction. She flicked her tongue over her lips again. “It’s nice to see them here scouting for a female.”

  Amelia started. “I thought Kalquorians and Plasians aren’t compatible.”

  “Our species can enjoy certain pleasures together, but Kalquorian men are too big to penetrate Plasian females in regular intercourse. Of course, there’s always lovely things to do that don’t require the typical; I once used my mouth on a Kalquorian to…”

  “No, Vrill,” Amelia interrupted. Her face flushed.

  The Plasian blew an exasperated breath. “You’re so repressed. Anyway, I’m betting that clan isn’t here for a Plasian fling. I think they’re more interested in finding out what the Earther race can do for them.”

  Amelia’s body temperature dropped from hot to cold. “You think they’re here because of me?”

  Her friend smiled a long, slow smile. “Why don’t you ask them, my lovely, prudish friend? Here they come.”

  “What?” Amelia’s head whipped around. Her neck cracked, sending dull pain through her arms and hands. The clan was indeed walking in her direction, their intent eyes riveted on her. She turned back in time to see Vrill disappearing into the crowd.

  “Vrill!”

  “Excuse me, Amelia Ryan?”

  She started, and not just because the man spoke to her in her own language. The voice rumbled through her very bones. Her whole body seemed to vibrate to the resonance.

  She resisted responding to him. She wanted to run away, tried to run away, but the Kalquorian’s commanding tone swiveled her body towards the trio of men. She had always obeyed authority, even when it put her life in danger. Now was no different even though the man was not of her species. Any time she sensed someone dominant to herself, Amelia instantly complied with that person’s expectations.

  As she turned, the clan slid into her line of sight: the bare, muscled arm of the Nobek, his wide formsuited chest, and his other arm. Then the sleeved, bulging arms and chests of the other two filled her vision. Her eyes lingered over corded necks, strong jawlines and three pairs of eyes.

  She thought of the concord grapes that grew on the fence surrounding her childhood backyard. She remembered the tart sweetness that slid down her throat like liquid silk. The Kalquorians’ sharp eyes were that same cool blue-violet color. Their pupils slitted like those of a cat.

  I should walk away without answering him, Amelia thought. Earth would not want me to speak to them. They say the aliens are degenerate, wanting Earth women for unspeakable sexual games. What kind of games, I wonder?

  Her body, pinned by their stares, refused to move. Despite her yammering thoughts, her muscles remained locked statue-still.

  The Kalquorian standing in the middle, the one treacherous Vrill identified as the leader, spoke again. “Amelia Ryan?”

  Her voice floated from her, distant like a dream. “I’m Amelia Ryan.”

  He bowed, his sleek, shoulder-length hair swinging forward. His eyes never left hers, and she was riveted by his stare. He’s handsome. They all are, Amelia thought with surprise. With the trimmed mustache and goatee, she decided the Kalquorian speaking to her looked like an old movie version of a musketeer. None of the men looked like the demonic creatures Earth had been warned about.

  His voice, despite its strength, was soft. It seemed to envelope
her in warmth. “I am Dramok Rajhir. This is my clan. Imdiko Flencik,” he motioned, and the largest Kalquorian bowed as well, a hopeful smile softening his strong features.

  Flencik’s ebony hair fell well below his shoulders in soft spiral curls. His face was clean-shaven and not as narrow as his leader’s. Amelia had never seen a man so tall. He was also the bulkiest of the three, but as Vrill had pointed out, his expression was the gentlest. His smile was one of real warmth.

  “And Nobek Breft.”

  The Nobek echoed the others’ bows. The smallest of the three, he still stood about half a foot taller than Amelia’s five-feet ten-inch frame. His hair swept from his face in waves. Amelia caught herself wondering what it would feel like to stroke it. His mustache and goatee were fuller than Rajhir’s, softening the hard planes of his stern but attractive features. The predatory look in his feline eyes suggested he was more dangerous than his larger companions. He looked her up and down, as if wondering how tasty a snack she might be. Amelia could barely restrain a shiver at that evaluating stare. Her heart galloped as if it would jump right out of her chest.

  They watched her. She realized they were waiting for her to respond. She struggled for anything to say.

  “Um … hello,” she said.

  Still they waited. Their expressions seemed polite, even patient. Amelia took courage from that.

  “I’m sorry if I seem rude.” She smiled. “It’s just that I’ve never met Kalquorians before. You’re rather imposing.”

  Rajhir’s brow creased. He looked at Breft and spoke in staccato bursts. Breft, looking concerned, answered in the same language, his eyes darting from the clan’s leader to Amelia.

  Rajhir and Flencik exchanged dark looks, and Amelia’s stomach turned with sudden fear. What had she said to upset the Kalquorians?

  Flencik spoke to her in a halting voice. It was deep like Rajhir’s but even gentler. “Your language to us gives confusion. Says Breft our appearance you are threatened?”