Page 5 of Aura Awakened

The Malifect Empire is a parasite on the galaxy. It’s not that they don’t have their own resources or the ability to build a self-sufficient society. They simply don’t choose to. Instead, they use their advanced technology to invade other worlds, stripping them down to the bones before abandoning them like so much rubble.

Occasionally, they just sweep in and steal a handful of resources or whatever slaves they can catch, but that method is typically reserved for worlds that are so technologically deficient there’s no point in mining them. But for other planets, those rich in resources, the Malifects are a terrible, unstoppable plague who leave dead worlds in their wake.

Or at least, they used to be. That’s why the Coalition was formed. Centuries ago, leaders from thirty-seven planets in eighteen different sectors teamed up to create a military force hell-bent on preventing Malifect invasions. Sometimes we patrol a planet’s atmosphere, blocking the invading ships from ever setting down. Sometimes we interrupt slave auctions, doing our best to return captives to their native homes. Sometimes we simply patrol, undercover, and track their movements.

That’s what Ramp and I were doing when I saw this opportunity. Because, yes, the Malifects have a lot of resources at their disposal. But none so potent as their sleeping gas. Whenever they create a portal to abduct slaves, they flood it with the gas to keep their victims completely malleable.

But they can also blanket an entire planet in it, knock everyone out, and take what they want without any resistance at all. They mine the gas in great quantities from some unknown locale and convert it on their ships and in massive factories on Malifica Prime. We’ve always assumed it was coming from a planet. A place we nicknamed Somnambulis, after the gas they use. But we could never find the source.

I think it’s here.

And it’s not a planet at all. It’s a Wraith Nebula.

I check the nearest wall panel to get my bearings. I’m way down on deck seventy, near the cargo holds. This isn’t where I need to be, but I can’t very well stroll down the hall and hope to go unnoticed. Instead, I slip through the nearest door into a bleak, cave-like space.

Even though I know what to expect, the sight still takes me aback.

It’s silent down here in the holding decks, all the captives knocked out. There must be five hundred slaves in this room alone, all strapped into pods with continuous gas lines keeping them unconscious and docile. Even if I wanted to save them, this is way more than I could handle alone, and I’m about to get the hell out and try another route when I smell…her.

A female.

Myfemale.

Oh, no.

No. Hell to the nope.

This cannot be happening right now.

The aroma curls around me, invading my senses, wrapping me up in its glory. It’s something I’ve never smelled before, like briar roses in the first light of dawn. Like the remnants of the sweetest dream. And even though it’s completely unfamiliar, I know instantly what it is. Something I’ve heard about my whole life and never expected or wanted to smell. I sure as shit never thought I’d encounter it on an enemy slave ship.

The alluring, overpowering scent of my star-mate. Calling to me.

Fuck.

I scrub a hand over my face, trying to decide what to do. I’m on a dangerous mission here; it’s me against a crew of probably three hundred. I need to stay hidden, do my job, and get out.

This is not supposed to be a rescue operation.

I don’t have time for this, but it cannot be ignored. Like, literally. I can’t pretend I don’t smell it, because following this aroma is a biological imperative. Already, every little hair on my body is straining in the direction of the scent, my whole being demanding that I find her.

How can this be happening? I’m a royal male from Acacia. A prince. My mate should be one of the beautiful females of my homeworld, another with royal blood. Not some trapped minion bound for the slaveyards on Malifica Prime.

I follow my instincts—and my nose—moving swiftly among the pods, until I’m standing in front of hers. Even in sleep, she is breathtaking: a tangle of burnished gold curls, skin the color and texture of honey, a mouth shaped like a newborn rose. The gases in the pod obscure her form, but I already know it’s perfect. No matter how she’s built, short or tall, curvy or slim, it’s exactly what I want.

This woman was made for me.

I scan the label on the pod, noting that she’s been classified as royalty. Scooped up from Earth, of all places. A human from the actual homeworld? I’ve never encountered one of those. I didn’t think Earth even had royal bloodlines anymore, although it’s not like I keep track of a planet that distant and pitiful. No one does. With a few exceptions, humans are way too xenophobic and ungrateful for the Coalition’s protection to be bothered with.

I can’tbelieveshe’s my star-mate. A fricking human! How infuriating.

With a sigh and a growl, I rip the pod’s cables loose and force open the door. I yank the gas line out of her mouth and hoist her over my shoulder. It’s time to go.

Naturally, alarms erupt throughout the ship, alerting the Malifects that one of the sleeping pods has been breached. I’m guessing they’ll assume one of their slaves woke up and managed to get the pod open, not that they’ve been infiltrated by enemy forces. Well, a single enemy force, anyway.

But I’m not going to stick around to find out.

The thorns that live just beneath my flesh burst forth, coating me in a sort of spiky armor. Not impenetrable, perhaps, but nothing to fuck with, either. An inbuilt Acacian defense mechanism. Normally I can control it, but in situations like this, with the danger and tension mounting, they sometimes just do their thing. I gingerly adjust the unconscious woman on my shoulder, trying to keep her from being stabbed. Already, though, I can smell the blood trickling from the scratches on her perfect skin.

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