Alcandian Soul Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Alcandian Soul

  ISBN # 9781419908958

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Alcandian Soul Copyright© 2007 Mary Wine

  Edited by Sue-Ellen Gower.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Electronic book Publication: January 2007

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Content Advisory:

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Content Advisory:

  S – ENSUOUS

  E – ROTIC

  X – TREME

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (Erotic), and X (X-treme).

  The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic.

  Sensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

  Erotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. E-rated titles might contain material that some readers find ojectionable—in other words, almost anything goes, sexually. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry in terms of both sexual language and descriptiveness in these works of literature.

  Xtreme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Stories designated with the letter X tend to contain difficult or controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

  ALCANDIAN SOUL

  Mary Wine

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Hummer: General Motors Corporation

  Jacuzzi: Jacuzzi, Inc.

  Chapter One

  Alcandar

  Home is where the heart is…

  Interesting idea. Cole Somerton watched the sunset and considered just where home was. He was a man without a world. Limbo came to mind as he grinned at his own musings. He’d been born on Earth, but the only life waiting for him there involved prison—maybe even a firing squad. Cole shrugged. He’d be lucky if returning to Earth involved a quick death facing down a firing squad as opposed to lingering for years, incarcerated as a traitor at some military prison where the word “parole” wasn’t even in the dictionary.

  Well, treason was determined by the side of the border you stood on. In his case, he was watching the sunset from the surface of Alcandar. It was humans who wanted to brand him a traitor.

  But even his face wasn’t human any longer. When he looked in the mirror, his own mother would have had trouble recognizing him. Life on Alcandar was the cause of that transformation.

  Alcandians had taken to splicing genes three generations ago. Mother Nature didn’t take very kindly to being manipulated. The average Alcandian male grew to somewhere between seven and eight feet. His bones were thicker so more muscle mass could be built up on his body. Their immune systems were amazing, but there were side effects too.

  While attempting to make the male more powerful, science had also altered the building blocks for the next generation. There were very few births of female children, since Alcandian sperm was now ninety-nine percent male.

  A harsh lesson, but one that had shaped the culture into its current adaptation. Cole jumped to the ground and his legs easily took the shock of the fall. Alcandian science had altered more than flesh. They had practiced their knowledge on the foods that would feed their stronger race. That same food had unlocked his pituitary gland and sent his body on another growth spurt, proving that Alcandians and humans were not all that different when it came to their DNA. It had been almost humbling to deal with acne at thirty-four, but the changing image in his mirror was fitting compensation. He stood seven-feet eight-inches tall with a shoulder span that was stunning.

  Cole frowned as he looked up at the first stars of the night. His birth planet was out there, millions of miles away. It was full of humans who refused to listen to Alcandian lessons. Instead, they had betrayed him and the aliens who had attempted friendship.

  Now, he was a rare human on Alcandar. Even odder was the fact that he was male.

  The Alcandians had contacted Earth with one mission in mind.

  Searching for female mates.

  It sounded like a fair trade. Access to Alcandian scientific knowledge that was eons ahead of Earth’s top scientists, and the “powers that be” on Earth allowed Alcandian warriors to search quietly through the population for their mates.

  Even population statistical data supported the relationship. Earth had more females than males. It was such solid data that Cole still had trouble understanding why the military had turned on the Alcandians.

  They called it human pride. Cole considered it the dumbest move United States military forces had been a part of since the American Civil War.

  And he was caught on the opposite side of the battle lines. He frowned at that idea. What exactly did you do when the things that you thought you believed in turned out to be wrong?

  He had pledged his loyalty to the Alcandian program at his commanding officer’s order. He had worked with them, traveling to Alcandar through a wormhole the Alcandians built. And when it had all came down to Earth blowing up that wormhole, he’d been left behind on Earth to face charges of being an alien lover.

  “You are too pensive this night, Cole.”

  Dyne moved into view as he waited for Cole to see him. Cole felt the brush of the Alcandian warrior’s mind against his and he relaxed his guard. Their thoughts merged briefly as Dyne nodded at him.

  Alcandians were psychic. Hell, so were a great number of humans. That was one of those things the Alcandians had been quite willing to share with humankind. Genetic proof of psychic ability hidden in their DNA. It was a fact, not good old gut instinct.

  “There is no point to your thoughts. The humans have made their choice. There is nothing for you on Earth. Alcandians are not so primitive.”

  True, but a face surfaced in his mind without conscious thought. Dyne frowned as he caught that image through their merged minds. Cole wasn’t sure why Cassandra’s face surfaced out of all the people he knew on Earth, but he could see the stiff composure on her face as he kidnapped her.

  One corner of Dyne’s mouth lifted as he nodded his head. “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

  “No, you’re right, there’s nothing there worth going back for.”

  Dyne frowned at him but Cole shook it off. Cassandra wouldn’t be happy to see the man who had abducted her. Sure, he’d been on a mission to return Zeva back to Alcandar, but that sure didn’t mean the woman he’d had to take out to get to his mission goal would be anything but pissed off at him.

  Sometimes doing the right thing didn’t shine a man’s reputation.

  There wasn’t one good reason why her face turned up in his thoughts, but at least he was the only one dealing with the memory. Cassandra would be sleeping in blissful ignorance due to a little skill the Alcandians practiced known as memory shifting. Before Cassandra had been returned to the small parking lot he’d left his car in, her memory of that night had been shifted to a portion of her bra
in she didn’t use. Truth serum couldn’t even unlock it, and there was little doubt in Cole’s brain that Cassandra had faced long interrogations concerning her abduction and Zeva’s escape.

  One corner of his mouth rose as he lamented the fact that she didn’t remember him… Hey, as long as he was thinking about her, the least she could do was be mad at him in return.

  * * * * *

  Earth

  So close.

  Cassandra felt her muscles strain towards her lover. Her nipples contracted as she felt the warmth of his skin so close to her own, her lungs pulled his scent into her body and she savored it like the bouquet of a fine wine. Her lips quivered as she waited for the first true contact, her first kiss. Her body shook as she yearned for it.

  Cassandra woke up with a snarl on her lips. The dream dissipated in a wisp of smoke, leaving her only the tremble of her limbs to remind her that she had dreamed at all. Rolling over, she punched the pillow and indulged herself in another couple of snarls. Her mother would frown with disapproval at the unladylike sound, but Cassandra knew her father would approve of the harsher side of his baby tiger’s personality.

  Snarling just felt right.

  Frustration slithered around her body like a snake, and as though it were contracting to crush her bones, she found it hard to breathe. Even her skin felt ultrasensitive as she tried to drag a deep breath into her lungs to calm herself.

  Damn dream man.

  It wasn’t so much the fact that she had the hots for a dream man that made Cassandra angry, it was the fact that she had no clue who he was. There was never a face attached to the dream, just a scent, and sometimes a husky male whisper of her name, but never a glimpse of who the mysterious male was who could turn her on without actually being in bed with her.

  Stinking unfair.

  It was like free-climbing the open face of a cliff and never being able to wrap your fingers around the top edge in order to pull your body over the ledge. Every time Cassandra reached for that last rock, her line snapped, dropping her at light speed to the bottom of the canyon where there was nothing but the deep cloud of slumber.

  But she knew there was someone—him—there. Cassandra looked down at the front of her T-shirt to see the twin points of her nipples raising the soft fabric. Yeah, someone sure did know exactly how to turn her on. Maybe it was a blessing that she couldn’t figure out who he was. Fantasy men always did have a habit of being better than the real flesh and blood ones. Getting snared in a hunt for perfection would only see her life passing by without ever taking a chance on someone.

  She had a lot of friends like that. They dated for years because they weren’t ready for commitment or their finances weren’t stable enough to begin married life. The thing her father had taught her was to seize the day. There were no guarantees in life, and if you stood around waiting you were going to be watching opportunity pass you by.

  But her dad was Army all the way. He’d raised her on six different military bases and her mother had followed along. Somehow, her mother had managed to transform standard base housing into a home. Her magic touch never failed, and Cassandra was still looking up to the woman in spite of growing taller than her. Turning her head, she looked at the picture of her parents hanging on the wall next to her bed. The rest of her assigned base housing was as plain and stark as it had been the day she moved in.

  Another snarl worked its way free of her mouth and this time it had nothing to do with her lust-inspiring dream man. Her career in the Army was in the toilet, and she couldn’t remember why. Kicking her blankets aside, she stood up and paced around the small room. The ironic thing was, a year ago she would have been thrilled to actually get onto the restricted portion of the base. She’d joined the other enlisted women in fantasizing about just what the off-limits part of the base was like. That place where the Special Forces trained with their high-tech toys. Now she was housed there without permission to leave the perimeter. The stark little apartment she now lived in was a major disappointment compared to the ideas she’d hatched while being denied access to the area.

  Well, that fit. Dreams would always be better than reality.

  But she didn’t know why. It festered in her brain as she tried to remember. The brass claimed she knew something. They’d harassed her endlessly in their quest to unlock her memory, but all she ever managed to do was end up with a migraine. They’d even tried hypnosis, but that memory made her shiver. The tape of that session scared her, and that was rare for an Army brat. Her relaxed body had gone into spasms so violent, she was amazed she’d woken up with all her wits still working.

  There was nothing quite like watching your entire life just go up in a puff of smoke. Eight years in the military, and now she was basically under arrest for something she couldn’t remember. If she’d done something stupid, she could shoulder the responsibility. This ignorance wasn’t bliss, it was pure hell.

  At least her dream man was awesome.

  Cassandra frowned. The problem with a relationship based in her dreams was the lack of interaction after you woke up.

  She paced around the bare little apartment and noticed a base newspaper sitting where she’d left it. She made sure the blinds were closed before turning the light on and picking it up. She never got back to sleep after a dream very easily. A little dry reading would help her get back into her bunk. She scanned the school news and the promotions list, the marriage announcements and births. Cute little pictures of newborns were sitting next to their names and their parents’ ranks. The social calendar only depressed her because she wasn’t allowed off the restricted area of the base. The training classes were a different matter though.

  Cassandra stared at the list of advanced physical training classes being offered. Things like archery and hostage negotiation. The one that caught her attention was a martial arts advertisement. The first selling point wasn’t strength but stress reduction. That was something she could use a lesson in. Folding the paper so that the advertisement was on top, Cassandra noted the time. Maybe a little Eastern meditation was just what she needed. The Army had certainly tried just about everything else. Besides, it beat staring at institutional white-painted walls.

  * * * * *

  “You must learn to be at peace.”

  Master Jing Lee had an amazing voice. The man was deadly in three different forms of martial arts, but his voice was like smooth, thick syrup. Cassandra tried to let that voice drift into her and wash away every thought rattling around her skull.

  “All things have to be balanced. To struggle is to make waves in a still pond disrupting peace. Fish swim through the water, leaving little trace of their passing.”

  The instruction went on as the students began to cool off from the hard exercise that had filled the main body of the class. Every session ended with meditation. Master Lee called it “reflection”.

  Cassandra didn’t know what to label it, but her neck wasn’t aching with tension every night from being watched like a suspected traitor. Maybe she was just getting used to the men who kept a watch on her, but she sort of enjoyed thinking that Master Lee’s “reflection” was doing its job and teaching her to accept the things she could not change.

  Like getting her butt whipped during his class. Her fellow students were Army Rangers with a few odd operatives tossed in. She was the only female, and keeping up was a point of family honor. It might kill her, but she wasn’t going to quit. At least she was good at the meditation exercises. It was sort of strange to see the Army elite crossing their legs and taking breathing instruction. The Rangers took to every part of the class with the same level of dedication and focus. There wasn’t a snicker heard as Master Lee finished his fish lesson before dismissing his students.

  Cassandra didn’t waste any time collecting her duffel bag in order to leave. Along with her placement in the restricted area came the stigma of being a turncoat. Sure, there were no formal charges but the suspicion surrounding her was enough to keep the men who devoted themselves to t
he Special Forces well away from her. If she passed a group too closely, they would stop taking. It was a blunt kind of shunning that made her leave the classroom quickly after each class. She wasn’t going to beg for attention.

  Still, she didn’t want to quit. She had to do something besides just report for her duty rotation. A dry chuckle worked its way out of her mouth as she considered having a boyfriend to fill her after-duty time. That sure wouldn’t be happening, unless she managed to start sleeping more to see her dream man.

  Moving along the road, she filled her lungs with the autumn air. Her shoulders felt lighter than they had in weeks, and that was worth all the aches in her legs from Master Lee’s training exercises.

  * * * * *

  Cassandra found her bed appealing, more inviting than it had been since waking up in a cell so many months ago. All her frustration was gone for a change and she slipped into slumber content with things the way they were.

  “Do exactly what I tell you, Sergeant.”

  Her dream man’s voice wasn’t hypnotic. It was hard with authority as she felt the grip of his hand tighten around her wrist. She could almost smell his skin and feel his body heat as he tossed her over his shoulder. Memory flashed different images but none of them flowed together. Cassandra jerked her head as a car trunk closed with her inside.

  She hissed as her butt landed on the floor next to her bunk. She rubbed her burning eyes and struggled to hold on to the odd dream. Just like every encounter with her dream man, these images had felt so real she could practically touch them. Frustration tried to creep in, dissipating the memory, but she shoved it aside as she folded her legs and began to breathe as Master Lee taught her to.

  In…out…pause.

  No ripples in the pond. Only the mirror-smooth surface as water flowed through her, cleansing away all struggle, leaving acceptance.

  “God damn you, Cole Somerton!”

  She shot up onto her feet because there was no way she could maintain her relaxed meditation position. She paced around her room as her brain offered up every detail of the night Zeva and Cole Somerton made their break for freedom. It was like she’d opened a door that she hadn’t even noticed sitting in her brain. Once the lock was turned, the memory surged out of the box it had been stuffed into. Cassandra snarled as she recalled the way Cole had tied her up and stuffed her into the trunk of his car. She couldn’t really be too mad at Zeva—everyone had a right to return to their home.