YOU GOT ALIEN TROUBLE!

  A SEVEN BRIDES FOR SEVEN ALIEN BROTHERS STORY

  HONEY PHILLIPS

  Copyright © 2023 by Honey Phillips

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author.

  Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Lindsay York at LY Publishing Services

  Created with Vellum

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Other Titles

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  Rosie knew something was wrong as soon as she entered the barn. Petunia, her milking cow, was huddled against the rear of her stall rather than coming to meet her as she usually did. The chickens clucked nervously from within their coop, and an icy finger trailed down Rosie’s spine.

  Dammit. What had that bastard Matthew done now?

  Matthew Johnson owned the largest farm in their cluster. Of the sixteen original families only three remained, and he was determined to get his hands on all three of their farms. If a winning smile and a lowball offer didn’t work, he turned to threats and sabotage. The Thompsons had been forced to sell after their creek mysteriously dried up, and the Garcias after they found most of the chicken flock slaughtered by unknown predators. Predators, my ass. Johnson’s ruffians hadn’t even bothered to disguise the knife marks when they slit the chickens’ throats.

  He hadn’t yet resorted to sabotage with her, although his visits were becoming increasingly threatening. She straightened her shoulders—whatever he had done, it was best to deal with it now.

  She tried to adjust the lighting but the limited amount of power remaining in the solar batteries meant the overhead lights weren’t bright enough to chase away all the shadows. With her hand on the holster of her gun she made her way quietly down the corridor between the empty stalls. Her three remaining horses preferred to stay outside until winter arrived. The stalls to the left were empty as well, except for Petunia and her heifer. Now that she was running the farm by herself, she’d had to sell the rest of the dairy cows at auction.

  The cows weren’t really cows, of course, and neither were the chickens or the horses. All of the farm animals on Cresca were hybrid versions of the original Earth animals, but Rosie had grown up on this planet and they were all she’d ever known.

  Other than her thudding heart, she didn’t hear any indication that anything was wrong until she was almost to the last stall on the left. A low groan, the sound tormented enough that she winced in sympathy before tightening her grip on her gun. What the hell was Matthew up to?

  Peeking cautiously around the edge of the stall, she didn’t see anything at first. The floor was still covered with a thick layer of unused straw, old and musty by now, and it took a moment for her to realize that the lump against the back wall was not the result of the wind pushing the straw around. Instead, it mostly concealed the fact that a figure was lying there—a very large figure. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she picked out the boots pressed against one side of the stall, the kind of scuffed, metallic boots worn by spaceport workers, not the surrounding farmers. Once she recognized the boots, it was easier to see the rest of the huge body filling the back of the stall. If his boots were on one side and his head on the other, the stranger had to be over seven feet tall.

  He moaned again. Her hand still tight on her gun, she walked cautiously into the stall, then nudged one of his boots with her more practical rubber one.

  “You all right, mister?”

  No response, so she nudged a little harder.

  “Hey! Do you need help?”

  This time he responded, sitting up with incredible speed as she jumped back with a muffled squeak. Before she could raise her gun, he collapsed down into the straw, landing on his back this time.

  Oh, crap. Not a man at all.

  Now she could see the emerald highlights in the dark hair that flopped across his face. His features were similar to those of a man but stronger and more angular, and his skin was a pale minty green. She’d had a brief glimpse of glittering silver eyes before his eyelids fluttered shut.

  An alien. What the hell is an alien doing in my barn?

  On the positive side, she was quite sure he wasn’t working for Matthew. On more than one occasion she’d heard Matthew ranting about the presence of those damn aliens on his planet. He didn’t seem to appreciate the irony that humans were also aliens on Cresca. But the human settlers tended to keep to themselves and they rarely encountered other species.

  Or at least not until seven years ago when a small group of alien warriors purchased an isolated ranch in the mountains behind Wainwright, the closest town. Their presence had disturbed many of the residents, especially when each of the aliens had found human brides during the long winter five years ago. Since then, the aliens had worked with the town and built up a thriving trading business. But while the townspeople might grudgingly accept them, in the more remote areas, prejudice still lingered.

  If Matthew didn’t hire him, what is he doing here?

  Had he been headed for the ranch? If so, he was a long way off course. And what was wrong with him? Was he wounded?

  Most of the straw had fallen away from his body during his abortive attempt to move, and she did a quick check for any obvious signs of injury. He was wearing a dark jumpsuit, the kind worn by those who worked on spaceships. It was stained and faded but despite its bedraggled state, she didn’t see any rips in the fabric or anything that looked like blood. Biting her lip, she put her gun back in her holster and knelt down next to him, uneasily aware of his enormous size as she got closer. Tentatively, she reached for his hand, then immediately dropped it.

  Damn, he was hot—his skin like hot coals beneath her fingers. It might be natural for his species, but given his moans, she suspected he was running a fever. Very cautiously she put her hand over his heart, or at least what she thought his heart would be. His heart thumped steadily beneath her hand, a little fast perhaps but reassuringly strong. Now that she was next to him, she could see the wedge of skin in the open neck of his jumpsuit and the dark, angry-looking tracery of his veins. They also might have been natural, but they didn’t look right to her. Could he have been poisoned?

  He obviously needed help, but what could she do? There was a doctor in Wainwright, but that was a good day’s journey away and she couldn’t leave the farm unprotected for that long. In previous years she would have turned to Mrs. Miller for assistance, but the healer’s family had been one of the first that Matthew ran off.

  She was still trying to come up with a plan when a burning hot hand covered hers, still resting over his heart. Startled, she jumped and looked up at his face. Those glittering silver eyes were open again.

  “Mine,” he growled.

  Before she could respond, he pulled her down into the straw and rolled on top of her, his huge, scorching body covering hers. She opened her mouth to protest and his mouth closed over hers. A hot, rough tongue stroked into her mouth with unerring precision, tasting like fire and spice.

  How long had it been since she’d been touched, let alone kissed? For one brief second she gave into that heated, seductive touch, but then she felt the thick ridge of his erection between her legs despite the fabric separating them, and she panicked. She tried to reach for her gun, but it was wedged under the heavy weight of his body. Knowing that it wouldn’t do any good, she pummeled his shoulders with her fists, then in a last fit of desperation, she bit his tongue.

  CHAPTER 2

  Harkan was so lost in the sweetness of his female’s mouth that it took him far too long to realize that she was struggling rather than responding. Just as he was about to draw back, her small teeth clamped down on his tongue, surprisingly sharp despite their size, and he roared as his blood filled his mouth. He lifted his head and gave her a shocked look.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “I didn’t say you could kiss me,” she said indignantly, blue eyes sparkling.

  Her pretty face was flushed, pink tinting the soft gold of her skin. The brown hair that had been pulled back so tightly was now curling wildly around her face. Human, he noted absently, but it didn’t matter.

  “But you are mine,” he protested.

  His head felt swollen, his thoughts dizzy and unfocused, but he was absolutely sure about that fact.

  “No, I’m not.”

  She wiggled beneath him, her soft curves rubbing deliciously against his body and tormenting his aching cock. How long had it been since he’d had an erection? Even before the sickness… The sickness. The words triggered something in his confused mind, but before he could capture it, she wiggled again and he finally realized she was trying to escape.

  His body didn’t want to respond but calling on his last reserves of strength, he managed to roll to one side. She immediately slipped free, leaving him feeling cold and alone despite the heat burning through his veins. She put her hand on her weapon as she glared at him, and he nodded approvingly. His fierce little mate.

  “Where… where am I?”

  “In my barn,” she said, pretty lips pursed. “Why are you here?”

  He searched for an answer but all he found was a confused blur, and he shook his head.

  “Were you going to Wainwright? Or the ranch?”

  Something flickered at the word ranch, but it was gone just as quickly and he shook his head again. She sighed.

  “Do you at least know that you’re on Cresca?”

  “Not on Vizal?”

  “Vizal? Is that your home?”

  “Yes.”

  The answer came automatically, but it was accompanied by an overwhelming wave of sadness he didn’t understand. She hesitated, then crouched down a short distance away. He suspected she was trying to stay out of reach. He could have reached her easily, but although he wanted her back in his arms, he didn’t want to frighten her.

  “Is that when you were injured? During the war on Vizal?” She shook her head. “No, of course not. The war was over seven years ago.”

  He flinched and her gaze sharpened. “What is it? Did you remember something?”

  “W-war,” he stuttered.

  Images flashed in his head—horrible, painful images—and his vision blurred. Darkness roared over him, pulling him back down into the shadows even as he tried to reach for her.

  The next time he awoke she was gone, and an anguished howl escaped his lips. Had she just been a dream, an illusion brought on by fever and sickness? A hint of sweetness floated through the air, distracting him, and then she was there. His pretty little mate bending anxiously over him. He hadn’t dreamed her after all, and he sagged back against the straw in relief.

  “What’s wrong? I mean, other than whatever is already wrong with you?”

  “You’re back,” he said, and reached for her hand.

  She hesitated for a long moment and then very lightly placed her fingers over his.

  “No trying to pull me down,” she said, patting the holster of her adorable little weapon.

  “I apologize, my mate. I did not mean to alarm you.”

  She sighed, but her fingers squeezed his for a brief second before she moved away.

  “I’m not your mate.”

  He bit back his immediate protest. His mind might not be clear on many things, but he was quite certain about that one. A patient hunter reaps the reward, he reminded himself.

  “What is your name, my… friend?”

  “Friend, hmm? I suppose that will do. My name is Rosalie Mackenzie, but everyone calls me Rosie.”

  “Rosalie? A sweet name for a sweet ma—female,” he amended quickly. “I am Harkan. I am honored to meet you.”

  She gave him a suspicious look.

  “Aren’t you a sweet talker all of a sudden? Guess all the fluids I’ve been pouring down your throat must have helped. You seem better, and the outline of your veins has faded.”

  “I feel somewhat restored,” he agreed and managed to sit up.

  As he did, the top half of his jumpsuit fell down to his waist. Rosalie’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink.

  “You spilled almost as much as you swallowed,” she muttered. “I had to clean you up.”

  “I do not object. You may do whatever you wish with me.”

  “What I wish to do is to get you out of the barn and into the house. Do you think you can stand?”

  He contemplated the question. He did not wish to admit weakness in front of his female, but even moving to a sitting position had taxed his strength.

  “Perhaps. Although you may have to assist me,” he added reluctantly.

  She took a step towards him, then paused and gave him a stern look.

  “This isn’t a trap, is it? Remember that I’m armed.”

  She patted the holster of her weapon, and he nodded approvingly.

  “My fierce little mate. I mean, friend,” he added hastily.

  She shook her head again, but he saw her pretty lips twitch.

  “All right, but you’d better behave yourself.”

  She bent down and put his arm over her shoulders while she slid her other arm around his waist. Her closeness had the inevitable effect on his body, but he did his best to ignore it as he tried to wrestle himself into a standing position. Despite her small size, she was surprisingly strong and managed to provide enough support that he could stagger to his feet.

  As soon as he was upright, she took a step back. The unfastened jumpsuit that had been pinned between them immediately slid down to his feet, leaving him completely naked and ferociously erect.

  CHAPTER 3

  Rosie knew that her mouth had dropped open, knew that she was staring, but she couldn’t look away. The only other cock she had seen was her deceased husband’s and it hadn’t even been half the size. Harkan’s was not only much longer, but wider as well. A ladder of thick ridges ran up the underside, clearly visible since his erection was pointing up towards his stomach. What do they feel like, she wondered, her fingers twitching with the urge to touch him.

  His cock jerked under her fascinated gaze, and she jumped as he gave a muffled groan.

  “You are testing my control, little mate.”

  Too embarrassed to argue with the term, she quickly reached down to grasp his jumpsuit and pull it back into place. He moved at the same time, and for the briefest second the velvety hardness of his cock brushed against her cheek. The urge to explore him was even stronger this time, but she yanked the jumpsuit up his legs instead. He winced when the fabric collided with his balls, but he grasped the material, and she quickly turned away.

  “Can you manage?” she asked.

  Damn. Even though she’d tried to sound calm, her voice came out breathless and husky.

  “Yes.”

  At least he sounded just as strained.

  “I’ll wait outside until you’re dressed.”

  She fled out into the passage, then leaned against the nearest stall, her hands shaking. What in the world is wrong with me? She’d never been particularly interested in the opposite sex—or they in her, to be honest. Her marriage had been based on necessity rather than love. She’d done her best to be a dutiful wife, although she found the whole process awkward and embarrassing. Hector had been equally unenthusiastic, but he had also done his duty, hoping that she would give birth to an heir for the farm.

  Those brief weekly couplings had never aroused her the way her alien did. Ever since that first kiss something had changed—she was aware of her body in a way she had never been before. Aware of the heaviness of her breasts and the tingling peaks of her nipples, the low, pulsing ache between her thighs. Even when she’d been supporting his head and trying to get liquid down his throat, she’d been conscious of the strong muscles beneath the smooth, hot skin. She’d even been tempted to take a peek at the bulge that appeared beneath his jumpsuit every time she tended to him, but she’d forced herself to refrain. Perhaps if she had peeked, she wouldn’t have been quite so shocked.

  That’s all it is, she told herself firmly. Shock. It’s just because he’s so different.

  But then he appeared next to her, big and imposing even though his knees were trembling, and her heart skipped a beat. Doing her best to hide her reaction, she gave him a bright, false smile.

  “I think you’re getting better. The discoloration on your veins is fading.”

  “Veins?”

  He swayed. She swore and put her arm around his waist to steady him, carefully ignoring the fact that it felt so right to be there.

  “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

  “I just had a memory, or at least I think it was a memory.”

 

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