Swept Off Her Feet by Camille Anthony

Swept Off Her Feet by Camille Anthony

Swept Off Her Feet

by Camille Anthony

Loose Id

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-59632-985-0

[ SciFi BBW Romance, MF ]

A lustful warrior meets a reluctant princess in heat. He advances she retreats, until eventually his queen is captured. He may have swept her off her feet, but she’s swept the game board of all other players, and if he can’t have her, he’ll have no one.

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Prologue


Planet Rb’qarm, One fael after the surrender of Rb’nTraq

His world was in chaos.

Sick at heart, a despondent Glendevtorvas exited the prison cell of the high-caste Lord Glentereion, jaw clenched tight against the urge to release his rage and pain. The gloating captive had just confirmed to him the reality of the threat Glendevtorvas had received anonymously. After years of grueling, relentless battle, Glendevtorvas and his loyal warriors had finally won their two-generation-long civil war, but since hearing the information the defeated general had smugly imparted, the victory had chilled to bitter ashes, leaving a nasty taste in Glendevtorvas’s mouth.

Lord General Glentereion had just happily informed him of what he’d called the enemy’s brilliantly laid plans. Glendevtorvas had listened in growing horror to the story of how, even as the opposition fell in final defeat, a suicide taskforce had been dispatched to let loose a heinous revenge.

Now, stumbling blindly from the prison, the young prince swallowed sickly. How was he to inform his battle-weary populace that, far from being over, the real war was only now beginning?

Closing his eyes in weary dejection, he imagined the chaos that would erupt when he went public with the news that their defeated foes had introduced an insidious poison into the atmosphere and thus into the water and food chains of the Rb’qarmshi homeworld. The poison, tasteless and deadly, was even now entering the food chain, where it would be poised to attack one specialized marker on the DNA thread of every Rb’qarmshi fem. The poison would destroy the fem’s ability to flower, thus rendering them—and their male counterparts—sterile. Having lost their revolt, the enemy cared not that they condemned themselves as well. Without the ability to reproduce, their race would be extinct within two generations.

What in the hurdles of Pythin could these people have been thinking, targeting fem as their victims? Glendevtorvas shook his head in horrified disbelief over the unfairness of his world’s fate. Were he and his friends never to have a mate…never to sire children?

He chided himself over his moment of despair, remembering that throughout their two worlds, all the qarm would suffer through this tragic time along with the fem in their lives. Rather than bemoaning his own lonely fate, it was his job to comfort his people and he would do his best, though in his secret heart Glendevtorvas doubted his ability to serve his people effectively in this new phase of the old conflict.

The war that had raged for over two hundred years, the war he’d thought was finished, was beginning anew. This battle would have no winners, for unless a miracle came along, the Rb’qarmshi race of both planets had already lost…

 

Earth, San Francisco, 1985

“Can she fly?”

“No, sweetheart.”

“Okay, then does she turn invisible?”

A soft laugh preceded her mother’s patient answer. “Honey, she’s a little girl from a very faraway place. That’s all.”

“You mean she doesn’t have any superpowers?”

“I don’t think so.”

A wry chuckle from the driver’s seat drifted back to the inquisitive child in the backseat. “She sounds like you, Hattie mine.”

“Oh, Poppi, ‘course I sound like Mama. I’m s’posed to. It’s in my genes.” The little brown-faced girl leaned over the back of the car seat, black eyes gleaming with curiosity as she gazed down at the bundle resting on her mother’s lap. “She’s got funny-colored eyes, and she’s too big for a baby, isn’t she?”

Hattie Brewster’s serene smile brightened her dark, round face. “Yes, her eyes are different from ours. I don’t think humans have that color shade in our DNA. As for her being big for her age, we don’t know how old she is. We’re calling her a baby because she can’t talk…or won’t, barely walks—though that might be due to her having to cope with a different gravity—and the label makes it easier for the other doctors to see what I want them to see.”

Lori’s thin, compact body shimmied; muscles bunched and trembled as excitement coursed through her like a quicksilver river. “But she’s smarter than she lets on, huh, Mama? She’s got orange eyes and more’n one—”

“Stop right there, Loralie Brewster. Haven’t I told you to keep your lips over your teeth? There’s no call to go announcing things better left unsaid. Too much talk could get this sweet bundle taken away from us. You don’t want that, do you?”

Lori swallowed. Her belly did a queasy flip-flop before growing heavy at the bottom. Her lip poked out in the beginning of a pout. Her eyes narrowed to a beady, threatening squint. “Nobody better try’n take my new little sister away. They jes’ better not!”

Hattie Brewster patted her daughter’s hand. “You’ll need that fierceness to help take care of our lost wanderer, Lori baby. She’s gonna need all our help to survive this strange new world of hers.”

“I will help her and protect her, Mama. I promise.”

Poppi shot a questioning glance at his wife. “You’re totally certain she’s…uh…not from around these parts?”

“’Bout as certain as I can be, Mr. Brewster. I’ve seen a lot through my microscope, but this child’s DNA twines on a different helix. I won’t lie to you, but here in this car is the only time I’m gonna admit to what I’ve done.”

Lori gazed wide-eyed as her mama shifted the sleeping infant in her arms and twisted to face her and Poppi.

“I fudged the records. No one knows what I seen, and I aim to keep it thataway. This here honey chile is gonna be our second daughter and your sister, Lori. I’ve cleared the adoption and got all the paperwork rushed through since my work on the Human Genome Project has rendered phenomenal results, and the powers that be in Washington are very pleased with me. Right now, they’ll do anything to keep me happy. So the public record reflects that all anybody knows is this child was found wandering near a plane crash, and no one’s come forward to claim her.”

“So we claimed her, right, Mama?”

“Right you are, my little light-bright Lori. We’re claiming her.”

Lori watched her mother and father exchange one of those glances. The kind she wasn’t supposed to understand. But she was smarter than she let on, and she knew her family was doing something very scary and maybe dangerous by taking in and hiding the funny-eyed toddler nestled quietly on Mama’s lap.

When Poppi took his eyes off the road long enough to meet her mother’s speaking glance and nod his head, she knew her parents were as determined as she was.

Mama took a deep breath and pitched her voice so low she was almost whispering. “From this day forth, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer…this child is a Brewster.”

“Amen.”

“Can I say ‘amen,’ too?”

The adults laughed; then Poppi spoke. “I reckon you can. But say it while putting that seat belt around your waist, or I’ll be putting my belt around your hips. You know the law.”

“Yes, sir. But I don’t know why you’re worrying about one law when we’re breaking a lot of others.”

Poppi’s voice turned stern. “Keep talking like that, Miss Brewster, and I will pull this car over and handle your rebellion the old-fashioned way. This family is law-abiding, but the first and highest law is to do good, to be compassionate to those in need. Ain’t no one more in need of family than a lost little baby. Now either say ‘amen’ or hush up.”

With a disgruntled sigh, Lori sat back and fumbled for her seat belt. “Amen!” Then under her breath, where neither adult could hear, she added, “I still wish she had superpowers. What’s the fun of having an alien for a sister if she can’t do special tricks?”

 

Planet Rb’qarm, Royal Palace

Eighteen Cycles after the surrender of Rb’nTraq

Glendevtorvas nodded at his weary men, and they peeled off to find food and refreshment in another section of the castle. “Father, what’s this I hear about a lost colony?”

Quasherel smiled. “Thank the stars one of our diligent archivists has found record of the possibility of a long-forgotten colony of rebels. It has long been rumored there was another rebellion…several thousand years back…involving whole family groups that were exiled…enough to start a sizable colony. Until now, we’ve been unable to find the records to back the stories up. It seems the winning side was so fearful of the populace seeking out the deposed princess that, during the aftermath, all information regarding the whereabouts of the exiles was covered up and buried in dead files.”

Dev pulled up a chair and sank down, engrossed by his father’s words. “Sounds like maybe the losing side came too close to winning. Tell me more.”

“Actual records of the group of dissenters were hard to unearth; however, I have now read the parchments myself, and they reveal the story of a royal sibling banished after an abortive attempt to usurp the throne. There were many lords that sided with the ousted princess, and they and their families were given a choice: death or exile alongside the would-be queen and her family. Rather than face execution, her followers chose life over death, opting to board a generation ship on a one-way trip. The navigational system was disabled and the ship aimed toward a cluster of faraway worlds. This way, the dispossessed princess would have a chance to claim and rule a queendom of her own if her group survived.”

Hope flared in Glendevtorvas. “It’s been so long since the exiled renegade group of families were placed aboard generation ships and aimed toward a distant star. Yet, if they have not perished in the interim, surely they have given birth to fem. Those fem would be free from the taint of the war!”

“Yes, my son.”

Euphoric, Dev slapped his hands against his thighs and rose from the chair. “Then come glowrise, I’ll announce my plan to seek out those lost travelers.”

His father held up a cautioning hand. “Wait. Is it wise to instill hope in the hearts of the multitudes? I firmly believe the colonists once existed,” the retired chyya hurried to explain. “But they could have crash-landed on a hostile planet or on one with a marginal atmosphere. Even if the group did reach a viable planet, they may be long dead.”

“Father, think about what you are saying, and then think about our present situation. How can you look upon the inevitable destruction of our way of life and question whether or not my decision to share this hope with our people is right? So far, we’ve found no quick solution to counter the Rb’nTraqshi poisoning. We face losing our young qarm to anarchy. Without hope, they will run wild because when you have nothing to lose, life is held cheaply. The alternative is to give them something to do. If I dangle the possibility of untainted mates before them, they will rise to the challenge. Every qarm wishing to participate will have to train hard, compete for coveted spots as warriors and crew for the flotilla I’ll form. When we go, my flagship will head an armada of twenty satellite ships, jointly crewed by Rb’qarmshi and Rb’nTraqshi crews.”

“For what purpose, my son? Say you find these lost people and their untainted daughters…what do you plan to do?”

“If they still exists, I will find and repatriate the long-lost colony. I’ll set forth armed with a marriage contract for a royal bride. Be she ugly, misshapen, and deformed, I will gladly embrace any fem capable of holding and nurturing my seed, of softening my terat. And the men who earn their place at my side will be the next in line for brides.”

His terat ached in anticipation—it had been so long since they’d softened in response to a fem’s sexual allure. Dev knew his pain was no more than what all his people felt every day. If there was a hope at all of finding this colony, he dare not overlook it. He fought a constant battle to conceal his despair from his subjects, but the hardest to fool was his personal cadre of fifty elite warriors. No doubt all of his men would accompany him on this trip because they were the best their worlds had to offer. Not only that, their loyalty through the years had earned them the right—behind himself—of finding brides from among the outcasts.

 

Five Fael Later

The night before they set forth, Glendevtorvas headed for his meeting with his father, thoughts in turmoil as he prepared to embark on this leap of faith.

“We leave on with the first glowrise, sire.”

“And with my blessing, my son, but heed me. This may be the only hope left to our race, my son,” Quasherel commented in his scholarly voice. “At best, you will be dealing with a rebellious colony of our distant genetic brothers and sisters who might care nothing for our plight. Talk marriage first. Peace and compromise. Only if your diplomatic overtures fail should you talk war. Our people have had enough of that.”

“I hear your counsel, Father, and find wisdom in your words. Truly, I am sick to Deth of war and would seek out no new conflict. Yet, more than my tiredness of warfare, I am weary of the constant loneliness my life has been these long cycles in the aftermath of the war. We will search diligently for this colony. Pray Deth, they are willing to come to our aid. Because I cannot vouchsafe the survival of my honor should they have what we need and deny us.”

 

Earth, San Francisco, May 10, 2005

The heat of the wreck was horrific. A disjointed, garish jumble of fractured memories coalesced into choppy action and Glennora moaned, caught up in the recurring dream. She was a baby, thrown from a wrecked conveyance with great force…

Nnora winced as she sank deeper into the memories, the old feelings, the fear and confusion she’d felt as a young toddler overwhelming her.

“Mama!”

“Get…back! Get…free…child of…mine,” groaned a voice, harsh and weak.

She watched helplessly as her younger dream self ignored the command, falling on unsteady feet as she tried to reach the one who represented comfort and care, wandering perilously close to the raging flames ignited by the spilled fuel.

“Mama!”

A blackened hand reached to push her away, yet the child persisted. Baby Nnora wailed at the stinging slap falling on soft cheeks.

Never struck before, she screamed with the grief of betrayal and hurt.

Again, the harsh whisper to leave came.

Nnora could not recognize her mother in the bloody, blackened thing that warned her away with the life-giving sting of rejection. Sobbing aloud, she backed away, still calling piteously for the one who had never before deserted her.

“Nnora, wake up! It’s just a dream, Nnora!”

“I’m okay. I’m good.”

Clawing her way out of the clinging dream, Nnora reared up, tossing off her tangled covers. She cleared her throat, wishing for a gulp of cool water to irrigate her parched mouth. When a brimming cup appeared at her lips, she took it from her sister with hands that trembled. “Thanks, Lori. I’m awake now.”

“You sure you’re okay? You were shouting in that strange language again.”

“I’m fine. Honestly. It’s that old recurring dream…leaves me shook up, you know?”

“I didn’t know you were still troubled with it, honey. You still can’t remember the details when you wake up?”

Nnora shifted uneasily. “Oh, I can remember it. If I close my eyes right now, I can see the entire scene. I can even hear the woman screaming something at me…at least, I think it’s me…it feels like it’s me. I simply can’t understand what she’s saying to me, but I know it’s important. I can never recall what I’m saying in the dream. I mean, when I’m dreaming, I understand everything. It’s only when I’m out of the dream…” She shuddered, feeling the sense of dread, of terror, again.

Lori sat down beside her. “For some reason, tonight seemed to be more intense. I’ve never seen you thrash around like you were doing.”

“I’m okay. I promise,” she added, squeezing Lori’s hand when she raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“I’m not so sure of that, young lady.” Her brows lowered.

Fidgeting, Glennora endured the intense study her sister subjected her to, knowing Lori would not leave it alone until she was convinced of her “little” sister’s emotional well-being. She slumped in relief when her concerned sibling finally nodded her satisfaction and left her side, returning to her own bed.

Nnora tried to suppress her shudders, holding her breath until she heard her adopted sister settle down, not wanting to disturb Lori’s sleep any further.

Her famous sibling would be up early, putting the final touches to her speech as the keynote speaker at some highbrow biochemical symposium scheduled for eight a.m. Lori’s peers and clients put extraordinary demands on her time—she had a grueling schedule that Wonder Woman would have found hard to keep up with. The last thing she needed was to be up in the middle of the night, coddling a grown woman with nightmares. Besides, Nnora was proud of Lori’s achievements and would never allow her own dysfunctional needs to interfere with her sister’s career.

Once sure her sister had drifted back to sleep, Glennora sat up amid her tousled bedcovers, scrubbing her face free of the residue of tears. Drawing an uneven breath, she fought to clear her mind and calm her agitated emotions. The latter wasn’t easy to do. The sights and smells and feelings of the recurring dream were so…overwhelming. The sudden reappearance of the childhood dream had to be due to her upcoming trip to Mars. The journey would mark the first time she’d returned to the world that had been her home as an infant and naturally, she was feeling some anxiety.

Nnora was of two minds. She wanted to go—she didn’t want to go. Certainly she wanted to see her half sibs and her father and his wife. Then again, she was afraid seeing the palace and the surrounding grounds would bring back memories she couldn’t cope with…or plain didn’t want to.

Damn it, just when I’ve finally adjusted to this world, my life changes!

Nnora straightened her covers, turned, pounded her pillow, and threw herself back down. She knew she wouldn’t sleep any more tonight. Once awakened, her body had quickly made its needs known. Her mound felt heavy and tender, her empty vagina throbbed and wept. The plump flesh of her breasts was swollen and achy, and her nipples drew tighter and stiffer as she lay with her hands clasped beneath her head, determined not to give in and touch herself.

She was in heat.

Like a damned cat, she wanted some cock. Tonight. Now. Unlike a cat, however, Nnora knew from painful experience that not just any tom would do. It would take Rb’qarmshi cock to ease the growing, insistent ache gnawing at the tender flesh between her clenched thighs.

Why are males so stupid? Why did Father’s subjects have to kill each other off until there were no grown males left? Well, no grown males I can mate with! Father isn’t in the mix, and his cronies are too damned old. Nnora almost laughed aloud remembering the old, wrinkled-up fossil that had propositioned her with talk of lapping up her juices. “Eeuww! Not living…not even when I’m dead,” she whispered now, easing her thighs apart to lessen the constriction of her labia.

The problem was, she hurt so much even that decrepit old dinosaur was beginning to look palatable.

With a despairing cry quickly muffled behind her left fist, Nnora slipped her hand between her legs, fingering open her tender folds. The cool air washing over her distended clit caused her to shudder. Her hips jerked upward to meet her teasing fingers.

“Go slow, go slow…make it last,” she chanted under her breath, forcing her hand to pause, but she already knew tonight was going to be a Jumbo night. Reaching to the concealed panel in her headboard, Nnora drew out the pouch that held her favorite lubrication gel and the dildo she had nicknamed Jumbo. Twelve inches long with a circumference of four inches, Jumbo was a state-of-the-art, battery-driven wonder. Made of the newest real-skin material, it was warm and velvety soft on the outside, hard as plasteel on the inside. The pièce de résistance was the accordion action of the head section.

Yep, Jumbo had cost her a pretty penny, but it was money well spent. Nnora couldn’t help the hungry sigh that slipped past her lips as she rubbed the slick head between her labia and against her clitoris. She positioned the cock at her seeping entrance, canting her hips up as her free hand pressed down on the sensitive swell of her belly. The tension sent a delicious thrill all through her lower body and up into her jutting breasts. A deft thrust sent the dildo surging up into the clasping grip of her needy vagina.

Yeah! Fill my pussy up. Get in there and pump! That’s what I like…nice, thick cock reaming me!

Nnora bit her bottom lip, the slight pain helping her focus, keeping her cries sub-vocal as she pumped her arousal higher with her naughty thoughts and her steady thrusting of Jumbo. A flick of the remote started the head action, and Nnora wedged the pseudo-cock up to its hilt, the pleasure rolling and swelling within as, crossing her ankles to hold the thick cock within her, she undulated against it. She shimmied her hips and torso to intensify the sensations of the dong within her hot, wet sheath while her nipples throbbed and burned, aching with unfulfilled need. She pinched and tugged on them, massaging them with the palms of her hands, frantic to reach the taunting, always-retreating finish line of orgasmic completion.

Something was missing—something elusive, just out of her reach—and she didn’t know what it was, only knew she needed it desperately.

Her nipples peaked, stabbing toward the ceiling as her legs stiffened and jerked. Her pussy clamped down on the dildo, squeezing in a rhythmic, pulsating beat as fire flashed through her nerve endings. Even as she convulsed with the first of a building series of orgasms, a new ache began, tormenting and teasing Nnora with the itching, burning need for more.

She needed more…a partner…a lover. The lifeless cock between her legs mocked her attempt at satisfaction. Without the missing emotional attachment, the orgasms were unsatisfying and unfulfilling. Sobbing as she came, Nnora turned her head to the side and allowed her silent tears to soak into the pillow.

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