Exposed by Moonbeam

  Exposed by Moonbeam

  Cynthia Sax

  Book 3 in the Alien Abductions series.

  For months, the mysterious Ary has been teasing Storm with sexy tales of aliens. The intrepid reporter arrives in Moonbeam to investigate the story, and within hours of meeting the aristocratic Ary, Storm sees, feels and tastes his hard, vibrating proof. She’ll do anything to keep her source happy, including voyaging to the ends of the known universes to nail an exclusive.

  Ary, a ruling prince of Sila, prides himself on being cool and unattached. Storm’s constantly moving mouth tests that resolve. Under her enticing touch, Ary’s primitive passions erupt, releasing his inner beast, freeing him from the restraints of tradition.

  Not all Silans are happy their ruler has a mate and the enemy is poised, ready to attack. The last story Storm covers could be her own.

  Exposed by Moonbeam

  Cynthia Sax

  Chapter One

  “This Moonbeam place is in the middle of nowhere.” Howard, the television station’s most experienced cameraman, hunched over the steering wheel and peered through the bug-splattered windshield, the van’s headlights illuminating the lonely stretch of highway. Tall pine trees lined the pavement, their fresh scent mixing with the aroma of coffee. Stars sparkled above them, a vivid reminder that they might not be alone in the universe, a theory Storm would soon confirm.

  “What are you going to do if your source doesn’t show?” Howard’s wrinkled face twisted into a scowl.

  “My source will show,” Storm assured her overprotective friend. “He was scheduled to arrive in Moonbeam a week ago last Friday.” She glanced at the tiny screen of her handheld. Still no messages. “Don’t worry.”

  “I have to worry because you’ve taken no precautions. Meeting with a strange man in a strange place.” He clucked his tongue. “Not everyone is your friend, Storm.”

  “No one is my friend.” She recited her new mantra, undeterred by Howard’s worrying, an investigative reporter’s job to venture where others feared to tread. “I’m cool, calm and detached.”

  “Right.” The older man snorted. “Who are you trying to be—Brenda?”

  Storm’s face heated. “She did land the fulltime position with that attitude. Or it could have been her perfect blonde hair or her extensive coverage of the war in the Middle East that did it.” She nibbled on her bottom lip, a nasty habit she had been unable to break. “I need a war.”

  “You’d cry over every death.” Howard reached over and patted her hand, his comment unfortunately true, her sympathy serving as a liability in the news business. “If your source has spent the last two weeks and a day in Moonbeam, why hasn’t he emailed you? How well do you know this guy?”

  “Well enough.” She shrugged, unwilling to admit her fascination with the mysterious Arystokrata Nazwisko extended past the potentially groundbreaking story. “We’ve been in contact online for months. He claims communicating close to the rendezvous date is a security risk.” She sighed softly, missing their correspondence, Ary’s detailed stories of exotic alien worlds the highlight of her day.

  Storm stared out the window at the night sky. Win says his stories are plausible and she’s the best astrobiologist I know. A meteor shot across the blackness. Is there truly life out there?

  “Security risk? You’re meeting in Moonbeam, the Roswell of the North.” Howard tugged at his thin gray ponytail. “If he was so concerned about security, you’d think he would put more thought into the location.”

  “Who says he didn’t? It’s the perfect site if he wants this initial encounter kept off the record,” Storm guessed, not knowing Ary’s reasoning. They exited Highway 11 and she leaned forward. The small town appeared dark and deserted, the ideal backdrop for a midnight exchange of top-secret information. “No one would believe he met with me here.” Especially with proof aliens exist.

  It would be proof only she’d have access to, Ary promising her exclusivity. Storm’s lips curled upward as she envisioned her gracious acceptance of the News And Documentary Emmy Award, her proud journalism professors and jealous rivals standing in the audience, clapping enthusiastically and murmuring about how she broadened their horizons, making a difference in the world.

  “Your source is right about no one believing you.” Howard interrupted her reverie. “It’s hard to take a town known for aliens seriously.” The van rolled to a stop in front of the town’s landmark, an illuminated, silver nine-foot-tall model of a UFO. “What did I tell you?” He waved his hand at the empty space. “There’s not one car in the parking lot.”

  “He’ll show,” Storm repeated, trusting Ary to keep his word.

  “And when he does, I’ll be here to film your meeting.” Howard unbuckled his seatbelt. “I’m not leaving you in the dark alone.”

  “You’re leaving me because the station will have your ass if you stay. Freelancers aren’t assigned cameramen, you know that.” Storm summoned a smile, irked by her lowly status. “And you have a forest fire you need to film.”

  “The forest fire can wait,” Howard groused.

  “No, it can’t. Don’t blow this opportunity for me.” She wagged her index finger at him. “I need this. I don’t want to be covering human interest stories forever.”

  “You like human-interest stories.”

  “I want to make a difference.” Storm pleaded for her friend to understand, needing to do this, to prove she was a great reporter. Howard opened his mouth and she rushed to clarify. “A big difference. That’s my dream, my destiny, what I know I’m meant to do.”

  Howard sighed. “Who am I to hold you back from your dreams?”

  “Thank you.” She opened the door and hopped down, her sturdy military boots crunching on the gravel surface. “I’ll be begging you for editing assistance on this story.” Storm swung her heavy backpack over one of her shoulders. “Consider yourself warned.”

  “You do that.” Howard shook his head, chuckling. “And call me if you need help. Remember—”

  “We cover the news, we don’t make it,” Storm recited and she laughed, closing the door with a solid thud. “Now get going before you scare my source.”

  Howard waved as he drove away, a smile on his weathered face. Storm watched the dented cube van until it faded from view. A peculiar clicking noise filled the night air.

  “I’ll filter that out of the audio afterward,” she noted. “Don’t let it bother you, Storm. Be professional, unemotional.” She checked the time on the handheld. She was six minutes early. “Audio.” Storm flicked the recording feature on and the handheld beeped. “Check.”

  She walked to the flying saucer and stood directly underneath it, as instructed. “I’m in position.” She plunked her backpack down and scanned her surroundings. The landmark was isolated from the rest of the town, with no houses built nearby. Shadows stretched across the freshly mowed grass, providing plenty of places for her contact, Arystokrata Nazwisko, to hide.

  I trust him. Storm rolled her shoulders back, her joints cracking. He didn’t spend months sending me hundreds of messages simply to lure me to a remote northern town and kill me.

  She extracted her compact from the backpack and primped, pushing back wayward strands of red hair, her short curls never falling perfectly in place as Brenda’s longer, light-catching golden tendrils did. Storm grimaced, her untamable hair adding more stress to an already stressful situation.

  “Not that I have video.” She twisted her lips. “I should have asked for permission to record video.” An unusually large meteor flashed across the midnight sky. “Brenda would have asked for permission.” Storm tucked the compact away and wiped her moist palms on her khaki cargo pants. The annoying clicking noise increased in volume.

&nb
sp; “Storm Mackenzie?” The voice was male and disappointingly nasally, Storm expecting Ary’s voice to be deeper and sexier. A shadow separated from the others.

  She narrowed her eyes, peering into the darkness, the silhouette strange, almost insect-like. “I’m Storm Mackenzie. Is that you, Arystokrata Nazwisko?” She was proud of how the difficult name fluidly flowed off her tongue, having practiced the pronunciation for hours.

  “No.” He stepped into the light and she gasped. The man…creature resembled a giant red ant, guns unlike any she’d ever seen clasped in his four hands.

  Don’t run. Storm’s flesh crawled and her heart beat frantically in her chest. Great reporters don’t run. She inhaled, counted to five and exhaled.

  It’s a story. It isn’t real. Film the story. Storm fumbled with her handheld, found the video function, and activated it, positioning the camera to frame the ant man. An ant man. She trembled with excitement and fear. “W-w-who are you and what do you want?”

  “I am a Mravenec warrior. I want you, Storm Mackenzie, mate of Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko, and I want revenge upon all of Sila.” He pointed one of the guns at her feet and tapped a button. Red electricity flared from the muzzle and snapped toward her.

  “Shit.” She jumped backward. The energy curled around her ankles, binding them together. She stumbled and toppled over, landing with a thump on her ass, the grass cushioning her fall, her handheld remaining in her hands.

  “I’ve been captured.” Storm’s voice wavered, her fear audible and unprofessional. Be cold, calm and detached. “The electricity doesn’t hurt.” Do your job. Report on the news. “I feel numb.” She wiggled her toes within her boots. “I can’t break the bond. It must be some sort of super strong alien technology.”

  The giant ant man approached, his antennae twitching and his jaws clicking as they snapped open and shut. “He’s coming for me.” Storm wiggled away from him, seeing no kindness reflected in his forbidding insect face and having no desire for a posthumous Emmy Award.

  “You’re mistaken, Mr. Warrior,” she called to him. “I’m not Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko’s mate. He’s my source.” The ant’s expression remained blank. “He’s my contact and that’s all,” she explained, frantic to stop him. “We haven’t even met, not in person, so if you’re thinking to trade me or hold me for ransom, he won’t negotiate, not for me.” The ant pointed a larger, more deadly looking gun at her head, and a trickle of perspiration slid down her spine. “I’m nothing to him.”

  “You are everything to me, my Storm,” a stranger yelled, his inhumanly deep voice rumbling through her body.

  A flaming fireball slammed into the giant ant and flung him to the side, severing one of his arms, the limb twitching on the lawn. An even larger creature darted toward her, teeny tiny guns clutched in his big hands. The newcomer’s skin glimmered with two colors of green, ridges cascaded down his bald skull, and every inch of him rippled with muscles.

  “This is what an alien should look like.” She juggled the handheld, recording his glorious form as she inched back on the grass, struggling to escape him, her ankles bound. “He’s a beast, a space warrior, from a distant planet and he’s coming for me.”

  He moved with a fluid grace, a predator positioned at the top of the food chain, big and fierce and all male, the bulge in his green admiral outfit impressively thick and long. Storm’s pussy moistened and her nipples tightened, her arousal inappropriate and undeniable. “Who are you and what do you want from me?”

  The ant man lurched to his feet. The newcomer shot his absurdly small gun and the fireball ripped off another one of the ant’s arms, spinning his insect body.

  “I am not a beast or a warrior. I am Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko.” The green alien rolled in front of her and a fireball grazed off his shoulder, leaving a trail of red. “Lejno,” he grunted, his pointed teeth clenched, and Storm winced, feeling his pain. The connection between them was unexplainable, yet there, humming, as alive as they were. “You are my druzka and I will face termination to protect you, to protect Sila.”

  Holy shit. This is Ary. Storm’s mouth dropped open, the alien’s imposing figure becoming even more attractive to her. Intelligence, brawn and bravery. A fireball blazed by her, singeing her clothes and heating her skin. She shook herself, refocusing on the job she had to do, not wishing to squander this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

  “As promised.” Storm spoke into her handheld. “Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko has provided us with proof aliens exist. He is the proof. Ary, my contact, is an alien.” And what an alien. She stared at his broad back, admiring his form. Ary blasted the giant ant, firing both of his guns. The enemy shot back with his bigger guns, red flames arcing over them.

  “I’m in the middle of a war, an alien war.” Storm trembled with excitement. This is it. This is my war. “Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko is protecting the Earth from the evil Mravenec warrior.” Ary’s body shuddered as he was hit and Storm gasped. Red flowed down the alien’s arm and over his fingers. “He’s bleeding for our planet.” Her voice cracked, her enthusiasm for death and destruction fading with every drop of spilled blood. “Bravely risking his life so we might live.”

  Don’t die, Ary. Storm tightened her grip on the handheld. Please don’t die.

  The giant ant hid behind a boulder while Ary maintained his position, crouched protectively in front of her, his body a big, unguarded target. Because of me. Storm chewed on her bottom lip, torn between a story of a lifetime and the alien prince shielding her from harm.

  The ant man shot from the safety of his boulder. “Lejno.” One of Ary’s tiny guns skidded across the green grass. He raised his remaining gun, returning fire, his single gun facing the giant ant’s two larger weapons.

  “Fuck journalistic neutrality.” Storm set the handheld down, abandoning her story, and with it, her career. She crawled toward the tiny firearm and curled her fingers around the smooth metal, Ary’s weapon resembling an earth gun, the barrel hot and the grip fitting into her hand.

  Storm pointed the space gun at the giant ant. “No one messes with one of my sources.” She pressed the big green button.

  The gun slammed into her shoulder and flung her backward. She screamed as she skidded along the ground, her ass pounded repeatedly by the sod, the friction chafing her tender skin.

  “My Storm,” Ary bellowed. He ran toward her, shooting over his shoulder with his one remaining gun. The ant man blasted back with his weapons and fireballs arced back and forth, lighting the night sky. “Druzka!”

  The ant’s head exploded. The enemy fell to his knees and folded onto the ground.

  “You did it!” Storm raised her arms in victory, her ass planted on the grass, her legs tingling. “You killed the ant man!”

  Ary glanced back at the dead ant. “I did terminate the Mravenec warrior.” He grinned, displaying sharp pointed teeth, his smugness adorably human. His unusual eyes swirled two shades of green, no white visible. “It was, as you humans say, a lucky shot.” He holstered the space gun and extracted a dagger from his 1970s-style green jumpsuit.

  Storm tensed, seeing death reflected in its gleaming blade. His hand blurred as it descended, allowing her no time to avoid the blow. He neatly severed her electrical bond, freeing her ankles, leaving not one scratch on her black leather boots. She relaxed. I’m safe, healthy, alive.

  Because of him. She gazed at her big alien with open admiration. He saved me.

  Ary sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring, and the ridges on his forehead condensed. “Are you too damaged, my Storm?”

  She staggered to her feet, her legs shaky, and she brushed the grass off her pants, the throbbing pain radiating from her injured ass equivalent to a thorough spanking with an unyielding paddle. “Too damaged for what?”

  “For fucking.” He loomed above her, blood dripping down his arm, his torn uniform revealing more green skin and bulging muscles. “I will please you. I am more skilled than your human males at fucking.” He swept his unharmed
hand over the ridge in his skintight pants and Storm blinked as the ridge vibrated. “I am Silan and I have trained extensively with the human female simulators.”

  Extensively? Storm gulped. Cold, calm and detached. Remember your new mantra. “I shouldn’t fuck my sources. It might compromise my journalistic integrity.” She stepped back, her aching nipples and wet pussy belying her statement, her body primed over months of daily correspondence for this encounter.

  Ary inhaled deeply, his chest rising. “I smell your need, my Storm.”

  “You know what my need smells like?” Her face heated. “How good are those simulators?”

  He smiled, his eyes churning with a rich forest-green. “We have discussed the simulators at length.”

  They had, their messages hugging the fine line between transference of information and sexual flirtation, Ary’s intelligence and knowledge a turn on. Something inside Storm, her womanly intuition perhaps, knew that when they met, they’d fuck, and Ary being an alien hadn’t changed that belief. Storm wet her lips with the tip of her tongue and his gaze tracked the motion, his focus on her and her alone.

  “You’re hurt. You need medical attention, not a fast fuck.” She waved at his arm, her gaze remaining fixed on his vibrating cock, his ridged shaft clearly outlined. God. She squirmed, rubbing her thighs together. What will he feel like inside me?

  “My damage will not interfere with our fucking.” He stripped his garment from his body, his chest ridged, his hips narrow, his overwhelmingly masculine form completely hairless. “I am Silan,” he announced with an arousing arrogance, standing before her completely naked except for the big black boots on his feet, his huge, pulsating cock jutting upward.

  “You think you’re superior to us, huh?” Storm laughed nervously, finding the prospect of fucking him, a big green alien, daunting.

  “There is no thinking.” He curled his thick fingers around the collar of her shirt. “We are superior.” Ary ripped the cotton easily, the night air cooling her heated skin. He examined her chest, her curves barely covered by a black lace bra Storm had bought especially for tonight. “We only source mates from Earth because we have no females of our own.”