Excerpt: INVASION by A. Star, an Alien #Romance + #GIVEAWAY


She invaded his world. He invaded her heart.

Publication Date: April 2, 2013
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Type: Novella (33,000 words)
Cover by: Raphyel M. Jordan

I did not want to come here. Earth is but a lifeless ball of matter. Yet, it is worth more than all the galaxies combined. These creatures, these hu-mans, are not worth the labor we exert keeping them alive. But we need them. And I need him. The hu-man who has turned me from my duties, has made me forget my purpose. Everything has changed now. And we are all going to die.

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I visit the neu-lighter chamber of my ship daily. Along with the other wulans, I walk amongst the thousands of adult hu-man captures we keep recurrented there––their young are kept elsewhere––and study them for hours. Every hu-man day, I become more fascinated by them. All of their brain transmissions are different. Not a single one is like another. Each of them is unique and full of their own unique life experiences. I find one hu-man who was known by very few other hu-mans and another who was known by almost every hu-man in their world. I am captivated by this. One could link a million Zotars to neu-lighters and receive the same experiences time and time again. We are all of one mind in Zota.
I enter the lighter control chamber, where brain transmissions are analyzed and recorded, to share my thoughts with a wulan named Wysta after a full morning of study.
"Ai-ya, Cumani," she greets me in our native tongue of zeblen and I am greeted by several others in the control chamber as well.
"Ai-ya," I reply, and I tell Wysta everything I was thinking.
"Yes, Cumani," she says, holding up the orb of particulars she has been examining. There is one orb connected to each hu-man brain. It absorbs their thoughts and memories. "I do not know what to make of it. I did not think the hu-man race so complex. How different they are from us! It is almost…" She frowns. She is at a loss for the right term.
"Exciting?" I supply a hu-man word and she agrees as she turns the orb over in her hands.
The next day, I am walking among the hu-mans, pondering how astonishing it is that hu-mans can decide to do something simply because they desired to and not just out of duty, when something reaches out and takes hold of my arm.
I hiss and turn to cut it loose with my knife.
I am not prepared for what I see.
It is a hu-man arm, and the hu-man it is connected to is a male with hair the hue of wet earth and eyes the foreign color of aquamarine. He is almost as tall as me and that in itself is amazing. Zotar wulans are quite tall. All but one of his hands is confined to his neu-lighter. The neu-lighter's metal cuffs still have his other limbs secure and the recurrenting probes remain attached to his temples.
He is awake. He should not be.
"Why?" he spits at me. "Why?"
He has not let go. I could break every fragile hu-man bone in his body with little effort, let alone his arm for assaulting my person, but I do not. He thinks he has me, he thinks he is strong, and I have seen enough male hu-man transmissions to suggest I should let him continue to think that if I wish him to cooperate. Male hu-mans have a disease called an ego. I put away my knife.
"Why?" he spits again, shaking me. "Why?"
"Why what?" I respond. His eyes grow wide and he lets me go. I think he did not expect me to know his language. I ask again, "Why what, hu-man?"
He does not answer. He is silent for a long time as he examines me. I do not know what to make of him or how he looks at me. I am not disturbed by it. Many hu-mans have looked upon us in the same way, as though they want to know us, even as we frighten them. They are a very inquisitive breed that is quite curious about civilizations not of their world.
I wonder if that remains so now that their world no longer exists.
"Damn, you're ugly," the hu-man says, his expression twisted by his repugnant words, "Just as I expected you sons of bitches would be. All shiny and silver, just plain ugly."
I recoil, for I understand the meaning of this word––ugly. It means I do not please him. He does not favor the sight of me.
I now find myself disturbed, and I do not know why.
"You shouldn't be here," he says, his teeth clenched together.
"I do not understand."
"You shouldn't be here!" He thrashes in the neu-lighter as though he wishes to break free. Impossible.
"You will calm yourself at once, hu-man, or I will be forced to––"
"You killed them all! Why?!" he screams at me as he strikes me in the face. It does not cause me pain, but I hiss to warn him that it would not be wise to strike me twice.
His attack puzzles me. I know this hu-man is not without his memories and that he must have a recollection of our invasion. We Zotars are without remorse, without pity, and without compassion for the weak. How then has this hu-man concluded that it is a worthwhile endeavor to strike me, a Zotar? What does he hope to accomplish by doing something so foolish? It cannot be much.
There is a gasp behind me. "Cumani! How can this be?"
I know it is Wysta and she is wondering the same thing that I did at first: how did this hu-man escape the control of the neu-lighter?
She has clearly just missed witnessing the hu-man strike me, for which I am glad. Wysta is quite protective of me. It is her duty to be.
"I will recurrent his brain at once," she says.
"No." My voice is firm. "Let him be as he is."
"But Cumani––"
I hiss and Wysta goes silent. The hu-man looks unhappy. He does not understand what we are saying.
"He remains as he is," I say again in zeblen, for I care not whether the hu-man comprehends. Wysta dares not defy me or argue further. I dismiss her from my presence.
I do not wish to speak further with this hu-man. There are no words for us to exchange. He has shown me a great insult that not even a disgusting Dukan would display. I have never known such scorn. His eyes are filled with malice––a malice that can only be nurtured from an abhorrent place growing within his life force. He is filled with malevolence strong enough to plant a seed inside of his ill-advised will that would drive him to strike me.
I plan to uproot it all.
I find a strange pleasure in showing him that he is not at all as brave or as strong as he believes he is, as I take the feeble hand he struck me with and crush every bone in it.

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MEET A. Star

A. Star is the pseudonym for Diantha Jones. She is the author of Invasion (An Alien Romance), Mythos: Gods & Lovers, and many more upcoming adult fantasy and paranormal romance releases. She writes under Diantha Jones for all young adult releases. Visit www.diantha-jones.com or follow her 
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