Excerpt: INVASION by A. Star, an Alien #Romance + #GIVEAWAY
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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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 Follow @DianthaJones
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Excerpt:
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 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.
©A.Star
©A.Star
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