Ruled: Apexian Warrior Sci-Fi Romance, #1

By Arcadia Shield

A wounded alien warrior with a dark past. A woman determined to protect her heart.

Wren Tulloch needs a win. If this mission to capture a rare sapo explosivo fails, she's out. And she knows the cost of failure. But Wren has a problem. All six foot six inches of smoldering, purple-eyed, Apexian. Her work partner is a rule breaker. A good-time alien, with abs to die for and an attitude that makes her blood boil. But she won't fall for him. Because if she does, he'll mess her around, and her fragile heart will shatter.

Striker Bandidar lives in the moment. Screw tomorrow. He could be dead by then. And rules are boring. But one adorable human rule keeper is making him have second thoughts. He won't go there. He's faced soul-shattering loss and betrayal from people he trusted. Have fun, live for today, and everything will be fine.

But when his gorgeous, frustratingly sexy partner is taken, Striker learns some rules have to be obeyed if you're to find meaning, joy, and a happily ever after in the stars. Will he overcome his fears and lose his heart to Wren? And if he does, will she let him in?

 

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This action-romance sci-fi novel has a crew of feisty, smart women, hot, gorgeous alien warriors, action-packed battles, funny, quirky alien critters, and steamy scenes set in space.

If you like muscled alien warriors, women who know how to stand up for themselves, and steamy romance, you'll love Ruled, book one in Arcadia Shield's sci-fi romance series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arcadia Shield
• Release date: Apr 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9798227415035

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Chapter 1

Keep low and stay still. Anyone would think you’ve got Etruvian ants in your pants. Wren Tulloch slid a glare at Striker. He’d been restless since they started the mission, and it was driving her nuts. She’d shoot him with a tranq dart if he kept shifting about.

Wren, this is dull. How can you get excited about hunting in the Zanubab dirt for some creature with warts? Striker tapped the side of her protective helmet. You’re picking warts over me?

Always. She stared at the scanner she held. Where had it gone?

Striker’s hand slapped against his broad chest. I’m wounded.

Get over it. We stay here until we capture the creature. Striker’s wound would last five seconds until something shiny distracted him. How he got to be an elite Apexian warrior, she’d never know.

It doesn’t mean we can’t have fun while we’re waiting for wart-face to show up. Striker crossed his arms over his muscular chest and leaned back against the rock they were concealed behind.

Quit talking. You’ll scare the sapo explosivo. They frighten easily. And I’m not here to have fun. We’re here to find and retrieve. Same as always.

He gave one of his usual overly dramatic sighs, the kind that made her want to kick him. How about a game of cards? I read about it. You have naked poker on Earth. That sounds fun.

Typical. The only reading you do, and it has to do with getting your clothes off. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at him. Striker may be gorgeous, ripped to the hilt, with eyelashes she’d kill for, but he was a problem. Wren insisted on calm and order when she worked. He was the opposite. A gorgeous, dazzling typhoon that blasted the breath out of you and then vanished.

Is that a no to getting naked with me? He flashed her a wide, bright smile.

Wren just about managed to stop her heart from leaping into her throat. There was no room for muscled, gorgeous alien chaos in her life. It’s a no to any fooling around.

Is that while we’re at work, or do you ever take time off? I’ve not seen you relax much in the last six months.

You know my routine as well as I do. We’re partners, unfortunately, she muttered. What she wouldn’t give for a nice quiet Apexian as her backup. Or even better, if she could fight her way out of any situation without needing a super strong, fast healing, lethal weapon by her side. But as annoying as Striker was, he came with skills that were handy when tracking creatures on hostile planets.

You never offer to spend your downtime with me when we have days off. I could get to thinking you don’t like me.

I see enough of you at work.

There’s so much more you don’t know about me. I’d love to show you.

Yeah, me and every other available woman on the Apocalypse.

Only the single ones. A guy has his boundaries.

Let’s focus on the mission, she said. The quicker we find this creature, the quicker we get back to the ship and you can do whatever the hell it is you like to do for fun. She tilted the scanner. There’s movement. It’s getting nearer.

We’re ready. The traps are set. You know, we could have tried this capture remotely. Set the bait and waited back on the Apocalypse.

Sapo explosivos are tricky. We can’t afford to miss this one. It’ll be our third failure in a row. Wren wasn’t letting the team down again. This was important.

Your failures are my learning experiences.

Did you read that in a self-help book?

No, but any time I want to borrow one, I’ll swing by your room. Don’t you have them all loaded on your tablet?

She shrugged. So what if she wanted to improve herself? There’s nothing wrong with that.

There is if it gives you a stick up your butt.

Her stomach muscles tightened. He was always going on at her to relax and take time out. It wasn’t her job to relax. It was her job to capture and retrieve the galaxy’s rarest and most endangered creatures. That meant you got called out at a moment’s notice. Downtime, getting drunk, and not being focused weren’t options. She’d learned that a long time ago. If you lost your focus, you’d get a bone-jarring, brain searing reminder.

Wren kept her gaze on the scanner as a small red dot flashed in and out of view. She shook it. This thing needs an overhaul. It’s on the blink.

Blink? Striker rubbed the spot where his universal translator sat behind his ear.

It’s not working, she said.

His warm, calloused hand rested on her shoulder. She pretended not to notice the heat flooding down her arm. How could his body heat seep through her protective clothing?

Striker’s touch always stirred things in her it shouldn’t. It made her want to lose control, and that made him dangerous.

I’ll get ELVIS to take a look when we get back, he said.

No, we’ll put in a repair request, just like everyone else, and wait our turn. ELVIS isn’t your pet.

He gets bored. The ship runs smoothly, so he doesn’t have much else to do.

Of course he does. He’s the reason the ship runs so smoothly. ELVIS oversees all the behind-the-scenes stuff. The stuff you probably don’t understand.

His hand tightened on her shoulder for a second before vanishing. I understand a lot more than you think.

She glanced up at him. A flash of hurt crossed his face before it disappeared behind a bored expression.

I’m rebooting this scanner. It’ll take a minute before it comes back online. She set the scanner down and opened her kitbag. She triple-checked the contents. There was the usual first-aid kit, comms device, backup comms device, emergency alert pin if anything went wrong, and a day’s worth of food and water in case they got stuck in this barren place.

Did you bring a spare pair of panties, as well? Striker glanced over her shoulder.

Only for me.

I was kidding about the underwear.

You should never kid. It’s important to be prepared. Sometimes, these missions overrun.

His low chuckle sent a hum to her center. Why did he have to be so hot, yet so annoying? One should cancel out the other. If he was annoying, he couldn’t be hot. It was a shame it didn’t work like that. She blamed those stunning purple eyes. The muscles complicated things, too.

Any sign of our warty little friend coming back? Striker made a grab for the scanner.

She yanked it out of his reach and switched it back on. Give me a minute. I’ll run a new scan.

I could go out there. I’ve got cured meat. I could scatter some around and see if warty is interested.

You know they don’t eat that. That’s junk food.

There isn’t anything junkie about something so delicious, Striker said. If he doesn’t show up soon, I’ll give it a try.

No, you won’t. We follow protocol. We can’t let anything go wrong. I’m not being taken off active duty because you mess up.

I never mess up. He lolled against the rock like some sculpted Zeus. Sometimes, it’s good to break the rules.

Her stomach clenched. That’s when mistakes happen. That’s when people get hurt.

Are we talking about any particular people?

She was silent. She rarely talked about her past. Why share her devastation with others?

How about I break a tiny rule? he said.

Wren raised a hand as the faint buzz in her helmet told her the comm link was active. Go ahead, Apocalypse.

Hey, Wren. Any update on your capture and retrieval? Cleo Newman was the perfect mixture of confident and composed. She gave her crew just enough freedom, while keeping them within the lines.

Nothing yet. We’ve had a few blips on the scanner. The traps are set, though. It’s just a matter of time.

Good work. There was a pause. How’s everything else? Striker behaving himself?

He’s being... Striker, Wren said. He was a jerk, but he was also her partner, and she wasn’t disloyal to her crew.

Hey! There’s movement out here. Striker had wandered away and was peering around the rock.

I’ve got to go, Cleo. Striker’s spotted something.

Just say the word and we’ll come get you when you’re done, Cleo said.

Will do. Wren cut the comm link, grabbed her equipment, and dashed after Striker. Wait! You’re not supposed to expose yourself.

I’m not exposing myself. No one can see me.

Get back here. We’ll see on the scanner when the creature goes inside the trap.

Let’s give him a helpful nudge. Striker stepped out from behind the rock. I can see him without even using the scanner. He’s a big guy. I reckon I could get him, though.

Don’t touch him. He goes into the cage and back to the ship. We can’t risk contamination.

I’m not contaminated. I always ace my weekly check-up. I get a clean bill of health every time.

Striker, please. Wait until the trap triggers. We can’t get this wrong.

His amused smile had her gritting her teeth. When would he ever take this seriously? He may only have taken this gig because it  paid well, but this was her whole life. Her biggest passion was species preservation. She wasn’t letting Striker screw this up for her.

Wren glanced down at the scanner. She frowned. There were four red dots. It wasn’t uncommon for sapo explosivos to travel in pairs, but they weren’t sociable outside of the mating season.

When she looked up from the screen, Striker was gone. She groaned and hurried out from behind the rock. Her breath caught in her throat. Striker was creeping toward a large male sapo, his hands outstretched.

Striker, no! she hissed over their shared comm link.

He acted like he hadn’t heard her.

Get back here. If you scare it, it’ll—

Striker lunged. The sapo emitted a high-pitched alarm call and doubled in size.

Wren ducked, but she wasn’t quick enough. The air was filled with a toxic, sticky goo that splattered across her helmet and clothing.

She wiped the foul goo off her visor and strode over to the mess.

Striker was on his back, clutching what was left of the sapo explosivo. Whoa! Did you see that? I didn’t think it would do that.

She wanted to punch him. You’ve ruined it! This mission has been a waste of time.

Relax. How was I to know it would go nuclear when I touched it?

Sapo explosivo, you cretin! It means exploding toad! Read the mission docs; they tell you everything. We’ve been tracking this creature for months, trying to get a healthy specimen, and you had no clue what we were after. She glared at him, the amusement in his eyes only making her angrier.

Striker remained on his back, flicking bits of sapo off his fingers. He looked at her, tipped back his head, and laughed.

It was official. No matter how hot he was, she hated him.

***

You could give me a hand up. Striker held out one goo-covered hand to Wren. The glare she gave him would terrify most aliens, but she didn’t mean it. She was way too cute to be cruel.

Help yourself. Since you’ve ruined this mission, you can report back to Cleo what you’ve just done. You’re impossible. She turned and stomped away.

He appreciated the view as she walked. That jiggle beneath her black fitted all-terrain jumpsuit always gave him a thrill. And she was so cute when she got angry. Those round cheeks got flushed, and those large almond-shaped blue eyes would glow like a fire burned inside her.

He sat up and looked at the surrounding devastation. A little of his amusement died. Maybe he had messed up. But it was just a gross warty toad thing. Correction, a rare sapo explosivo that got Wren’s panties in a knot every time she discussed it with him.

He frowned. Yeah, when he thought about it, there was a clue in the name that this gross explosive situation could happen.

He should have read the mission briefing, but there were so many creatures they needed to study that it blurred into a big mess of numbers, stats, and boredom. He wasn’t a biologist like Wren. He was the hired muscle. The reject hired muscle. What did she expect from him?

Striker turned his head. It sounded like Wren was tossing around the equipment behind the rock.

He wiped down his protective suit, stood, and walked around to join her. She was stiff backed and refused to turn when he got near.

Hey, I didn’t mean to screw things up. I thought I could catch the slimy guy. I was planning on herding him toward the cage when he doubled back.

Because you scared him by clomping around with your giant feet. We had it set up. It would have worked. She still hadn’t turned to face him, and there was a tremor in her voice.

His humor died, and his gut twisted. He enjoyed teasing Wren, but he’d gone too far. These missions meant a lot to her. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take you out tonight when we’re back on the ship.

I’m not going out with you. I have this mess to sort out when we get back. Cleo will boot me from the team for this fuck up. She whirled around. The anger in her eyes made him take a step back. She rarely got this pissed with him. Why can’t you just follow protocol? It’s not that difficult.

His fingers flexed. It’s also not that interesting. We could have been here for hours. This way was quicker.

This way also failed. Her small hands clenched into fists. It looked like she wanted to punch him.

I’ll take the blame for this one. You won’t get in trouble. And we’ve got something. After all, I got most of the sapo on me. He tried so hard not to laugh as a large chunk of gooey toad slime dripped off Wren’s arm and landed on the ground.

That’s useless. It’s been contaminated by the dirt and us. It’ll be no good for species replication.

What can I do to make it up to you? Anything. You name it, and—

Wait! She grabbed the scanner. There’s something moving out there. It could be another sapo. It’s mating season. He could have found himself a mate.

Then let’s go get her.

Wren grabbed his arm. No, you wait here. Keep your hands off the sapos. This one’s on me.

Where you go, I go. Remember, I’m your indispensable backup. He tapped her helmet.

You’re my something, she muttered. Let’s move it. But stay out of the way. I’m in charge.

He grinned. He loved it when she was bossy.

They scouted around for several minutes but saw no sign of another warty guy or girl leaping around.

An alarm alerted in Striker’s helmet. He checked his tank filter. Wren, I’m down to ten percent oxygen. You will be, too.

Just another few minutes, she said. We’re close. She could be underground, though. I don’t see any signs of life up here.

No can do. We retreat when the tanks go below ten percent. No air, we die.

She scowled at him through her helmet and checked her own tank readings. I’m on eleven percent. I’ll keep going. You go back if you want to.

I know you hate it, but we’re partners. If one of us retreats, the other has to. The rules are the rules. You should know. You love them so much.

She flicked him a glance. And you’re the one who likes to take risks.

You want to see me die?

Some days, I definitely do.

He looked back at the carnage he’d left behind. I did apologize.

She planted her feet, set the scanner in front of her, and looked around.

Striker’s oxygen warning alerted him again. He shut it off. It was okay. He’d wait with her for a while. At two percent, he’d be in trouble.

Wren sighed and turned, resignation on her face. I’m calling the mission. It’s a failure.

Striker lifted a goo-covered hand. We’ve still got samples. There could be enough DNA to make a clone. He hated knowing he was the cause of that sadness she was trying so hard to mask. He always kept things light-hearted and fun when they were on these tedious missions. This time, it had back-fired.

Wren was always so focused on her work. She didn’t make it easy to have fun. It was a good job she was so cute, or he might have bailed on her. He probably should. Go get wasted in a bar, start a fight with an eight-foot Achie, and end things.

But Wren needed him. She just didn’t like to admit it. And maybe he needed her, too. Was having someone around to keep him from screwing up too much a bad thing?

He shook his head as he followed her back to the equipment. No, he was the joker. Don’t take life too seriously. Take the knocks, get up, and carry on.

That’s what he was known for. He wasn’t someone others relied on. He always let them down, eventually. Especially those he cared about.

And he wasn’t changing now. Not for all the sapo explosivos in this star system.

Chapter 2

Let me take that. Striker hovered around Wren like an irritating, gorgeous fly.

She heaved the heavy equipment case onto the shelf and set her helmet next to it. I’ve got it.

You may as well use me for something, since you refuse to get naked and jump my bones. He followed her along the corridor, away from the docking bay of the Apocalypse.

Wren resisted the urge to shove him. He was always too close. This guy had no clue about personal space.

She spun around, her anger just about remaining in check. We should reconsider this. This partnership isn’t working.

His brow lowered before a frown settled over his face. Not working for who?

Both of us. I annoy you, and you wind me up. Let’s talk to Cleo after the mission debrief. We can suggest a reassignment.

That was for the best. Get Striker out of her life. She’d rather work solo than keep dealing with his shit. She turned to walk away, but he caught hold of her arm, his grip tight.

That won’t work. Everyone was assigned a partner at the beginning of this mission. Six biologists and six Apexians. That was the deal. Why complicate things by changing now?

I need a partnership that works. You get bored being out with me, and I get... She waved a hand around. Right now, she wanted to pull the kill trigger on this