Protected by the Alien Warrior Triad
Corin Cain
Contents
Foreword
1. Tammy
2. Forn
3. Hadone
4. Darok
5. Forn
6. Tammy
7. Forn
8. Darok
9. Tammy
10. Darok
11. Tammy
12. Tammy
13. Forn
14. Tammy
15. Hadone
16. Tammy
17. Forn
18. Tammy
19. Darok
20. Tammy
21. Hadone
22. Forn
23. Forn
24. Hadone
25. Tammy
Foreword
Welcome to the Aurelian Empire, where the dominant, powerful alien warriors come in threes!
This steamy reverse harem alien romance is for adult audiences, and is heavy on the action and adventure!
- CC
1
Tammy
The wrench snaps clean in my hand as I push against it too hard – and suddenly without the resistance to hold me back, I lurch forward; raking my hand against the jagged metal of the engine.
Fuck!
I bite back further curses as pain flares through my palm. Looking down, I can already see the bright, red blood surging from the wound. That’s not good. Working on dirty machinery like this means an infection will be almost inevitable unless I treat it quickly.
Fucking Aurelians.
That’s a common refrain throughout the city of Barl. Those arrogant, seven-foot-tall bastards ruined us. My wound is just a painful reminder of how much.
With a snarl, I drop the rusty remains of the broken wrench and yank myself away from the workbench. I’ll have to get my top-of-the-line medical kit. It’s just lucky we have one.
As I cross the room to where I keep the med-kit, I think about the reason for my resentment.
Everyone agrees that the Aurelians are the reason our planet suffers. It’s a point of pride that I was born to a free planet – not one under the yoke of those powerful aliens, who now restrict our trade and put pressure on our economy as retribution for our alleged ‘rebellion’ against them.
Our planet suffers, but not everybody suffers equally.
I can’t believe my best friends abandoned me! Jade and Anna went with the enemy – joining an Aurelian harem! I know it’s not easy here on planet Independence, but giving up your body to those savage creatures, just for the sake of an easier life…?
Alright – I’d be lying if I said the choice my friends had made hadn’t tempted me. I’ve only seen pictures and holo-vids of Aurelians, but the huge warrior-aliens are muscled and lean, with powerful physiques that would make any woman’s knees quake.
Maybe I’m even a little jealous of Jade and Anna – but there’s no way I’d give up my freedom to be just another wench in some alien’s harem. How could you possibly feel special if you’re just one of a hundred women – or more? Aurelians gather masses of women in their infamous harems – desperately trying to find their ‘fated mate’ so they may reproduce. But the irony for women like Jade and Anna? Unless you’re that one in a million woman – one genetically compatible with that specific Aurelian warrior – you’re nothing but a pleasurable set of holes for them to enjoy.
I might not be in an Aurelian harem – so how come I’m still getting fucked by the Aurelians? At least, that’s what it feels like. Their unfair trade policies have crushed our global economy. Their tyranny has crushed our planet’s spirit. I only need to look at the bloody wound on my palm to be reminded of how much suffering those alien bastards have inflicted.
With a snarl, I take the med-kit from the wall. We’re the only chop-shop in the city of Barl – hell, the entire planet of Independence (which was renamed after we broke free from Aurelian rule) – to have a top-of-the-line med-kit. This one is courtesy of the Capital’s nursing school, where I was once an intern.
I was supposed to be helping sick people and curing the wounded. Instead, I now spend my days stripping serial numbers from illicit engines and swapping parts out to confuse the authorities.
I pop open the med-kit and pull out an inexpensive charge of intravenous anti-bacterial agent. I press the cartridge to my palm, just under the wound, and wince at the sharp sting of the injection. In theory, it’s flooding my injury with engineered antibodies designed to counteract any possible infection.
That’s solves one problem – but now I look down and see that the cut across my palm is over an inch long and still gushing blood. I’m not about to waste a charge of my sealant gun on the wound, though. Unlike the cheap charges of anti-bacteria, sealant is worth its weight in gold here on Barl.
The street kids I take care of are always getting scrapes and bruises in their day-to-day life, scraping their meager existence in the back alleys of Barl. I do what I can to look after them.
As a result, while the sealant gun of my med-kit had been fully charged when I’d left the Capital, there’s precious little remaining of the chemical agent now. Every other component in the med-kit I can and do replace. It might take most of my under-the-table salary to keep the kit stocked, but I owe it to the orphans who have no-one else to look after them. The sealant gun, though, is a prized piece of technology dating back before the Aurelian embargo – and it’s practically impossible to get hold of now.
Fucking Aurelians. They even cut off our medical supplies! Those bastards can all rot in hell.
Instead of sealant, I wrap a clean swathe of bandage around my cut. It’ll stop the bleeding – eventually – and so I reluctantly get back to the work-bench before my boss, Edgar, can chew me out for “wasting time on break” as he likes to call it.
Edgar – fuck. He’s got a good heart but he’s a grumpy bear.
I shake my head. I don’t have time to waste on thoughts like these. There’s still one good wrench in my workbench – almost as good as the one that broke – and as long as I’m careful with my work, I shouldn’t have to suffer too much from my injury.
I can’t believe I’m stressing over a fucking
