Punished, Tana Stone [top reads .txt] 📗

Punished—A Sci-Fi Alien Warrior RomanceRaider Warlords of the Vandar #5

Tana Stone

Broadmoor Books

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Epilogue

Also by Tana Stone

About the Author

This book is dedicated to Kathy Brinkley and her amazing editing skills!

Chapter One

Corvak

“Tvek,” I muttered to myself as I stepped outside the door to my dwelling, bumping my head on the low doorframe and then straightening once I was beyond it. I inhaled the morning air that was already arid. Soon the two suns would be high in the sky and the heat would be intense, but for now it was bearable.

Curious faces that had been poking from windows and peering through cracks in doors popped inside once I appeared. I let out a low growl. As a Vandar raider, I was still a curiosity on the planet of Kimithion III. Not only was I the only Vandar on the planet, I was there because I’d been exiled by my horde. The Kimitherians and humans who populated the pre-warp planet had agreed to accept me into their community because the Vandar Raas I’d defied had rewarded them handsomely.

My exasperation at the curious Kimitherians morphed into a flush of humiliation as I thought of the series of actions that had landed me on the alien planet. I curled my hands into fists as I stomped down the narrow dirt pathway that wound around the stone mountains—dust kicking up around my boots—and passed the many dwellings cut into them. Curtains fluttered in triangular windows as I walked by quickly without looking right or left, even though the savory scents of breakfast foods wafted out and made my nose twitch.

Not long ago, I’d been the battle chief of a horde of the Vandar raiders, living and flying in a black-hulled warbird that moved invisibly through the galaxy. I’d led my fellow warriors into valiant battle against our enemy, the Zagrath Empire, our attacks punctuated by drinking and fucking on the occasional pleasure planet. It had been a life I’d relished, and a job at which I’d excelled. Nothing stoked my inner fire like a battle, whether with ships or with battle axes.

I rested my hand on the hilt of the circular battle axe that hung at my side. At least they had not taken that from me when they’d expelled me from the horde. My face heated as I thought back to having to trudge down the ramp of the warbird and set foot onto the alien planet. It had taken every bit of self-control I possessed not to rush back into the belly of the ship and beg for mercy. But I would never have shamed myself or the Raas by begging, even though I would have preferred to be executed than exiled. Raas Bron thought he was showing me mercy by exiling me instead of putting me out an airlock, but I would have much preferred a quick death in space than languishing on this alien wasteland.

I raised a hand to shield my eyes from the rising suns as they crested the sharp mountain spires that jutted into the air and encircled expansive turquoise shallows. Many would have considered the stark landscape beautiful, but to me it was only a reminder that I was not on a Vandar ship. The light that turned the sky violet was too bright for a warrior used to the shadows and iron of a horde ship. And for a Vandar warrior, there was nothing worse than not being on a raider ship.

“You have no one to blame but yourself,” I said aloud, not caring if the locals who were watching me could hear or not.

It was true. Even though a part of me hated the Raas for dumping me on Kimithion III, another part of me knew I’d given him little choice. I’d defied the horde’s warlord and then challenged him to a duel, which I’d lost. It didn’t matter that I’d done it because I believed the horde to be in danger. I’d taken the human female that Raas Bron had claimed—a female I still believed was not who she said she was—and tried to extract the truth from her. She hadn’t told me anything, and the Raas had been livid when he’d discovered what I’d done.

I did not regret my actions. I maintained that the female was a danger to the horde, and it was my duty as battle chief to protect the Vandar from all enemies. But I also understood why Bron could not allow my disloyalty to go unpunished. In a Vandar horde, the Raas ruled with ultimate power. Challenging that power and losing meant death. I accepted that. What I did not accept was the shame of exile.

I growled low and scraped a hand through my long hair as I reached the end of the steep path that brought me to the open square of the village. Wide paving stones were smeared with dust, and a central obelisk rose not much higher than my own head. The few shops and vendors circling the square—their doors and windows also cut into the stone of the mountain—were barely unshuttering their windows and propping open their doors.

Since arriving, I’d spent most of my time in the quarters I’d been assigned, but I’d noticed the village when I’d arrived since going through it was the only way to reach the cliffside residences. It reminded me of many primitive villages I’d seen before—quaint shops selling provisions ranging from food to clothing to tools, a cafe offering simple meals and drinks, and even a reading room stocked with books printed on nearly transparent sheets of seaweed. There was a free-standing school building for the village children—the only structure