Wanted By The Werewolf Prince: a paranormal space adventure fantasy romance (Space Shifters Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Wanted By The Werewolf Prince

  Space Shifters Chronicles

  Kara Lockharte

  Smartia Publishing

  To my family. You make the improbable possible.

  Contents

  Wanted By The Werewolf Prince

  Get in Touch

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Thank You and Author Notes

  Want More Story?

  About the Author

  WANTED BY THE WEREWOLF PRINCE

  She's bold, fearless and disobedient--which always gets her in trouble…

  He's controlling, demanding, and superior--which always gets him what he wants…

  Captain Skye Daring is a space fighter pilot without equal. Rescuing a foreign werewolf prince and his sister from behind enemy lines should be a breeze.

  Prince Ral doesn’t take orders from impudent humans. He’s determined to save not only his sister and but his people they left behind. The only thing in his way is a sexy pilot too stubborn to acknowledge his authority.

  Stuck in a crippled ship and hunted by tiger shifters, Skye and Ral must stop fighting each other and battle the enemy -- together. Will the prince and pilot drop their guards long enough to conquer their dislike…and desire?

  Kara Lockharte’s Website

  Kara on Facebook (there most of the time)

  Kara on Twitter (there some of the time)

  Kara on Instagram (occasionally there)

  The Space Shifter Chronicles

  The Boy Who Came Back a Wolf (Prequel Short Story)

  Wanted by the Werewolf Prince - (This Book!)

  Taken by the Tigerlord – November 13, 2017

  Desired by the Dragon King – Spring 2018

  Note: This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real life space werewolf princes or anything else is purely coincidental.

  Prologue

  When humanity ventured beyond First Earth, they found kin among the stars. Engineered from human DNA as living weapons, the ancient Ealen had scattered werewolves and tigershifters across various star systems thousands of years ago. When the Ealen went extinct, the tigers and wolves forged themselves into rival galactic empires contesting the planets of their makers.

  Millennia of near constant warfare between the tigers and wolves ended two hundred years ago, when the humans of the United Coalition of First Earth reached the stars and brokered a cold peace that has prevented massive scale war.

  Until now.

  Chapter One

  2356 C.E.

  His royal wolfiness, Prince Ral of the House of Nightclaw, Duke of something or other and holder of a ludicrous number of other titles, locked his injured unconscious sister into the med stasis capsule. He turned and approached me in human form. The Prince was covered in grime and blood, his hair matted with dirt, his shirt shredded exposing glimpses of scarred hard muscle.

  Filthy never looked so good.

  Looking at that chiseled jaw, those too full lips, I knew he was going to be impossible.

  People across the galaxy paid lifetimes for that kind of perfection, but cosmetic surgery didn’t work on werewolves. All it meant was that the Prince had had a lifetime of conditioning, a lifetime to believe he was a gift of the stars and a lifetime at exploiting others using his looks, prestige and power.

  He turned and watched as the med-bots chimed, “Escort the capsule from the hanger bay.”

  I didn’t know what the tiger-shifters had done to her, but I would look at the report later.

  A med-bot stumbled.

  “Don’t jolt her,” he snarled.

  Then the prince stalked toward me.

  My exo-armor, with its mirrored visor, and small dull black-scaled plates was designed to make an adversary think twice. But he was completely unfazed, or at least he had the appearance of being so. Men like him knew about facades.

  He looked at me as if I were his mother’s serving android. “Be ready, soldier. After we get Princess Seria to safety, we’re coming back to Altai."

  A hello, or ‘thanks for risking your lives to save us even though we’re not your subjects,’ would have been nice rather than an order. But this was to be expected. I triggered my exo-armor’s retreat. The helmet and suit opened, folding itself into my harness. The air smelled of exhaust and something burnt.

  “Sorry, Your Majesty. Our orders are to one, get you off the tiger’s planet and two, escort both of you to neutral ground on Chandrayaan Station.”

  Ice blue eyes focused on me. Nostrils flared taking in my scent. “You’re not one of us.”

  I lifted my chin, strengthened my stance. “No. I’m an officer of the United Coalition Space Force. And unfortunately for you, sir, you are not part of my chain of command.”

  Surprise cracked his facade. My ship had no markings, and my exo-armor had no insignias. Technically the Coalition and his kidnappers, the Tigrantine Protectorate, were at peace, but if the tigers caught us helping a wolf escape, things probably wouldn’t stay that way.

  I threw him a rescue pack. It thumped as it hit the floor between us.

  He folded his arms, leaned against a pillar. “The Coalition finally decided to honor their agreements?”

  If that was how he wanted to play, so be it. “I have to obey orders. But not from you.”

  He stalked forward, trying to intimidate me. “Take me to the captain of this ship. He will see reason.”

  The ship jerked to the side. The alarms screamed. I pitched into him and we fell to the floor, me on top of him. My cheek pressed up against the ridges of his naked abdomen. A mud-covered crotch was microns away from my nose. He smelled of dirt and greenery, things I hadn’t smelled in years.

  My co-pilot’s voice blared over the com. “Captain, we’ve got cats up our ass. Lots of them.”

  I got up and ran, my boots thumping up the metal grated stairs to the cockpit. I slid into the pilot’s seat, taking control of the yoke. Safety harnesses clicked while floating screens surrounded me immediately. Across the wall of images, a shower of red dots spread. Each one signaled an individual fighter. In the next forty seconds, the fastest starfighters would be in range.

  Red’s voice trembled. “Did they send their entire fleet?” She swore in another language under her breath. Red dots swirled on screen, forming into an enveloping claw-like cloud. Panic sharpened Red’s voice. “Quasar range weapons went live!”

  “Holedark!” I cursed.

  The Prince’s voice snapped. “They won’t shoot to kill.”

  I hadn’t realized he had followed and taken the jump seat in my cockpit. “Sit down and s
hut up. Your Majesty.” I tapped glowing dots, redirecting the plasma thrusters. “Lasers set to cripple aren’t going to aid in our escape, Prince.” I dodged an initial warning shot. “Red, check the Princess!”

  Red sucked in a deep breath and blew it out abruptly. She tapped another screen. “Holding steady. Her stasis capsule should minimize the stress.”

  “Dropping the gravity will help, too.” With a swipe at a screen, we were all suddenly weightless.

  I glanced at another screen. The hyper jump engines were still charging and there was no way I’d get to the nearest wyrmhole. I’d have to turn and fight the old-fashioned way.

  Blood pumped in my veins, a drum of hot anticipation. All my senses shot to hypermode. In the reflection of the window, beyond the floating screens, I saw Red’s fear in her widened pupils.

  On another screen, the volley of lasers looked like a veil of shimmering light, homing in on us.

  This was what I lived for.

  I located the drone-mines Red had dropped and triggered them. Joyful explosions knocked out the forefront of the pursuing squadron. Two fighters streaked towards me. I laughed at their scissor formation, so clearly telegraphing their intentions.

  “Fuck you gori-fucking father fuckers!”

  The stars spun around us as I shoved my ship to its limits. On screen, we shot for the other fighters, my heart beeping in time with the alerts of an increasing irrevocability of a multi-ship collision course. In the distant background, a beast-like snarl rumbled like thunder. Too much was on the line. I was going to win.

  Red’s voice cut into my focus. “CAPTAIN!”

  Crashing was inevitable. “Watch and learn, Red!”

  The other fighter was a ship’s length away from us when I spun the ship into a corkscrew and dumped the drone mines out our back end.

  “Eat shit and DIE!”

  Lights flashed, a soundless staccato of rainbow lights. I was immersed immediately in a sea of red light from the screens, signaling more incoming. Above, below, in front, behind. I laughed.

  “Again? You want to play? Let’s see if you measure up.”

  I glanced at the jump engine screen. Charge was almost there. My stomach flipped. What the fuck was that line of code doing there?

  “Red, the jump!”

  “Flare, Captain, there’s—”

  “Fix it, Red!”

  Acceleration smashed me into my seat, sat on my chest, making each breath an act of willpower. Fear splashed my senses. Sweat and ozone tinged the humid air, while the beeps and chimes on the screens resounded in my head. Salt covered my dry lips as sweat streamed down my face. The tigers were crawling all over us, like scapesects on a corpse.

  I thought of the people counting on me.

  Red, junior pilot, fresh out of flight school.

  A Prince and possibly the galactic peace of three empires.

  Fuck fear! I would fucking do this.

  I deployed decoy drones, each emitting the same frequency and signature as my ship. Unless they had a close visual, the pilots would have to make a choice.

  And like felines to rodents, my decoy drones lured some dots away. Which left 54 dance partners remaining. “Aw, so sweet of them to wait,” I said out loud.

  “What?” snarled the Prince behind me.

  “How’s that jump engine, Red?”

  “Almost working! I need about twenty seconds.”

  I picked the quadrant closest to the nearest wyrmhole. “It’s yours.” I had the advantage in that I shot to kill while they shot to capture, but they had the numbers. More flashes of light, explosions, shrapnel streaming through space, spinning around, dodging—ha, martial dancers had nothing on me because you can’t keep up with me, you see me but you can’t catch me, nope not yours, or yours I’m fucking free in your face.

  “Baby,” I roared, “who’s ready to PLAY?”

  Suddenly the screen bathed us in a sea of red light.

  Crackling on the coms, then hissing snarls in Tigerese. “Hrasshikrrrssaaaaa!”

  I silenced the coms with a swipe, laughing. “Nope. No surrender for you!”

  And suddenly I saw the gleam of instant death as the screen pulsated lights in alarm — a fucking missile. Alarms blared. They’d fired a holedark missile and it was heading towards us.

  “It’s hot!” yelled Red.

  No coordinates. No destination. “Go,” I screamed, and the engines screamed with me.

  We jumped.

  New stars appeared all around us.

  All the adrenaline rushed out of me. The Gs stopped and I was weightless once more. The gravity generator kicked in, and I slumped back in my seat, savoring deep, beautiful breaths of life and freedom.

  I laughed and punched the air. Crazy holedark luck had liked my moves today. “Now that was fun.”

  Red groaned. “I think I left my stomach behind.”

  Looking over at Red, I saw she was bit pale, the opposite of what her face usually was after drinking, which is how she got her nickname, but no worse for the wear. Top of her class, but this was her first real mission. I think it might have even been her first real dogfight.

  “The Princess?” I asked, knowing it would help Red focus.

  She sucked in another breath and straightened before reaching out to tap a screen. “Looks like she’s asleep.”

  “You okay back there, Your Majesty?”

  When he didn’t reply, I turned to look at him. His eyes were closed, gritted teeth and muscles tense as he continued gripping the armrests. I don’t know if he had moved a single muscle since I’d last looked at him. So the werewolf Prince could hold it together? It actually made me respect him, but only the tiniest bit.

  His voice trembled, with rage or nausea, I couldn’t tell. “You’re psychotic.”

  Outflying others always made me feel like I was the cleverest pilot in the universe. I took the high line. “Sorry. Not really used to flying with passengers.”

  His blue eyes opened. “What do you mean you’re not used to flying with passengers?”

  Red grabbed a floating screen and pulled it down to her. “Captain was a Starbolt pilot.”

  “Starbolts,” he repeated. “The Coalition’s super-secret deep space fighter that didn’t officially exist until a year ago?”

  I had been grounded since I disobeyed orders and crashed my Starbolt. But he didn’t need to know that. I had to end this conversation before Red started blathering about my crash record. “Red, go check the engines.”

  To vex me further, the prince moved into Red’s vacated space like a wolf on the prowl. “So the Coalition risks a former Starbolt pilot to come to our aid. Did you have to go to a special flight school where you earned PhDs in Deep Space Physics and Interstellar Avionics?”

  I let myself look at him for a moment. He was a sarcastic bastard. It was a sin how some people got all the pretty in their genes. “Is there something you need, Your Majesty?”

  There was the barest flash of a strange look on his face, but it was gone before I could figure out what it was. “The correct address is Highness.” He paused. “You’re not what I expected a Starbolt pilot to look like.”

  Oh please. Don’t tell me he thought like a First Earther. I was fit, but completely the opposite of their old-fashioned standards of beauty: a curvy girl with big everything; ass, boobs, arms, and legs.

  “And what is a Starbolt pilot supposed to look like?” I paused. “Your Majesty.”

  His gaze intensified. He glanced at my hands. “Not like a woman who has pink fingernails.”

  I leaned back in my captain’s chair, trying to appear as relaxed as possible. He might have been a prince, but he was not my prince. I was the captain and this was my ship.

  “Hey, I like my pink fingernails, thank you very much.” I went back to my screens. “You can go now.”

  “I want to speak with your superiors.”

  Again with the demands. This was getting old. Lightspeed fast, I swiveled my chair to face him. “Is th
is an official request?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll have to submit it in writing.”

  His eyes turned gold.

  “I might even be able to dig out some actual paper and print them out for you.”

  All that seething angry power tensed.

  “Trouble is, I just don’t think I have any paper writing instrument on this ship.” I smiled slowly. “I suppose I’ll just have to settle for you asking nicely and saying please.”

  He placed his rather large, dirty hands on my armrest, invading my personal space. It was an Alpha shifter trick. That much, I had been warned about.

  I should have been prepared for his scent. Of fresh soil and greenery, the kind of smell that reminded me what it was like to live in sunlight rather than the chemical rankness of deep-space artificial habitats.

  He smiled at me, baring his teeth. “For every ‘please’ I utter, there will be a time when you will return them to me tenfold.”

  I rolled my eyes, because clearly, that’s the only logical way to confront an angry werewolf. “Is staring and making baseless threats the best you can do, Your…Highness?”

  He smiled through clenched teeth. “Please.”

  Was he grinding his teeth? Or were his teeth getting longer?

  The grinding sound stopped. “Put me in touch with your superior officer in the United Coalition. Immediately. Please.”

  I turned my back to him. “I’ll send out a message.”

  “Where are your quarters?”

  In tiny transports like these, captains typically gave up their quarters to high ranking passengers on deep interstellar flights. I usually didn’t mind, but the thought that this jerk of a prince would be in my cabin, in my bunk, made me want to punch whoever started that stupid tradition. It wasn’t worth a diplomatic incident. I threw my head back in my chair and let out a sigh.