Chevepak's Cherished - A Sci-Fi Alien Romance: The Quasar Lineage Book 11 Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  About This Book

  Previously...

  CHAPTER ONE - April

  CHAPTER TWO - Chevepak

  CHAPTER THREE - April

  CHAPTER FOUR - Chevepak

  CHAPTER FIVE - April

  CHAPTER SIX - Chevepak

  CHAPTER SEVEN - April

  CHAPTER EIGHT - Chevepak

  CHAPTER NINE - April

  CHAPTER TEN - Chevepak

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - April

  CHAPTER TWELVE - April

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Chevepak

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Chevepak

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN - April

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN - April

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Chevepak

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - April

  CHAPTER NINETEEN - Chevepak

  CHAPTER TWENTY - April

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - Chevepak

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - April

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - Chevepak

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - April

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - Chevepak

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - April

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - April

  About the Author

  CHEVEPAK'S CHERISHED

  By Pearl Tate

  Copyright © 2019 Pearl Tate

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Book Cover Design by Alena Marie

  Website: http://pearltate.com/BookCovers

  Instagram Account: http://pearltate.com/covers

  This book is dedicated to my family who often have to put up with me doing “just one more thing—before I forget” during the process of writing my books.

  CHEVEPAK'S CHERISHED

  Chevepak

  I hate my mating marks, and I’m probably the first male to feel this way. I’m a straight-laced historian who learned their lesson growing up. Never go against the family unit. Always back up and defer to your female lead.

  But now, I’m helping abused males get off Quasar and away from their Ermadas. If I’m found out, I’ll be ostracized by the twelve other males who share Councilor Vina’s home with me. To complicate matters even more, the mating marks develop on my chest, and there’s no way to hide them!

  Between avoiding my Ermada and suppling food to my fugitives, I’m rescued from an awkward situation when I’m summoned to speak with the Sacred Mother. She promises unity with a new program I’m qualified to lead in.

  But will this mean I’m helping end the matings? And sensing my mate getting closer, do I want to?

  April

  Lying in a pool of blood on my kitchen floor, I gave up. I’d had enough of my life and wasn’t interested in even bothering to try and answer my door for the medical help I needed to survive.

  Working at the corner fast food joint, I don’t have much I’ll miss. My latest boyfriend is responsible for my current state, but I’m sure he didn’t stop to consider my hemophilia when he knocked me around.

  So when I’m approached and offered an important mission, a purpose that could help thousands of people lead a better life, I’m intrigued—especially when it also comes with a mate. Someone who’s not only going to heal my body and want only me, but I’ll never catch them banging someone else on the kitchen table.

  But on the way to fulfill my destiny, our spacecraft is almost destroyed by a sleeper spy attempting a suicide mission. Then, we’re hijacked by an insect-shaped species that’s planning on conquering the Quasar planet. The Council seems dead-set against even discussing either event, which leads us all to believe they’re involved.

  But could the Sacred Mother, the planet’s original salvation, be part of the conspiracy too? Will we reach the planet and find my mate in time to expose the truth of their women’s past treachery to all the Quasar citizens, uniting them once and for all? Or will the Marel arrive first, taking over and harvesting them for food?

  Previously In The Series

  BREN'S BLESSING (Book One of the Quasar Lineage) - BREN & HANNAH

  Hannah Becker is rotating in space around Mars on the Mars Hope Skylab. The first American woman that far into space. Things go sideways and the Quasar aliens board her lab. She tries to just observe and stay alive, but Bren grabs her and takes her to their ship. The matings begin here.

  MATTHIAS'S MIRACLE (Book Two of the Quasar Lineage) - MATTHIAS & SUSAN

  Bren’s brother Matthias, develops mating marks at the end of book one. His mate is Susan who arrived on the prison planet along with some other Earth women under strange circumstances.

  AMARI’S ADORED (Book Three of the Quasar Lineage) - AMARI & RACHEL

  Amari lives on the prison planet, Dactyles and finds his mate Rachel on a spacecraft that crash lands there.

  DEVLIN’S DARLING (Book Four of the Quasar Lineage) -DEVLIN & JENNY

  Devlin is a prisoner on Dactyles who’s approached by Selas from the Discovery to come meet his mate Jenny who crash landed there.

  CALLIM’S CHALLENGE (Book Five of the Quasar Lineage) - CALLIM & SHELLY

  Shelly was one of the women who crash landed on Dactyles and they need to go back to Quasar to get her the Tirus-X vaccine. When she arrives, she’s introduced to Callim who was located by the Council as a male with mating marks.

  TRAVEK’S TREASURE (Book Six of the Quasar Lineage) - TRAVEK & LISA

  Travek left the Discovery in book one for his own personal, profit-driven reasons. He’s the one that pulls the other women off Earth and that’s how he ends up meeting his mate.

  REMUS’S REVELATION (Book Seven of the Quasar Lineage) - REMUS & JO-ANNE

  Remus is sent by the Sacred Mother and his Ermada from Quasar to locate his brother Travek. Jo-Anne is with Travek and Lisa.

  SELAS’S SALVATION (Book Eight of the Quasar Lineage) - SELAS & KAREN

  Selas is Bren’s right-hand man on the Discovery and was left on Dactyles in book two to clean up the mess the Warden had created. Karen is brought there by Travek, Lisa, Remus and Jo-Anne.

  ATTICUS’S ANGEL (Book Nine of the Quasar Lineage) - ATTICUS & ASHLYN

  Atticus is a medical doctor on the Discovery.

  BROCK’S BELOVED (Book Ten of the Quasar Lineage) - BROCK & BRITTNEY

  Brock is a medical doctor on the Discovery.

  You don't have to read Bren's Blessing, Matthias’s Miracle, Amari’s Adored, Devlin’s Darling, Callim’s Challenge, Travek’s Treasure, Remus’s Revelation, Selas’s Salvation, Atticus’s Angel, or Brock’s Beloved in order to understand the plot, but the story will be more well-rounded if you do!

  CHAPTER ONE

  - April

  TWO WEEKS AGO

  “Miss Hanin! Miss Hanin! Can you hear me?” The muffled yelling sounds far, far away.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Now that’s a little clearer. It’s the second time I’ve heard them knocking, but just like the last time, there’s no way I’m getting up to answer it. The blood I’m lying in is cooling, forming a sticky, almost glued to the floor sensation. I just d
on’t have the energy or desire to pull myself up.

  I don’t know exactly how long I’ve been sprawled here on the floor of my place, but it only feels like a minute. Of course, that could have something to do with the fact that I’ve probably been in and out of consciousness the entire time.

  “Miss Hanin! We had a report from your landlord, and she’s here with us. If you don’t answer, we’ll be coming in.” There are lowered voices I can’t understand before I hear the familiar sound of a key in the lock. “Miss Hanin? Hello? Anyone home?”

  The male voice is clearer now. Definitely inside and less than fifteen feet away. Just around the corner. Ignoring the low murmurs, I think back to Tommy… Tommy! Is he still here?

  Pain flares through my head as I try to open my eyes. The bright, unforgiving fluorescent fixture in the middle of the kitchen ceiling shoots darts of pain directly into my skull. Groaning, I give up, letting my eyes sink closed just as I feel heavy vibrations under my cheek that still feels fused to the vinyl flooring.

  I can’t even shift to see if it’s the voice that’s been calling me, and actually, I really don’t care. Drifting off, I think about how innocently the evening began. I was… happy. Well, maybe more relieved since I was just glad work was over.

  After walking home from my shift at the Dairy Queen just down the road, I’d planned to take a nice hot bath to soak my aching feet. But as I rounded the last corner in the tiny back stairwell leading up to my second floor apartment, I’d come face to face with Tommy. My ex.

  His smile should have been a tip off that he wasn’t planning on being nice. We’d only dated about two months, but I was stupid enough to think we might last. I should know better considering my track record with long term relationships.

  “…three… lift.” A flare of pain so bright it feels like I’ve touched the sun blasts through my head and neck, and the moan that borders on a scream doesn’t even sound like me. “April Hanin? I’m Dean, a paramedic here to help you. Try to relax. We’ll have you comfortable in no time.”

  His actions are a contradiction as I lose comprehension of what he’s said or what he’s doing as he and his helper strap me onto what feels like a narrow board. Mother fucker, cock sucker. My survival instinct is beginning to kick in as I think about how much I’d love to kill Tommy.

  It’s laughable really. That’ll never happen. Tommy’s six-foot-three and built like a football player. What originally made me feel so safe about him, was used against me so quickly, I never had a chance.

  Technically, we’d known each other since high school. Of course, he’d never noticed me before. I was two years younger, and he was the captain of the football team. Imagine my surprise, two and a half months ago, when he’d started coming into Dairy Queen and waiting for my shift to end. He’d been so attentive and kind… and persistent. And I’d been an idiot.

  Even with all my continual warnings to myself to not trust men or let them into my heart, I’d managed to fall within a week. Before I knew it, he’d practically moved in. I didn’t mind at the time. My place isn’t big, just a tiny one bedroom on the second floor, but it was nice to have the company.

  The single mother with two girls who lives below me is my landlord. Even now, I hear her frazzled voice shooing out her children, and their soft crying fades. On the south side of the city, the neighborhood is rough. so I knew I was lucky to have someone keeping an eye out for me. Look where it’s gotten me now.

  Jostled back to consciousness, I realize the throbbing pain in my head is gone. In its place, is a floating, disconnected sensation. Yes. This is so much better.

  “…Miss Hanin! Please, try to focus with us here. Have you been taking your Desmopressin?”

  As if. The drug’s super expensive and not exactly something I can afford on my income. Health insurance… yeah right. What a joke!

  I don’t remember answering, but I must have because the speed of the stretcher picks up as they run me through the halls of the hospital. The bright lights and echoing voices as the public address system drones in my ears is both familiar and horrifying. I can’t understand anything. It’s background noise to the squeaky wheels and urgent voices running with me.

  I was diagnosed with hemophilia when I was born, right after my mother discovered she was a carrier and had complications that caused severe bleeding leading to her death. My parents were young. At twenty, it didn’t take long for my father to lose custody to the state. When I entered the school system, he was constantly investigated due to the bruising that regularly showed up on my body.

  My father never hit me. His abuse was neglect. I was young at the time, but even I understood his relief and could see it on his face as the social services lady helped me pack up my meager belongings in the corner of the living room where I slept on the sofa.

  That was the last time I ever saw him. He could have exercised his visitation rights, but he never bothered. Just like I never bothered to look for him when I hit eighteen. He doesn’t deserve to know me.

  Multiple sets of both old and warm hands shuffle me from the stretcher to a bed, and the room gets brighter with the addition of glaring spotlights they position over me. Someone lifts my lids and shines a light into each of my eyes. Impersonal touches poke and prod, and I know they’re trying to save me. Just what I don’t need.

  I’m tired. So tired of everything.

  A week ago, I sprinted home on my break because my period started. As you can imagine, having your period as a hemophiliac is a nightmare. The flow is like super heavy. Even the jumbo maxi pads they supply for emergencies at work weren’t going to cut it for me, and I knew it.

  Even though I had cramps like a mother fucker and certainly didn’t feel like running, that’s exactly what I did. Hoofing it home, I went all out, figuring, as long as I’m going home, I can change my pants too. By the time I’d huffed and puffed around the side of the house and into the dark, narrow stairwell leading up to my place, I was winded and almost dying. But the ibuprofen in my medicine cabinet was calling my name.

  As I slid the key into the lock, a rhythmic staccato drowned out the sound of my panting, but all I could think about was how fast I could strip off my pants and underwear to wash up, get a mega tampon plugged up there and then change into fresh work pants. Imagine my surprise when I rushed into my tiny kitchen to see my co-worker splayed across the flimsy kitchen table while my boyfriend held her ankles high in each hand.

  My eyes zeroed in on his pants around his calves as his black ass flexed and twitched. Neither one of them noticed me as I cut across the side of the kitchen to go into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind me. I thought I was breathing heavy before—that was nothing!

  Ripping my pants and underwear off, I started the hot water to get a warm cloth, staring at myself in the mirror as I listen to them question each other through the hollow door about whether or not it could be me in here. Who the fuck else would it be?

  Carrie, the fucking tramp getting banged in my kitchen, works almost exclusively nights, so our interaction is limited. She hasn’t been at the DQ as long as I have, but always seemed like a decent person. She always does her job okay, anyways. But I’m not mad at her. In fact, I’m not even that mad at him. I expected it.

  Isn’t this how it always is? And always ends? Promises… lies… cheating… why did I think he’d be any different? I didn’t, really. You just can’t help hoping.

  A buzzing, high-pitched noise fills the room, bringing my attention back to the present. Despite the drugs they’re pumping into me, I can still feel every bruise from the pummelling I received from Tommy earlier. Supposedly, he just stopped by for his stuff.

  “She’s flatlining!”

  “Clear!”

  The teeth-grinding pressure that brings me back to the present is horrible. The annoying electronic sound has subsided, and all is quiet except for some heavy muffled breathing and the slow methodical beeping of machinery. After a few seconds, the frantic poking and prodd
ing begins again as they decide I’m not going to take off on them again any time soon.

  What I wouldn’t give for this all to be over. I know, I know. That’s a terrible attitude to have.

  I’m an independent, self-sufficient, African American woman. I have a job and a home… but I’m tired.

  Tired of never fitting in, just like all the years in foster care. Tired of being lied to over and over again by men who’re only interested in getting into my pants for a limited amount of time. They say whatever it takes. They love me, want to be with me, blah, blah… snore.

  But here I am.

  This is the second time I’ve been put in the hospital by a boyfriend. The last time I was still in foster care. Clearly, it doesn’t take that much of being knocked around for me to get here, but still…

  I promised myself that next time, I wasn’t coming here. I hate the pitying looks and everyone shoving pamphlets at me about meetings and domestic violence. Not again.

  When Tommy buried his hand in my braids and yanked me toward him earlier, I thought he’d force me. Rape—now that I can deal with. But when his fist hit my face, and I flew at the ground to his feet, I knew this would be different. It was… because I learned that being kicked in the ribs really fucking hurts, in addition to taking my breath away.

  Yes. I’m ready for this to all be over. What’s the point?

  I’ll never do anything but work at the local fast food joint. My life has no meaning… no excitement. I’m waiting to die. This is what I’d thought would happen. I’d be injured and die alone.

  As the voices around me continue to hook me up to machines, providing fluid and medical care that I’m never going to be able to afford, my mind runs on repeat, “Why can’t they just leave me alone?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  - Chevepak

  FOURTEEN DAILY ROTATIONS AGO

  My skin prickles as the scratchy white robe I’m wearing flutters against me. A brief pressure change makes my ears pop as I adjust to how deep in the catacombs I’ve come. “They’re right on schedule. I spoke with my contact on the Discovery, and everything is falling into line for them to be here during the Presentation Holiday as planned.”