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Rescued by Qaiyaan (Audiobook)

Rescued by Qaiyaan (Audiobook)

Galactic Pirate Brides, Book 1

With no females of his kind left, Captain Qaiyaan's fleet has turned to piracy and revenge. Humans are too fragile to withstand the mating bond of his species. But then he rescues Lisa from a derelict spaceship and discovers she carries a secret that could change the fate of his people forever—if she can survive the process… Buy now to experience this captivating intergalactic adventure!
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Main Tropes

  • Last of His Species Alien
  • Heroine with a Secret
  • Fatal Mate Bond
  • Rebel Underdogs
  • Space Fantasy
  • Evil Galactic Corporation


Humans are too fragile to withstand the mating bond of his species.

An evil corporation ruthlessly destroyed Qaiyaan’s home planet and left his species without females. Now he and his crew prowl the stars in search of revenge. When they rescue a beautiful human female from her cryogenic slumber, she awakens primal urges in Qaiyaan’s soul he never thought he’d feel again.


But claiming Lisa isn’t an option. His embrace would be fatal, the powerful connection of his kind too intense for a human to endure. Yet despite the forbidden attraction, their passion burns brighter with each passing moment, and Qaiyaan begins to suspect that Lisa is not what she seems.

Then he discovers she carries a secret that could change the fate of his people forever—if she can survive the process…

Intro Into Chapter One

“I recognize your ship, Captain Qaiyaan.” The voice coming over the ship’s comm deepened with menace. “You’re interfering with a legal salvage operation.”

The two ships rotating helplessly outside Qaiyaan’s port screen told a different story than the human on the comm was telling; an eyeful of stars peeked through the blackened hole piercing the Syndicorp passenger ship’s hull, while the second, unmarked vessel’s short-range lasers glowed from recent use. “Seems you ought to be a bit more generous,” Qaiyaan drawled. “What with needing our help and all. I’m gonna take first crack at the salvage, then we’ll get you your part. You can have whatever we leave behind.”

“I warn you, don’t touch that ship!” blustered the voice on the other end.

Normally Qaiyaan’d wish the other pirate captain well and move on. Not today. His crew hadn’t had a profitable job in half a Denaidan year. This opportunity was too good to pass up. Besides, anyone who blew a hole in an unarmed passenger transport—Syndicorp or otherwise—left a sour taste in Qaiyaan’s mouth. “I could simply wait here. My first mate estimated in half a day we’ll have two ships in need of salvage. This is an awful deep part of space to find yourselves without a spare flux modulator.”

“You fucking son-of-a-rakwiji-whore bastard! I have powerful friends, and I can make sure you never find safe harbor in this sector again!”

Qaiyaan crossed his arms and glared at the comm. “I’m the only friend you have in the galaxy at this moment, so I suggest you be polite.” 

Noatak, Qaiyaan’s first mate, grinned at him from the navigator’s seat, the copper sheen of his skin reflecting the multi-colored light from the control panels. The small cockpit, designed for humans, was barely big enough for the two Denaidan males to breathe at the same time. “Want me to take us in for soft docking?”

Qaiyaan watched the human pirate ship complete another slow, helpless turn in the port monitor. “Take us in, but keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Could be a Syndicorp trap.”

“Pretty elaborate for a setup.” Noatak shook his head, the metal beads decorating his long hair and beard clicking softly.

“Chances of blowing both in-line flux modulators at once and not having a spare? Either he’s stupid, or it’s a setup.”

“I say he’s stupid.” Noatak adjusted the controls to nose the Hardship toward the passenger wreckage. 

Qaiyaan rose from the captain’s chair. Shit happened, especially to ships running less-than-legal activities. He ought to know, having just forked out the proceeds from their latest heist to retrofit a new hull onto the Hardship’s battle-damaged frame. The black market repairman’d all but asked Qaiyaan to bend over and spread his cheeks. Rotten, cheating bastard. 

Turning to the door, he paused and looked over his shoulder at Noatak. “Just be careful. Even if it’s not a trap, Syndicorp’ll be looking for their missing ship, and I don’t want to be caught with our dicks out.”

After sealing the control room door, he slid down the ladder to the cargo bay, booted feet clanging against the catwalk grating as he landed. “Mekoryuk! Tovik! All hands on deck!”

Mekoryuk poked his clean-shaven face out of the med bay. He was the only crew member who chose not to wear the customary full beard the Denaida prided themselves on, citing a doctor’s need for cleanliness or some such anaq. “What is it?”

“Salvage mission. Assume zero atmo. No time for suits. Syndicorp could be riding our ass any minute. Where’s Tovik?”

“Where else?” Mek tilted his head toward the end of the hall.

Qaiyaan left the doctor and strode to where the hatch to the engine room stood open. As captain, he could appreciate the well-oiled hum of a ship’s engines, but Tovik was a bit too much in love with moving parts. Squatting next to the hole, Qaiyaan yelled, “Tovik! On deck ready for void! And bring a spare in-line flux modulator! Now!”

Knowing his crewmen would comply without further prodding, he headed for the airlock. Through the portal, he watched Noatak guide the magnetic grappler into place. The captain of the human ship was probably apoplectic, watching his cash cow get raped by another ship. Tough luck. Qaiyaan’d be sure to leave the replacement flux modulator within reach, but not until the Hardship was ready to hightail it out of there. 

The first mate finessed the grappler toward the other ship’s open airlock, his voice crackling over the internal comm to the cargo bay. “You sure you don’t want to take time to suit up?”

Mekoryuk arrived with a med-kit over his shoulder, and Qaiyaan shot him a grin as he answered. “No suits. These qumli need the practice.”

Tovik pounded up, feet bare as usual, his scruffy beard and hair not quite the full mane of a mature Denaida male. Qaiyaan scowled at him, looking pointedly at his gleaming copper feet. The youngster said he had better control of his ionic abilities if his skin was bare, but one of these days he was going to lose a toe, or worse. At least the boy carried the spare flux modulator, as requested. 

While Noatak secured the flexi-tube between the ships, Qaiyaan filled in the other crew members. “I’m not sure what we’ll find over there, but it’s not likely to be pretty. Grab everything not nailed down. We’ll sort our inventories later.”

Mek asked, “What about survivors?”

“There’s no life signs aboard.” Qaiyaan pointed to the modulator in Tovik’s hands. “That’ll stay with the human ship once we leave. Can you give it a slow push their direction? I don’t want it to reach them until we’re long gone.”

“You bet, Captain!” the young man nodded, likely already calculating trajectory and speed at which to push the thing.

“Stand fast for void!” Noatak’s voice echoed through the cargo bay.

Qaiyaan barely had time to summon his ionic shell before the doors cracked open. A blast of air swept past, rattling the flexi-tube as it sucked into the other ship and out the gaping hole in its hull. The Denaidan’s ability to withstand vacuum had made them one of the most sought-after races for Syndicorp marine troopers before the catastrophe had ended their world. Now…

Now they were just pirates.

Concentrating on keeping his feet on the deck, Qaiyaan tapped his temple to activate his cochlear implant. A vestige of his days as a trooper, it came in handy in zero atmo when they couldn’t bother with suits and the attached comms.

The three crewmen pushed themselves along the flexi-tube into the darkness of the other ship. Tovik, ever prepared, pulled a floodlight from his belt and slapped it to the inner wall of the passenger ship. The illumination exposed a passenger cabin surprisingly gutted of anything passenger-related. No nav-grav seats for humanoids, no methane tanks for garan’uks, not even any acceleration webbing for yanipa-nimayu. Instead, cargo containers of all shapes and sizes floated freely within the cabin, some cracked open and spilling their contents in haloes around them.

What the hell is this ship? Qaiyaan wondered. He’d been expecting the gruesome sight of space-bloated passengers. Not that he minded this alternative. He reached out and grabbed a floating package of hypodermic needles. Medical supplies?

He exchanged a glance with Tovik, who shrugged. Whatever this stuff was didn’t matter; he’d much rather deal with salable goods than corpses.

Qaiyaan pushed toward the nearest container until he could get a hand on it and shoved the man-sized box toward the flexi-tube, relying on inertia to carry it most of the way. One after another, he moved containers, working until sweat coated his skin beneath his ionic shielding. Even in zero-G, it took effort to hold himself steady and force the heavy boxes into motion. At least twenty minutes passed before he grew light-headed. Using the ionic shell was much like a diver holding his breath, and he knew they’d soon have to come up for air. A tinny voice in his implant did the job for him. “We have incoming on long-range, Captain. Can’t yet tell if it’s Syndicorp, but they’ll be in range for ID in eight minutes.”

Anaq. They’d come looking faster than he’d expected. He raised his arm and caught the other men’s attention, circling two index fingers overhead to tell them to wrap it up. The men dropped what they were doing and moved toward the exit.

As soon as the door sealed, blessed oxygen began to fill the bay, but it would be a few minutes before there was enough pressure to breathe. Still light-headed, Qaiyaan began helping secure the containers against the floor’s mag-locks. He estimated they’d emptied at least half the salvage and was feeling quite pleased as Noatak began accelerating away from the derelict ship.

“Captain?” Mek called from behind a stack of containers.

At that same moment, Noatak’s voice crackled through the bay’s comm. “Confirmed Syndicorp ship closing in fast. We need to burn, ASAP.”

“We need five minutes,” Qaiyaan said, assessing the remaining cargo.

“Captain!” Mekoryuk called again. “We have a problem.”

“What?” Qaiyaan leaned around the corner. Tovik and the medic stood over a cargo box, staring down at a portal in its surface. Blinking red light bounced off both their faces.

Tovik rubbed his hand vigorously across the small window. “Is that a girl?”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Qaiyaan slapped a mag clamp against the container he was securing and stood. “A cryo-pod? Who the hell picked that up?”

“You said grab everything,” Tovik said. He looked up to meet Qaiyaan’s gaze. “Can we keep her?”

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