Nax Read online

  Nax

  Sadie Carter

  Contents

  Books by Sadie Carter

  Let’s keep in touch!

  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

  Epilogue

  A note from the author

  Excerpt from Fairy Godmother Gone Bad

  Sadie Carter

  Nax

  © 2019, Sadie Carter

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  Cover Design: Dark City Designs

  Editor: Christie Giraud: EbookEditingPro

  Created with Vellum

  Books by Sadie Carter

  Zerconian Warriors Series

  Alien Warrior

  Alien Lover

  Alien Mate

  Sweet Alien Savage

  Alien Savior

  Alien Morsels

  Alien Mine

  All I Want for Christmas is my Alien

  Alien Sacrifice

  An Alien to Die For

  Alien Commander

  A Christmas Most Alien

  Alien Explosions

  Alien Retribution

  Alien Protector (coming 2019)

  Sky Warriors

  Marcun

  Sacaren

  A Sky Warrior Christmas

  Nax

  Joyadan Mates

  Rye

  Other

  Fairy Godmother Gone Bad

  Let’s keep in touch!

  To receive information about new releases, sneak peeks, giveaways and more please sign up to my newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/p8f0e4

  Join my Reader group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/427336111121364/

  1

  Where the hell was she?

  Crista raced down another dark alleyway. It was the middle of the freakin’ night and she was chasing shadows, dressed in just an old night shirt, gray sweatpants and sneakers. She hadn’t even put a bra on. And boy, was she regretting that now. On the bright side, this was one of those rare times she was pleased she didn’t have much to bounce around. If she’d had boobs like Annie Greig, who’d she’d been jealous of all the way through school, she’d be in a lot of pain right now.

  Of course, Annie Greig was now married with three kids, a house in the suburbs and a minivan in the driveway.

  Crista had a tiny one-bed apartment and a mother who went on walkabouts.

  Shit. Where was she?

  How had her mom managed to sneak past her? Mom slept in the bedroom while Crista used the fold-out couch. And she always woke up when her mom did. Except for tonight. And of course, this was the night that her mom somehow managed to not only sneak past her, but also find the key Crista kept hidden and unlock the door.

  Was this the same woman who just two nights ago put her cup of tea into the fridge and the milk into the microwave?

  She must have seen Crista hide the key. It was the only explanation she could think of. Now she was running around the streets looking for her. She needed to find her before something happened, if it hadn’t already.

  Dread filled her stomach as she ran down another alleyway. Oh God, she could be anywhere. Anything could happen to her out here. If her mother was harmed, Crista knew she would never forgive herself.

  I should have taken better care of her.

  She reached the end of the alleyway. Despair had her shoulders slumping as she stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  “Well, well, what have we here, boys?”

  She froze. Fuck. Shit. She’d been so busy worrying about her mother, she hadn’t been paying close enough attention to her surroundings.

  Big mistake, Crista.

  She slowly turned. And wished she hadn’t because there stood three of the ugliest, scruffiest men she’d ever seen.

  Run! Run!

  But terror held her in place. Two men stood directly under the street light while one hung back in the shadows. The taller guy was a bit pudgy around the middle, with greasy, dreadlocked hair. He wore a long beard that looked about as clean as his hair. The guy to his left was smaller and his waxed scalp reflected the light, making her squint. She couldn’t see much of the guy in the shadows. The smell of sweaty male and stale beer hit her. She barely resisted the urge to pinch her nose. Hadn’t they heard of personal hygiene?

  “Looks like a female, boss,” the small guy said. “Blonde one.”

  The pudgy guy turned to glare at him. “Yeah, I can see that, genius. It was a metaphorical question.”

  “Actually, I think you mean it was a rhetorical question,” she told him.

  They both turned to scowl at her, and she took a step back. What did she think she was doing? Run, Crista!

  She took another step back. The silent one on the right, who’d been watching her intently, just shook his head at her.

  “What?” the leader snapped. “No, it was metaphorical. A question that doesn’t need an answer.”

  “A metaphor states that one thing is another,” she explained. Jesus, Crista, shut up! “A rhetorical question is said to make a point not elicit an answer.”

  The smaller guy scratched at his head. “Huh?”

  This conversation was so ridiculous it would have been laughable under any other circumstances. But she didn’t feel like laughing. She felt frightened, and she was all too aware of how alone she was out here. Jesus, what if her mom had run into these guys? She swallowed down her fear. She had to figure a way out of this.

  Her mom was relying on her.

  “Whatever,” the leader said. “Who cares. I know she’s a female, dickwad. Didn’t need you to point it out.” The leader whacked the smaller guy over the head. “You think I don’t know a cunt when I see one?” He smiled at her then licked his lips. “And I bet she has a mighty fine cunt, what do you think, Killer?”

  The guy in the shadows let out a grunt. Killer? You had got to be fucking kidding her. Why the hell was he called Killer? Couldn’t she be accosted by someone called Fluffy? Or Sweetie-pie? Nope, she got Killer.

  Yippee.

  Killer stepped out of the shadows and smiled. He had greasy hair pulled back into a ponytail and a scar that slashed his right cheek. That wasn’t a pleasant smile. That was a deranged serial murderer smile.

  A car drove towards them. Hope flooded her. Surely, the driver would see them and stop. But would they realize there was anything wrong? Maybe she should jump out in front of it.

  And get run over. Great plan.

  As the headlights ran over the trio, they shied back, like vampires, worried they were about to go up in flames.

  Probably a good time to run.

  She turned to race down the alley. Too late. Fuck! Someone grabbed her arm and, turning her, slammed her against the wall. Her breath left her lungs in a whoosh, tears filling her eyes as her head smashed against the hard brick. Pain radiated up her arm from where he held her forearm in a tight grip.

  “Going somewhere, snatch?”

  She looked up into Killer’s face. She’d underes
timated him. The other two had lulled her into a false sense of security with their dumb and dumber routine.

  Note to self: Be wary of guys called Killer.

  His body pressed against hers and she shuddered, her stomach rolling over. She took a shallow breath then another. Fuck. Crap. What was she going to do? Panic made it hard to think, and she shuddered as he dropped his face close to hers.

  “You’re trembling, cunt. Want Killer that bad, do you? Want to feel Killer’s dick inside you?”

  Great. Not only was he called Killer, but he liked to speak about himself in the third person.

  Not creepy. Not creepy at all.

  “What I’d like is for Killer to get his face out of mine and find a damn breath mint.”

  Oh shit. What did she go and say that for?

  He leaned back, then quickly back-handed her. She cried out, sliding down the wall as pain radiated from her face down her neck. He let go of her wrist and wrapped his hand around her neck, dragging her back up. His hand pressed against her windpipe, restricting her airflow. She gasped for air, clawing at his hand.

  He pawed her breast with his other hand then grabbing hold of her shirt, ripped it down the middle. She shoved at his chest, wishing there was enough room to shove her knee into his crotch. She swung her fist up towards his chin and he ducked back. Then he laughed.

  Not the reaction she’d been hoping for.

  “Keep going, cunt. I like it better when they fight.”

  He moved the hand away from her neck and she took a deep, cleansing breath then let out a blood-curdling scream. He quickly placed his hand over her mouth, slamming her head into the wall. The world around her swam and nausea bubbled in her stomach. She was going to be lucky to come out of this with her brain cells still intact.

  “What ya doing, Killer? Fucks sake, you wanna bring the cops down on us?” the leader said nervously.

  “It’s my turn to go first,” Baldy whined. “Last time, Killer ruined the chick before it was my turn.”

  “Yeah, being half-dead didn’t stop you from fucking her, though did it?” Killer snarled. “Not that she’d have felt much with your tiny dick.”

  She swallowed heavily, close to losing the contents of her stomach. She squirmed, her eyes watering, unable to move more than a few inches with Killer’s body pressed so closely against her, his hand across her mouth. His other hand grabbed the wrist he’d wrenched earlier, pressed it to the building behind her and squeezed until tears filled her eyes.

  “Hey, my dick’s as big as yours, asshole,” the small guy whined.

  “You’d be lucky to find your dick with tweezers and a magnifying glass.” The leader the laughed.

  “Fuck the two of—”

  “Hey! What’s going on here? What do you think you’re doing? Get away from her before I call the cops!”

  She thought she imagined the voice for a moment. Killer loosened his hold on her and she peered around his body, down the alley where the yelling came from. A small man emerged. She couldn’t get a good look at him—it was too dark—but she knew that one man wasn’t going to fare well against these three. Not unless he was Batman. And this guy definitely didn’t look like Batman.

  “Piss off, old man,” the leader yelled out. “We’ve got ourselves a whore for the night. Ain’t nothing to do with you.”

  Crista wrenched her face to the side, freeing herself from Killer’s hold. “I am not a whore! Run! Call the cops—”

  Killer smothered the rest of her words. Despair filled her when the man didn’t move. In fact, he came closer into the light from the street. Oh shit. It was Mr. Angelo, who ran the bakery. He was about eighty if he was a day, stooped and wrinkly. He was holding a rolling pin in one hand and was wearing a dusty apron. Baking for the next morning? Oh God, why wouldn’t he run? He was going to get himself killed.

  “Old man, you’re just asking for a beating,” Killer warned. He turned, pulling her with him so her back was pressed against his chest with his hand over her mouth. She wiggled, trying to free herself. She had to do something to help Mr. Angelo. Killer lowered his mouth to her ear. “Keep wriggling, bitch, I like it.”

  He pushed his cock against the small of her back, laughing as she went still. A door slammed shut down the alley.

  “Hey, pops, you okay out here?”

  “Boys, need some help taking out some trash,” Mr. Angelo called back.

  Killer tensed as two men walked towards Mr. Angelo, stopping next to him. They were huge. One had his hair cut short and looked like he bench-pressed small cars. The other was shorter, with shaggy hair and a tight t-shirt that barely contained his muscular arms and chest.

  She’d never been happier to see anyone in her life.

  “What’s going on here?” one of them asked.

  “These wankers giving you problems, Pops?”

  “Seems to me they were attacking this girl here. Heard her cry out when I went to take the trash out. Then they threatened me with a beating.”

  “Did they just?” Stepping forward, the guy with the shorter hair cracked his knuckles. Baldy caved first. Without a word, he just turned and took off.

  “Aww, was it something I said?” Knuckle cracker asked. “I’m sorry, my manners aren’t as good as what they were. What about you guys? You want to play? I haven’t had a good brawl in at least a year. The wife doesn’t like it when I beat idiots bloody. But she doesn’t have to know.”

  “Just try to leave them with the ability to eat and shit on their own, bro,” the other guy said. “I always feel sorry for the ones that are left shitting in a bag.”

  The leader took off next.

  “For fuck’s sake. Fucking useless idiots.” Killer gave her breast one last, painful squeeze. “Guess you get off this time, cunt. Next time I see you, it won’t go so well for you.”

  She swayed as he suddenly let her go, then turned, to find he’d already disappeared. Knuckle Cracker gave chase, letting out a loud whoop that sent a shiver of fear down her spine. She cradled her sore arm against her chest as trembles of shock rocked her body, and it was all she could do to keep herself upright.

  “Hey, you okay there?”

  She looked over as Mr. Angelo slowly approached. She flinched away as he reached out for her.

  “Easy now, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Maybe not, but…she looked over his shoulder at the big man behind him. Mr. Angelo looked back over his shoulder. “Ah, that’s my grandson, Marc. Don’t worry, he might act tough but he’s just a big softy on the inside.”

  “Jeez, Pops, you’re a killer on my reputation.” But he smiled as he said it, and kept his distance from her. His arms were out at his sides as though trying to make out he wasn’t dangerous. “You okay there, sweetheart?”

  “I-I—”

  Fuck. She needed to pull herself together. She straightened, forcing herself not to lean back against the building behind her. “I’m fine.”

  “Yeah,” he said skeptically. “Well, excuse me for saying so, but you don’t look or sound fine. We should take her back to the bakery, Pops. Call the cops.”

  “Yes. Come on, honey. Come with me.”

  Crista stared at his outstretched arm. She didn’t know what to do. Should she go with him? Trust him? He’d helped her. He and his two bruiser grandsons. But she didn’t feel like trusting anyone right now.

  Unbidden, the image of a grumpy, rude male entered her head. Jesus, why would she think about him right now? She certainly didn’t trust him. Or like him. Yet, right now she wouldn’t mind having Nax Clacka to lean against. Not that he’d probably want her touching him. He didn’t seem to like her much.

  Mr. Angelo just stood there patiently. His grandson stepped back as though giving her more space. Go with them, Crista. Wasn’t like she had much choice. With the way her legs shook she wasn’t getting far by herself.

  “Assholes got away, damn it,” a deep voice boomed, making her cry out. She turned as she saw the other man approach. Even th
ough she knew it was Mr. Angelo’s grandson, she still took a few hasty steps back, tripping on her own feet and smacking down hard on the ground.

  “Jesus, idiot, what did you do that for?” Marc berated the other one, who stepped towards her.

  “Shit, I’m sorry, lady. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Step back, Liam, you’re overwhelming her.” Pops stepped between her and the Knuckle Cracker, shooing him with his hands.

  “Sorry. Sorry.”

  “You two go inside and call the cops and put on some coffee. I’ll help her.”

  Mr. Angelo turned and held out his hand to her. She took it with her uninjured one. He was surprisingly strong, pulling her up easily. He held onto her arm, whether to support her or because he thought she might run she wasn’t certain. But she was glad he was there for her to lean on as he led her through the back entrance of the bakery and into a small kitchen area. There was a table and four chairs in the room and he led her to one of the chairs. Liam stood at the counter pouring out some coffee, and she could hear a voice murmuring from the hallway.

  Mr. Angelo moved away, returning quickly with a blanket, which he put around her shoulders. She smiled up at him gratefully.

  “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”

  “Yes. I’ve been in the bakery a few times. Crista.”

  “That’s right. You call me Pops.”

  It might have been weird under other circumstances to call a man she barely knew Pops, but seeing how he and his burly grandsons had just saved her from being beaten, raped, and killed, it didn’t seem so odd.

  He patted her shoulder lightly. “You just sit there. Let us take care of you.”