Lady Luck Read online

  Contents

  Lady Luck

  DESCRIPTION

  CHAPTER ONE - LUCK

  CHAPTER TWO - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER THREE - LUCK

  CHAPTER FOUR - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER FIVE - LUCK

  CHAPTER SIX - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER SEVEN - LUCK

  CHAPTER EIGHT - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER NINE - LUCK

  CHAPTER TEN - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - LUCK

  CHAPTER TWLEVE - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN - LUCK

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN - LUCK

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - LUCK

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER NINETEEN - LUCK

  CHAPTER TWENTY - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - LUCK

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - LUCK

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - LUCK

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - LUCK

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - LUCK

  CHAPTER THIRTY - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - LUCK

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - LUCK

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - LUCK

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN - LUCK

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE - LUCK

  CHAPTER FORTY - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE - LUCK

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO - NYLEENA

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE - LUCK

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR - NYLEENA

  EPILOGUE - ASSHOLE ALCOR

  END OF BOOK SHIT

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Edited by RJ Locksley

  Cover Design: JA Huss

  Cover Photo Sara Eirew

  Copyright © 2019 by JA Huss

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-978-1-950232-02-4

  HAREM STATION BOOK FOUR

  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.

  Find Julie at her website

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  DESCRIPTION

  KC Cross is the pen name of New York Times bestselling author, JA Huss.

  Luck knew two things when he left Harem Station months ago.

  One. The silver-haired Cygnian princess Nyleena was still safely frozen in her cryopod.

  And two. There was a good chance she was his soulmate.

  He left anyway.

  Nyleena is what you might call feisty. Or sassy. Or maybe just… feral. She is wild. Much too wild for Luck’s taste. But now that he’s home there’s no way to deny it.

  Like it or not, she is his.

  Lucky for him, all Cygnian princesses have one true weakness. They cannot resist cooking up crazy plans to tackle unsolvable problems. And he’s going to use that irresistible urge to tame her savage spirit.

  Nyleena has plans of her own and none of them involve Luck. She is out for blood. All the people who made her life hell will be dealt with, and she’s going to find every single one of them and take them out.

  Right after she solves this one last unsolvable problem… how not to fall in love with your soulmate.

  Lady Luck is a sexy hate-fuck of a story about a wild princess, six hot brothers trying to tame her, bad relationship advice from killer sexbots, your favorite evil, but misunderstood, dragonbee bot, and a repentant AI trapped in a sex prison with a succubus.

  CHAPTER ONE - LUCK

  I don’t think people can properly appreciate the immense size of Harem Station the way my brothers and I do for the simple reason that no one outside our immediate family has seen the hidden parts.

  It is massive even if you only consider the known spaces. Four hundred levels. And that’s not including the hidden lower levels where the docking bays and lockups are, or the hidden upper levels where we all live and keep the harem and the Pleasure Prison.

  I know every corner of this place. I know every support beam, every crack in the obsidian floors, every servo bot’s name, all the best places to drink, and gamble, and shoot, and shop, and eat on each level.

  I know all Harem’s secrets too. Of which she has many. I’m standing in one of them right now, so that’s the one I’m really talking about.

  When you have a massive space station like this you need a massive biosphere. We have a dozen or so levels that would probably qualify as forests if the flora were on a planet. But it’s not enough to sustain gas exchange necessary to maintain life.

  So we have places like this too.

  I look up at the skylight—which doesn’t give me a view of the sky, since we’re in space. Or even a view of space, since that would defeat the purpose of this small patch of grass and flowerbeds.

  It’s just fake sunshine. But it’s warm and doesn’t feel fake. It’ll even give you a sunburn if you’re not careful because it’s actual ultraviolet light.

  To get here you have to really know where you’re going. These places are well hidden to avoid being disturbed by people, or bots, or little trysts like the one I’m about to have. They’re not on any station map or any welcome brochure. They’re not even in the Baby ALCOR’s data core because he asked me about them not too long ago.

  I, of course, denied their existence.

  These gardens have always been my job here. Were my first job, actually. When I was about… oh, maybe sixteen or so, ALCOR came to me and said this was my secret mission.

  He pulled that shit a lot when he wanted us to do things we didn’t want to do. “This is your secret mission, Luck. It’s very important.”

  All bullshit, of course.

  Well… except that one thing.

  But that’s got nothing to do with the flowers.

  I fell for it though. Secret greenhouses, some of which were filled with flowers that got you high?

  Hell yeah, I took care of that. I had a nice little drug business going back when people first started coming to Harem Station. I made a bundle. But ALCOR shut that down pretty quick. He was pissed. So pissed. And went on a rant like you would not believe. Mostly because I wasn’t charging enough. Which, now that I look back on it, is kinda funny and makes me smile.

  But also because the essence of the flowers was a potent hallucinogen and two people jumped off ledges.

  They didn’t die, or course. He caught them with safety bots. But it was kinda fucked up so I stopped. And I was never into the drug myself. I tried it a few times and it gave me some weird-ass dreams that still kinda creep me out when I think about them now.

  But anyway, there’s a couple hundred of these little mini-greenhouses scattered across the station to help keep the air fresh and sweet in the most densely packed parts of the living quarters. And ninety-nine point nine-nine-nine-nine percent of them do not have psychedelic flowers.

  Just regular plants that make good air.

  Funny thing about people who live
on stations—especially the kind of people who live here on Harem. They get angry and stressed if they don’t have enough breathable air. It’s not like water, which can be rationed with shower timers. Or food, which has to be earned through servitude or purchased with credits.

  Air is free on Harem and we provide more than enough. There are no low oxygen levels on our station. There is no place on Harem where you fear for your health or ability to think because you can’t suck in enough air.

  Not all stations are like that. Almost all of them make you pay for air.

  This would put our organic occupants at a disadvantage because half our inhabitants are bots who don’t need to breathe.

  We provide free charging stations for our inorganic occupants too.

  Free air, free charging. It makes a difference in the mental health of your people.

  But I digress.

  I’m lying on the grass in one of the hidden patches of green enjoying my fake sunshine. My cocks are hard with expectations because this is where I meet Nyleena.

  When we all came back from the latest shit show out at the Loathsome One’s Lair Station a couple months ago I knew she was mine immediately.

  One shared look between us was all it took to jumpstart my cock and make her eyes glow with white light.

  But one more shared look was also all it took to realize—we are not compatible.

  She growled at me. This low, threatening rumble in her throat made my cocks deflate immediately.

  I growled back. Not even meaning to, either. It was just instinct.

  We avoided each other for a week after that. She went her way, I went mine. And for a little bit everything was fine. There were no urges. No irrational thoughts of sex at the most inappropriate times. No lying awake at night longing for her body.

  That’s because we didn’t interact much that first week. Then I bumped in to her at a shooting gallery and I had this irrational urge to stuff her inside a maintenance closet and fuck her brains out.

  I didn’t do that. That was all her. She stuffed me into a maintenance closet and fucked my brains out. So… after that happened we were a lost cause. Oh, we hated each other. We still growled and she likes to bite. But it didn’t take long to realize that we needed each other to continue to operate on a normal level because suddenly she was all I thought about. Every fucking minute all I wanted to do was fuck her. And after a couple of weeks of this lust-filled agony, she confessed she was having the same problem.

  So we came to an agreement and arranged these trysts.

  I look forward to them now.

  Don’t get me wrong. They are one hundred percent hate-fucks.

  Most of the time I have my hand over her mouth so I don’t have to hear her talk. And she always injures me before we’re done. Dragging her long fingernails down my back with such force she makes me bleed. Or she’ll bite me in the shoulder as she comes. Or grab my balls after I come, when she knows I’ll be able to feel it.

  She’s mean.

  Can I just get that out of the way right now?

  Princess Nyleena is mean.

  She is also insane, and unpredictable, and arrogant.

  There is almost nothing to like about her.

  She does have pretty hair. I’ll give her that. Long, silver strands that look like thin wires of pure silver. And really nice tits. And the light inside her makes her skin look a little bit ethereal.

  But once she opens her mouth no one cares how beautiful she is.

  And she’s always up to something. Always finding a way to get in trouble. Last month she organized a bot strike down on level thirteen. Got the maintenance servos all riled up about working conditions. Two weeks ago we found her clinging to the outside of the station with a cyborg, drunk off their asses. I still don’t know why they were doing that. A bet, maybe? A dare? Who knows? And just a couple days ago she pushed some guy off level fifty-seven for grabbing her ass.

  That last one I kinda approved of, but the point is, she has way too much time on her hands.

  Crux has begged me to try to tame her, but you know what? I just don’t care that she’s wild. She’s not my problem. I mean, we fuck and all, but once that’s over I’m good for another twenty-four hours before I have to think about her again.

  Still, Crux did ask. Sorta begged, actually. He pulled me aside last night and said, “Luck, help me out here, brother. She’s just… wild. Can you just give her a job? Or a hobby, maybe? Something? Anything that will occupy her mind and make her stop fucking with people?”

  He was getting lots of complaints.

  She’s restless.

  And then he mentioned that Cygnian princesses have this weakness.

  If you challenge them to solve an unsolvable problem they becomes obsessed with it. It’s all they can think about. That’s how most of the runaway princesses up in the harem room escaped the Cygnian System. They came up with these crazy plans that involved stealing ships and blowing things up.

  That’s how Queen Corla escaped through a spin node back when we were all teenagers. That’s how Lyra saved Nyleena out at Bull Station and how Delphi got the Loathsome One—AKA Veila—to send her after Jimmy on a sentient ship to try to free her brother.

  Of course, they don’t always work. Rarely work, in fact. Otherwise we’d have thousands of runaway princesses here on the station and we almost never have more than a few dozen. It takes a lot of effort to round up that number. Lot of effort.

  But Crux said, “The plan doesn’t have to work, Luck. Just get her thinking about something other than fighting, and drinking, and causing trouble.”

  So I planted a little seed in Nyleena’s brain yesterday.

  I told her she was the only one on this whole station who didn’t pull her weight. And then I ticked off all the jobs I have. Like these greenhouses, for instance. And my salvage missions. And taking care of Lady Luck, and training with Cha-Cha. Shit like that. I basically challenged her to get a job using shame.

  And even though she laughed at me I know she’s been thinking about it.

  She gave no fucks. Called me a farmer. A junkyard scavenger. Ship sitter.

  But I could see the wheels turning in her head and pretty soon the idea that she needs a job will consume her. It will be all she can think about.

  “Well, I see you’re working hard today,” Nyleena snaps, coming into view from the long, dark hallways that lead to our secret spot.

  We have a secret hidden calendar with all our prearranged meeting spaces. Something I cooked up using a program left over from my teens when I first took over the secret garden mission, thank you very much.

  Nyleena is wearing a silver torso bodysuit with a flirty little lavender-lace skirt, the kind the mercenaries all wear these days. Tight, form-fitting, and shiny. When I first arrived she used to wear the kind that go all the way down her legs, the thin fabric disappearing inside her thigh-high stiletto boots.

  But she was wearing that when we had our first tryst and it became very clear, very quick, that getting access to her lady parts was gonna be an issue.

  She didn’t even fuck me that time. Said, “I do not get naked for trysts.” Flat-out refused to engage and left. But the next time I saw her she was wearing the torso bodysuit.

  Back then we were only trysting every few days but now… that’s too long.

  So every day now she wears this style of bodysuit. It’s like a strapless one-piece bathing suit that has a convenient stick-tab closure between her legs.

  And boots.

  I kinda love those boots.

  They are made of this silver malleable metal. Cold, and hard. But pliable too.

  And the bodysuit is a corset. I know, if she were to turn around, there’d be honest-to-God laces zig-zagging up her back.

  So fucking hot.

  Her silver hair is always wild, like the light in her eyes whenever she looks at me. And her tits always seem to be popping out of that strapless bodice.

  She looks like an organic sexbot an
d even though she’s mean, and there’s pretty much nothing to like about this wild, feral girl—my cocks stiffen at the sight of her every single time.

  It’s not fair.

  I didn’t choose her. They made us this way.

  The longing I feel for her when we don’t have sex every day is undeniable.

  I hate it. It’s a weakness I don’t want and never asked for.

  So that’s why we’re meeting here on this small patch of grass, surrounded by a bunch of immature space orchids that are just short green stalks with no flowers.

  To fuck.

  And that’s it.

  “Stop talking and climb on,” I say, fisting both my cocks. I’m ready for her. I want to get this over with as soon as possible. Feel the relief as it floods through my blood. Then go back out into the station and be normal.

  Until the satiated feeling wears off and we have to do it again.

  Mother of suns, why me? Why was I made this way?

  That’s the worst part, too. I fucking hate this. I don’t enjoy sex with Nyleena. She’s like water. I need her.

  Nyleena reaches between her legs and pulls the tabs that hold her suit together apart with a rip. Smiling that evil smile the whole time she stalks over to me, then steps over me. Straddling my body as she blocks the light with hers.

  She lifts up one sharp-heeled boot and places it on my chest, pushing down with force.

  I let her do it. I can’t feel shit right now. I’m way too hard to experience pain.

  And besides. I can see up her little skirt. Her pussy lips taunting me with the relief I’ll soon feel.

  She has this longing too.

  If she didn’t have an equal and opposite force of anger and hatred for me inside her the way I do her… if I thought for one second I could talk her into a DNA signature scrambler to make this all go away… I’d do it.

  I’d do it and just forget I ever laid eyes on this silver-haired demon.

  But we already know we’re fated. We already know that this… partnership, I guess you’d call it, is inevitable.

  “No foreplay today, Luck? Why do you always have to meet my already so low expectations? Hmmm? Can you, for once, just surprise me?”