Chapter One

THE SUN had not yet risen when the shrill sound of the alarm clock pierced through the stillness of the room. John groggily opened his eyes, and a sense of dread immediately washed over him like a wave crashing against the shore.

Today was the day, the day that marked the end of an era—the last harvest. His heart raced as he thought about what was to come, grateful that it would all finally be over.

In the United States, a lottery system had been established when the aliens first arrived. The government assigned a specific number to each young man between the ages of twenty-three and twenty-eight, as if they were nothing but objects to be gambled with—their identities basically reduced to mere numbers on a list.

Then, once a year, for five long years, the lotto took place. Those unfortunate men were plucked from their lives and herded into holding centers, where they underwent a barrage of medical and psychological tests, and then they were whisked away to waiting spaceships.

Uncertainty and fear ran rampant among families as they watched their loved ones disappear. It was a twisted game of chance that certain humans were forced to take part in.

Video, of course, showed what the young men went through, something that the government actively tried to hide from the people. The news agencies never showed said videos because the government would demand the removal of them, but there were other sources on the Internet if someone wanted to see exactly what was being done to a certain group of people.

John’s grandparents couldn’t understand why he was always so anxious, especially since they’d spared no expense in paying off certain government officials whom they had close ties with to ensure that John’s number would not be drawn. The weight of the bribes hung heavy on him.

Coming from an incredibly well-known and wealthy family definitely had its perks. Plus, rumor was only gay men were being targeted. The government vehemently denied these allegations, but there was no concrete evidence to prove their innocence or guilt since none of the men taken had returned.

Official statements claimed they were due to be released after five years, yet like many others, John harbored a deep-rooted distrust for the government’s words.

That was another reason why his grandparents, who basically raised him, were not worried about his number being called—because he was not gay. Or so they thought. But John did fall into that certain group of people supposedly being targeted. His grandparents just didn’t know.

They did not know that John’s heart and desires fell into a category deemed unacceptable by society and the powers that be. Because of this, John couldn’t share his true self with anyone, so he continued to hide behind a facade, afraid of the consequences if he dared to reveal his secret.

Try living with that.

He didn’t plan to tell his grandparents. Ever. He silently prayed that they would pass away before he met someone he was actually attracted to. It was foolish to hope for such a thing, but his grandparents were influential, and he didn’t want to risk getting on their bad side.

God help him if he ever fell in love. God help him anyway because they were already pushing him to get out there and meet women. It had been a year since he’d finished medical school, so it was time for him to start looking around, according to them.

Because shopping for a wife was definitely at the top of his list of things to do.

Were his grandparents snobby? Of course they were. They carried themselves with an air of superiority, their family lineage tracing back to the Mayflower. John was related to Johnathan William Cooke, after all.

Sighing, he rolled out of bed and stumbled to the shower. Today he had the privilege to assist in a bone marrow transplant on a little girl who had leukemia.

He was really looking forward to getting to work with Doctor Gieschen, a pediatric hematologist/oncologist who was highly respected in the field. And even though there was a ball of dread sitting in his stomach, he was also very excited about today.

After he showered, he made breakfast and then hurried to his vehicle.

JOHN ARRIVED at the hospital and parked. Grabbing his briefcase and white coat, he hurried inside. Waving at a couple of nurses and other doctors, he made his way to the doctor’s lounge.

A lot of doctors just wore their scrubs to work. His grandparents’ voices echoed in his head—they’d have a hissy fit if they saw him dressed down in such a way. He was dressed in a stupidly expensive brand-name suit, almost as if he was going to a business meeting instead of a day of saving lives.

They expected perfection from him at all times, and that meant always being dressed in the most professional and pristine manner possible. It consumed more of his life than it should, but he was also trapped by their expectations. Was it too much to ask to live his life how he wanted without their constant judgment?

Give him a loving partner of the male persuasion and a fulfilling career—and he’d be happy. Really, he didn’t think that was too much to ask. Instead, he saw a lifetime of a loveless marriage stretching in front of him. The only hope of happiness he’d have most likely came from his career.

Oh, he knew how this was going to go. His grandparents would find a woman fitting his station, they would marry and have two point five kids that nannies would raise. Kids. The very thought turned his stomach. Getting it up for a woman was going to be impossible.

His wife would most likely devote her life to social clubs and charity work, while John spent every spare minute working. And when he wasn’t working? Like most of the men who were ridiculously wealthy and liked what he liked, he’d have men sign an NDA, then pay an incredible amount to have sex with them.

What a life to look forward to.

In the darkest part of the night, when he was overwhelmed with how hopeless his life would be, John wished for an escape. But unfortunately, for people like him, there was no escape.

He headed straight for his locker, eager to change into something more comfortable and practical. Now was not the time to get lost in his head. There were preparations he needed to do to get ready for the upcoming procedure.

EVERYTHING WAS going great. Swimmingly, even. Music played softly in the background, creating a calming ambiance. John had no idea how much time had passed, but Dr. Gieschen seemed well pleased.

“So, Doctor Cooke, if you would look here, I would like to—”

“No! You cannot go in there!”

Dr. Gieschen’s head snapped up. “What the hell?”

John raised his head too, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the doors to the surgical suite. His heart rate spiked, adrenaline surging through his veins. What the hell was happening out there?

Before he could even finish the thought, the door flew open and three heavily armed SWAT team members stormed into the room, their presence sending the tense atmosphere into a frenzy. There were shouts, screaming, cussing, and threats… and that was just coming from the surgical staff.

Horrified, John could only stare in disbelief as the SWAT team charged toward him. How dare they shove their way in there? Did those cops not understand the delicacy of what he and the rest of the surgical staff were doing?

A knot formed in his stomach as he realized the severity of the situation. They had contaminated everything. This couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t. He frantically tried to comprehend what he was seeing while the approaching figures bared down on him. Several of the nurses were sobbing. One of the SWAT members flung the surgical tray across the room, sending sharp instruments clattering onto the floor. The sound of a piercing scream echoed off the walls.

And John stared at their young patient, knowing in his bones that there was little hope left and they were about to lose another innocent life. He looked up just in time to see Dr. Gieschen swing at one of the SWAT members, just to get a fist in the belly.

A crippling surge of terror engulfed John as realization dawned on him. Oh no. No. No. No. This could not be happening. This absolutely could not be happening. Dizziness swept over him as he stood there staring, like an idiot. This was no random tragedy. His number had been drawn. He had been picked. He… he was done.

His life as he knew it was over.

His hand trembled uncontrollably. His hand never trembled. He couldn’t believe it—in med school he had been known for having the steadiest hands in the field, but now they were shaking violently. Two SWAT members lunged at him, grabbing him with a force that made his entire body jolt.

Anger.

So much anger he was nearly choking on it. How dare they? How dare they jeopardize this little girl? Could they not have waited? Did they not have any sense of decency or compassion?

It wasn’t as if he could run. All humans knew that was a useless endeavor. If you were picked and ran, the government would hunt you to the ends of the earth. And where would he run to?

Rage surged through him. It didn’t have to be like this—it pissed him off to know that. And how his own kind handled the situation made everything even more insidious. The thought was crystal clear in his mind as he lunged at the closest SWAT member, stabbing him with his scalpel.

Pain exploded in his head from a fist as blood exploded from the other man. The sight brought a twisted sense of satisfaction to John. Good. He hoped it hurt like hell. Despite taking an oath to protect human life, he felt no remorse for what he had just done because they jeopardized life first. Not him.

Harsh hands grabbed him and dragged him from the surgical suite. Someone was screaming—screaming endlessly. John wished they would stop. His head hurt.

Outside of the operating suite was complete chaos, and for the first time, John got a good look at the Tah’Narians. His first thought was how tall they were. As he stood before them, his eyes were immediately drawn to their towering height.

Every single member of the group was well over six and a half feet tall, making him feel small and insignificant in comparison. They all had extremely long hair, which cascaded down their backs in every shade imaginable—from golden blond to deep crimson.

But it wasn’t just their hair that set them apart. They also had pointed catlike ears protruding from their heads, adding to their otherworldly appearance. And as if that wasn’t enough, each of them had a long, sleek tail trailing behind them. Tails that moved in angry swishes on the floor.

Who was that screaming, and why wasn’t something being done to stop it?

Someone was speaking, dragging his attention from the aliens’ tails. He noticed that one of the heavily armed SWAT members was talking to one of the Tah’Narians. John strained to hear their words, but his head was nothing but white noise.

In the midst of it all, he noticed the police officer he’d stabbed bleeding profusely. Surprisingly, no one seemed eager to come to his aid. A small sense of satisfaction washed over John at the sight.

Good.

One of the aliens seized the largest member of the SWAT team by his vest and effortlessly lifted him off the ground with just one arm. John couldn’t fathom the amount of strength required for such a display of power.

Another alien opened what appeared to be a medical case, donned a strange-looking mask, then sprayed a substance on their hands. With a last hard look at the SWAT team, the alien entered the operating suite.

What? Did that alien just…?

The press of a needle against John’s skin snapped him out of his observation. Darkness swept over him. Huh. The screaming had finally stopped.

Imagine that.