The Betania Breed Series: Books 1-4 by Jenny Foster

Let yourself be carried away to a grandiose SciFi world. With this COMPLETE collection you are holding all four Betania Breed SciFi romance novels in your hands – and mysterious background material is included. In over 800 pages, you will be up close and personal on an adventurous and dramatic voyage through the universe.

The Captive
Betania Breed Book One

I am one of the few people who hasn’t given up the fight against the Sethari yet. I would rather die than surrender to the aliens who have enslaved us humans for more than one hundred years. Then the unthinkable happens: I am awarded to the leader of the aliens, so I can bear him healthy, viable children. I am prepared for anything, except this one thing – that this merciless warrior, with his strange eyes and scaly skin, would awaken feelings in me…


The Prey
Betania Breed Book Two

Johar is the most merciless and successful bounty hunter there is. His reputation is legendary, for he has never let any prey slip through his fingers. His creator’s beautiful daughter hates Johar and lets him feel it every waking minute. But Johar knows something about her that nobody else knows. Not even she herself… The book takes place a few months after the events of book 1.

The Human
Betania Breed Book Three

Talon Delkhari was the mightiest warlord of his people, until he dared to contradict his king. Instead of granting him an honorable death in the fight against their enemies, the king made him his chamberlain. His newest conquest is from Earth. He won her in a game, and Talon is supposed to deliver her safely to his bed. An easy assignment for someone like Talon. That’s what he thought, anyway, until this human woman awakens the predator lurking under his skin… The book takes place a few years after the events of book 2.

The Dragon
Betania Breed Book Four

The fourth volume takes place shortly after the events in book 3. Coran Burke is an elite undercover agent from Earth. The tough and emotionless fighter has never failed. His new mission leads him to Dassuria where he is pursuing a dangerous dragon lord. At the center of his investigation is a woman who has a lot to hide – but despite her entanglement with the dragon lord, Coran can’t get her out of his head…

Dark. Powerful. Sexy. This will be a ride you won't want to miss.

* * * A SciFi Alien Alpha Romance Collection. Book 1-4 of the Betania Breed Series. * * *
Warning: Intended for mature audiences only.
Length: Total over 800+ pages


Read an Excerpt:

Chapter 1

The battle is over.

The Sethari, who have plundered and enslaved us for the last 100 years, and have reduced the human race to a fraction of its original number, are destroyed.

I should be happy and should be celebrating with the others who are now free, and can live their lives on their own terms. The whole world is quaking in a happy frenzy, but my fellow female sufferers and I are not taking part in these pompous celebrations.

We are captives, spoils of war, breeding machines for the alien lifeforms who finished off the Sethari.

Nobody asked us if we were ready for a journey to a strange world.

Nobody wanted to know if we even wanted children, much less if we wanted to mate with aliens.

All of this was decided for us by the powers that be.

They told us that humanity would survive because of our obedience.

I am lined up in a row with 167 other healthy, young women and wait for the president to shake my hand and thank me personally. I would love to ask him why his wife, with her expansive hairdo and stark face, isn’t taking my place. Where was he, when people like me had to hide behind the scenes, so they wouldn’t be executed?

In World War II, they called people like him a collaborator, someone who will betray his fellow citizens, just to hang on to his little piece of authority.

He is nothing but a game piece who was put into play by the Sethari in order to drive the last little bit of resistance out of us.

This man, who is supposedly the most powerful person in the world, and is the president of the World Federation, had signed countless death warrants, just to save his own skin. The minute he saw a way to get rid of the tyrants, he jumped on the chance. I have to give the gray-haired man with those cold, blue eyes credit: As soon as the Qua’Hathri had made contact with him, he was ready to throw the Sethari to the lions.

Not that I had any sympathy for them – they took advantage of the human race for over one hundred years.

They are energy vampires, and I don’t mean that metaphorically.

The Sethari imprisoned the humans like livestock, and extracted energy from them. They needed this energy in order to survive.

And Mr. President, who is approaching me now, supplied them with a constant stream of replacements.

Now that I see him for the first time in person, my anger brings tears to my eyes.

The huge screens that are on almost every street corner, and from which he regularly spoke to us with his effusive words, don’t do him justice. His tailored suit hides a small potbelly under it. Knowing that he had it good enough to have a belly, while my siblings had to dig through the trash to find food, makes my heart race.

I ball my fists and try to calm down.

But the only thing I see is his self-satisfied expression. Later, he will be able to proclaim to the world via Livestream how he saved humanity from complete destruction.

His wife is standing two steps behind him, just like any good and virtuous girl should.

The looks she is giving her companion are not quite so virtuous. His name is Khazaar Drasurq, the warlord of the Qua’Hathri.

In some ways, I can understand why she is drooling over him. He is handsome in a strange way, and I am sure she watched, onscreen, as he fought the Sethari to destruction.

I have to admit that I can’t take my eyes off of him, either.

The memory of this tall warrior beheading one Sethari after another with his gleaming sword is still very fresh. He reminds me of a medieval warlord who isn’t afraid to ride on to the battlefield himself, to dive headfirst into the fight.

Despite all of the progress technology has made over the last two thousand years, the Sethari were basically invulnerable.

That is, until Khazaar Drasurq and his warriors showed up. Their swords, daggers and lances, made out of Qua’Hathri steel, enabled them to pierce the Sethari’s rubber-like skin.

They have almost made it to me, the president and his entourage.

I try to tune him out and look at Khazaar, instead.

Despite the scales that cover his pale skin, and despite his strange eyes, he looks very masculine. Human traits dominate his appearance.

His eyes brush over me and then stop for a second.

His yellow-gold iris is the shape of a slit, just like cats’ eyes are – just like cats’ eyes were, I should say, since most pets have been exterminated by now.

I like his hair best.

It falls in dark waves onto his shoulders.

It shimmers blue-black and looks silky.

While he is looking at me, his scent wafts over to me and wraps around me. Immediately, I want to close my eyes and bathe in his smell. To me, he smells like milk and honey, like marzipan and butter croissants, things I haven’t eaten since I was a child. His scent makes me relax, probably because it is tied to the last beautiful memories I have of my parents. I sniff unobtrusively, and sense something rough under the sweet overtones. A hint of musk brushes my olfactory receptor and increases my heart rate.

If they all smell as good as this warlord, then the sex might not be as bad as I had feared.

I might even be able to forget the fact that the other women and I are nothing but breeding vessels for the children of the Qua’Hathri.

The president exchanges a few pleasantries with the blonde next to me, and then he is in front of me, holding out his hand. I take it, and look into his eyes, smiling.

In the resistance, I learned how to incapacitate enemies by applying targeted pressure to sensitive body parts. Even though I only use a fraction of my strength, the most powerful man in the world falls to his knees in front of me. That does me good, even if it isn’t particularly smart.

His bodyguards, who don’t even deserve that designation, have been standing in the background, smirking, until now. Now they surround me and have their weapons trained on me.

Since I am not a Sethari, I don’t have rubber-like skin that can deflect bullets.

A thought flashes through my mind.

Maybe dying wouldn’t be so bad, after all?

If I died, that would nix the plans of the man who is now sweating under the strain. But if I were dead, then they would just find another woman who would have to go to the Qua’Hathri, so I let him go and take a step back.

I am still smiling, but this time, it is a smile of pure satisfaction.

He will remember me.

Of that I am certain.

Khazaar has watched all of this unfold without intervening. Do I see a smile dart across his otherwise closed features?

Only after the president has regained his feet, supported by his wife and surrounded by his concerned bodyguards, does Khazaar speak up.

He steps very close to me, and I have to lean my head back to look him in the eyes.

The women on my left and right shrink back in fear of the huge commander, but I force myself to stay right where I am. Even though my heart is beating much too fast, and my knees are trembling, I am not afraid of dying.

In his strange eyes, I see something like appreciation, and in the way his gaze wanders briefly over the sweating president, I recognize contempt for the man.

“Why did you do that?” he asks.

His deep voice sounds pleasant and calm, almost as if he already knew the answer.

Something scratches very carefully at the barrier that I have built around my spirit. It feels like a polite knock, like a polite request for access. But I am definitely not ready to grant anyone else access to my thoughts.

Instead, I send my spirit out, just like I have learned, and knock on his.

For a split second, his eyes widen, and to my great surprise, he grants me access to his thoughts.

His thoughts are as foreign as his appearance.

I am too excited to feel anything more than a small part of his perceptions. Almost all of his thoughts center on conquering foreign worlds.

Killing isn’t what excites him.

Subjugation is.

I understand that he spared us humans for only one single reason: We are genetically compatible. The Qua’Hathri are a race on the brink of extinction, just like the humans. He has set out to find appropriate women.

Suddenly, he slams the barrier back into place, and with a jolt, I am back in my body.

The whole episode couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds.

To observers, it must have looked like we were staring into each other’s eyes too long. My mouth is dry, and I swallow.

Now he knows my secret.

My gift.

I curse my lack of self-control and my curiosity, but it doesn’t seem like he wants to punish me for it.

Quite the opposite. His interest in my gift is obvious.

At that moment, a bodyguard hits me in the back of the knees, and I fall to the ground. “Answer the lord’s question right now!” he roars, and makes as if to intervene again. The pain is indescribable, but even worse is the humiliation of lying on the floor in front of Khazaar.
Before I can open my mouth to yell at the coward who attacked me from behind, everything starts to happen at once. Without warning, the bodyguard is on the floor. Khazaar’s foot rests on his ribcage, and I hear crunching and cracking, as two ribs break.

The man screams, and the warlord takes his foot off of the warrior in one gentle and unbelievably elegant move. In the blink of an eye, a sharp dagger, decorated with red gems, gleams at the bodyguard’s throat.

Khazaar’s voice is barely louder than a whisper, but literally everyone in the hall stiffens at the ice-cold tone it carries with it. “How dare you touch the bride of the warlord of the Qua’Hathri?”

The tip of the dagger pushes into the vulnerable spot under the man’s twitching Adam’s apple.

“I… am sorry,” the man croaks, “my Lord, I didn’t know that you had chosen her.”

He isn’t the only one.

Chapter 2

I am the bride of a warlord.

My entire body is in turmoil.

I don’t know if I should be happy that he designated me as his bride, or if I should be paralyzed with fear. After all, he used the word bride, which indicates that he will legalize our relationship.

The details of the contract between the Qua’Hathri and the humans were enshrined in secrecy. This is what we do know: For every warrior who fell in the fight against the Sethari, Khazaar demanded a woman who could bear children.

We didn’t know if we would be sex slaves, lovers or wives. My hope was that scientists would inseminate us artificially. Having sex with another species was not necessarily on my list of things I absolutely wanted to accomplish before I died.

But now, the situation was different.

There was absolute silence in the shuttles on the way to the spaceships. Some threw pitying glances my way. Others were obviously resentful that I had been so bold, and that the commander had paid attention to me.

When we arrived at the ships, we were herded through endless hallways until we arrived at some kind of waiting room.

There, we were divided by hair color. Each group disappeared behind a door and was received by doctors. They examined us so thoroughly, it almost felt like an insult. They stripped me of my clothes, drew my blood, examined my reproductive organs, and even checked my teeth.

I felt like a cow being prepared for sale at the market.

The alien who examined me was of the extremely thorough sort, but was cold as a fish. He looked good, just like most of the Qua’Hathri I had come in contact with, up until now.

All of them are tall, muscular and don’t have an ounce of fat on them. I know this because all of them are running around their spaceship only wearing these loose pants. Every man – and they are definitely men, through and through; you can practically touch the testosterone with your hands – proudly shows off his scar-riddled torso.

Since their pants are tight around the hips and loose at the bottom, everything just below the waist is definitely not left up to our imagination. I have never seen so many different skin colors at the same time. Every imaginable color is represented, from bright red to dark violet.

The color of their hair and eyes varies, too.

The only things they all have in common are the scales on their skin and the slit-shaped pupils. Unless every single one of them is wearing padded pants, the rest of their bodies would definitely not leave any woman wanting.

They bathed and dressed me.

Now I am in the warrior’s bed, waiting for his arrival and what he will do to me. I think my actions on Earth have used up all of my energy, because I have never felt this tired in my entire life.

My eyes grow heavy, even though the uncertainty of my future should be robbing me of any sleep. It is impossible for me to stay awake in this luxurious bed.

The soft pillows and heavy blanket are too seductive.

I close my eyes.

When I wake up, he is standing by the bed, staring at me.
Khazaar is wearing the same kind of pants, but his are made of dark fabric interwoven with red. The fabric looks expensive, but that is not what is drawing my attention.

I feel the heat rise in my face and pull the blanket up to my neck.

“I fell asleep,” I state the obvious and wonder how apologetic my tone must sound.

Instead of asking the one question that is weighing heaviest on my mind, I am making conversation. Next, I think I’ll ask him how the weather is out there in space, so I won’t have to hold his unnerving gaze anymore.

“Get up,” he says.

I flinch.

His harsh tone awakens bad memories in me.

I feel my body tensing up, and everything in me switches to resistance. I stare at him defiantly, and shake my head.


That one word is enough to make his beautifully arched eyebrows move.

They pull together into a perfect V. His lips twitch momentarily, and for a second I wonder what it would be like to feel them on my own. Then I make myself snap out of it.

Why do my hormones dance every time he gets near me?

His eye color changes from gold to a fiery orange-red, and the scales on his body extend slightly. The slight crackling sound the scales make burns right through me. I had almost forgotten that he isn’t human, but that sound forcefully reminds me of his origin.

He comes closer to the bed and sits on the edge.

The mattress creaks under his weight, which makes me blush even more.

I am glad there is no mirror in here. I would hate to see myself right now.

“Cassie Burnett,” he says, and my name drips from his mouth like honey.

His scent surrounds me again, and I notice that my pulse has calmed. “There is no reason for you to hide yourself from me. You belong to me now.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” I hiss, and shake off the numbness his scent has spread through me. “I am not here of my own free will, as I’m sure you know.”

He looks at me in astonishment.

“Your president told us something very different,” he answers. His eyes darken. “He assured me that each and every one of you considered it an honor to receive the children of the Qua’Hathri, and to serve the human race.” He sighs softly. “Well, your president is a cowardly, pompous scumbag, and I should have known better. But now that you’re here …” The wonderful smell of milk and honey wafts over me.

I am certain that he is purposefully using his scent to lull me into submission.

“That’s not how it works,” I ascertain.

I look around the room, but like magic, my gaze is drawn back to Khazaar.

I can’t forget that I am his prisoner, even if he does call me his bride. I need him to stop with this manipulation, otherwise it won’t be long before I won’t know which feelings are mine, and which ones he is creating in me on purpose. While he is definitely handsome, he is still a manipulative alien. I gather all of my courage, and look at his beautiful, chiseled face.

The keen intelligence in his eyes doesn’t make it any easier to talk to him.

Or maybe it does?

It’s worth a try.

I inhale deeply. “You want a child from me,” I start, but he interrupts immediately.

“Who said want,” he growls with a voice that gives me goosebumps.

I need a few seconds to process what I just heard.

Then it clicks. He doesn’t want me at all? I am relieved, but my relief is mixed with a familiar feeling of rejection.

“Then what am I doing here?” I ask.

He sighs again, this time with a definite tone of impatience. “What do you mean here? Here in my quarters, up here in the ship, here with the Qua’Hathri? Why do you humans always have to express yourselves so vaguely? Please try to ask questions with more precision.” Instead of a heart, he must have a machine in his chest. He sounds as dry as a bookkeeper.

“I mean, why did you offer your help in exchange for me and the other women, if you don’t want me?”

He nods approvingly. “The Qua’Hathri are going extinct.” He is silent and looks at me expectantly, as if those words were enough to explain everything. Now it is my turn to sigh impatiently, and I let him feel my impatience.

“Why don’t you look for women who will voluntarily make offspring with you?”

“No woman would voluntarily go with warriors like the Qua’Hathri,” he says and furrows his brow. We tried that a few times, but none of them stayed long enough to fulfill their purpose. When our researchers told us that humans were genetically compatible, I decided to try for a trade agreement. A life for a life.” The number of women on board equals exactly the number of fallen warriors.

“The thought didn’t occur to you that we might have a problem with that?” I ask.

“Your supreme ruler, the one you call President, said nothing of the sort. It doesn’t matter to us, anyway.”

I snort scornfully.

He seems almost human to me, in the way he is sitting on the edge of the bed, explaining his world in which combativeness and conquering rage are more important than anything else. The men down on Earth aren’t much different.

For them, it’s mostly about possession and conquest.

They just know how to feign love better, that’s all.

This cool commander, my bridegroom, has no idea how to do that.

For a second I wonder if I wouldn’t be better off on Earth after all.

Even before the arrival of the Sethari in the year 3916, things were not looking good for us. Plagues and pollution had forced humanity to its knees, but after the Sethari arrived we were in danger of total extinction.

What do I have to lose by traveling with this alien to his home?

I buried my last relative 5 years ago, and our supreme ruler – the title almost makes me laugh – would not welcome me back with open arms. I would be lucky if all he did was throw me in jail, instead of giving me a lethal injection for embarrassing and attacking the head of state.

So, thanks, but no thanks.

“Why did you choose me, out of all the others?” This is a question I just have to ask.
“I didn’t,” he replies. “Our computer picked you as the woman who is most compatible with my genes, and with whom I have a 97% chance of being successful.” It goes without saying that he is not talking about a successful marriage, but about the successful production of descendants. “I had already received your genetic profile, so I recognized you. When that soldier hurt you, I protected my property.” He is fixated on a spot right above my head.

His scales rustle softly.

This gives me a little confidence.

I sit up and square my shoulders.

“You can forget the ownership part,” I explain with a firm voice. At least, I hope that it sounds firm. “What do you mean, anyway, that you don’t want to? Nobody is forcing you to have sex with me. Definitely not me.” I can’t help myself. I just want to know if he finds me repulsive, or if he just doesn’t want a wife and child, period.

“As the war lord of the Qua’Hathri, I need to lead by example,” he says and moves in a little closer. I raise my index finger in warning, even though I feel slightly ridiculous doing so.

“No manipulations,” I say and look in his gold eyes. If only he would turn on the charm a little … quickly, I push away the thought of what his skin would feel like on my naked body.

“I could force you,” he says with a casual tone I don’t like at all.

As if to prove his point, he swings himself up on the bed in one fluid motion, and squeezes me between his thighs.

His scent robs me of my senses.

This time, he doesn’t knock politely.

Before I have the chance to raise my barriers, he is all the way in my head. He shows me images that are so intense that I can’t tell the difference between reality and imagination anymore.

I see myself through his eyes.

I am small and much too thin to really grab his attention. He is on top of me, brushing his tongue lightly against my lips, and I feel his heat. His scales are lying flush against his skin, and there aren’t many differences between him and a human man.

A small moan escapes my lips, and I notice that my body has taken on a life of its own. Sensually, my hips move against him.

Then, with a jolt, he releases me from his mental hold, and I am back in reality. My chest rises and falls under the thin night shirt.

“You see, I would make it easy for you,” he says nonchalantly, but I shake my head defiantly.

I am happy he isn’t forcing me to do his will, but if he has that kind of power, why isn’t he using it? When I ask him, he raises his eyebrows. “Why should I?” He sounds genuinely surprised. “I am Khazaar Drasurq. I don’t need to take women against their will. If you don’t want me, I release you from my services. I will find a woman who will gladly welcome me in her bed, and who will give me healthy children.” He stands up, and I notice again how tall he is. “I will tell the researchers that, contrary to their prognosis, we are not compatible. You can live with the other women until you have found the right partner.” Cool and composed, he looks at me, and then he leaves his quarters.

Just like that.

I was the bride of an alien warlord.

Chapter 3

All hell is breaking loose in the women’s quarters.

We are still sorted by hair color, and I am in a huge sleeping hall with about 60 other blondes.

None of them is over fifty, and they all look strong and healthy.

My entrance has caused a sensation, and I have to answer many questions. After four hours of cross examination, things finally calm down. I wanted to answer all of their questions, because I could see the tension in their faces, and the fear of the unknown.

The more they knew about the Qua’Hathri, the easier it would be for them to come to terms with their fate. I wonder if I should talk with Khazaar – several of them had to leave their families behind.

My bed isn’t nearly as comfortable as the one in Khazaar’s quarters, and I toss and turn restlessly all night.

Several women cry and moan in their sleep.

I stare at the ceiling and wonder if I made a mistake in rejecting him.

Not because my situation is uncomfortable now, but because I just can’t get him out of my head. Over and over, I see his face in front of mine, his body, and I feel his skin as he is lying on top of me. I keep having to remind myself that those images were only fantasy, not reality.

But it isn’t just his appearance that captivates me.

He had surprised me.

I had not expected to have a choice, much less to get away with saying “no.” An alien commander, who conquers galaxies, solar systems and populations is considerate of his human prisoners?

The spark of an unknown feeling wells up in me, and I feel the sting of tears in my eyes. The image, in which he had let me see myself through his eyes, rises before me.

My body that feels unusually soft and small to him, my face with the bright eyes that betray any emotion. As I put myself in his place again, I feel his surprise at his own confusing feelings.

He desires me!

Why didn’t I see that earlier?

I answer my question almost immediately. Because the experience was too close, too raw and too in-my-face. I definitely hadn’t had the time to discover his feelings. I had been too busy dealing with the strange experience.

There weren’t many like me down on Earth, and I had always tried to keep my gift a secret. In any case, it drains your strength to put yourself in another person’s head, because the feelings and thoughts you encounter there are raw and unfiltered.

Being able to read thoughts was a secret that I didn’t even use in resistance against the Sethari.

I close my eyes and let my thoughts wander.

In this dream-like state, I wander through the space ship.

I explore the halls and listen in on conversations in the other rooms.

The quarters of the red-haired and dark-haired women look the same as ours.

I dare to go a little further, and cover the distance much more quickly than I could on foot.

I go through the door to his room and see him sleeping. He is lying on his stomach. The covers have slid down to his knees, revealing his chiseled body.

I can see every defined muscle in his back, and feel an overwhelming desire to lie down next to him. When I am invisible like this, I have the freedom to really be who I am.

He is sleeping, so he obviously isn’t manipulating me.

He really does smell delicious.

Carefully, I sniff the area between his ear and neck, and suck his scent deep into my lungs. Now I can also touch his hair, and it is just as silky as it looks. His hair tumbles to his shoulders in messy waves.

His nostrils flare and his eyelids twitch.

He is dreaming.

He seems so vulnerable, it almost breaks my heart.

I don’t know a single human who can prevent another from entering his thoughts while dreaming.

Should I try it?

I would love to know what a Qua’Hathri dreams about.

At that very moment, he opens his eyes.