Wed To The Alien Warlord

“I don’t buy it,” Bex said, shaking her head. “It’s possible, but it doesn’t make sense. It’s not like the rest of us were crying and beating our chests.”

“Not all of you, at least,” Tati says glumly.

“I don’t know,” Carmen says. “It could be that Captain Jacks’ neural pathways are more flexible, because of her experience. There might be something to it.”

“It can’t be as easy as just accepting our situation,” Bex snaps. “Otherwise mine would be working.”

Carmen and Tati shoot me a look.

“Any word of Gen and her prince?” Tati asks, changing the subject.

My heart sinks. “Not yet.”

“We’ll find her,” Carmen says. “Don’t worry about Genevieve. She might seem dainty and delicate—”

Bex snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“But she’s tougher than all of us. If anyone stands a chance out there, it’s Gen and her Suevan.”

I chew my bottom lip, worried nonetheless.

“Here comes your alien,” Bex says.

Sure enough, Draz strides through the streets toward us, every inch the brutal warrior. Two other Suevans flank him, and Bex makes an aggravated noise.

“The warlords will escort the humans the rest of the way home,” Draz says, and I relay that to them. “You should have waited for us.”

We haven’t heard many more rumblings from the Suevan separatists, but Draz and I don’t want any nasty surprises, so we try to keep the rest of the female humans under constant watch.

Dergoz and Alvez stand tall and proud, and as I watch, Dergoz’s jaw twitches as he stares at Bex with open longing.

Huh. I don’t really know what’s going on between the two of them, but it’s not one-sided, that’s for sure.

Draz’s hands press into my face, and my attention narrows to his breath on my forehead, his heady proximity.

“Hi,” I say.

“How did it go?” Draz asks, pulling me back to our myza.

“Not great. We can’t figure out why their translators don’t work and mine does.”

Draz is moving quickly, and I pump my arms, trying to keep up.

“Here, little human,” he says, and scoops me up.

“What’s the hurry?” I ask, wide-eyed. “Is something wrong?”

His fingers delve into the slit of my skirt, caressing my i

“Only that I long to be buried right here, deep inside you.”

“Oh, just that? Well, okay then.” I huff a laugh that quickly dies, his expert fingers drawing a gasp from me. “Hey, I have something I want to talk about with you.”

“Anything,” he says, nuzzling my neck and kicking open the door. The zoleh jumps up guiltily, scurrying into the bedroom with one of my boots in her teeth.

We both laugh, sharing a smile, and then his expression turns serious.

“What was it, Ni-Kee?”

“I—” The words fail me, and I swallow hard, trying to work up the courage to tell him what I decided on.

“What is wrong, my heart?” His eyes are wide, his tail slapping the floor behind him.

“Nothing, I just… I think I want to start trying for children. For babies. With you.”

His body goes stone still, his eyes wide, and I lick my lips nervously.

“I mean, we don’t know how long it might take, right? For me to get pregnant, seeing as how we’re different species. But I love you, I love you so much, and I… I’ve never been so happy. I want to have a family with you.”

He lavishes my face and neck with kisses, and I let out a soft moan.

“Ni-Kee, there is no pressure to have babies right now,” he says. I squirm as his mouth clamps against one of my nipples, his hands holding me in place.

“But—”

“However, if you are certain, truly certain, then I think we will have much fun practicing.”

And he proves to me over and over again how very true that is.

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CHAPTER 42

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WED TO THE ALIEN PRINCE SNEAK PEEK

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GEN

I’m go

The thought runs through my head, like it has for the last week and a half on this soupy, swamp-ass planet from hell. The alien who’s currently number one on my hit list smirks at me, one fang showing in his stupid lopsided grin.

He jabbers something at me, pointing to the snare I’ve managed to set and spring all in one go.

I can’t understand a word he’s saying, but I’m pretty damn sure ‘I told you so’ is written all over his stupidly handsome alien face.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” I tell him, crossing my arms. My blonde hair hangs around my face, and I blow at where it tickles my nostrils, trying not to sneeze. “Stop laughing.”

He’s doing that odd, barking sound, smiling hugely at me now, like this is the fu

“I don’t see you trying to catch di

I shouldn’t have even noticed anything about his dick, but here we are, in alien jungle purgatory.

He prods the ground with the makeshift spear, using it to hold himself up as he laughs.

“Can you cut me down?” I say, acid in my voice.

He says something else that the translator fails to provide any context for, instead spitting out gobbledygook like ‘cupcake head, pretty frosting, understand bacon.’

It gives me a headache. I swing for a moment longer, loathe to ruin the vine-y rope I spent the last three days braiding together to make this snare from. Well, the would-be snare, anyway.

But this asshole doesn’t show any inclination to let me down, so I swing harder, before crunching up to untie the knot—

I give a yelp as the alien’s talon slices through the vine braid, the awful nightmare sensation of falling triggering near panic. I do not want to break a bone out here. With the high humidity and torrential rains, and God only knows what kind of alien bacteria, any kind of injury could turn deadly.

But strong arms catch me, and I suck in a breath as I look up into his green face.

“Thanks,” I say, relieved not to have met the ground.

I wriggle, trying to get free, but he holds me fast.

He points at the vine rope, then down at the ground, shaking his head.

“Yeah, no kidding,” I tell him. “I don’t want to fall, either.”

The alien nods his agreement, saying something else my translator tells me is ‘bride fly, not cupcake.’ I growl in frustration, and his arms tighten around me.

A primal roar sounds, closer by than it has been the last few nights. My skin prickles, my entire body going into overdrive, screaming that something big and bad is headed our way. The alien crouches, and I try to get free of him, disliking how his over the top alien muscles bunch on top of me. They’re huge. It’s absurd. I feel tiny next to him, and fragile, and dainty, and I hate it.

I worked hard to be a badass, and he’s ruining my self-image.

He tells me something in a low tone, and I grunt in irritation.

‘Bad chicken hungry,’ the translator unhelpfully provides.

If I could stick my hand in my ear and dig the fucking thing out, I would.

Bad chicken hungry, indeed.

Wed To The Alien Prince on Amazon

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ALSO BY JANUARY BELL

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