Wed To The Alien Prince

Ew. “That isn’t the most ideal description.”

“I long to see you heavy with my child, Gen, so that everyone knows the future of Sueva is secure, and so that everyone knows that you are mine. For our scents to mix all over your irresistible body…” He sighs, and I swear to god, his dick jerks.

“Then we better get started on this damn temple,” I tell him, caught somewhere between a

It’s just so cute, how he wants a family. I have an IUD, so there’s no way I’m swelling with anyone’s young, least of all my accidental alien husband, but it’s cute all the same. He’d probably be a great dad. He’s fu

I cut off that line of thinking.

“Yes, the dam temple,” he says. “Let us begin.” He rubs his hands together, one eyebrow raising mischievously.

I laugh in spite of myself. “Pants.”

“Pants,” he agrees, pulling them on.

I should look away, really, I should. But it’s more fun to watch his muscles do muscly things as he tugs the tight fabric into place.

When he catches me watching, his smile is dazzling, and my heart skips a beat.

If I’m being honest with myself, he’s hot for an alien. He’s hot for a human.

I’m hot for the alien prince.

“If you look at me like that, I will not be able to focus, as you keep asking me to do.”

“I’m not looking.” Busted.

“You are looking, my sweet flower, and I am glad for it.”

“Temple,” I shout, as though I’m declaring sanctuary.

“Temple,” he agrees, turning to face the wall. His back is so thickly slabbed with muscle it’s a wonder he isn’t the illustration in anatomical studies. I tilt my head, taking in his massive tail. For all I know, he might be, here on Sueva.

“The riddle is here,” he says, walking to where the glossy wall butts up against the rough hewn stone the rest of the pit’s made from.

I follow him, the Federation tank/fish pouch swaying against my hip as I move.

His talon traces along the edges of a snake carved into the wall, the eye of it a glittering prism standing out even against the highly polished surface. The head and the eye rest in the center of the coils, where they fan out in an ever-wider pattern.

I frown. There’s something familiar about it, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“Here and here,” Kanuz murmurs, his voice low as he puzzles over it. He points to a sequence of characters next to it that make absolutely no sense to me.

“What do those say?”

“They’re numbers. There’s no rhyme or reason to them.” He shrugs one shoulder, and I lick my lips. “There is no sequence, no pattern that I can determine. And I was taught by the best scholars and mathematicians on the planet.” His frown deepens. “Just a random jumble.”

He moves his finger around, and I gape.

The numbers—the alien characters—move.

“The fuck?” I ask. “Is it a touchscreen? I feel like an idiot sandwich.” This whole time, I thought it was just shiny ass rock.

But no. The ancients of Sueva apparently figured out how to build a perma-touch screen that functions after years of disuse.

Ridiculous.

“Of course, it is. How else would we be able to solve the riddle?” Kanuz turns to me, clearly bewildered. “What is an idiot meal?”

“That’s a great question.” I’m not going to tell him I half imagined we were in a Wizard of Oz scenario, where some actual deity was hanging out behind a curtain, waiting to bless our shiny red slippers. Or combat boots, whichever. “This is cool.” I run the pads of my fingertips over the numbers, and they wave and flicker under my touch, moving when I reorganize them. I don’t have a clue what they mean, but it’s still fun.

“And, ah, it’s idiot sandwich. It’s just a silly saying. I don’t think I can explain it.” I shrug one shoulder.

“I would make a meal of you, but it would not be a stupid one.” His tail lashes back and forth. “I would—"

“So we have a snake, and a bunch of numbers,” I interrupt. “Is there some kind of myth with a snake and numbers in your religion?”

“Not that I recall. Perhaps…” He purses his lips, his fingers darting over the surface. “Perhaps if I use the numbers that correspond to the letter order and drop them in the snake…” he stops talking, dumping a sequence of numbers into the interior of the snake.

I stare at the characters in the coils, willing something to happen.

Nothing does. Instead, they flicker, then disappear before reappearing in the number pile again.

Numbers inside the snake. It triggers a memory in me, but when I grasp at it, the idea eludes me. I fucking hate when that shit happens. Why is it always when you need to remember something the most your brain just gives you the middle finger and goes back to sleep?

“Serpent?” I ask hopefully.

He shrugs. “Worth a try.” The numbers are added to the coils again. Nothing.

“Perhaps the name of the many-faced goddess’ snake avatar.” He tries a new combination, and I suck in a breath once I realize I’ve been holding mine.

The numbers disappear again.

“Maybe we should have started this last night.”

“I enjoyed what we did last night.”

“We slept,” I say, a low laugh coming out of me. “It was nice to be out of the rain for once, though.”

“I held my mate all night,” Kanuz growls, and this time, irritation and hurt flicker over his aggressively masculine features. “There is nothing in this temple that could top that.”

“Oh.” I blink. “That was nice, too.”

“Nice,” he rasps, turning back to the wall—touchscreen—and jabbing at it ferociously.

My nose wrinkles. Isn’t it too soon for him to get his feelings hurt in this… relationship? Marriage? I mean, we only just started communicating. Sure, I kissed him last night, but this is a whole new level of stage five clinger.

The weirdest part is… it’s kinda cute. Why do I think it’s so cute?!

I watch him poke at the wall, staring at the coiled snake and letting my mind drift over our weeks together.

And then it hits me.

“Fuck yeah,” I say, a bit breathless as the thought bowls through me. “Fibonacci.” The word bursts out of me, and I tilt my head, considering. “That’s it. It’s a Fibonacci spiral. The Fibonacci sequence.”

“The what?” Kanuz is watching me, his eyes narrowed, diamond-pupils fixed on my face.

“Oh.” I blow out a breath, deflated. “Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t call it that, huh? Uh, lemme try to explain.” Math wasn’t my strong suit. Am I terrible at it? No. Is it my favorite? Also no. “Uh, okay, so there was this dude named Fibonacci, and he figured out this sequence of numbers, where they, like… fit together. Each one is the sum of the previous two numbers, and if you…” I trail off, closing one eye, like that’s going to help me concentrate. “If you create a physical representation, it makes a perfect spiral.”

“The sunshine ratio,” he says, his eyes wide, an expression of awe on his face. “Of course, you would know that, my golden flower.”

Okay, so we’ve progressed to a golden flower. Still, I can’t help a little shiver of pleasure and pride at the starstruck look in his eyes. No one has ever looked at me like that, like life’s a puzzle and I hold all the answers.

Call me Fibonacci, I guess.

“I will try it,” he declares, his fingers whirring over the screen as he dumps characters into the spiral of the snake.

The numbers dissolve into nothing, and I exhale noisily. Damn. I was so sure I’d cracked it. Kanuz places a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“It was an excellent idea,” he says.

The snake collapses in on itself, the jewel of the eye falling out of the screen. Kanuz’s hand whips out, and he catches it before it can hit the stone and gravel ground.

“Holy shit, I did it! I feel like fucking Indiana Jones!” I’m screeching, way too excited about going deeper into this death trap of a temple.