Alien On Fire

The Overlord is off planet, as I already knew, thanks to the Suevan intel gathered at the same prison where I found my sweet, prickly mate.

“My king,” the Roth greet me in the traditional way, by pounding their fists at their shoulders and stamping their feet.

“We require the mating ceremony at once,” I say. “Take my chosen and prepare her.”

Leigh’s green eyes are as full of fire as mine, and when I look at her, she simply swallows and glances away.

I half-expect her to object, to fight me, and I wonder at her apparent surrender.

I told her things would be different on planet. I told her we would have to have a ceremony to honor the gods, to show the Roth that humans could be mates and not just bred upon.

I did not tell her what it involved.

I was too afraid she would say no. That she would turn from me.

But the mating marks are key, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that the female humans of Earth do not become chattel in the gristmill of the Roth’s hunt for power.

I soak in the planet, wishing things were different. Wishing I was coming home with a completely willing bride, with a female who gazed upon me with adoration.

And knowing all the same that I would not love a female who was not my Leigh, my little flame.

“Do not touch her save to prepare her for the ceremony,” I growl.

Leigh licks her lips, and I scent her nervousness.

“I will make it better,” I tell her.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. I know her well enough now to see the hurt and distrust emanating from every stiff line of her body.

I should have told her. Something, anything, more than what I did.

The Roth guardsmen lead her away, through the temple opening, the temple my uncle, the Overlord, has all but abandoned in his wild grab for power and a way to stop our species from dying out.

This is the only way.

I am convinced of it.

If Leigh truly cares for me, as she made me believe she did, she will see it too.

I stare after her, waiting for her to turn back to me, to look back, anything, but she does not. She strides on, keeping pace with the guards, her head lifted high and back straight, her red hair reflecting the light of the traditional torches.

“My king,” someone says.

“What?” I snarl.

“You must prepare for the ceremony as well,” they say nervously.

Roghat, whose ship only just landed behind ours, saunters towards me. “Come on, old friend, let us prepare you for the ceremony. Take the crown, as you wish. Then we can move on and attack the Overlord, and your plan will be complete, yes?”

I nod.

But it’s another lie.

It won’t be complete.

It can’t be complete until Leigh admits she is mine.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

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LEIGH

I’m so fucking angry I’m seeing stars. I’m barely aware of the fact I’ve been left alone in some kind of massive bathing room, with oils and soaps of all kinds and torches lining the walls. The whole place has a weird primitive vibe, especially for a civilization that’s tried to take over most of the charted universe.

I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself. I did my best to ignore the Roth who brought me here, and even though they didn’t touch me, seemed afraid to touch me—which, considering what Nydo’s capable of, I don’t blame them—I feel sick.

I feel like I’m trapped all over again, in a prison that I’ve willingly walked into.

My stomach’s in knots. I rub my hand over it. Something is very, very, wrong, and I’m not smart enough to even know what.

I am a fool. A fool.

I should have known Nydo had something up his sleeve.

I’m so angry.

Angry… and hurt.

Tears well in my eyes, and I throw my stupid black gown off, the stupid black circlet landing next to it. I jump in the huge pool of water just to give myself something to do.

I’m so, so fucking mad and hurt.

“You really fucked up, didn’t you, Leigh Miller,” I mutter to myself.

“Welcome to Roth,” a smooth female voice calls. The words echo around the chamber, freaky and u

I screech, ducking underwater.

A laugh ripples across my awareness, and I scramble to the surface, sputtering, doing my best not to drown myself while freaking out. At least I’m not crying anymore, I guess. The thought guts me though, a knife wound to the heart.

I swim for the edge of the massive pool and hold on to the stone edge, all too aware of my own nakedness.

“Who’s there?” I ask, my voice small and strange in the vastness of the temple pool.

“Am I here, then?” the voice asks, amused.

The hair pricks up on the back of my neck. I gulp.

“I am here, and I am there, and I am everywhere all at once.” The voice is deeper now, more ominous, layered. Otherworldly.

Real fear cuts through me.

“What do you want?” I ask, paddling out to the center of the pool again. Holding on to the ledge doesn’t seem to be the wisest choice, if it’s an attacker. Fuck. Although, if I’m swimming in the middle of the pool, they’ll shoot me.

I’m not thrilled with my situation; I don’t want to die.

“What do I want?” The voice pauses, the air heavy and muggy. “I want to see the future of my species. I want to give you my blessing, and my warning.”

The air is oppressive, and I gasp for breath, a headache blooming between my eyes.

What the fuck is going on?

“You bathe in my sacred pool,” the voice whispers, right in my ear, and it’s all I can do to stay afloat and not suck in a mouthful of water out of sheer, sudden terror. “I can see all of you, laid bare before me, all your wants, your needs, your past, your present, and your future.”

I shiver again, despite the heat in the room.

“And I find you worthy,” the voice says.

I blink. I swear, I feel a caress on my brow, along my cheekbone and across to my jaw. The temperature in the temple immediately returns to normal, the humidity dissipating as quickly as it came on. The pool steams slightly, and I glance around, my eyes wide.

“The fuck?” I say out loud.

I swim for the steps as fast as I can, only too ready to get the hell out of this room.

My clothes are still in a heap on the floor, and I clutch them to me as I scuttle away.

Mental note: never bathe in a Roth temple again.

The only exit is directly opposite the now barred doors I came through, and I do my best not to slip on the stone floors as I rush to the arched opening.

Who the hell was talking to me? There’s no one here. There are certainly no Roth women around, hanging out and telling me I’m worthy.

I’d almost think it was a trick of some kind, that they’d piped in the voice and the steam or something… if I hadn’t felt the touch on my face.

I search my brain for any memories of what Nydo told me of the Roth gods, my wet feet slapping the floor, my hair hanging around my face in wet tendrils.

He never mentioned a goddess, as far as I can remember, but I know he said his mother thought his people were being punished. I remember that because I thought it was silly and superstitious. I mean, sure, I celebrate Christmas and all, but it’s not like I’m religious.

Then again I never had a god—goddess—speak to me and touch my face.

My mind reels. I don’t want to believe it. It’s just too weird.

Besides, what I should be thinking about, worried about, isn’t some divine intervention, but the fact that Nydo has obviously been less than truthful with me. He didn’t tell me we’d be separated; he didn’t tell me anything about this at all.

I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. I didn’t think I would mind being away from him. It’s more than minding, though. I want him here, by my side, talking me through this. Talking me through whatever the hell that was in that bath… room.