Page 29 of My Big Fat Fake Alien

I pull the card from my wallet, holding it up between two fingers. The metallic glint catches the sunlight. “No one’s going to complain when I whip this out.”

She squints at it. “That’s not black. Or gold. What is it?”

“Uranium.”

Her eyes widen. “Does it haveactualuranium in it?”

I chuckle, sliding it back into my wallet. “I sincerely hope not.”

She follows me to the car, towel and all, and we drive to the most exclusive boutique in Manhattan. The kind of place where the air smells like money and the salespeople don’t bother with price tags.

A designer in a tailored suit greets us by name, his eyes flicking to Raven’s damp hair and bare shoulders. If he’s judging her, he’s smart enough to keep it to himself.

“Something for the evening?” he asks, already sketching on a tablet.

“Something…” I glance at Raven, my gaze lingering on the way her towel drapes over her curves. “Unforgettable.”

Forty-five minutes later, Raven emerges from the dressing room in a black dress that looks like it was poured onto her. Theneckline plunges, the slit climbs, and the fabric clings to every inch of her like it was made for her. Because it was.

She twirls, the skirt flaring slightly. “Well?”

“Perfect,” I say, my voice low.

She smirks, adjusting the hem. “I just realized… I can’t wear panties with this. It’s too tight.”

I step closer, my hand sliding to her waist. “Your point?”

She doesn’t pull away. “Just saying. It’s… impractical.”

“Practicality is overrated.” I lean down, my lips brushing her ear. “Besides, I like the idea of you bare beneath that dress.”

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t argue. Instead, she tilts her head, her lips curving into a sly smile. I step back, gesturing to the sleek gown. “Ready to play the part of my bride-to-be.”

She smooths the fabric, her expression softening. “For ten million dollars.”

“For the mission,” I correct, though the way she looks at me makes it hard to focus on anything else. “And because I like seeing you in something besides a towel.”

She laughs, the sound light and genuine. “You’re paying for the shoes too, right?”

“Done.”

As we leave the boutique, her arm linked with mine, I think she’s the only thing in this world that’s truly priceless. But I’ll keep that to myself—for now.

My hand rests on the cool leather of the limo door as I slide in beside Raven. The scent of her perfume—something floral with a hint of spice—fills the space, but the weight of what I’m about to say dulls even that distraction.

I turn to her, my expression serious. “Raven, if Giscard is connected to the Grolgath, this could get dangerous. More dangerous than you realize. If you want to back out, I’ll understand. And you’ll still get the ten million.”

She arches an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a half-smile. “What, you think humans can’t be brave like Vakutan?”

I tilt my head, surprised by her defiance. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“You sure? Because it sounds like you’re underestimating me.” She leans back against the seat, her eyes locking onto mine. “I became Nightbird because I wanted to make the world better, Karc. Not just with my art but with my actions. Now I have a chance to help the entire human race. Yeah, it might be dangerous, but so is slipping in the shower.”

I chuckle despite myself, the tension in my chest easing slightly. “You’re not wrong. But this isn’t a slip in the shower. This is Grolgath. They’re brutal, cunning, and they won’t hesitate to kill you if they find out what you’re doing.”

“And?” She crosses her arms, her chin lifting in defiance. “I’m not going to back down just because it’s scary. I’ve been scared before. I’ve been hurt before. But I’m still here, still fighting. So don’t tell me I can’t handle this.”

I study her, my admiration growing with every word. She’s tougher than she looks, braver than most soldiers I’ve fought alongside. And she’s got a fire in her that could rival any Vakutan warrior.

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