Page 44 of My Big Fat Fake Alien

My breath hitches, and I’m pretty sure my jaw hits the floor. Did he just—? No, he couldn’t have. I mean, Iknewhe cared about me, butlove? That’s not part of the script. That’s not part of the deal. My body trembles, my knees threatening to buckle, but Karc’s already retreating, nodding to the reverend to continue like he didn’t just drop a bomb on me.

The room swims, and I’m barely aware of the reverend asking Karc if he takes me as his wife. His “I do” is firm, unwavering, and it sends a shiver through my core. Then it’s my turn, and the words stick in my throat. Everyone’s staring at me, their faces a blur of expectation and impatience. The reverend clears his throat, and the silence stretches, awkward and suffocating.

I glance at Karc, his orange eyes burning with something I can’t quite name. I grab the lapels of his tuxedo, hauling myself up on my tiptoes so I can whisper in his ear. “Nothing about today is fake.”

His eyes widen, and for the first time since I’ve known him, Karc looks speechless. I drop back down, my lips quirking into a small smile. Then I turn to the reverend. “I do, sorry,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

The guests laugh, the tension dissolving into applause, but I’m still reeling. This isn’t just about the mission anymore. This isn’t just about the world ending or the Grolgath or any of it. This is abouthim. Aboutme. Aboutus.

And for the first time, I let myself believe it might be real.

"You may kiss the?—"

I surge forward, meeting Karc halfway as his mouth crashes into mine. His lips are soft but demanding, and I melt into him like I've done this a thousand times before. His hand slides down my back, cupping my ass through layers of white silk, and the crowd erupts in whoops and cheers.

I should be embarrassed. I should care that my conservative aunt is probably having a heart attack in the third row, or that Dad's definitely turning red as a tomato. But I don't. Not with Karc's tongue sliding against mine, not with his heart thundering against my palms where they're pressed to his chest.

When we finally break apart, I'm dizzy and breathless. Karc's eyes are molten orange, burning with promises that make my toes curl inside my white satin heels.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the reverend announces, "I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Kirk Stevens!"

Karc takes my hand, and we turn to face our guests. The applause is deafening, but all I can focus on is the way my cheeks ache from smiling. When was the last time I smiled like this? Not the practiced customer service smile from Area 51, or the careful mask I wore after Tommy broke my heart. No, this is different. This is real.

We practically float down the aisle together, rose petals raining down around us. My face hurts from grinning so wide,but I can't stop. Won't stop. It's like rediscovering a part of myself I thought was lost forever, buried under years of heartbreak and disappointment.

Maybe I forgot how to truly smile somewhere along the way. Maybe those jerks who used me and left me took that ability with them when they walked out. But here, now, with Karc's hand warm in mine and his love burning in my chest, I've found it again.

CHAPTER 20

KARC

The music swells, a slow, sultry beat that wraps around us like a warm embrace. My arms tighten around Raven’s waist, drawing her closer as we sway on the dance floor. The reception hall is alive with laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional drunken shout from the wet bar where Terry Silver and my father, Vrahmin, are holding court. Those two are a match made in chaos—Terry with his moonshine-fueled charm and Vrahmin with his obnoxious, boisterous humor.

Raven’s head tilts slightly, her gaze flicking over my shoulder toward the corner of the room. “Madison’s been slow dancing with Jareth all night,” she murmurs, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the back of my neck. “She’s not exactly being subtle.”

I glance over, catching sight of Jareth’s yellow-scaled form hunched awkwardly over Madison’s petite frame. “He’s out of his depth,” I say with a chuckle. “Your roommate might be too much for poor Jareth to handle.”

Raven snorts, her breath warm against my chest. “He’s going to need therapy after this.”

The smile slips from my lips as I look down at her, my hand cupping her cheek. “We must speak at some point, Raven.”

She sighs, her body tensing for a moment before she relaxes again, leaning her head against my chest. “I know. But today has been a lot, so can we just… not for a little while longer?”

My thumb strokes her jawline, my voice softening. “As if I could ever refuse you anything, little bird. I am, as always, utterly at your mercy.”

Her lips curl into a smirk, though her eyes stay closed. “I don’t think you were at my mercy when you had me strapped to the St. Andrew’s Cross.”

I lift her chin with a finger, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss that leaves her breathless. My voice is a low growl as I pull back just enough to speak. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” she pants, her cheeks flushed. “Guess I do.”

The dance ends, and Raven excuses herself with a soft smile. “Powder room,” she says, slipping her hand from mine. I watch her go, the sway of her hips in that dress doing nothing to calm the protective fire in my chest.

Before I can follow, my father clamps a hand on my shoulder, dragging me toward the bar. His laughter booms, a sound that’s equal parts fondness and exasperation. “Karc, my boy,” he says, slapping the counter. “You’ve done well. A human jalshagar. Who would’ve thought?”

I grit my teeth, forcing a smile. “She’s more than that, Father.”

He waves a hand, already halfway into his third glass of something amber and potent. “Of course, of course. But let’s not forget where you come from, eh? You’re a Vakutan warrior, not some lovesick human.”

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