Page 26 of Betrothed to the Alien Mercenary

I was sensitive to the sun’s bright shine, my head aching if I peered too closely at the glowing orb. It was starting to dip toward the horizon; soon, night would fall, and with it, the intense cold of a desert night on Ov’Korad. If I remained dressed as flimsily as I was, I’d find myself dying of hypothermia next. How fun. Was it a record to suffer from both in a single day? Hot and cold.

Thinking of temperatures, I became aware of a blaze of warmth at the back of my skull, and I got lost in thought as I focused on that. Was it Aramon, or was it the mate bond? Many species talked of such a bond; it was never a tangible thing, it was the instant attraction that bloomed between two people. It was the promise of love, the promise of strong offspring. But, what if itcouldbe more? What if Aramon really could find me with it?

Imala escorted me into the main tent as if we were gliding into a party at court, ready to dance all night and celebrate midsummer or the solstice—some of Xurtal’s most exalted happenings of the year. Only, I was dressed in rags, with still-drying hair and a split lip. I was walking to what could very well be my execution.

The tent was filled with a large table and chairs. A viewscreen had been hung from one of the tent walls, and Pelarios was pacing in front of it. “Ah, there you are,” he said when we ducked inside, but he halted abruptly, his expression turning sour with distaste. “Why is her hair not green? And where is the illusion device? We had extra contacts, too. She should be wearing those, Imala.” He paused, his expression growing even darker when the young woman did not cower as he expected her to. “I can still pick one of your sisters instead.”

The threat hung heavy in the air, and I could feel how the words struck Imala, like they were blows. Her lower lip trembled briefly before she got control of it, her expression turning cool and steely. I was impressed; Evadne didn’t have that kind of control at that age. She’d always been more temperamental and headstrong—more prone to gossip and flights of fancy than was supposedly appropriate for a princess. “They are not here, sir,” Imala said with perfect, calm diction. She managed to sound serene, with a kind, beatific smile.

Pelarios turned to his guard, angrily instructing them to locate what he needed. They ran out as if there were fire at their heels, but he seemed calmer when he turned back to focus on Imala and me. Maybe the young princess impressed him with her cool head and her perfect manners. I could see that.

“Yeah, I suppose there is a reason I picked you over Candala or Evrana,” Pelarios mused, confirming my suspicions. He intended to mate with or marry poor Imala once the dust settled on his coup—a way to legitimize his claim to the Xurtal throne.

“And the hair?” He flicked a claw at my wild red tangles with a curl to his mouth—not quite distaste, but coming close. It was obvious he had no patience to deal with any of these setbacks, but it was also obvious that he’d risen to the status of advisor for a reason. He knew how to roll with the punches, adapt on the fly, and his ambition clearly knew no bounds.

“The dye stripper that was used prevents new dye from taking. It is impossible, sir,” Imala said, her voice as serene as an angel. It was like she was sticking a dagger in his side when she smiled pleasantly, infuriating him without ever saying anything wrong. He knew it, she knew it, and I could see it in the glint in her ruby eyes. I needed to take a page from her book—channel that nasty, backstabbing side that was so appreciated by the royal Xurtal court.

“Fine, you are dismissed,” Pelarios grunted, waving a hand at her. She dipped into a bow, turned, and strode out of the tent. It felt a little like I’d lost my ally when she left, but that was stupid to think. I could not forget that Imala was probably going to do anything she could to ensure her survival. She’d shown kindness, but that did not mean she was on my side.

Alone with Pelarios, I waited because stalling for time was my best bet right now. It was tempting to jab at him, to hurl insults, but that might only accelerate the plans he had for me, which was the last thing I wanted. So I forced myself to stand tall, though my legs wanted to tremble; I was still cold after that ice bath, and now the coolness of the desert was creeping in.

As it turns out, his backup plan was a wig. They pulled it onto my head roughly, not bothering to properly secure it, but they needed my help with the contacts, which I could refuse. I fought with two guards, but my cold muscles were quickly sapped of strength. Pinned to the ground by one male, they tried to force open my eyes with little success. Pelarios stood over me, huffing in anger. I could not see it, but I knew he was pinching his mouth, frowning, and wearing the thunderous expression well-known to the court.

“Fine, no contacts, it’s time! At least tell me we can turn on the illusion?” That was when they put me through the humiliating process of yanking up my shirt to reveal my belly button—my very bare, piercingless belly button. I had never been happier than I was at that moment that I’d taken the horrible device out that morning. It was still in a pouch attached to the suit of armor, and that Kertinal hireling had tossed it into the sands far away from this camp.

Laughing in victory, I lay there on his soft rugs, pinned by two warriors. “You lose,” I said. “There’s no big reveal without that, is there, Pelarios? You fucking lose.” I cackled when he growled in fury and laughed even louder when he snapped at his guards to leave. Yeah, screw you. Sucks when you can’t do what you want, doesn’t it?

When the guards left, he turned on me, and everything became deadly quiet inside the tent. Still lying prone on the ground, my hands tied in front of me, I could see him round the table like a predator. His expression was cold as ice, his red eyes glowed like coals in his handsome, beautiful face, beneath perfect, thick black hair. It struck me how different yet similar he looked to Aramon—red eyes, red skin—but Pelarios was so handsome, so attractive. While Aramon looked ghoulish, with his sinister skull-like markings, he was nobody’s definition of handsome, but to me, he was.

Aramon’s scarlet eyes were warm and full of light, while Pelarios’s red orbs were cold and evil. There was darkness hiding behind that pretty facade, while Aramon was exactly what you got. Chaotic, a little morally skewed, but so loyal and sweet.I love you, Aramon, I thought as Pelarios pulled back his leg and kicked. I love you, crazy Asrai. Come for me.

The blow landed in my belly, and I did as I’d been taught to lessen its impact: rolling with the force and tightening my abs to protect my vulnerable organs. The second kick came faster, punctuated by a growl. I rolled and avoided it, coming up to my knees and catching a third with my bound hands. He did not expect that. When I twisted with all my strength, he flipped and thudded to the ground.

Rising to my feet, I stood over him and planted my foot on his throat. I’d lost the princess’s slipper in the scuffle, but I dug my heel in deep. “Fuck you, Pelarios. You’re not going to win. I’m going to expose you for the traitor you are!” My shout brought the guards back to the tent, but Pelarios moved faster.

Though spluttering through a bruised set of vocal cords—one of my signature moves—he grasped my ankle and tossed me to the ground without effort. I rolled again, tried to come up fighting, but he was faster, and now he wasn’t holding back. A blow landed on my face, sending me spinning, my vision bursting with black and white. And then he was on me: another kick to my belly, and then to my hip and my back. I coughed up blood all over his pretty carpets when he paused to growl at me.

“You are going to obey. You are going to admit to impersonating Evadne. You are going to tell them how you lied,” he said. Then, he turned to the viewscreen and tried to make a call. If that connection went through, he would reach Kalzudaud and the rest of the delegates. Would I be able to beg them for help? If I told them I was just a simple human Pelarios had kidnapped, would they believe me?

My body ached all over. I couldn’t take much more punishment than this. My ribs were cracked, and my hip ached so badly that I couldn’t move my right leg. The heat I felt in the back of my head could just mean I was about to pass out, but I did not want to believe that. I had to keep hoping.

The call did not connect, and Pelarios pulled on his long, thick braid in frustration. “Why is this not working? It should work!” He twisted to look at me, and I could only see him in a blurry, vague outline; my left eye had swollen shut. “What did you do?” The sound of an engine roaring interrupted his question, and he twisted to look at the guards hovering at the entrance, afraid to get closer and incur his wrath. “What is that?” They were only too happy to dart outside to investigate.

He stalked closer to me, dipping down to grab me by the hair and raise me off the rug. “Did you do this?” he demanded, and I shook my head. Sounds came from outside: the engine cutting off, followed by laser fire and the shouts of men. It sounded like a fight.

I wasn’t certain if I had anything to do with it, but as Pelarios raised a fist as though he was about to strike me, I could only grin. The heat at the back of my head was growing, like it was about to explode, rising like the sun, eclipsing everything. It filled my mind until all I could perceive was not Pelarios's treacherous face, but an overwhelming whiteness.Hello, my love.“What now?” Pelarios demanded at the same time.

I smiled. “Now, you die.”

Chapter 23

Aramon

I could not sit still enough to land the shuttle myself, pacing and bouncing around the interior as if I had itching powder in my suit. Asmoded had taken over at the helm without a word, and I only needed the bond with Solear to feed him the right direction for Evie. I was doing it, just like he said—locating my mate through a psychic bond. It was the stuff of fables, but I didn’t have time to marvel at it or wonder what it meant.

Evie was hurt, and she had gotten even more hurt in the last minute. I was going to gut the bastard who did this to her, skin him from head to toe, boil him alive. I was going to pay him back for every blow he’d struck against my mate, tenfold. Baring my teeth, I howled with fury at the closed hatch of the ship, wishing I could propel us to her faster. I knew that Asmoded was talking to people, arranging things—clever, smart things.

Even enraged with worry and fear as I clung to what had to be the back of Evie’s mind, I could recognize the deep rumble of the Tarkan delegate’s voice. They were telling the delegates that Evadne had been kidnapped—other things, too. Something about a Xurtal traitor and a second lost princess. There was only one princess who mattered: mine.

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