Page 27 of Alien Wants A Wife

I open my eyes to find him watching me intently.

With him seated and me standing, I’m finally taller than him. This close I can see all the tiny details of his scales—the way they neatly overlap each other in a way that means they can turn complicated corners and fill in even the most difficult of places, like the creases of his elbows and the indentations between his fingers.

Only his palms are free of scales, so even his touches are soft, where the rest of his body is straight lines and solid muscles—as evidenced when I tried to help him stand and couldn’t lift him, even the smallest amount.

Why Roan?I’d asked Chloe, when she’d first told me her plan for us.Why Roan?But it’s so obvious now I’ve met him. He’s sitting in front of me with his heart on his metaphorical sleeve, wanting nothing more than to be noticed.

To be loved.

Breaking his heart in front of the cameras would make for spellbinding TV. The audience of billions wouldn’t be able to keep their eyes off the screen. It would be like watching a sinking ship—piquing everybody’s morbid curiosity.

My heart hammers a stampede in my chest. I reorganize the makeup on the closest table as an excuse to break eye contact and to give my hands something to do, hoping he doesn’t notice how much I’m shaking. Hoping he doesn’t notice how much I’m regretting our time spent alone together.

Chapter Ten

Harlee

“What do you mean Briar’s going with Sorin? Going where?”

Mr. Smith stares at Lydia, but Lydia doesn’t back down. She’s got her hands pressed to her hips, and her sleeveless sundress does wonders for displaying her muscular arms. She should be in an advertisement for a gym, with her eyes shining and her cheeks flushed as she glares at the director with as much stubborn refusal to back down as he’s got.

She opens her mouth, and right when I think she’s going to really start berating him, she takes a half step back, glancing at me.

For a split second I see despair in her expression, but then she blinks, and it’s gone. Whatever argument with which she’d been about to confront Mr. Smith dies when faced with the very real threat of him refusing to take us home after the show’s finished filming. And Lydia really, really wants to go home.

I step up beside her, linking my arm with hers and trying to offer her my silent support. I think, of the two of us, I’ve had infinitely more practice at keeping my mouth shut.

Still, I hate seeing the full force of her personality squashed into submission.

Like me.The thought isn’t a happy one, and I shield away from it.

I’m not submissive,I tell myself instead. I’m happy-go-lucky. I’m everyone’s girl Friday. And I smile, wrinkling the corners of my eyes because the cameras are filming us and I don’t want anyone thinking I’m not grateful for the opportunity LOVE GALAXY has given me.

The audience always finds it incredibly easy to hate the girl who isn’t grateful.

We’re back in Killan’s kitchen—Roan, Killan, Lydia, Mr. Smith and me. The plan is for us to say our goodbyes to Sorin and Briar here, then to film content for the second episode. I’m not sure exactly what that content is going to be, as Mr. Smith hasn’t outlined that part of the plan yet.

Already, my fake smile is making my cheeks hurt, and I’m so tired, having hardly slept last night. Thoughts of Roan had run riot around my head as I’d lain in the dark, trying to focus on the sound of Lydia’s deep breathing.

The two of us had been given a room on the ship to share, with hammocks instead of proper beds—and mine had been too short to be comfortable. We haven’t seen Briar since before my interview yesterday; she’d slept in her own room, the one Mr. Smith’s been keeping her locked up in whenever she isn’t needed for filming.

And now he’s sending her away, exiling her to Sorin’s house, all because of the fuss she made yesterday, telling the guys about us Humans being abducted and demanding better treatment.

A sour taste fills my mouth.

I doubt Mr. Smith will tell the audience the truth of what’s happening. Probably LOVE GALAXY will make Briar and Sorin’s separation from the main group look like a romantic getaway so the new couple can get to know each other better.

“Sorin has a house at the southernmost border of the farm,” Roan answers Lydia’s question when it becomes clear Mr. Smith isn’t going to say anything else.

I don’t remember seeing any farm, the few times I’ve made the trek through the wind between the house and ship. Unless, of course, it’s the wind they’re farming.

“She won’t have to walk there, will she?” I ask, trying to keep the worry and anger out of my voice. If experience has taught me anything, it’s that showing defiance guarantees you’ll look like a bitch on screen and won’t get you anything but a terrible reputation.

Roan shakes his head. “We have underground tunnels that connect our houses. It takes about an hour of travel to reach Sorin’s. I believe cameras have already been set up there.” He glances at Mr. Smith, seeking confirmation, but the director is examining something on his tablet screen and deliberately ignoring us.

“Why so far?” With only three people on the entire planet, I’d have thought the brothers would spend most of their time together, for lack of any other company, but apparently quiet Sorin craves privacy.

Before Roan can answer, Briar, Sorin and Chloe descend the stairs into the kitchen. Sorin’s scales are flushed blue, and he avoids making eye contact with anyone. Briar’s looking distinctly windswept, and she’s tugging at the hem of her dress, double checking it’s covering her ass.

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