Page 9 of Rescued By the Alien Bull Rider

A handshake.

I knew what to do. I knew what was expected of me.

I could ignore her little hand. Turn my back on those pale fingers in the night. On that smile that beckoned to me, expected things from me, things I feared I’d run to give her, even if it made me fall flat on my face in the end.

I should call the warden.

He could come and get her on his slicer. Take this lost human far away from here.

Already, I resented the things that smile was doing to me. Those eyes, those soft lips, the gently expectant tilt of her human head.

Call the warden, Zohro.

I did not.

Instead, I took her hand in mine.

Her smile bloomed. It was the only word I could think for such a painfully perfect shift in her expression. One touch of my bloodied hand and it was as if I’d turned the sun on her.

“Nice to meet you, Zohro,” she said, and, by the empire, she actually sounded as if she meant it. “And to answer your other question about what I’m doing out here…”

She squared her shoulders and stared straight into my white eyes.

“I’ve come to marry an alien cowboy.”

4

JOLENE

Zohro stared at me in silence for so long that I began to wonder if his translator – which I assumed he had, since we’d had no trouble communicating up until now – had glitched out. Also, his hand was sweaty. Like, really, really sweaty. So sweaty that hot moisture was pooling between our palms, finally emerging as a big, fat drop that fell onto the ground between us.

I couldn’t blame the guy for sweating after the mad dash and then insane bull-riding routine I’d just witnessed. I’d never even seen a pro bull rider last that long, and I’d watched plenty of them over the years at New Alberta rodeos.

“Thank you very much for saving me,” I said softly when he didn’t respond to my comment about coming to marry a cowboy.

He grunted, then pulled his hand away. My fingers twitched, soaked, but I thought better of wiping my hand on my pants. That had to be rude in any culture. And I was the one who’d reached out to shake, anyway.

“How did you know to shake my hand?” I asked, suddenly curious. I looked up into his face, but didn’t see much beyond hard, dark lines and very bright eyes. The moons and stars werebehind him, tall trees ahead, casting most of him in into shadow. Long hair. Muscled frame. Boots and a prehensile, rope-like tail that I only now saw held a knife. As if noticing my gaze upon it, he tucked the blade into a sheath at his belt.

“If you are with the bride program,” he asked, ignoring my question, “then why are you not with Tasha?”

First Oaken, now Tasha. I don’t have a clue who these people are…

“Well, I guess I’m not officially part of the program yet,” I said. “But I heard about Magnolia, and heard there were more men waiting for wives and… I kind of just jumped in.”

“Jumped in?”

“Booked a ride. But he just dumped me out here in the middle of nowhere!” Humiliatingly, my voice cracked. Pregnancy hormones and the dip in adrenaline from the evening’s events left me suddenly shaky and sad.

“Who did?” Zohro’s voice went sharp as the knife he’d just sheathed.

“Bones! The pilot who brought me here.” I sniffed, blinking hard and willing my throat to relax. “He said there’s some kind of no-landing-here rules for this planet, which I don’t really get, but whatever. So he didn’t want to take me somewhere with more people or, like, the authorities.”

“He landed here?” He whipped his tail violently in a gesture that seemed to be emphasizing the beautiful but unforgiving nature of the landscape. “And heleft you?”

The knife was back in the grip of his tail. Something besides his eyes gleamed in his face.Fangs.When his voice came next, it sounded nothing like it had before. A savage snarl. “Where is he?”

“The ship is long gone by now,” I stammered. “He landed and exited the atmosphere while cloaked.”

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