Page 78 of Alien Jeopardy
But Ken winks out of existence, leaving my question hanging in the air and me alone with Rex.
The ground shakes and I squeak, grabbing Rex’s arm to anchor myself.
In front of us, a round structure shoots out of the ground, a stone cottage of sorts—though it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
“I keep thinking nothing is going to surprise me, and then I keep getting proven wrong,” I say.
Rex laughs. “There is much you haven’t seen in this universe, but you are the only thing I care about seeing.”
Aww. Good grief. “You sure know how to flirt.” I squeeze his bicep a little, feeling warm all over, as Ken’s words echo in my mind.
Privacy.
Ken said the cameras were going to be off in an hour.
“We’re going to have privacy,” I tell Rex.
“Good,” Rex tells me, a mischievous smile on his face. “I know what I want for dessert, and no insta-pantry can make it.”
Whoooowhee. I fan myself, then stop, thinking hard.
“I don’t know what an insta-pantry is,” I admit.
Ka-Rexsh laughs and takes me by the hand. “Come with me, hyrulis. I will show you how the insta-pantry works, we will eat, and then, my Ellison, it will be my turn to feast.”
I might not be in heat, but good grief, I’m hot all over.
It should be ridiculous, the way he says it, and if anyone else said something like that to me, I would absolutely be laughing.
But he’s completely and utterly sincere, and it’s refreshing to be with someone who says exactly what they want without any sort of subtext.
Rex clearly wants to eat me out, and I’d have to be half dead not to want him to do just that.
I’m not half dead.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
Ellison
The tiny stone cottage is one of the strangest buildings I’ve ever been in. The rustic walls and wood beams seem like something out of a fairytale, whimsical and rough-hewn… and in complete contrast to everything inside.
Lights hang from the conical ceiling, and I stare at them in utter confusion.
They’re not chandeliers, or bulbs, or anything I could possibly comprehend. The lights are fuzzy, and it’s not because of my vision.
“Shoutout to the surgeon that did my Lasik, you’re a real one, Dr. Adebayo.” I scratch at my shoulder, still staring at the strange, fuzzy blob lights that seem to be suspended from fishing wire.
“I can’t imagine having to do all this in glasses,” I tell Rex.
“Glasses?” He frowns. “To drink from?”
“No, for my vision.” I sigh. “Never mind. What are those things?”
“Some sort of light source,” he answers, which is hardly illuminating.
Illuminating. Heh.
