Page 12 of Loved By the Alien King
This rescue—if that’s what you could even call it—was doomed.
“What kind of moron gets captured by Space Fleet?” Pete asked loudly, his arms outstretched.
“The kind who’s calculating the best place to punch you first,” I growled. “What kind ofHunger Gamescornucopia escape room bullshit was that, Pete? You could’ve killed someone with that idea of yours.”
“Oh, he knows.” The Killian’s green, intelligent eyes swept over my glass cage and then landed on me, narrowed with all sorts of questions and suspicions. He shrugged a bow and a quiver of arrows—the Killian weapon of choice—higher up his muscled arm so the wooden end clanged against a machete strapped to his waist. “That’s why he’s here. To bust you out and make nice so you don’t kill him.”
“That’spartof why I’m here,” Pete said, rolling his eyes at the Killian. “Here’s a little known fact—I’ve never met a lock I can’t pick in under a minute, thanks to my dad, a professional locksmith. Remember that game in episode two called Lock & Key? I’ve would’ve whoopedally’all.”
“And of courseyouknew that,” I said to the Killian.
He stopped in front of me and crossed his arms, studying me as though under a microscope. “What did you do, Maxx?”
“Wrong place, wrong time.” I shrugged. “That’s it.”
“Space Fleet doesn’t take prisoners.”
“They don’t hire assassins like Emjay either, and yet…” I held out my hands at my current situation.
He nodded slowly. “Funny coincidence how the hired assassin and the first Space Fleet capture I’ve ever heard of all revolve around you.”
“Funny, indeed.”
Goddess damn him. He didn’t know when to stop that quick mind of his. He was always five steps ahead of everyone else. Pretty soon, he’d lap us all with the discovery thatTwilightvampires could’ve just worn sunscreen to keep from glittering.
“Anyway.” Pete crossed toward a control panel on the left wall. “You should see the numbers for the latest episode, especially with the cliffhanger ending of the entire second group still missing in their escape-room adventure.” Pete kissed the tips of his fingers and then exploded them apart. “Chef’s kiss. They’re fine, by the way. Not missing, just…a little homicidal toward me, same as everyone else.”
“And Nera?” I demanded. “How is she?”
“Frantic over you, but…” The Killian shook his head and then glanced around the room like he was searching for the correct words.
“But?” I prompted.
“At the beach house, she looked stricken. Unnerved. Something got to her, Maxx.” He met my gaze then, the worry inside his eyes carving out my heart. “Something big enough to shake even her.”
I slammed my hand against the glass wall, directing all my ire toward the outside world. “Get me the fuxx out of here.”
“Literally what I’m trying to do over here. Relax, man,” Pete called. “There’s a lot of buttons and gadgets. It’ll take me a minute to find the sweet, wet, hot hole to put my—”
With a mechanical whir, the glass cage began to lift. Stale recycled air funneled out, replaced with only slightly fresher recycled air.
“Finger.” Pete grinned over his shoulder and waved said finger in the air.
I breathed in deeply and ducked out from under my cage. “Thanks, Pete.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, coming toward us. “But if you do, make sure it’s in front of the ladies.”
Yeah, I was not going to do that.
“How did you find me?” I demanded.
“Your communicator,” Pete said. “That’s how we tracked your location.”
At the Killian’s slow swivel of his head to glare at him, Pete cleared his throat.
“And by we, I mean him,” Pete corrected with an unapologetic grin.
“You’re having entirely too much fun,” the Killian scolded him.
