Page 28 of Loved By the Alien King
“I’m aware,” I growled without meaning to, and Pete backed off, hands raised. “I choose the Killian. Truth or Dare?”
“Truth,” he declared.
He’d never been anything but truthful to me. Now was as good a time as any to take full advantage.
“Did the Killians have anything to do with the embassy explosion that killed my wife?” A simple question, delivered smoothly without the usual rage and vitriol whenever I even thought about it.
He looked at me for several beats, eyebrows raised, as if he were surprised at my choice of question even though he shouldn’t have been.
Then, “No, we didn’t. The murder of innocents has never been our custom, as you well know.”
Silence blanketed the platform as his words washed icy-cold showers over not only me but everyone else too. This show was supposed to be flirtatious, light-hearted, but I’d taken it to the dark, soulless depths of war and politics. Leave it to me to kill, well, everything.
Nera traced her fingers over my chest, directly over my dueling hearts, in a soothing caress. Her comfort gave me peace. Her big brown eyes gave me the strength to see past my own grief.
I sucked in a quiet, ragged breath and nodded. “I think I always knew this.”
“We told you for years we had nothing to do with it,” the Killian said gently, without blame. “Truth or…truth, King Maxx?”
My gut sank. Yes, of course, he’d noticed the black star I’d left conveniently flipped over on my hoverchair.
“Truth,” I answered.
My dueling pulses roared in my ears, reverberating a loud countdown tick toward his question about why Space Fleet captured me. My throat went dry. The scales on my palms turned clammy.
He studied me carefully, a cunning green tower that probably wasn’t big enough for his overactive brain.
The silence stretched. The drone cameras hovered a little closer.
The Killian finally opened his mouth to speak. “Do you know of a brand of underwear that doesn’t chafe the delicacies?”
The air whooshed from my lungs in a chuckle. Well, that was unexpected.
Nera grinned brightly at the Killian. The other contestants laughed.
“Ohhhh, yes, do tell,” Pete said, turning to me, like I was suddenly the underwear expert.
“Can’t go wrong with Cosmic Cheeks,” I said, shrugging. “You can also get it custom-made in case you’re blessed with some…creative anatomy.”
Pete tilted his head. “Like what?”
“I’m not talking about my dick with you, Pete.” I cut him down with a hard look.
Nera raised her hand high. “But I will.”
Chuckling, I pulled her toward me and nuzzled her cheek, happy to see that those tears that were like arrows to my hearts had dried.
“You can talk about my dick withme,” I whispered, “when it’s inside you, when my kaxxui are guzzling your cum, when I’m making every part of youmine.”
She gasped when I bit down on her earlobe and sucked it into my mouth. A tremble rippled up her clenched thighs.
“Promise?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
I nodded, becoming too lost in the feel of her golden skin, the heady scent of her arousal, and everything that was Nera to even notice when the game ended and someone called, “Cut! Break for fifteen!”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked, sliding her tongue over the seam of my lips.
“That depends.”
