I startle, observing the female before me more closely. One of my good friends, Valtair, recently took a human female as a mate, deciding to explore the galaxy with her rather than settle on the planet with us. Traitor. Almost miraculously, I never got the chance to meet her in person. Now, I see the appeal, and I don’t blame him for wanting her all to himself.
I check for signs of life, seeing the female’s chest rising and falling slowly. “She’s alive but unconscious. We need to get her out.”
Together, we pry open the pod’s warped door.
Carefully, I lift her from the pod and cradle her unconscious form against my broad chest. She’s so slight and delicate in my arms that for a moment, I’m at a loss, unsure how to tend to someone so easily injured. She seems impossibly delicate. I’m struck by an odd urge to protect this fragile being from any possible threats.
“I don’t think she is the critic we’ve been expecting,” I say after examining the female closer. “You mentioned that the critic was a powerful figure, someone of great importance, right? Look, her clothes are too plain.”
Her clothes aren’t like those worn by high-status officials at all; they simply lack the grandeur. She doesn’t have any glittering jewels, or even nanobots threaded through her clothing with glistening metallic threads. Instead, she wears simple blue trousers made of a sturdy fabric and a plain shirt that clings to each of her curves. Then again, perhaps she’s so wealthy she doesn’t need nanobots; she merely disposes of her clothing once it becomes threadbare or dirty.
Rist pauses thoughtfully. “I was told the critic would be unforgettable. And this female certainly fits that description.”
Gazing down at her, resting peacefully in my arms, I find myself agreeing—she is unforgettable.
Rist leans closer to inspect the unconscious human. I fight the urge to push him away, to protect my precious cargo. I clutch the female closer. “I’ll take care of her. You know, just in case she is the critic.”
He straightens, brushing dirt and debris from his clothes. “Very well then, she’s your problem now. Get her settled and patched up in the medical pod.”
I gather the little human more securely against me, a knot in my chest easing because I will be able to keep her close. “Don’t worry, she’s safe with me.”
We both turn back towards the hotel and freeze. The outside is awash with mud and debris. It requires a monumental cleanup.
“Are you sure I can’t take her…?” Rist asks.
“Nope. Not a chance. I called first. She’s mine,” I reply. I hold the fragile creature more securely in my arms. I have no plans to surrender her, none at all.
“I guess this means I’ve got a hotel to clean.” Rist throws his hands up in exasperation before sauntering away, bemoaning the extra work.
Once safely inside the medical room, I study the human’s features more carefully. So alien, yet somehow appealing. As I trace the soft curves of her face, an unexpected protectiveness wells up in me. She doesn’t have any claws or horns like Volscians do to defend herself. A strange feeling stirs in my chest. Have I ever felt compelled to protect another so instinctively? It is unsettling, yet not unwelcome.
After the medical pod has finished its job, I carry her into the kitchens, gently laying her on the staff couch. I can keep watch over my newfound treasure while I work.
Gently brushing a lock of hair from her face, I murmur, “Rest now, little one. We have much to discuss when you wake.”
I chuckle to myself. The prince has clearly lost his mind if he thinks this delicate female is our critic. I just can’t imagine it. But if she is... My thoughts turn to the potential havoc she could wreak. We’ve invested everything into this endeavor. One bad word from her, and all our plans could crumble.
For now, she is in my care, and I vow no harm will come to her. I will keep her safe, no matter what.
I’ll just have to do everything in my power to ensure her review is positive.
ChapterThree
ELANA
An all-encompassing ache flares across my body as soon as I rise into consciousness. My mind struggles to catch up as blurred memories flash through. The ship spiraling out of control, the ground, and trees rushing up to embrace me.
My eyes flutter open. One thing is instantly clear: I’m not on the ship anymore. The sterile white ceiling towers far above me, nothing like the claustrophobic metal confines of the spacecraft. All around me are warm gray tiles and metal cabinetry.
I shift experimentally, my body protesting the slightest movements. I’m lying on what seems to be a couch, and given the tears in its fabric and its lumpiness, it’s rather old.
A flash of crimson in the corner of my eye has me tilting my head gingerly. A bright red guy—no, an alien—stands on the other side of a cold metal table. He’s built like a Greek god, all rippling muscles, and bulging biceps. His thick black hair shines like it’s right out of a conditioner commercial. I would pay significant money to get my rat’s nest to look like that. If he had normal human skin instead of that bright candy apple red, I’d be drooling right now. At least this guy looks somewhat human-like compared to the dragons.
Panic spikes through me when he brings a huge, wickedly sharp cleaver down with a meaty thunk, scoring the table beneath it. Is he going to butcher and eat me? Oh God, is he cutting up his previous victim right in front of me? I have to get out of here! I have to find some way to defend myself.
I consider inching off the couch and making a dash for it. What are the chances he’ll see me moving, given that he’s facing my direction? All he has to do is glance up and see that my prone body has somehow traveled from the couch to the floor, or halfway across the room…
Yeah, even I’m not that stupid.
