Entered in the Alien Bride Lottery by Margo Collins (easy readers txt) 📕

“She’s perfect.” I longed to fist the flower of her hair in my hand, then pull it from its careful updo, leaving it tousled.

As she stepped up to the microphone and leaned in, I waited to hear her beautiful voice again.

“Natalie Ferguson,” she said in a clipped tone, then stepped back again.

“Anything you’d like to add to that?” Vos asked jovially. She simply shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together. If I hadn’t known better, I would have said she looked angry.

Okay. So she didn’t sound as breathless as she had either of the times I’d spoken to her.

Did she really wish she had run?

No, I reassured myself. That couldn’t possibly be true. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have chosen to honor me—and by extension, all Khanavai—by wearing a dress in my color. Moreover, if the information on my screen was correct, it was a dress that had been designed by a stylist from my own planet.

As she slowly turned around on the stage, our screens sent out what was supposed to be her scent, sending it wafting across our seats. It was certainly close. But not close enough. I would have known the difference anywhere.

Soon, I promised silently, willing her to meet my eyes as she moved off the stage.

Soon, we will be together.

Chapter Nine

Natalie

“The Khanavai Spanking Ceremony?” I gesticulated wildly at the schedule I was reading, waving my hand through the words floating in front of me, practically screeching as I did so. “What the ever-loving hell is that?”

Drindl and Plofnid glanced at one another, the Poltien’s nostril-braid quivering as it blew out a resigned breath. “I knew you weren’t going to like that,” Plofnid muttered.

“Come eat your breakfast, and we’ll tell you all about it.” Drindl waved one elegant, long-fingered hand toward the rolling table they’d pushed into my room.

“That’s nothing I’ve ever seen on the Bride Games before.” I scowled at the all-white place settings in front of me as I took a seat.

“It’s one of several new additions to this year’s games.” Plofnid moved around the table, removing covers and revealing enough food for four women.

Or maybe one Khanavai warrior.

An image of the gorgeous blue warrior—Cav Adredoni, I reminded myself—flashed in front of me, and for a hot second, I imagined what it would be like to share a meal like this with him.

Quit it, Natalie. Remember, you’re playing to lose.

Well. That should be easy enough now. Any man who thought he could spank me was going to find out immediately that he’d picked the wrong Earth girl to lay hands on.

“Did you just growl?” Drindl asked, her eyes widening as she watched me pick up a croissant.

“Did the matches come through this morning?” I had seen enough of the Bride Games to know the basic pattern. Arrival interview, pageant, matching, several games...and then the final round.

I pushed aside what I knew about the final round. I was not going to have mating sex with any of these brutes.

Not even the big blue one?

Again, I shushed my inner voice.

“That was definitely a growl,” Plofnid added. “Perhaps some coffee? It’s direct from Earth.”

A ping sounded at the viewscreen pretending to be a window out onto an Earth ocean this morning—a view chosen, I suspected, to help keep me calm.

“There are the matches now,” Drindl sang out, her incipient frown smoothing away as she pushed a few buttons. “Oh, look!” Clapping her hands in delight, she gestured at the screen. “Not one, but three Khanavai warriors have chosen you as a potential mate.”

My stomach dropped at her words, the pastry in my mouth turning to a lump I couldn’t swallow as I stared up at the screen. Taking a quick swallow of orange juice to wash it down, I stood and moved to stand next to the stylist.

Given the way he’d picked me up and kissed me—without my consent, dammit!—I had expected Cav Adredoni to try to match with me. But I had hoped for a genetic mismatch.

Yeah, right, the annoying voice in my head snickered. Don’t forget, you kissed him back.

I glanced longingly at the butter knife next to my coffee, wondering if lobotomizing myself would shut up the voice.

Not sharp enough.

No. With my luck, I’d end up with nothing but that voice in my mind.

With a sigh, I pulled up the profile of one of the other two Khanavai warriors who had successfully matched with me.

The Khanavai coloring had something to do with the regions they’d originated from on their homeworld, but I had no idea which ones were which—only that they came in a rainbow of shades, all so bright they almost glowed.

The first one was Eldron Gendovi, and he was bright red with dark black hair. His skin tones reminded me of a Mustang convertible a high school boyfriend had rented to take me to the prom my junior year. Like all the Khanavai warriors I’d ever seen, Eldron was absolutely ripped. He wore—or rather, barely wore—one of their skimpy kilt-like uniforms, the sash across his chest covered in some kind of writing. He stood with his muscular arms crossed over his cherry-colored chest, gazing into the distance as if staring down an enemy.

His profile included his picture, some statistics that I didn’t understand, and a long list of battles won.

Covering my mouth with one hand, I flipped to the next image. Tiziani Mencono. This guy was banana yellow and completely bald. Thinner than either Eldron or Cav, he was still so big and muscular that he’d outclass any human male anywhere on Earth. For a brief second, an image of what he must look like naked flashed through my mind.

“Banana,” I said from behind the hand still covering my mouth.

“Pardon?” Plofnid asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Banana,” I said again, imagining what a bright yellow man with an erection might look like. Laughter bubbled up in my chest and spilled out, pushing past my hand and hanging in the air around us as my stylists stared at me blankly.

Their expressions only