Enemy of the Alien Bride Lottery by Margo Collins (sight word readers TXT) 📕

through our paces, showing us off so we can be bred.” She began moving down the corridor, and I fell into step beside her, shortening my stride to match hers.

“A friend of mine back on Earth called it a livestock auction. So I guess, really, it’s like that, too. Like a circus where we perform to entertain the masses and then are sold off to the highest bidder afterward.”

My steps faltered and I stopped to face her in the hall. “Do you truly believe that’s what the Bride Games are?”

“Don’t you?”

“Not at all. I mean, look at Amelia and Zont. They are happy together, I would say blissfully so.”

Deandra pursed her lips shook her head. “No. They’re just one example. For all we know, they’re the exception that proves the rule. Besides, they’re newlyweds—give it a decade, and then we can talk about how happy they are.”

“So cynical,” I said, shaking my head.

“Maybe I am. But can you blame me? I was dragged up to Station 21 against my will. You can’t expect me to be delighted to be here.”

My heart squeezed in my chest and an inexpressible sadness rolled through me. I wanted to take Deandra in my arms, explain to her how Khanavai mating worked. Show her the kind of bond Khanavai males could create with human females.

But I sensed now was not the time.

I have the rest of the Games to convince her.

And I would do everything in my power to make sure that happened.

“Can I walk you back to your room?” I asked.

“Yeah, sure, I guess.”

We didn’t speak the rest of the way, each of us lost in her own thoughts. When we reached the door to her room, she keyed it open and stopped with her hand on the doorframe. She turned halfway back toward me, and for an instant, I thought, or at least hoped, she was going to kiss me again.

Instead, she simply said, “Thanks for the escort back. Good night.”

She stepped inside, and the door slid closed behind her.

I reached out with one hand and pressed my fingertips against the door.

Deandra might be cynical, I thought, but there’s more to her attitude than just that.

I think she’s in pain.

I stood there for a long moment, considering what I might do or say to convince her to give us a chance.

Eventually, I left without any answers.

But I was determined to find them.

Chapter Fifteen

Dee

I awoke the next morning from a dream about Wex kissing me. But in my dream, that kiss kept going. I woke myself up moaning his name.

Disoriented, I glanced around my lace-festooned room. “Dammit,” I muttered as I swung my legs off the bed and moved into the shower, trying to wash away the memory of his touch.

When I got out, I checked my wristcom. No response from Roya.

I hope she got everything she needed. I’m not risking prison again.

Moments later, my two assistants bustled into the room.

“Have you seen?” Plofnid asked, the rill on its back fanning in its excitement.

“Seen what?”

“The grooms you have matched with,” Drindl said.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

Drindl stopped, her eyes growing wide. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot I was supposed to choose some of them.”

Not that I wanted to.

“That’s no problem.” Plofnid waved one hand, sending its nose-braid swinging in the breeze it created. “Several of the grooms chose you, so you don’t have to worry.”

As if I was worried about not being chosen.

“Sit down, and we can look at them while we do your hair and makeup.” Drindl waved me into the chair in front of the screen that doubled as a mirror.

I sat down with a sigh. So much for my hopes of getting out of here without attracting anyone’s interest. Apparently, Hates the Bride Lottery and Everything it Represents was a popular category for these grooms.

Or, since they were all second-chancers, maybe they were just desperate.

Drindl pulled up the screen in the dressing table mirror, as Plofnid pulled over a stepstool and began brushing out my hair.

“There it is,” Drindl trilled. She began scrolling through the grooms, calling out their names.

I hadn’t even bothered to check the list of bachelors. But apparently, four of them had chosen me. I recognized only one.

Tiziani Mencono.

When his picture popped up, I grimaced. “Isn’t he the one who was so awful to Natalie Adredoni during the games last year?”

Drindl pursed her lips and nodded, her silvery hair swinging around her shoulders. “Indeed he was. But station rumors have it that he has been working with a counselor to clean up his behavior.”

Plofnid snorted. “It’s not doing any good, if the way he acts toward the rest of the staff is any indication.”

“The rest of the staff?” I met Plofnid’s gaze as the mirror went blank.

“Tiziani is working as a kind of intern,” the Poltien told me. “Officially, he’s been assigned as a guardsman to Station 21 by the Prince Aranov himself.”

“Unofficially,” Drindl picked up the thread of the conversation, “he is here as punishment for having attacked Cav Adredoni after their formal duel concluded at the end of last year’s games.”

“I do not want him,” I said.

And that was when it hit me.

Wex was nowhere to be found on that list of grooms.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Open that list again?”

Drindl tapped in her code, and the four bachelors’ pictures popped up.

Definitely no Wex.

I placed my fingers together in my lap, clenching my hands together tightly. “Can we look up Wex Banstinad and see who he matched with?”

“Of course.” Drindl’s long, agile fingers danced across the screen until Wex’s image popped up.

No matches, it said in bold letters under his picture.

“That’s odd.” Plofnid paused in its brushing. “I heard director Vos specifically invited Wex to participate in these games.”

“But even if none of the brides chose him, he should have at least chosen one.” Drindl gave me a sidelong glance, then busied herself with the vials and tubes of makeup she was setting on the counter.

“Maybe none of the brides appeal to him?” Plofnid said doubtfully.

“I don’t think that’s