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

be easier to choose from a wide selection in person. Perhaps we should make our way to the arena, instead of sitting up here in the video room?”

I blinked. “I didn’t realize that was allowed.”

Zont raised an eyebrow and his tone turned conspiratorial. “We’re Special Ops. We don’t play by the rules.”

He’d included me in that group. I liked that. With a grin, I stood. “Then by all means, let’s go find our brides.”

Returning my smile, Zont said, ”Your first Special Ops mission. I’m delighted to have you onboard.”

We made our way out of the vid chamber, Zont leading. “Do you know where the arena is?” I asked.

“Actually, yes. I managed to get a complete map of the station before I headed this way.”

Of course he had. “I should have known.”

Zont flashed his ready smile. “Never enter enemy territory without some idea of the terrain. Basic engagement rules.”

I nodded. He was right—even first-year cadets knew that much. If I hadn’t been so shocked by my sudden change in fortune, I might have considered doing the same thing. It was, after all, rather like what I’d done when I attempted to reconnoiter the Bridal Suites.

He led us down a series of corridors that wound through the station, past the Promenade and into the workers’ quarters, an area that didn’t even try to hide its utilitarian nature. The station walls there were unadorned gray metal, the rivets holding it in place out in plain sight. “Are you sure this is the way?” I finally asked.

“It is if we don’t want to get intercepted and sent back to cool our heels in the Grooms’ Vid Room.” He turned a corner and opened an unmarked door to a back stairwell. “No one uses these unless there’s an emergency that shuts down station power. This will take us to the arena level.” He swung around the metal handrail and began taking the steps down two at a time.

About thirty flights later, we came to the bottom of the stairwell. Zont held up one hand, gesturing for me to wait. I found myself slipping into battle mode—perfectly quiet, every sense on high alert. When Zont waved me forward, I slipped through the open door and slid along the wall behind a high screen Zont followed, then moved in front of me.

From the other side of the screen came the chatter of dozens of female voices, ranging from husky to almost shrill, blending together to create waves of sound that washed over me. I paused to soak it in, then inhaled deeply to take in a feminine, almost floral scent.

A particular kind of euphoria suffused my entire body, the kind I usually associated with winning a battle. A chemical release that kept Khanavai warriors joyful when we fought.

And this was a kind of war. They might be called the Bride Games, but really, we were battling for the chance to be united with human females who were perfect for us. I’d been told, but never before believed, that the battle-joy also served to cement mate bonds.

I was beginning to think it might be true.

Zont moved past the screen, which was replaced by blue curtains, almost a match for the color of my skin. He motioned for me to survey the territory, then pointed at a small gap in the curtains. It was a smart move, as the curtain would provide better camouflage for me than it would for him, with his bright pink coloring.

I moved closer to peer through the gap.

Human women moved across the arena floor, some alone, others in groups of two or three. Across the enormous space, I saw several lined up to give their initial interviews, while others sat in tiny chairs around equally small tables, chatting and eating. I could smell the sweet aroma of fruit mixed in with the scent of the women themselves.

The femininity was almost overwhelming.

I was about to pull back and report to Zont when a small, pale hand ripped the curtain back, and I came face-to-face with the very woman I’d been searching for.

Chapter Five

Natalie

I don’t know how long I slept. It felt like more than an hour, though it still wasn’t long enough. A sharp knock at the door woke me, and I sat up groggily.

Two aliens entered the room—one Poltien and another, much taller alien whose species I didn’t recognize. This one was obviously female, with two large breasts in the normal human spot, and what looked like a third one between and slightly below the others. She had silvery hair bound on top of her head with twisted strands falling to her shoulders in complicated loops, and matching silver tattoos across her otherwise perfectly white skin.

“Finding bras must be a total bitch,” I muttered.

Ignoring my commentary, the silvery alien rushed into the room. “I’m sorry we’re late,” she said, taking both hands in mine and pulling me up off the bed as she eyed me up and down assessingly. “Hm. Not bad,” she muttered, brushing one long fingertip across my cheek.

I scowled at her. “Not bad?”

She blinked. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I meant your skin tone only. I was thinking about what kind of makeup we’d need for the cameras. You, my dear, are lovely. Of course.”

I rolled my eyes. I was fairly certain that after drinking in a bar, vomiting in a transporter room, showering in a weird alien device that didn’t seem to use actual water, and falling into bed without so much as brushing my hair, I was decidedly less than “lovely.”

But whatever. I wasn’t here to catch an alien mate. I was playing to lose.

And if that meant looking terrible, I was fine with it. “Good,” I said aloud. “I would rather avoid wearing any makeup at all, thanks.”

Silvery-chick blinked at me and I realized for the first time that even her pupils were silver. “Are you certain?”

“Absolutely.”

She and the Poltien traded glances. “We’ll see how you feel about it after your first interview, my dear,” the Poltien said.

Good enough for