Page 57 of Alien Wants A Wife

“You know?” Lydia gasps, not sitting.

“Only because I overheard part of your conversation with Chloe and Briar. It was when Roan and I came back inside from the forest. You were sitting at Killan’s table. I waved, but you didn’t see me.”

“What—” I begin, because I did not hear any such conversation, but Lydia interrupts.

“That makes my job of telling you easy. Briar didn’t want you to—you know. When I told her that you’re spending lots of time with Roan.”

“Briar did not want what?” I ask.

Harlee glances at me, and the overhead lighting emphasizes the dark hollows under her eyes. “Briar doesn’t want me getting pregnant by accident. Chloe told us today that Humans and Ril’os are biologically compatible.”

“Yes.” I nod.

“Wait, you knew?” Lydia demands.

“Yes. LOVE GALAXY only ever matches compatible species.”

Lydia glares.

Harlee says, “I guess that makes sense. But us women didn’t know until now.”

I am filled with an undeniable urge to hunt down John Smith and pummel him.

“You need not worry,” I reassure Harlee instead, my desire to comfort her overpowering my want to strike the Drah’osMale. “I did much research before you arrived, reading scientific papers and advice columns, and I bought many contraceptives. I will show you.” I hurry into my bedroom, open the drawer of my bedside table and withdraw the handfuls of supplies I had shipped to Ril II before filming commenced.

“Here.” I drop everything onto the kitchen table.

Harlee’s mouth falls open.

Lydia finally sits, rummaging through my collection. “Condoms,” she says, holding up a packet clearly marked with an instructional illustration. “Always a classic. Even in outer space, turns out.”

I bite back my retort demanding she stop touching my things.

“As I did not know which species you would be,” I tell Harlee (not Lydia), “I tried to be prepared for many possibilities.”

“You sure did. I don’t recognize most of this stuff.”

“I know what this is,” Lydia says. “And this isn’t a contraceptive, dude.” She waves the silicon replica of my erection through the air, using it to point at me. “This is a dildo.”

“I mean…” Harlee looks at it. “It definitely wouldn’t get a girl pregnant.”

“Exactly.” I give Harlee one of my practiced smiles, displaying all my teeth.

“Is it accurate?” Lydia begins a closer inspection of my erection.

“Very. I followed all the instructions.”

“Wait.” Lydia stills. “What do you mean, all the instructions?”

“To make the replica.”

“You made this? It’s a replica ofyourdick?”

“Yes. I cast a mold?—”

“Fuck!” Lydia drops the erection, and it bounces across the table toward Harlee.

“It’s kind of adorable you made such an effort.” Harlee catches my replica before it can roll right off the table and into her lap, wrapping her fingers around the thick base.