Page 16 of Alien Jeopardy

Oh, oh no. I was down with the idea of finally getting to try my hand at a set of reality-TV-style challenges. I was even semi-okay with the idea of being paired with an alien instead of one of my friends.

“We can’t communicate?” I squawk.

A frown turns his lips down as I continue to put space between us, holding both hands out now.

“We’re supposed to do some alien version of all the most ridiculously over-the-top survival shows and we can’t even communicate?” It’s a screech, and a flock of rainbow-colored birds takes flight in protest.

Shit, shit, triple shit.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, keeping one hand extended as I attempt to calm myself down with deep, cleansing breaths. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do to calm down? Breathe?

A delicious, spicy, earthy scent fills my nostrils, and a low moan slips out of me as desire surges. Then a warm, hard stomach presses against my outstretched palm, and I startle.

The smell is coming from him.

The huge, green, winged alien, with a toothy, cocky grin. And a tail. Did I mention the wings?

I cannot believe I signed up for this shit.

Worse, I cannot believe how much I want to knock the green dude in front of me to the ground and have my way with him.

I grind my molars together, a terrible habit that’s sure only to give me a fresh headache.

Solving problems? Nope.

Giving myself a headache? Yep.

There’s got to be a way out of this, because I’ll be damned if I’m gonna rub all over myself or him while being filmed. I don’t care how horny I am, that ain’t on the freaking to-do list, even if Clippy himself shows up and tries to tell me to get down and dirty.

“No way, no how, paperclip demon!” My back hits something hard, and I sputter as pine needles drop onto my face.

“De-mon?” the alien repeats.

Breathe, breathe, don’t scream.

It’s not a great mantra, but it’s better than giving in to the fire in my blood that seems to demand I jump this strange alien’s bones.

Exhibitionism, thou art my nemesis.

If I make it through this, I’m going to cross stich that and hang it on my wall.

The alien’s stopped advancing, and he scratches the base of one horn, a confused look on his face. Something drips from the talons on the tips of his wings, steadily hitting the ground under him. Guilt swims through me, and I scrub a hand down my own face. He can’t help that I don’t speak his language, and he certainly isn’t to blame for my body’s reaction to him?—

Wait.

Wait.

My eyes narrow on the liquid dripping from his wings. Slowly, my desire-addled brain attempts to put two and two together.

I palm the back of my thighs, which I distinctly remember hurting as we fell from the ship. They don’t hurt anymore, but my fingertips are definitely reporting some sort of scratch back there.

“Did you fucking poison me?” I whisper, furious and yet still too damned horny to do more than glare at him.

He takes another step forward, and I karate chop the air between us, baring my teeth. Compared to his, they’re really not very intimidating at all, but he should know I mean business. “I invoke the wrath of Clippy,” I tell him.

The alien backs up, murmuring things in a calm voice like I’m some kind of rabid animal.

Hell, maybe I am. Who knows what kind of venom this species has? Could be I have alien rabies!