Page 50 of Alien Jeopardy

Truffle fries are the solution.

So I keep eating them, and Rex doesn’t interrupt with questions, clearly catching on that I am done talking.

Eventually, there aren’t any more fries. Frankly, the thought of eating more of them makes me nauseated. The plate squeaks as I slide it away from me, repulsed.

“Have you had enough to eat? I am sure we can get more of those fried roots.”

“Fried roots?” I repeat, amused. Apparently even the translator won’t be perfect all of the time. “Yes, I did. I couldn’t think of eating anything else.”

He stares at me. I stare back.

“If this were a first date on Earth, we’d probably be fighting over the bill.”

“Humans fight their potential romantic partners?” His wings flare out, his eyes wide. “Barbaric, indeed. Who is Bill?”

I’m suddenly hit with the unhinged urge to utter SOOKIE IS MINE in the worst Deep South vampire impersonation anyone’s ever heard, but I refrain because he won’t get it, and it’s an old enough reference that the viewers at home might not, either.

“No,” I finally manage, suppressing a giggle. “No, we don’t fight our romantic partners, and bill isn’t a person?—”

“You consider me a romantic partner?” There’s a sharp grin on his face. “You admit it. Beyond the heat.”

“A bill is what the food costs.” I don’t want to talk about romantic partners. I’m stuffed. French fry bloat and sex doesn’t sound appetizing.

At the moment, at least. Who could predict what the future holds?

Rex stands, stretching to his full height, all those muscles doing very interesting things under his pretty green skin, and perhaps French fries will save us all.

“We should rest while we are able,” he says in a low rumble.

“Yeah, you’re right.” A door slides open not a second later, and the reminder we’re being watched, recorded, transmitted slams into me all over again.

So when I stand, walking towards the open door, I’m not at all surprised about what I see in that room. I’m not new to the world of reality TV machinations, after all.

There’s only one bed.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

Ellison

I stare at the ceiling, Rex snoring lightly beside me. Well, not exactly snoring, but doing that sort of deep, soft breathing that I’m hoping means he’s passed out because it’s better that one of us is well-rested than neither of us.

The room itself is pretty, relaxing in a spare, white linen kind of way. The bed is huge, and we can both easily fit on it, but there’s no doubt in my mind that the producers fully intended to force this issue.

Just another lovely dollop of fun on this whole adventure.

With him next to me, even without touching, it’s sent my entire libido into overdrive, and it’s taking every single ounce of my concentration not to roll over on top of him and see exactly what he’s packing. The longer I’m in heat, the harder it is for me to remember that it’s probably a real bad idea to get down with him.

The sheet tangles around my feet as I flop over, doing my best to get some sleep.

The room is quiet besides his steady breathing, and even though I feel like I’ll never be able to sleep, I do.

I bolt upright, sucking such a huge amount of air that I choke on it. My heart hammers against my chest, sweat making the thin shirt stick under my boobs.

Nightmare.

One of those weird falling ones.