Page 7 of Alien Jeopardy

The Roth organizer takes another step back. “Of course, we already did. It might take longer because of their delicate human constitution, but they’ve been seen to. It wouldn’t do to have them at a disadvantage so early in the game.”

He clears his throat and, slightly appeased, we all glance sidelong at each other.

I could like these males, I decide.

They at least have some honor.

To my right, Pol paces back and forth, agitated enough that his skin’s shifting colors, another sign of his royal blood.

It’s strange that he’s here at all, and I doubt that he’s here by choice.

No, if I had to bet, I would say that this is some stunt done by the king to get Pol away from our planet once more.

“The women are behind this glass,” the Roth says, and we surge towards him as one, clearly all impatient to get to our mates.

A mate.

I squeeze my eyes shut, the kith of my cock moving so rapidly now that it’s nearly painful with need.

“I’ll turn the transparency on so you can see them and you’ll take turns selecting a mate.”

My hands fist at my sides, my talons driving into the flesh of my palm. The slight pain relieves a small bit of the mating frenzy that’s started to grip me. Heat rises from the base of my spine, up between my shoulders, to where my wings begin.

My lip curls as a snarl starts to climb from my throat, the mating heat drawing up, up and through the bones of my wings.

It’s begun, my body starting the process that will cause the poison of my mate bond to seep from my talon-tipped wings.

I don’t bother glancing at the other contestants for this game we’ve agreed to play, and I can tell from the tension ratcheting up in the room that we’re all solely focused on the women that will be presented to us.

Our mates.

My throat goes dry, and a growl escapes me before I can swallow it.

A tentative smirk plays along the Roth’s dark grey lips, and then he taps the opaque surface behind him, turning it transparent—for us, at least. The women seem unaware that we’re watching them.

The sight behind the glass nearly brings me to my knees.

Five human women, all scandalously clad, all beautiful in their own way, from plump and curvy to lean and muscled, short to tall.

Only one grabs my attention and holds it.

Reddish brown hair, rumpled and waved, falling around a lovely oval-shaped face, dark lashes framing brown eyes, a dusting of light spots across the bridge of her very human nose.

Rose-red lips part, and the breath’s knocked from me at the sight of a pink tongue before a hand covers her mouth, her eyes closing.

The woman on the other side of her elbows her, and I grit my teeth at the contact because no one touches what’s mine.

No one.

“I will pick first,” Pol announces, and the four of us all make noises of disgust, noises that quickly fall silent as the predatory alpha gaze he flings at us works immediately.

If he picks the woman that’s mine, I will kill him.

I roll my shoulders, my feral nature somewhat satisfied by that decision.

“We have assigned you each a number, actually—” The Roth’s words are interrupted by Pol stepping close to him, so close that the grey Roth visibly pales.

Interesting. I didn’t know their species was capable of that.