Page 99 of Alien Jeopardy

Right now, pushing my buttons consists of singing, off-key, the alien version of ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall.

It is, as it turns out, the actual song that never ends.

“Can you knock it the fuck off?” I ask.

We’re going on day three of nothing but the food we can find in this god-forsaken place, and the worst sleep I’ve ever had in my entire fucking life.

Then there is the heat.

I am, very literally, not a happy camper.

The heat is the worst. I’m sweating constantly, and despite being the temperature of a volcano, I also have chills. Constantly. Sweating, shivering, shaking—this Draegon-induced heat is not for the faint of heart.

“I will stop singing if you let me mate you,” Zan tells me, for the fifteenth time.

This morning, I solved a puzzle that allowed us to have the translators inserted, and I’m wishing I hadn’t because this is the constant refrain I get on top of the alien song from hell.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” I growl. “I’d rather stick my wet hair into an electrical socket than let you stick your plug into me.”

Zan lets out a rip-roaring laugh, as if we’re old buddies and I’ve just made the best joke he’s ever heard.

“You don’t want me to leave,” he says, staring at me. “You won’t survive on your own.”

“Fuck you.”

“That is the general idea, yes.” He nods, eyes gleaming.

I hate—hate—that the way he says it, that syrupy, sensual voice paired with his gorgeous alien face and perfect, tall body, makes me wet.

And it’s all his fault because he poisoned me with his stupid-ass mating serum, which is making me both horny and miserable.

“It is a figure of SPEECH!” I scream. “GO AWAY.”

He blinks.

His wings fan out, and without another word, the white-haired purple Draegon sails off into the sky.

Slightly stunned, I watch him disappear, spiraling higher and higher, until he’s a speck in the sky.

Finally. Silence.

I let out a sigh, relieved and yet totally worried to be on my own, and then continue on the blatant path the damned AI made for us. I’m sure Zan will be back, but until he is, I’m going to enjoy the peace and quiet.

My mood improves every second he’s gone, so much so that I’m humming to myself and walking briskly along the path, hardly paying attention to where I am, just happy not to listen to Zan beg for sex or sing that torturous song anymore.

I don’t see the trap until it’s too late.

Which is why, I suppose, it’s a trap—because you don’t see it. That’s the whole point.

The noose tightens around my ankle, and then I’m hauled into the air, hanging by my right leg, which very quickly starts to lose sensation as I swing around.

“Help.” I cry out, hoping, for the first time, that Zan will come running.

He doesn’t come running.

He doesn’t come flying.

“Help,” I yell again, flailing around, trying to get loose, and only succeeding in spinning around like fishing bait.

Thinking the word bait makes me fall silent.

Bait is not something I want to compare myself too, and I think it might be all too close to reality.

Dark is starting to fall by the time I hear something crashing through the underbrush. I’m barely conscious, thanks to hanging upside down for god only knows how long.

“Zan,” I say weakly. “I’m so sorry; I was wrong, please cut me down, I need you.”

I scream as I come face-to-face with the thing that was crunching through the forest.

It’s not Zan, and this isn’t good. Not good at all.