Page 14 of Alien Jeopardy (Mated & Afraid #1)

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

Ellison

Being held by good ole Rex is a problem. Hearing him breathe is a problem.

The feel of his breath on my scalp is a problem.

But the biggest problem of all is the massive, pulsating dick pushed up against my back, so stiff it’s lifting my pajama shirt along with his pants—and the fact that I’m getting slick between my legs in some heat-induced chemical reaction.

I didn’t learn about the Draegon laws of sex thermodynamics in school, but I’m getting a front-row crash course to it now regardless.

Alien Pheromone Sex Thermodynamics 101, 102, and grad school thesis, all in one neat reality show timeline.

I’ve always been an overachiever.

A hysterical laugh tries to burble out of me, but I clamp my lips shut. If I let a laugh out at this predicament, who knows what will happen next? Nope. It’s time to do my very best corporate robot impression, and put all my practice on those deadly-boring video conferences to good use.

From a small slit between Rex’s wings, I can still make out Poppy and her red-hued guy, as well as the Roth from the spaceship.

The announcer, I presume.

Selene isn’t here, or her Draegon alien, and I frown, worry for the pair of them rushing through me. Did they not make it in time? Are they okay?

Surely nothing too serious could have happened to delay them; this is reality TV, not an actual survival situation… right? I mean, I can’t shake the feeling that this whole planet, er moon, er place is weird, but that’s probably because it’s just not Earth.

The questions running through my head stop suddenly, my breath hitching as Rex sets me down. My pajama shirt wriggles loose and falls over the top of his hand— qhich means his palm is on my bare skin.

Oh, yum.

Whimpering, I squeeze my upper thighs together. Good grief, why did I have to wear pajama shorts? If I get any wetter, it’s going to slide down my legs for the whole universe to see.

Rex tilts his head, and I swallow hard, seeing him assess me from the corner of my eye.

Even from this angle, his lips look ridiculously kissable.

My eyes go wide, and I squirm slightly, only to force myself to stifle another moan as his hand presses into the curve of my stomach.

Normally, I’d be sucking it in and trying to make sure that whoever was touching me didn’t think about how long it had been since I’d done any sort of core workout.

In Rex’s arms, though? I simply don’t care what he thinks about my soft midsection. Based on the way he feels against me, he doesn’t mind at all—nah, the opposite seems to be true.

He likes my squishy, imperfect middle.

A bubble of warmth that has nothing to do with lust goes through my chest. He likes the way I look and feel. Mating heat or not, that’s a pretty damned nice feeling.

It sure as heck would be nice to have a man who loves all my imperfections instead of one who constantly sees my body as their own personal fitness coaching challenge.

Emotion tightens my throat, unbidden tears stinging my eyes.

I dash them away with the back of my hand.

“Hormones,” I tell myself. It’s gotta be the mating heat making me all squishy and soft towards him. That’s all this is.

“Oh my god, you two are okay.” Lily stumbles onto the stage.

I push Rex’s wing aside a little, and though he gives a rumbling growl of displeasure, he allows me more room to look at my friend.

A purplish scarred Draegon with silvery-white hair storms after her, leaves and sticks falling out of Lily’s hair like she’s been tumbling around on the ground.

Her knees are skinned too, dried blood crusting her shins.

“What happened to you?” I ask, taken aback.

Her gaze drops, and she rakes her fingers through her short, wavy black hair. Another leaf falls out, and she glares at it.

“I fell,” she says.

My eyes narrow. “Uh-huh.”

“Thank fuck this is the translator challenge,” Lily does her best to ignore the alien dragon staring at her with open desire. “Not being able to talk to this dude is driving me fucking nuts.”

“You’re on TV,” Poppy tells her in a scandalized voice. “Watch your mouth.”

“Don’t even fucking start with me, Poppy,” Lily tells her, pure venom in her tone. The Draegon alien tailing her gives Poppy an unfriendly look, his biceps bulging as he reaches for Lily, who manages to slither from his grasp.

“Hi, you guys,” Lucy says, all sunshine and cheer as her Draegon alien bridal-carries her up the stairs. “These guys are handy to have around, huh?”

“More like handsy,” Lily mutters, casting a dark look at the male next to her. He bares his fangs at her, tail lashing behind him, and she rolls her eyes. “Knock it off, loser.”

Rex chuckles behind me, and I guess he doesn’t need a translator to pick up on her disdain and her partner’s—no, mate’s—annoyance.

It hits me then. I don’t feel disdainful of Ka-Rexsh, not at all. Worried and anxious about being in heat, yes. But he’s been kind, and helpful, and being able to communicate is definitely what we need if we’re going to make it to the end and win.

Not to mention it will help us lay some ground rules about, er, touching.

Heat sizzles through my veins.

I refuuuuse to give in to it, though, even if the evidence of the damned heat is soaking into my pajama shorts after I swipe my sweaty palms against them.

“Welcome to the inaugural season of Mated and Afraid ,” the Roth at the front of the stage booms out, his voice amplified by some technology that I can’t see. “And welcome to our first challenge!”

Unease threads through me, and as if he can sense it, Rex leans low, murmuring words I can’t understand against my ear.

A shiver of something I don’t want to put a name to goes down my spine.

Lily catches my eye, and we share a nervous glance even as Poppy beams into the crowd of assembled aliens.

Maybe Poppy knows what all the challenges are already. A scowl furrows my forehead. I love Poppy, but damn, I’m not real happy with her at the moment.

“We will begin the challenge by letting you each randomly select your event.”

My scowl turns into a cringe, because if there’s random chance involved in these events, that means some of the choices will, without a doubt, be absolutely horrific. Will we be forced to eat larvae? Swim blindfolded through a cave? Go skydiving naked?

Rex’s wing rustles near my face, and I mentally cross out naked skydiving because I don’t think the Draegon would find that anything but commonplace.

Probably even the naked part.

Something under the stage squeals, and I jump back in surprise, Rex’s arms tightening around me as a gap opens up in the platform.

I squint reflexively as lights flash from the object now being raised onto the platform, and then my jaw drops open.

It’s a wheel—one of those multicolored carnival-style wheels, designed to spin on a selection. Each different segment contains two types of writing—English, and what I can only assume is written Draegon scrawled above it.

Resolve tightens my chest.

I really, really want to win this damn thing.

Rex murmurs something unintelligible—because everything is unintelligible when you don’t speak the same language—his fingers and talons lightly stroking the skin on my hip. The dual sensation sends goosebumps skittering over my skin.

If this were one of my fanfictions, we would fall madly in love after he saved me from some disaster, and then I would be rewarded for my bravery in kissing an alien with the best orgasm of my life.

Call me delulu, because part of me wants that to be true-true. Or, more accurately, call me in heat, because my libido is out of fucking control.

I shift nervously, trying to ignore the way Rex’s sniffing my hair is making me even more hot and bothered.

This isn’t a fanfic, and I didn’t sign up to go into heat, and I’m sure as shit not going to get distracted from the grand prize by something as fleeting as an orgasm.

I clear my throat, the noise high and squeaky.

Poppy’s gaze flits to me, and there’s worry in her big blue eyes. She bites her bottom lip nervously, then grins as the big red Draegon behind her tugs it out of her grasp.

A strange ache rolls across my chest, and I rub at it, then startle as I realize the Roth host is gesturing Rex and me forward.

“Approach and spin the wheel,” the mechanized translator announces.

Rex pulls me close to him, practically carrying me over to where the host has indicated. He’s still mostly blocking me from the view of the all-male Roth and Suevan audience, and the view of whoever is watching at home.

Huh. I peek out again—why aren’t there any Draegon in the audience? Weird.

His wing moves, and my temporary view is obscured. Considering I’m still wearing my jammies and a bit worse for wear after our jaunt here, I’m not even a little bit upset about it. Likewise, considering I’m a complete horndog, I might even relish it.

My nose scrunches up, and I try to distract myself by staring up at the flashing monstrosity of a game show wheel and reading the descriptions in the segments.

That’s the ticket; I need something to focus on.

Unfortunately, reading the descriptions only intensifies my apprehension.

“Style build and drag?” I read out loud. “Puzzle organ fun? Lost in ice?” What the actual… “These must be mistranslated,” I say, directing the comment at the host.

He just smiles at me, his mouth stretching wider than a human’s, complete with what seems like too many teeth.

Mmm. Nope, I don’t like that.

I step back instinctively, which pushes me closer to my guy Rex’s chest. Ahem, not my-mine. My partner. That’s all I mean.

Rex says something, then removes one hand’s grip on me to tug at the brightly lit wheel.

Good god, I hope we don’t get puzzle organ fun.

That sounds like a bad time. A real real bad time.

I tilt my head, my nerves ratcheting up with every additional tick of the wheel against the marker.

Oh, shit. My eyes widen as the ticker slows, swinging back and forth over the segments screaming ‘organ puzzle fun’ and ‘style build and drag.’

My hands fist at my sides, curled so tight my fingernails dig into the soft flesh of my palms. Please, please, not organ puzzle fun.

I have the distinct impression that I don’t want to know what a Roth’s idea of organ puzzle fun entails.

The wheel finally creaks to a stop, and I slump against Rex.

Whatever this challenge means, we’ll be doing it.

Style build and drag it is.