Page 23 of Alien Jeopardy (Mated & Afraid #1)
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Ellison
I’m clean. I smell good. I’m not sweaty, and I have clean clothes.
And in front of me? The girl dinner dreams are made of, and a date who is not only listening to me, but is also holding up his side of the conversation.
Not to mention, he’s easy to look at.
The drones buzzing around us mostly fade away to background noise as we eat, and even though I know I really have no reason to be… I’m nervous.
Nervous because I want him to like me, and this feels a lot like a high-stakes first date.
The drones aren’t helping. Every time one of them gets closer or I hear the mechanical sound of one, I remember this is being filmed and broadcasted or whatever it is that aliens do with their alien tech.
I can set up a conference call and a mean pivot table in Excel, but alien tech is a little bit above and beyond my qualifications.
So is making small talk with Rex, it turns out. We’ve mostly chatted about the moon we’re on, the game we’re playing, and we had a good rehash of the first challenge together, and then the food arrived and that made for easy conversation.
Until now.
Now, we’re chewing as silently as we can, randomly catching the other staring and then going back to eating, pretending like this is all a very normal circumstance.
“What is your family like?” I ask him, falling back on an old favorite.
“They were sent to the mines when I was seven.” Rex chews thoughtfully as I cringe. “My parents, at least. My brothers, I think, were sent to the fields near the capitol. They were good to me. Too outspoken, though.”
“Oh, shit,” I say. What am I supposed to say to that? I’m horrified. “Seven? Why? Does that happen a lot?”
“Oh yes. If you disagree with the king…” He clears his throat, glancing meaningfully at one of the drones filming overhead. “We all serve at his pleasure.”
I stare at him, at a total loss. “That’s awful.”
“Is it better on Earth, then? The human zones on my planet are far from perfect. Perhaps you have a better system than we do. Humans have enough to eat on Earth? Medicine is easy to get and affordable?”
Well. I spear a piece of steak, popping it in my mouth.
It doesn’t taste nearly as good as it did before I broached this topic of conversation.
“I’m not sure we do have it better,” I say slowly, because he’s still waiting for an answer. “I’m sorry your family was taken from you.”
“As am I, Ellison. As am I.” He heaves a sigh.
“Things will be better on Sueva.” His orange-gold eyes gleam in the dim light.
“Just think, food and medicine, readily available. Tech that is supposed to be used for everyone, not just the elite. Land of our own, and our lives whatever we want to make them.”
His wistful yearning is contagious, and I find myself caught up in envisioning what that would be like.
A life to make whatever I would want from.
Not some insurance underwriting job where I dread spending the day. All the dreams I once had were tidily swept under the bed after the Roth invaded.
What would I even do if I were to start all over?
“What are you thinking? You look upset.” Rex’s tone is careful.
“What would you do?” His wings rustle at my question, and I blunder on, trying to clarify my thought. “If we make it to Sueva, I mean.”
“Other than worship you, you mean?”
I laugh at that, but he doesn’t, and it brings me up short to realize he’s not joking.
“Uh, yeah, that’s what I mean. For work, you know?” I pause. “What did you do for work?”
His expression flickers, eyes narrowing as he looks away. Damn, this is so awkward. Maybe it’s rude to ask about work in their culture? I have no flipping clue.
“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable?—”
“You’re not. You don’t make me anything but hopeful. I was conscripted into His Majesty’s armed guard. I mostly worked at the capitol gates.”
“Oh.” My nose wrinkles. That doesn’t sound good. Conscripted… “They forced you into their military?”
His face goes wooden. “It is an honor to serve.”
“What about before then? Did you find a family to take you in, I mean, after your mom and dad…” I shove some steak into my mouth before I can finish digging that conversational hole any deeper. Sheesh.
“I slept on the streets. Eventually, I was able to find work as a driver for those unable to fly in the capitol.”
“A driver,” I repeat through my mouthful of steak.
“Yes. The same type of cart I pulled you in for our challenge today.”
My eyes widen, and understanding slams into me. No wonder he didn’t ask for help. He knew exactly what he was doing, and I would have slowed him down.
It still bothers me that he didn’t want me to help him because I’m pretty far from perfect, but I get it now.
I swallow the steak hastily. “The dancing? I mean the, uh, style part of it?”
He grins, and it’s slightly predatory in a way that makes my blood go hot all over again. “It helped my patrons find ways to be more generous. And it improved my wing muscles, since I wasn’t allowed to fly.”
“What do you mean, you weren’t allowed to fly?” I nearly choke on my truffle fry. “That’s horrible.”
“Only those with means are allowed to navigate the skies around the capitol.”
“But you all have wings. How can that…” I shake my head.
“I would fly.” He says, his gaze far away, and it takes me a second to realize he’s answering my earlier question. “In Sueva. I would go flying every day. And for work, I would raise vegetables and livestock. I love to cook.”
“You do?” I ask, my eyebrows rocketing up. “I do not like to cook.”
“Then it would be my joy to feed you every meal.” He points at my plate. “I like the sounds that you make when you are eating.”
I blush at that, then fluff my still damp hair self-consciously.
“I like the idea of making sure anyone around us has food, too,” he continues thoughtfully.
“Like a restaurant?”
“A what?”
“It’s a place people can buy meals and sit down and eat them. Hang out together. You don’t have restaurants where you’re from?”
“I wouldn’t want anyone to go hungry,” he says, and he doesn’t exactly answer the question. His brow is furrowed, though, as much as it can be with the horns protruding there and wrapping back over his head.
“So... you want to cook, and you want to help people.” I hold up two fingers.
A vigorous nod. “Yes. And I want to make a home for you, one you will be proud of. And I want to use my wings whenever I want to, wherever I want to.”
That last part makes my throat tighten unexpectedly. I can’t imagine how awful it must be to have the ability to fly and then not be allowed to do so.
Instinctively, I reach out my hand, layering my palm over his and squeezing. His skin is calloused and warm, his hand so much larger than mine that it feels silly to try and hold it at all.
His hand turns over, and then our fingers intertwine, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Our eyes lock, and my first thought is that Rex could be a great friend.
He is a good man.
Lust roars through me, and I shift uncomfortably, my thoughts also shifting immediately to sex.
I clear my throat, gaze still locked on his.
His nostrils flare, and if the fanfics are right… he can smell exactly how I feel.
I shove a handful of truffle fries into my mouth.
Rex just smiles, then eats some more too. He doesn’t say anything about the vibes I’m giving off, not to mention what I’m sure he can smell.
Well.
At least it’s a good smell.
Better than other smells.
You know what? I’m not going to think about the smell of arousal ever again.
I stuff as many truffle fries into my mouth as I can. If I’m thinking about not choking on truffle fries, I can’t be thinking about choking on his anatomy.
Finally, through sheer willpower, the heat’s grip on me starts to fade.
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.