Page 28 of Alien Jeopardy (Mated & Afraid #1)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

Ellison

We haven’t made it far from the structure we spent the night in when Ken’s weird voice booms all around us again.

“Welcome, contestants, to the first day of a true survival show.” The AI pauses, for drama, I assume, after the absurd stress on the word true.

Like, we get it, Ken. You’re trying to kill us. For funsies.

“I was lenient with all of you last night, while you grew accustomed to the new rules for Mated and Afraid . Some of you made very interesting choices. Don’t worry, no one will be shown in coitus. Everything will be censored as deemed necessary per planet. So only the humans’ planet, of course.”

Oh shit. He’s talking about us. Ken is talking about Rex and I having sex. Only being censored on Earth.

“Pervert,” I mutter, kicking at a stone in my path. Rex stares at me curiously. Maybe pervert didn’t translate.

“I heard that, Ellison,” Ken says tartly. “Sticks and stones and words can hurt me.”

I sigh. “That’s not… you know what? Sure.” There’s no point in correcting the mixed metaphor.

For a split second, I wonder if Ken can be reasoned with. I wonder if, like Trent at work, he just requires a firm hand to lead him down the path of correct choices.

Of course, the moment I think it, Ken starts talking again, and the thought escapes me.

“Each of you are on a path I’ve created in the night. Each path will lead you through a set course of obstacles I tailored for each pair. If you go off the path, you will meet an untimely end. If you stay on the path, you have a chance at either meeting a more timely end or continuing on.”

A more timely end? Is Ken still talking about dying? Or just ending… the game?

I don’t know, but I’m going to assume the worst.

Normally, I wouldn’t call myself a cynic, but right now? Assuming the worst is probably the best way to survive.

“The paths will ultimately lead to the control room, though you will be forced to meet along the way, and when you do, only one pair will be allowed to move on.”

A pause.

I slide my hand into Rex’s, grateful we decided to have sex last night, beyond glad I’m no longer in heat, and grateful that I picked him as my partner. He makes me feel safe, and holding his hand reminds me that no matter how awful this is, I’m not alone.

We are in this together, for better or worse.

“No, Poppy, you can’t just decide to quit.”

Another pause, and my heart picks up at Poppy’s name. She’s trying to quit? She got us into this, and now she’s going to quit?

“Because you signed a contract; you all signed a contract.”

I inhale deeply. Poppy is a lawyer. “She knows the contract terms,” I tell Rex. This is important. I wish I could hear whatever she’s telling the AI to get it all in a huff.

“It does not specifically list fighting to the death as terms of the show—” Ken’s voice cuts off, and Rex squeezes my hand.

“Of course you have a problem with the contract being replaced by my authority.” Ken sounds sulky, if an AI could be sulky. “I want to produce a much more interesting show.”

Hope springs in me, and I desperately wish I could hear Poppy right now.

She got us into this mess, and even though that pisses me off, I know with all my heart that if anyone can get us out of it, it’s Poppy.

“Well, I didn’t know that,” the AI says, and there is definitely an annoyed, self-righteous tone now.

“How could I have? I’m a more intelligent life form than any of you, but I’m not omniscient.

We will discuss this without everyone listening.

” The voice snaps off, and the noisy sounds of the forest all around us restart.

“What is Ken No Privates talking about?” Rex asks me in a hushed tone.

The uncontrollable urge to giggle hits me, and I slap a hand over my mouth, knowing full well I better not laugh at this. Pissing off Ken, who holds our lives in the palm of his non-existent hand, is probably a real, real bad idea.

“Ah, I think my friend, Poppy, is trying to negotiate with Ken. She’s a lawyer, and contract law is her specialty.”

“Fascinating.” Rex does, in fact, seem fascinated, and I shouldn’t be annoyed at that.

It’s not like last night meant anything to me.

Sure, it was the best sex of my entire life, but it was mostly a means of making sure I didn’t die because the heat drove me out of my mind. “She is very intelligent, then, yes?”

“She’s the reason we’re all here,” I snap at him. “This was her idea.”

He stops, tilting his head at me, and when understanding lights his eyes, I scowl.

A wing brushes against my arm, and then he’s holding me tight. “You’re angry with me?”

“No.” It comes out as glum and petulant as Ken just sounded. “We should probably keep moving.”

“We should, but I want to know why you are upset.”

“Poppy.” The name drags out of me.

“It sounds like she is doing her best to help all of us. Help me understand. You are still angry about being here?”

Frowning, I mutter the real reason under my breath, feeling stupid.

“Did you say you were jealous? Because I said her appeal to Ken No Privates based on the contract was intelligent?”

“He’s just Ken,” I say instead, refusing to look at him.

Embarrassed—I am so embarrassed.

His hand cups my chin, and I finally lift my eyes, gazing up at his handsome, strong face.

“You are mine, no matter what you decide at the end of this. You have nothing to envy when it comes to any other female, ever. You can leave me, but you will take a piece of my heart with you.” He thumps a fist on his chest.

“Ka-Rexsh,” I murmur, just holding him for a long minute, trying to calm my pounding heart, trying to tell myself that we’re going to be okay, that this isn’t just the calm before the storm.

Finally, I sniffle again, brushing my hand against my cheek, and we start back down the trail, looking for the supply cache Ken said was somewhere on his chosen route.

It was the calm before the storm.

Literally.

Not five seconds after we started hiking down the path, all hell broke loose in the skies. Lightning forked down from thick storm clouds, followed by thunder so loud it made the ground shake.

Now, the rain’s begun.

No gentle sprinkling, no warning whatsoever. Instead, an instant deluge, like a switch has been flipped.

Well, considering good ole Ken is involved, it very well could have been as simple as a switch being flipped.

My shoes, which I’d been so happy about, slosh with every step, taking on water like a leaky canoe my parents once rented on an ill-fated, last-minute camping trip. Camping was as close to a vacation as I ever got with my parents. Money, or lack thereof, stopped us from doing much more.

They always told me one day I’d appreciate it.

I don’t think they meant I’d appreciate it because I was on an alien survival show where an AI was trying to torture us.

And yet!

Wet and miserable, I trudge along, barely able to see more than an arm’s length in front of me. The gargantuan blue-tinged trees lining the path have all but disappeared in the onslaught, sheets of rain blocking them from view.

“Come here, hyrulis,” Rex yells over the storm.

“I can’t see you,” I tell him. The next thing I know, I’m being tugged into his arms. It takes another moment for me to realize the rain has stopped.

No, not stopped. It’s still pinging all around, but Rex’s wings are blocking it out. He’s made a shelter for me, and the heat from his body warms my wet skin almost instantly.

“Thank you.” I nuzzle closer, trying to absorb all the heat I can.

Water sloshes in my shoes, even though I’m standing still.

“We need to keep moving,” Rex says gravely.

Following his gaze, I look down.

The water wasn’t sloshing in my shoes. It was racing over them, now lapping at the middle of my calves.

“Shit.” It’s flooding.

“No, just water,” Rex says. “A shit flood would be much worse.”

I don’t know what to say to that, and I don’t want to give the damned AI any ideas, so I keep my mouth shut.

“Are you a good swimmer?” he asks, face grim.

“I mean, I can swim. I have swum. Am I good at it?” I raise one shoulder. “I guess we’re about to find out.”

The water rises rapidly, now at my knees, tugging me off balance.

“Can you swim?” I ask him, and he nods, but he doesn’t look confident. “Can you fly in this?” I’m yelling now, trying to be heard over the loud rush of the water and the thunder overhead.

“I am ashamed to admit that flying in this would be dangerous for me.”

Something slides against my shin and I shriek, jumping up and nearly tackling poor Ka-Rexsh.

“What is it?” he asks, trying to see into the gloomy murk of the water.

“Probably just a fish. Or a log. Or something…” I leave the or something hanging in the air between us because I don’t want to think about what it really felt like.

I shudder, though, and his arm tightens around my waist. “Ken said there would be supplies.” It sounds pitiful, and I regret it the moment the words leave my mouth.

“We should drop what we are carrying.”

I nod my agreement. The makeshift packs from sheets seemed like a really good idea at the time, but now they’re more likely to pull us down into the water than be of any real use.

“With any luck, Ken was not lying.” His voice is upbeat, but his face tells me he doesn’t believe it.

It’s looking increasingly like we’re in serious trouble.

And it’s being streamed.

For some reason, that motivates me more than anything else. The thought of all my coworkers seeing me drown on what is apparently not a moon and is, in fact, an abandoned alien space station pisses me off.

Like, really pisses me off, to a level of rage formerly reserved for the week before my period.

My eyes narrow.

Trent in particular—I can just imagine him watching. Gloating. Making a death pool with our other coworkers in the underwriting department. Getting paid out if I drown right now.

Buying another stupid stretchy polo shirt with the money.

“We’re not DYING TODAY!” I bellow.

Fueled by pettiness and bad fashion, that’s me.

I surge forward, refusing to let the possibility of drowning enter my mind more than it already has. Or should I say flood my thoughts?

I let out a wild cackle, trying to tug Rex along beside me. It’s a bit like trying to pull a pit bull along on a walk they don’t want to partake in, though—until I realize the only reason it feels like we’re moving in different directions is because the floodwaters are up to my thighs now.

“By the way,” I shout at him, succeeding in getting a mouth full of rainwater. “I think whatever touched my leg was a giant snake.”

A positively murderous light sparks in Rex’s eyes, and I decide I’m very glad he’s on my team.

Lightning slashes across the sky, so bright it sears my eyes—but not before I spy something bobbing in the distance.

Thunder booms, rattling the teeth in my mouth.

“A boat!” I point, the outline of the lightning still blinding me.

“I see it,” Rex yells back, and he grips my upper arm tightly, keeping me upright as a wave of water buffets against us.

“Should we fly for it?”

I point up at the sky and mime flying as best I can when it becomes clear he can’t hear me over the storm.

He nods despite the troubled look on his face.

Another bright spear of light forks across the clouds overhead, and he gathers me up in his arms, his huge thighs flexing as he vaults into the sky, wings beating furiously against the rain and wind.

Darkness tunnels in front of my eyes, and I suck in a huge breath until my lungs start to ache from holding it.

We’re airborne. We’re out of the flood.

I want to sob with relief, but I’ll be damned if I’ll give tight polo Trent the viewing pleasure of my own personal mental breakdown.

So I gulp another bit of air, lightning illuminating the boat bobbing on the rushing waters below us.

Rex’s wings snap wide, and we glide down, down, towards where the boat rocks. The next thing I know, I’m yelping, thrown towards the boat—then I slam into it, rainwater in the hull splashing all around me.

Rex yells my name, and I cry out, reaching for him.

Then he’s gone.