Page 37 of Alien Jeopardy (Mated & Afraid #1)

CHAPTER

THIRTY-SIX

Ellison

The tiny stone cottage is one of the strangest buildings I’ve ever been in. The rustic walls and wood beams seem like something out of a fairytale, whimsical and rough-hewn… and in complete contrast to everything inside.

Lights hang from the conical ceiling, and I stare at them in utter confusion.

They’re not chandeliers, or bulbs, or anything I could possibly comprehend. The lights are fuzzy, and it’s not because of my vision.

“Shoutout to the surgeon that did my Lasik, you’re a real one, Dr. Adebayo.” I scratch at my shoulder, still staring at the strange, fuzzy blob lights that seem to be suspended from fishing wire.

“I can’t imagine having to do all this in glasses,” I tell Rex.

“Glasses?” He frowns. “To drink from?”

“No, for my vision.” I sigh. “Never mind. What are those things?”

“Some sort of light source,” he answers, which is hardly illuminating.

Illuminating. Heh.

My stomach rumbles again, and Rex tugs me deeper into the little hut. The floor is sheathed in what seems to be stainless steel, as is all the furniture sitting beneath the strange lights.

While the shapes are vaguely familiar, it’s like someone who’d never seen a chair or table before tried to build one based on a toddler’s description.

I hold the tablet with one hand and cling to Rex with the other, hardly processing what I’m seeing.

Where did this come from? How is the AI just conjuring things from thin air, or the ground?

My brain understands that this so-called moon was once a giant, thriving space station. The weird furniture and floor must have once been in someone’s home, or some building. Seeing it here, though, after surviving a flood with damned sea serpents in what looks like Baba Yaga’s hut?

It’s freaking weird.

“What do you want to eat?”

The question brings me back to the moment, and I take a minute to think on it. “Is it like… a set menu? How does it work?”

“You can scan through the options. There are thousands… but there are a few things it always makes better than others.”

“What if you pick for me?” I ask, biting my lip. “Would you mind?”

The thought of having to make one more choice after today is too much. We are both alive. I’m exhausted.

And I’m hungry enough to eat just about whatever comes out of the box Rex is fiddling with. It reminds me of a microwave, though the door is on top and appears to screw into place.

Drooping, I plop onto one of the shiny metal chairs and wait.

“This has been a very weird experience,” I finally say.

“I agree,” Rex says, and though he’s turned towards the insta-pantry where I can’t see his face, he sounds like he’s smiling.

“Not all bad, though,” I amend hastily.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

A second later, the insta-pantry dings, and Rex lifts the lid, pulling out a covered bowl. The aroma of cheese and herbs fills the small space, and my mouth waters automatically.

“This smells incredible,” I say honestly, and he sets it in front of me with a grin.

“I’d rather hand-make it for you than use an insta-pantry, but I hope you like what I selected.”

“What is it?” I ask, staring at the covered bowl with slight trepidation. I have no idea how to open it.

Noticing my confusion, Rex gently takes the bowl back, showing me a latch on the side. He presses it, and instead of the lid popping open, it simply folds into itself and vanishes.

I certainly wasn’t expecting that.

From the top, he pulls off what can only be described as an alien spork and hands it to me.

“It is a protein and a carbohydrate, made with a vegetable sauce and cheese.”

“Sounds appetizing,” I manage, taking the hot bowl back from him.

A quick glance reveals something very familiar, though. It looks vaguely like lasagna.

While Rex selects something for himself from the insta-pantry, I poke at the meal with the spork. It smells good, sure, and I am hungry, but it is a little unsettling to eat a meal that just… magically appeared.

I eat it anyway.

And it’s good.

“What do you think?” he asks, sitting across from me. Under the table, his tail wraps around my ankle, and I’m surprised by how sweet that bizarre contact feels.

“It reminds me of pasta with sun-dried tomatoes, but it’s not quite that? It’s weird because it’s familiar but not like anything I’ve had all at the same time.” I chew thoughtfully. Even the noodle-like sheet isn’t quite the texture of lasagna. It’s not bad.

I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know what it’s made of.

I’m hungry enough that I really don’t care, either.

“I’m glad you’re eating it. You need the calories.”

I think that’s the first time in my life a dude has told me I need calories, and while he’s not wrong, it makes me mad at all the other men I’ve ever dated.

Mad at them, and mad at myself for tolerating men who told me to eat less, talk less, make myself less.

Ka-Rexsh is nothing like that.

“You’re a good one,” I tell him suddenly, surprising both of us with the force of the words.

“You are a good one too,” he replies, his tail tightening around my calf, his fangs showing as he smiles at me.

It’s quiet, save for the sounds of us eating, and even the noise he makes chewing isn’t offensive.

The bar, apparently, is in hell.

“I would consider this a third date, you know.” It comes out of nowhere, and he pauses with his spork halfway to his mouth. I don’t know what he picked to eat, but it’s not the lasagna I’m eating.

“I do not know that we use the same calendar,” Rex finally replies.

That makes me laugh, and I take another bite before continuing. “No, a date. It’s what humans call, uh, the courtship period before you settle down with someone.”

“Settle down?” His lip curls in disgust, showing fang, and it’s so cute on him that I smile more broadly. “That is what humans call finding a partner? Settling down?”

“Sometimes,” I answer cautiously. I don’t want to shit all over the human race, and there’s a pretty large amount of disdain in that question.

“Shouldn’t it be settling up? Down seems so negative. I would think that you would not want to settle down.”

I blink in surprise. He’s not wrong—there is something… derogatory about that, but… “That’s not what settle means. It means to like… calm down. Be calm.”

“Nothing about starting a life with someone should change who you are, calm or not. Draegon are not perfect, but many of us, especially the Draegon of the village I was raised in, considered their partners, their mates, to be the ultimate achievement in life.”

“I don’t know.” I poke at the remaining food. “I don’t think people are achievements.”

He frowns. “The word is not translating correctly. The mating partnership, maintaining it—it is not the result of some long pursuit, some ah, checking off a list of desirable traits found on a certain number of… interviews together.” The word interview is pronounced very carefully, like he knows I might be offended by this and is trying to discuss it as delicately as he can.

I squirm, because I’m guilty of exactly that.

I have mentally cataloged all the things I like about him. All the things that I don’t like, too—and I’m not sure that I know enough to know what I don’t like about him.

“A true mating partnership…” He takes my hand in his, and I make myself look up at his earnest expression.

“It is not about the individual qualities, bad or good. It is about supporting the whole of the partner, and lifting each other up. It is about making the world a better place, about being that person’s home, their life support pod when their ship might fail. ”

“While the life support pod is a metaphor I’m not used to?—”

He barks a laugh, and I grin at him.

“That sounds ideal,” I finish.

“What were your parents like?” he asks.

Oh. He’s told me what his are like, what he perceived his parents’ and neighbors’ relationships to be like.

“They were… distant. No unhappy, but maybe not necessarily happy, either.” I frown, digging through my memories and trying to make sense of the emotions they dredge up.

“They didn’t talk about… things unless they were necessary.

” I’m struggling through the words. “They weren’t mean to each other, or anything like that, but they seemed more like…

” I push back my dirty hair, exhaling in frustration.

“They seemed more like coworkers who had worked together for a long time than maybe even friends. They weren’t interested in each other. ”

“What happened to them?” His question is soft, gentle.

“They divorced the summer I graduated from high school. It had been finalized for two days when the Roth attacked.” My smile is bitter, and sadness threatens to steal my breath.

“Maybe they would have both been happier alone, or with someone else, but that future was stolen from them. They both died in the first wave.”

He squeezes my hand, and I look down, blinking back the stinging in my eyes. “Your planet had to grow up too fast,” he says. “I think maybe you did, too.”

I nod, unwilling to talk about this anymore.

It’s unhealthy not to talk about the things that hurt us; I’ve been in enough on-again, off-again therapy sessions to know the truth of that.

I force another bite of the meal, though my appetite has waned, just to give myself something to do.

“My planet, on the other hand, is overgrown. Bloated, I would say. The monarchy is more greedy and power-hungry than ever, but the king has violated the most basic compact between ruler and ruled: he has simply stopped caring for them.” He pauses, taking another bite, chewing fully before he continues.

“It’s treason to speak like this. No matter what happens here, I cannot go back home. I will not.”

“Would you want to, if it were different?”

He gives me a long look. “I don’t know that any of us can truly ever go home. I think that, ah, my home is no longer a place. I think my home could be a person.”

My eyes go wide, and I turn to absolute mush.

In the space of a heartbeat, I’ve practically leapt across the table. He catches me in his arms, a rasping laugh on his mouth that I quickly replace with my lips.

He tastes like lemons and butter and, inexplicably, white wine, and he feels like he could be my home, too.