Page 9 of Alien Jeopardy (Mated & Afraid #1)
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Ka-Rexsh
My little human mate is attempting a mating dance.
It is clumsy, and it is not the way of my people, but she is enthusiastic and loud. I am thoroughly charmed by her alien efforts.
I knew the people of her planet were primitive, yes, so far behind in the sciences and evolution that they have nearly no skills to speak of, but I did not know that they still used something as strange as a mating dance.
Still.
What else could it possibly be? She is adorable, with her nonsense burbling and her cute hornless head as she squats and touches her temple.
She pauses, her expressive eyebrows quirking up, her brown eyes wide as her appreciative gaze skates over my skin.
I brush off the feeling of awkwardness, and snap my wings to their fullest extension, doing my best to perform a dance that is sure to impress the strange little human.
Spinning on my heels, I advance towards her, trying not to grimace at my clumsy interpretation of what I’m sure is a time-honored mating ritual of her species. What I lack in choreography and precision I try to make up for with sheer enthusiasm.
I close my eyes, losing my inhibitions to movement, and by the time I finish and open my eyes, I know I’ve done my very best. My heart skips within my chest, so eager for her reaction to my overtures in a way she will understand.
My mate stares up at me from the ground, her lush lips round with surprise.
“Whaattheefaack?” she screeches, scrabbling back like a rock crab on her palms and feet.
My eyes narrow.
She watches me carefully, a skittish expression on her face. That is not the reaction I anticipated.
Perhaps the human mating dance is more complicated than I thought. Perhaps they have many dances and I’ve just offered her a grave insult.
I scratch my chin, confused about where I went wrong.
I have never been a male to give up in the face of hardship. I wouldn’t be here if I were.
Recalling her movements, I slow down, attempting to repeat what she did. Her face twists up as I squat, touching my horns, then stand back up.
A moment passes.
Another.
We stare at one another.
Finally I huff in annoyance at myself.
She must not have been doing a mating dance, after all. I am a brainless worm for having made such an assumption. Behind me, my wings sag, and I bow my head, my heart falling, even the relentless skith of my cock ceasing as reality sets in.
Ellison might be in heat for me, might have agreed to do this contest, but if she were truly interested in being my mate, she would have responded to me in the way of a mate by now.
My palm scrubs across my face because I have never wanted something so badly as I want the female before me, the scent of her heat starting a reaction in my own veins—but I refuse to take.
I have had too much taken from me in my life to do the same to another.
Especially the one I have marked as my own.
My hand stretches out to her, practically of its own accord, and her eyes narrow. Darting between my sharp-taloned fingers and my face, her gaze flicks back and forth until she finally stands on her own.
As if she doesn’t trust the merest touch.
“Come,” I tell her, letting my hand fall to my side. “We must make haste to the first stage of the competition.”
It’s strange, not being able to fly where I want, but if we want to win, we must abide by the rules set forth by the Roth.
I want to win. I want to win the translator so I can know what is happening in her pretty head.
But I want to win more than this competition—I want to win my mate over, body and soul.
I started this journey for the chance to get away from the autocratic Draegon politics, but this female? She is the true prize I seek.