Page 6 of Rescued by the Alien Bull Rider (Cowboy Colony Mail-Order Brides #6)

ZOHRO

I spent the walk back trying to figure out how to convince Jolene to marry me.

Like an idiot.

She’d shown no interest in me. She’d appeared thrilled with my offer to fix up the wagon so that I could take her to Tasha and the warden.

So that they could enter her into the bride program and…

And potentially marry her off to one of Warden Hallum’s men.

Wyn was on my left, Jolene on my right as we headed for my ranch.

I did not think she was very short for a human woman, but she walked surprisingly slowly.

I had to rein in my own natural pace, which I found difficult.

I’d never liked feeling like I was wasting time.

I liked bending to other people even less.

And there was the very real threat of genka in the night, as well as the bull we’d left behind to graze for now.

I’d fetch him on my own in the morning, once my wounds were bound.

I wanted her in my house. Soon. Safe.

When I wasn’t scanning the land ahead for predators, I watched her from the side.

Sometimes her hands went to her hips or her lower back, as if they pained her.

That worried me, but she did not complain.

The few times she felt my eyes on her, she turned my way and gave me a smile that seemed designed to dazzle me into silence.

So, silent I remained. Which gave me plenty of time to mull over how I’d get her to marry me.

While I’d always been told that I was classically handsome for a Zabrian, I had no idea if that translated into anything a human might find attractive.

And I’d never been the sort of male who could simper or tell a good joke.

I was not Fallon, with his endless, asinine grins.

I was clever, but my smarts were like a scalpel. Designed to cut. Not to charm.

Before my conviction, I was well on my way to becoming the most famous and lauded surgeon in the history of the Zabrian Empire.

A child prodigy, a mere boy with skills beyond most well-trained men.

Outside of my older sister and my father – both surgeons themselves – I’d never had friends. I did not need them.

But now there was a woman beside me, a beautiful one who made something savagely possessive twist inside me. And I was entirely, miserably at a loss at what to do with her.

She said she came here to marry a Zabrian rancher…

Before today, I would never have called myself such a thing. I was a surgeon from a highly regarded family. Exile here was a fate so torturous as to never be acknowledged. I’d always kept some hope alive that I would one day be returned to the empire and my former status.

It was why the bride program had been such an insult. It was a signal that the empire never wanted us to return, that they were willing to placate us with human brides, but nothing more. We were forgotten to them, doomed to die in the dust and the dung of this world.

It was offensive in the extreme. At least, that’s what I’d thought. Until I’d seen the human brides in question and realized that I wanted one for myself.

Specifically, the one now walking agonizingly slowly at my side.

“We need to hurry,” I growled. I did not like being out here with her beyond the fencing of my ranch.

I was losing blood, and a genka would smell it and come looking for the source.

When the ranch became visible, I sped up without realizing I’d done it until Jolene began to pant and quietly groan beside me.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked through gritted fangs, forcing myself to match her pace. “Why are you so slow and out of breath?”

“I told you!” she huffed, one hand on her lower abdomen, “I have a medical condition!”

Thank the blazes I’m a doctor.

There would be no better husband for her if she required any sort of lengthy treatment.

Truly, I was the most practical choice. Already, I was planning to petition Tasha for much more extensive human medical literature.

She’d included some brief overviews of human biology in her document on human females, but it was nowhere near enough.

I’d have to find something specific to Jolene’s condition.

“What is the name of your-” I halted mid-sentence, my tail tightening on its hook. Unease nipped at my spine. Immediately, I moved Jolene between Wyn and myself, using our larger bodies to shield her.

“What is it?” she asked, her breath a hot skim over my chest.

Genka .

We’d been too slow. I’d bled too much.

It was far away. Jolene likely would not have even noticed it, not knowing what to look for. But I saw the slow crawl of its large, lithe body. Hunting us through the grass.

Luckily, it was not between us and the ranch. We could probably make it…

If we rode.

“This condition,” I hissed, “will it kill you?”

“What?!”

“Will riding a shuldu in your condition kill you?”

The genka moved like water, like blood. A flawless ripple of motion camouflaged by the grass shifting in the breeze. Getting closer every moment.

At my question, Jolene’s face went stark and white.

“I can’t fall,” she whispered.

“You won’t.”

I seized upon her waist and flung her up into the saddle.