"The next male to be paired?" Gobi came from the back room with a steaming drink in her hands. "That would be you, Dak."
I promptly fell backwards out of the chair and hit my head.
I wasn't so disoriented that I didn’t hear Tura laughing.
The End
This is the abbreviated version of Book 1 in the
Visits from the Intergalactic Matchmaker series, coming January 2021
Enjoyed this story? Be sure to leave a review!
About the Author
Cass Alex (A.K.A. Casper Alexandria) specializes in Urban Fantasy, Romance, Sci-Fi Romance, and the occasional anthology. She currently resides in central Florida and spends her days thinking rocket launches feel a lot like earthquakes.
When she isn't writing she, um... Well, she is always writing something. She also reads way too much, and likes to wander off and explore new places. Sometimes she even makes it home unscathed.
She is currently working on the first books in several new upcoming series. You can expect the next year to be a very busy one!
You can find her on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/cassalexwrites/ or on her author page at http://www.cassalex.com/
The Zexian’s Accidental Tribute
Luna Wren
About The Zexian’s Accidental Tribute
I wasn’t supposed to end up on a Zexian mothership, but here I am.
I’m Rianne, an alien-obsessed, awkward, junior-copywriter for a crappy media company in Florida. So when I’m sent to the yearly Zexian Tribute ceremony, I go all in. Too bad that I miss the ceremony when I get stuck in a cargo hold and shot up into space and held prisoner by a very sexy Captain Xavir.
Xavir wants to send me back to Earth ASAP, but I want him to make all my alien fantasies come true. Can I break out of my shell and seduce my captor? Or will I be returned to Earth and lose out on a once in a lifetime chance at love?
Chapter 1
Ever since the Zexian alien warriors had landed on Earth, I'd been fascinated with them.
When I was a child, there was a war between two alien races, and some of the Zexian's soldiers had landed on Earth. I was too young at the time to remember the unrest that followed afterward. There was war, protesting, investigations, scandals, it was a wild time, according to my aunt who raised me. But eventually, we Earthlings found peace with the Zexians and the Zexians swore to protect Earth from outside invaders, as long as we continued to give them the resources they desired.
Now, twenty years later, the Zexian's had become the Earth's first intergalactic trading partner. They brought new technology to us, and we taught them our history and languages. Our budding relationship could be tense at times, but mostly without incident.
There was one strange ritual, though. One ritual that had lasted over two decades. The Tributes. Remember when I said resources? Some of it was the usual stuff: water, gold, and the like. But the most precious resource that we had? Our women.
The Tributes were the earthling women who were sworn to the Zexian warriors to be their concubines. As barbaric as it may seem, the women who were chosen as Tributes were seen as celebrities. They were given everything they ever wanted in exchange for giving their bodies to the Zexian warriors who protected Earth from intergalactic invaders.
My aunt always said it was a small price to pay for the protection that we got in return. Of course, some people protested against it, calling it anti-feminist or barbaric, but the women who went as Tributes did so out of their own free will to protect mankind. It was an honor, or so I was told.
Once a year, the Tributes were offered in a public spectacle. Over one hundred women from countless countries came forward in a grand ceremony in the sky, symbolically meeting the Zexians halfway between the ground and the darkness of space. It was always televised, being treated like a pageant or an awards show. Famous designers clamored to dress the Tributes, and people made bets on which women would be chosen.
I watched it every year, bundled in my pajamas and wrapped in blankets. I could never be like those girls, but I could live vicariously for a few hours and imagine that a Zexian warrior would claim me as his love. The thought made me tingle all over. But who was I kidding? A junior copywriter that had never even been kissed. I was plainer than plain, nothing like those who were worthy enough to be a tribute.
I sighed, thinking about the fanfare that was taking over the state, over the country. The United States had been chosen as the starting point on Earth this year. The Tributes would arrive at Cape Canaveral and be transported up from there.
“Hey, Rianne.”
I looked up from my desk, I had gone off in a trance again. I blinked.“What?”
“Earth to Rianne!” It was the intern, Vicky. She handed me a steaming venti cappuccino. “Starbucks run,” she said.
“Thanks,” I replied, taking the cappuccino with both hands, watching her trot off. I sort of felt bad for her. She was the only intern in our small Miami advertising agency. She had big dreams, but so far, her only job duties were fetching coffee and washing the bathroom. (Which used to be my job, so I shouldn’t be complaining.)
I flipped through the news as I sipped my drink. All of the local media was in a frenzy, talking about the upcoming Tributes and discussing the trends. The biggest names in the influencer world would be there to see them off. I’d watch like I did every year, wishing I was there too.
Just as I was packing up, my boss came over to my desk. “Hey, Rianne,” he said. He was a burly man with thick eyebrows and a tan line from his sunglasses.
“Yes, sir?” I asked. “I need you to go to Cape Canaveral.”
“What?” I exclaimed. Was this a joke? I always hid my obsession with the Zexians. I didn’t want anyone making fun of me any more than they did.
“Yeah, Brett has the weekend off, his mother is sick. I need you there to help with Yellow Hog Energy’s campaign. They’ve invested a lot of money in us. We can’t let them fail.”
“But, I’m not an account rep,” I said.
“Well, learn fast. Your flight to Orlando leaves tomorrow morning.” He slapped a dossier down on my desk. “Take care of this for me, and maybe you’ll be the senior copywriter next month.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Uh, sure,” I said, picking up the folder. Information about Yellow Hog Energy was included, as well as my plane tickets. “I won’t let you down.”
My boss grunted and stalked back to his office, slamming the door behind him.
I looked down at the dossier, and my hands started to tremble. This was it. This was my chance to see the Zexians up close and personal. It was fate, I was sure of it.
Chapter 2
I stepped out of the Orlando Airport, shielding my face from the sun. I had two suitcases of stuff; the smaller one was mine. The larger one was filled with everything that the company needed to make sure Yellow Hog’s appearance went as planned. The advertising agency's payroll literally rested on my shoulders, but I didn’t care.
This was my chance to see the Zexians. Something I’d dreamt about since I was a kid and didn't understand the strange feelings I felt whenever I saw their iridescent purple skin and yellow eyes. The muscular, hardened Zexian soldiers turned me on in ways that no human man ever could, but that was my secret. I didn't want to be labeled as an alien fetishist. My conservative parents probably would have disowned me if they knew my idea of a perfect man was an alien warrior.
I saw a man holding a sign that said, “KLH MEDIA.” That must be my ride. I waved to him, hauling my luggage with me to the black van. Now I had an hour-long trip to Cape Canaveral, where everyone was setting up for tonight.
The drive was quiet. Thankfully, the driver didn’t make any conversation with me, and I lost myself scrolling through the newsfeed. Everyone had arrived for the big show tonight. Ambassadors would sit shoulder to shoulder with celebrities. Everyone would be vying for the best seat as we watched the Tributes go up into space. Then the actual ceremony would be
televised across the world.
“Here we are,” The driver said, snapping me out of my scroll.
“Oh, thanks,” I said with a smile.
The driver helped me unpack my things and pointed in the direction of a tiny colony of white tents. “Media is that way.” He tipped his hat.
“Thanks,” I said again, slapping a twenty dollar bill in his hand (tips could be expensed) and hauling my suitcases towards the tents. By the time I reached the tents, I had passed countless celebrities.
After getting lost a few times, I found the tent for Yellow Hog. People in bright yellow polos were scrambling around with boxes of merch and shouting at each other. A girl in a yellow tube dress was handing out samples to people who walked by.
“Umm, hello?” I spoke softly, not wanting to interrupt.
Some guy looked up, seeming surprised to see me. “Who are you? Are you the replacement for KLH Media?”
I nodded, immediately put off by his tone. This is why I wasn’t an account manager. I had no time for entrepreneurial jerks like this guy. “I’m Rianne.” I motioned to the bigger suitcase. “I have your press kits and a bunch of other stuff.”
The guy practically pushed me out of the way to get his hands on the suitcase. “Thanks,” he said, although he didn’t sound thankful. He snapped the case open and began tearing through the insides like a wild animal.
“Um, how can I help you?” I asked.
“Stay out of the way.”
“Oh. Well, I mean, I was told to make sure that your event went off without any trouble,” I tried again.
“Then stay out of my hair. I don’t need you.”
I frowned. This guy was not going to take any of my help, that much was obvious. I opened my mouth and closed it again, finally giving up. I turned away and glanced back, but the Yellow Hog team was oblivious to me. If he didn’t want my help, then fine. I’d easily find something else to do.
The sun was beating down, so I stuck to the shady parts between the rows of tents. All the big brands were there, as well as little ones and start-ups. I pushed through the trade show area, eager to see what else was around.
By that, I meant Zexians. I wondered if any of the aliens came down before the ceremony. After all, they weren’t all warriors, and they weren’t all getting a tribute. Maybe some of them liked the free Pepsi cans or perfume samples.
After the tents, the grounds opened up to the media booths. I took the back way, avoiding the cameras, so I could get a good look at the main spectacle.
The Tributes met the Zexians on a platform in the outer atmosphere. They’d rocket up and dock there, meeting them halfway. Once the Zexians took their tributes, they’d leave Earth’s orbit and be taken to one of the massive motherships that patrolled the milky way.
I craned my neck up to get a good look at the rocket. It was sleek and sexy, finished with a rose gold tint, and crafted especially for tonight. It would fall back to Earth empty once the tributes were taken into the arms of their sworn Zexians.
A shiver passed through me. Just the thought of the Zexian warriors was enough to get my heart beating a little faster. In only a few hours, the Tributes would lift off and start a new life. I couldn’t help but envy them.
“Whoa!” Someone bumped into me. “Geez, what are you doing out here?”
I turned around. “Sorry?”
It was a guy dressed in a white t-shirt with half a dozen cameras hanging around his neck. “No spectators past this point,” he said.
“What about you?”
The guy flashed his PRESS badge, giving me a duh look.
“I’m with KLH Media,” I argued.
“Never heard of them. Get back to your tent,” he snarled.
“Excuse me?” I exclaimed. I was used to being meek, but I couldn’t take this level of disrespect.
“No press badge, no entry,” The guy said.
“Listen,” I said. “I’ve had a hell of a day. Where can I get my badge, so jerks like you leave me alone?”
“The main tent,” he said, pointing towards the corporate branding colony. The insult passed over his melon head. “Now go before I call security.”
I bit down on my tongue and brushed past him. There were a million things I’d like to say to him, but I didn’t dare.
I stomped back towards the tents, still hauling my suitcase behind me. It would have been nice if someone pointed me in the direction of the coat check, too. I guess that was asking too much. I did not have the personality for this shit. To be honest, the only thing from keeping me from going right back home was a chance to see a Zexian up-close, that is, if they came down here before the ceremony. Sadly, I still hadn’t seen any of the purple-skinned hotties.
“Tribute ceremony and launch will commence in two hours. Repeat. Two hours,” A voice called out from the speaker system. It echoed across the clearing, and everyone who heard it instantly started working harder. The stress in the air went up a few notches.
I glanced in the direction of the Yellow Hog Energy tent, but they seemed fine at scrambling without me. I shrugged off the feeling of responsibility. If everyone was going to be a dick to me today, I might as well be one back.
I went to the media tent to grab my pass and then strode with blazing confidence into a VIP area. The lady at the entrance only glanced at my pass and then waved me in. This was freakin’ great.
I went to the all you can eat buffet and filled a plate, grabbed two complimentary beers, and set up near the back of the room. I even pulled my camera out of my suitcase just to make the press thing seem more legit. I watched the celebrities and influencers milling around and taking selfies, still wondering if I would see any Zexians.
The televisions around the tent were showing the highlights of last year’s Tribute. The first chosen was a beauty from South Africa, which caused a huge upset because everyone had been betting on the woman from South Korea, who was actually the host country. I’d liked Miss Switzerland the most. Her gown was entirely made of glass and crystal. She looked like an ice princess; she was chosen third.
Suddenly, someone tapped me on the shoulder. “Excuse me, miss?”
I looked up, seeing a man in a navy blue suit. He had round glasses and a straight mustache. “Yes?” I asked. Inside I was freaking out, thinking I had been caught for sure.
“Sorry. I noticed you’re press, who are you with?”
“KLH Media,” I blurted.
“Haven’t heard of them,” he said. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Our photographer has fallen ill. Could I ask you to fill in for a few minutes?”
I gulped. I was barely an amateur photographer, but I had been taking lessons online. And by lessons, I meant watching tutorials on Youtube. Maybe I could pull it off, with the two bottles of liquid confidence that I’d downed earlier. “Uh, sure,” I squeaked.
The man beamed. “Thank you, you’re a lifesaver.”
I followed him out the back exit where all of the trucks and trailers were lined up. The hum of generators filled my ears.
A pin flashed on his lapel, it was the Canadian flag. He must be with the Tribute from Canada. “Thanks so much for doing this,” he said.
“No problem,” I said. I was pushed through the crowd and brought to a trailer.
The Tribute from Canada was there, taking selfies with the Tribute from Mexico. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. “Finally, a real photographer!” She exclaimed. She kissed both off my cheeks. “I was so sad when we had to leave our cameraman in Montreal,” she sighed.
I prayed that I’d be able to take some halfway decent pictures. I began fiddling with the settings on my DSLR.
I spent the next hour taking photos and meeting tributes. I was surrounded by extraordinary women, who were not only beautiful but smart and politically savvy. Everything happened in a whirlwind.
People were asking for my Instagram, people wanted photos with me, they laughed at my jokes and put glasses of champagne in my hand. It was amazing, too good to be true,
almost. I made the most of it, knowing it wouldn’t last. They were beautiful goddesses, and I was a junior copywriter in a tank dress from Khols.
I was starting to feel dizzy, so I sat down on a box behind Miss Canada and Miss Ireland. The sounds around me faded as I passed out, still holding my camera to my chest.
Something jolted me awake. It sounded like a jet engine powering up, but about a million times louder.
I sat up, finding myself in a dark room surrounded by boxes and bags. “What the fuck?” It wasn’t a room, but the back of a truck. “What the fuck!” I screamed. How the hell did someone not wake me up? How did they pack me up in here?
I pounded on the trailer. “Hey! Can anyone hear me?” I shouted. “Hello?”
If anyone was outside, the engine sounds would have washed away my voice.
“Oh no,” I sobbed. My hands were trembling. “Hello?” I tried again, just to make sure that no help was coming.
I sat back down on the box, trying to figure out what to do. Someone would open the trailer soon, right? I couldn’t be stuck in here forever. When someone came to unload whatever was in these boxes, I’d be free.
Except the back of the trailer never opened. More hissing and whirring sounds echoed off the metal walls as the container I was in was loaded into … something? I couldn’t see anything at all, and all of the sounds around me were drowned out by mechanical noise.
I slammed my fists on the walls until they ached. “Help! Help!” It was useless.
One final deafening bang filled my ears, and then there was nothing but silence. The eerie silence was replaced by a low rumbling that made my stomach turn. Then, the feeling of lift-off.
“Holy fuck,” I gasped. I knew what was happening, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself. I was in the rose gold rocket that was being sent up to the platform.
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