Alien Prince Seeking BBW Bride: First Love: A Second Chance Science Fiction Romance (Alpha Mail Order Brides)

by Hart, Alana

  But Laura hadn’t known. She wasn’t prepared.

  When Madame Venus finally comes to collect me, I’m clinging to Laura and balling into her chest as if she were my tattered old teddy.

  “What is going on here?” Madame Venus asks, appropriately appalled.

  “We’re watching The Notebook,” Laura replies.

  Madame Venus makes a horrified sound. “Laura, I told you to remove that movie from the library.”

  “I would, but so many of the girls love it—”

  “And every time, the girls who love it end up like that!” Madame Venus says, pointing at me.

  I sniffle. “What?”

  Madame Venus sighs as she paces. “This couldn’t have come at a more unfortunate time. Your test results are back. Normally, I would give you time to prepare, but we only have thirty minutes.”

  I sniffle again. “What?”

  “Sally,” Madame Venus crouches, taking my hand in hers, “I want you to be assured that your mate is not going to care how you look. It won’t matter to him that you’re face is all splotchy and you’ve got your mascara running down your cheeks and your neck and…well…you really wore a lot of mascara, didn’t you? Still, it doesn’t matter. You could pop through the portal like an evil clown busting out of a jack-in-the-box and he wouldn’t care because he loves you.”

  “What?” That sounds like a horrible clown! What the hell does it have to do with me?

  “I know you didn’t want a Ta’arak, but everything happens for a reason. Please trust that the universe has a very special plan for you.”

  I freeze. A Ta’arak? “What do you mean?”

  Laura lets go of me. “I’ll prepare her teleportation device.”

  Madame Venus shakes her head. “There’s no need. Mercury has already done it. Just make sure her things are ready and notify her next of kin.”

  Notify next of kin? Didn’t people only use phrases like that when there’d been a horrible accident or…

  Oh God.

  “I’m a mate?”

  Madame Venus nods. “To a Ta’arak.”

  I stand, ripping my hand out of her clutches. “No. There’s been a mistake. Run the tests again.”

  Madame Venus gives me a pitying look. “DNA doesn’t lie, Sally.”

  “Yes it does! Or at least tests do. Run it again. Something must have gone wrong, like a bug got in it or something.”

  “Sally, we run the tests for all mated pairings multiple times—even if the test originally comes back negative—because you are so rare and important. Please understand, this is a good thing.”

  It was definitely not a good thing! Nothing good ever came from a Ta’arak! I had to make her understand. “I’m not doing this! I don’t care what the contract says.”

  “Please don’t be like this, Sally,” Madame Venus whispers.

  “No. If I’d known I was signing my rights away, I wouldn’t have done this. I’m supposed to be the one in control. I’m supposed to be able to pick my husband, come back whenever I want, or at the very least push my distress button. I’m not even going to be able to do that, am I? You’re going to disable those things. You’re sentencing me to only god knows what!”

  These disturbing insights have no affect on Madame Venus. “Didn’t you trust me when I said that you’d find your true love?

  Is she really asking me if I trust her palm reading? Really? REALLY?!?!?!? That’s not an interview and it sure as shit isn’t science—it’s superstition. What kind of galactic corporation allows such a shoddy screening system? I should have known that something was up and walked out then!

  But it’s too late. Laura, Madame Venus, and an old dude with a droopy, stern face are circling.

  “No. Let’s talk about this,” I tell them.

  It’s like being stuck between two walls of spikes that are slowly closing in. It’s just a matter of time before I’m impaled.

  “We have twenty-eight minutes,” Madame Venus says, grabbing my arm.

  I guess my “matter of time” was shorter than I thought! I yank my arm, struggling to wiggle my way out of her iron-clad grip, but before I can the droopy-faced old man slaps a glowing white bracelet around my wrist.

  Oh no. The transportation device. This was really happening. “Please!” I beg.

  They step back.

  I launch myself forward and hug Laura. They have to be a certain number of feet away from me before teleporting. Unfortunately I don’t remember the exact footage now, but as long as I stay close I should be alright.

  “You’re only making this worse on yourself!” Madame Venus explains. “Teleportation is difficult enough, if you stress your body, it will be even harder for you.”

  I didn’t care. Nothing could make me stop hanging onto Laura. Nothing.

  Chapter 4

  Well, nothing could stop me from hanging onto Laura except Mercury. He may have looked like an old man, but he was strong. I am not a small woman by any means, but from the way he picked me up and carried me to the isolation tank, you woulda thought I was a size 2 instead of a size…

  Well, we don’t need to get too specific. Let’s just call it “a size larger than size two” and leave it at that.

  I lean forward until my forehead hits the white cushioned wall.

  “Relax,” Madame Venus’ soothing voice echoes over the loudspeaker. She wants me to settle down before she teleports me—well, as long as it takes me less than twenty minutes to settle down. Apparently, you don’t mess with a Ta’arak’s schedule.

  The Ta’arak have already been notified and are waiting for me. In fact, they were notified before I was, which pisses me off. I’m sure this is just the first of many things I won’t like.

  I glare down at my damn hands. I’m glad I didn’t give you guys a manicure because you definitely don’t deserve one.

  “This is your true love, Sally. You have been waiting for him all your life, and he has been waiting for you. You’ll see when you meet one another.”

  She was right. I’d see something when I saw the Ta’arak—but it wouldn’t be my mate, it would be him.

  When I shut my eyes I don’t see darkness. I see the somber hills in the distance cloaked by a violet fog. I see the humid air blowing his dark blue hair. I see his sapphire blue eyes flashing as he leans down to kiss my temple.

  These memories are like grains of sand that have infiltrated my heart. Just as oysters cover these foreign particles with layer upon layer of nacre until they become something precious, I’ve made pearls of these painful memories. I covet them. I wear them. I revel in their beauty.

  I don't want them anymore.

  I thought I could escape them in another world, but if my mate shares his features then I never will. Every time I look at him, I’ll remember Darak…

  I hear Madame Venus’ voice over the loudspeaker. The countdown has started. It’s almost time.

  Maybe it was foolish for me to think I could escape such things, anyway. Most planets had both a night and a day; and unless the sky was filled with a gassy canopy, on most clear nights you could look up and see the stars above. Those stars would make a different pattern in the sky, of course—but the seed of the memory would be there.

  Lights begin to flash. I push myself off the cushioned wall to find little glowing balls racing around my bracelet like the ticket machine at Funland.

  “Oh shit,” I whisper. Yes, I’d wanted to travel the universe…but that didn’t mean I looked forward to space travel itself.

  I knew from the literature I’d read on the subject (aka that handy brochure with the misleading stock photo that did not mention palmistry anywhere) that I’ll feel like I’m moving even though I won’t be moving. Or I will be moving, but it won’t feel like I am.

  Yeah. I got confused after reading the first sentence. And in the second paragraph, when they started to talk about a “burning, tingling sensation,” I decided it was probably best if I didn’t know and stopped reading entirely.

  M
y vision blurs. I’m still standing, but I feel carsick. I collapse to the ground, holding my head. Alright. This must be the moving without moving part.

  Then, I shriek. Did they say tingling and burning? Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. However, I’d describe it as a rampaging herd of demonic nightmare steeds was galloping through my body, raising hell.

  And then, just as suddenly, I melt into a pool of jelly. I try to scream again, but it feels like my body has turned into a pile of goop and I no longer know where my mouth is or how I’d even use it.

  Neon geometric shapes dance in my mind. Or maybe I’m the dancing geometric shapes.

  I have no idea. I want out.

  But there’s no way out because I’m pretty sure I’m dead. Either that, or I’m having a level 5 mushroom trip, and I’m afraid it’s the kind of trip you never come back from.

  And then, it stops.

  Air cools on my sweat. Air. Air!

  I gulp in a deep, sharp breath. The air pricks my lungs like a thousand needles, but do I care? Hell no. I welcome the pain. It means I’m alive.

  “Get her up!”

  Glad to hear my teleporter/universal translator bracelet seems to be working! Now, if only I could say the same about me.

  My head rolls back and I wince as something metal grabs me and yanks me to my feet. Then, the metal thing sets me down and my ankles roll to the sides and my legs bowl out. I’m falling like a rag doll that’s coming apart at the seams when the metal thing catches me again.

  “Hold her! The Prince wants her alive!”

  Prince? I open my mouth to say something. Unfortunately, all that comes out are...bubbles.

  Yes, bubbles.

  If I was five, I would be having the best day of my life. But since I’m no longer five, I think it’s pretty damn horrifying.

  Still, it’s not as horrifying as the gigantic blue face in front of me.

  Yes, the man shares the same features as a human man—I see an aristocratic nose, two slanted eyes, two probably normal ears (sorry, I don’t spend too much time checking out ears!), broad chin, and angular cheekbones. He could pass for human, maybe, if he caked on at least four centimeters of foundation to cover his blue skin.

  It has been a long time since I was face-to-face with a Ta’arak. If I were truly a rag doll, I think my stuffing would be coming out, but since I’m a human girl my head and eyes roll back as I make a horrible whirring sound in the back of my throat, and then proceed to blow more bubbles.

  Cerulean, glowing eyes narrow as his lip curls up in disgust. “Are you Sally Adams?”

  I kind of don’t want to answer.

  Unfortunately, the Ta’arak definitely wants me to answer. He grabs my shoulder and yanks me up. My head rolls forward. “Answer me! Are you Sally Adams?”

  Okay, okay! I think. Will you stop yelling if I tell you I’m Sally or will that make you yell even more?

  I focus all of my attention on my lips and smash them together. Form words, damnit! I frown, take a deep breath, and…

  Blow another bubble.

  It floats between us. The angry Ta’arak glares at it, flaring his nostrils.

  From behind, a deep masculine voice booms, “She can’t respond yet. Humans aren’t used to traveling through transporters. The first few times are hard for them.”

  The first few times? I didn’t feel like I’d ever recover.

  “It figures his mate would be a weak creature such as this.” The Ta’arak before me starts to smile. “Put her in the holding cell. The Prince wants her unharmed.”

  Holding cell? This couldn’t be right. Why would a Ta’arak put the precious mate of one of their kind in a cell?

  The Ta’arak glares at me like I am not a rare and exotic flower. He’s not even glaring at me like I’m an annoying dandelion. No, he’s glaring at me like I’m a bubble-blowing weed he can’t wait to stomp on before cruelly uprooting and tossing in the trash.

  “Be quick about it too,” the Ta’arak sneers. “I can’t stand her smell.”

  Chapter 5

  Considering I’d just been melted and run through a medieval torture chamber inferno—wait, I mean “experienced a tingly, burning sensation”—I don’t think I smelled that bad. I was even still rocking some of that floral stuff Bonnie gave me to wear this morning.

  Oh Bonnie.

  I cringe, remembering the forced smile on my friend’s face as she tried really, really, really hard to respect my batshit insane decision to fly off to some random planet and marry an alien who was obviously desperate to get some.

  She’d had a point. In fact, she’d had many points, and in the past few months as I’d excitedly (and unknowingly) plotted my capture, she carefully laid them all out for me.

  #1: If an alien wanted an earth chick so bad, why didn’t he come here and look for one? Why use a Mail Order Bride service? He must be a deadbeat, or messed up in some way. If no one else wants him, why should I?

  #2: If I’m so desperate for a change of scenery, why not use one of the Mail Order Bride agencies on earth? That way, if it doesn’t work out, at least I’m not stranded on some alien planet and bound by their weird alien laws.

  #3: Or, you know, I could take a vacation. The Bahamas might not be outer space, but they’re still pretty cool.

  But no, I didn’t listen to her logic. Instead, I’d pretty much stuck my fingers in my ears and sang “la-la-la-la, I can’t hear you!” until the day of my interview when she’d bestowed that strained smile upon me because even though she thought I was making the worst decision of my life, she still loved and supported me.

  Now, I’m in a cage and I wish I could say I was alone, but I’m not. That metal thing that had lifted me off the ground and started talking? Well, it wasn’t actually a metal thing, but a Ta’arak in full body armor. And if that wasn’t creepy enough, he keeps staring at the thing around his wrist and sighing like he’s waiting for something.

  I’ve got no idea what he’s waiting for, but I’m pretty sure I don’t want to be here when it happens. Unfortunately, I have even less of an idea of how to bust out of this cage.

  Dark metal bars stretch from floor to ceiling. Beneath the soft blue overhead lights, the bars cast long shadows. When I look down, I can see those shadows on my body...on my hands…

  I shake my head. No. I can’t give up yet.

  Once again, I take in my surroundings. It looks like I’m in some sort of ship. Either that, or the Ta’arak live in a maze of metal tubes and otherworldly lights. Every once in a while I hear something groan. It sounds like a gear turning. Maybe there’s a gear room. If worse comes to worse, I could use a gear as a weapon while I searched for an escape pod.

  Yeah, I didn’t need anyone to tell me that idea was stupid on absolutely every level. Gear room.” What the hell does that even mean? I glare down at my stupid, useless transporter. If they hadn’t deactivated the red button—because no one ever had to worry about anything when they were united with their true mate—then I could just push it, go through the melting and burning process one last time, and then zip home.

  The Ta’arak guard looks at his wrist again.

  “What the hell are you waiting for you stupid blue piece of shit?” I whisper, too soft for the Ta’arak to hear.

  The Ta’arak raises his head. Oh no, did he hear me? I can’t see anything from behind his dual-horned war helmet, but I can sure feel something shooting at me like a laser. And it doesn’t feel good. In fact, it makes me think that I was too hard on the teleporter for giving me that “tingly, burning sensation.” Because before I only felt like I was going through hell. But one look at this guy and I know I’m already there!

  He stands up and walks towards me—or rather, takes three steps. He’s big. Really big. Way bigger than anyone has any right to be. And the half Samurai, half Viking armor he’s in really isn’t making him any less intimidating. I guess that makes sense, ‘cause body armor isn’t supposed to make you feel all warm and cozy, but still...


  One of his mighty, metal-clad fists grips the bar and squeezes.

  I whimper. This time there are no bubbles, and I’m not sure if that’s because I’m all out of bubbles or if even my bubbles are too afraid to come out.

  He squeezes harder, and the bars begin to whimper, too.

  Oh my god! I pissed him off so much that he’s going to literally rip open my cage and strangle me!

  “You’re not a stupid blue piece of shit!” I babble. “I mean, you are blue, but you’re not stupid. I can tell just from the way you’re…uh...” wearing a lot of scary armor. Please don’t kill me.

  The lights flicker.

  The Ta’aran growls.

  I throw myself into the back of my cage and start clawing at the wall as his growl increases in volume until it’s a full-on battle cry. A pungent smoke wafts from the floor and sparks fly all around us as he rips through the metal cage with his hands.

  Okay, I knew Ta’arans had a reputation for being freaky, but holy shit. And the way he’s looking at me? Well, alright, I can’t really tell how he’s looking at me with his battle gear on—but the dark sockets on his helmet seem to penetrate my soul.

  He holds his hand out. His metal palm crackles, and a minor electric current jumps between his thumb and forefinger.

  Oh god! Here it is! I shut my eyes and raise my fists. I am not gonna go down without a fight. And while I know that my puny fists are nothing for his samurai viking devil armor, I vow to be one hell of a mild nuisance.

  He envelopes one of my fists with his hand. My eyes fly open and every hair in my body stands on end as an electric current shoots through me. And the strangest thing about it is that it doesn’t feel unpleasant.

  Well, that’s actually second strangest thing. The strangest thing is that I hear his breath hitch through his helmet as if he feels it too.

  “We only have ten minutes before the security system resets,” he tells me. “Are you okay to run yet, or am I going to have to carry you?”