The Alien King’s Mate part 8

VIVIAN

He takes a step forward, looking at me apprehensively. I know I can’t outrun this warrior. Much less tackle him out of my way. He’s too agile. A perfectly athletic body that could capture me in a second. It seems like even his stunning eyes and unfairly handsome face were made to captivate and destroy, too.

But I need to fight. I need to do something other than let a complete stranger decide my destiny.

Everyone, including Harper, is crazy for telling me to just go along with the horned alien that’s calling me his. To uproot my life and let him grow me into whatever he wants.

I don’t know this man. And no mystical chemistry between us will convince me otherwise.

“I can summon your friend,” he offers, fingers twitching beside him like he’s ready to snatch me any second. “I can bring her here and allow you to spend a few days together.”

I purse my lips, hesitating. I was dragged here without a cent to my name. It would take me many days to travel back home on the bus. But if he brings Harper here, I can ask her to lend me some cash so that I can book it out of this insane asylum.

“How many days?” I ask, negotiating with the king of gold.

He crosses his arms over his giant chest, and my eyes fall to his biceps. God, they are the size of my thighs. For a second—for just a second, I wonder if I’m the insane one for challenging a man who could kill me with a snap of his fingers.

“Two days. I must return to my kingdom. I’ve been gone for long enough.”

“Two days?” I gasp. “You want me to wrap up my life

in two days? That’s insane!”

He takes a step forward, scowling as he says, “Bri—“ his eyes widen as he cuts himself off, and I realize that this king has secrets. There is more to his image of a dutiful man.

“Finish what you were about to say,” I order the king—something that could get another human in deadly trouble.

He shakes his head. “It’s of no consequence. Let’s focus on the matter at hand.”

“No,” I insist. “You want to dig into my life and shape my future. Let’s put you under the microscope for a second, king.”

He sighs. “I suppose you will find out eventually. Briaxa is my fiancé, but it is merely political. A union of convenience.”

My gut twists with pain, and I blame the feeling on the unnatural bond that ties me to this man. I shouldn’t care that he has a significant other.

I look at him in disbelief. “You’re already calling me the name of another woman? What would happen if I were in your bed, king? Would you recite all the names in the Bible?”

I will admit that I should not be making this all about me. This poor woman—this Briaxa, is going to be blindsided by the king’s delusion. I can’t possibly replace that woman. She’s one of them. A better fit for a queen that I’ll ever be.

“She was on the tip of my tongue because I was thinking of how to break the news to her,” he says, his voice getting louder. “I feel no affection for her.”

He’s saying these things, but the strange bond between us makes my feet fidget and my fingertips itch. Like they want me to step closer and seek proof of his words in his arms. It’s an outlandish desire.

“I want my friend, please. And I need time to think.”

“You will have both, but if you try to escape, Vivian…”

“What?” I ask, lifting my chin and pushing my limits. “Will you hurt me?”

His expression is stern as he answers, “yes.”

I shudder. Hurt me how? I’m too stunned to ask that follow up question. I don’t think I fear him. Not yet. But I have recognized that he is not my friend. He is loyal to the physical bond between us. The one that insists we’re a perfect match.

He turns around and walks out, giving me the space I asked for. I sit on a wooden bench, enjoying the silence. The reminder of what life used to be like. There are no flashing cameras or threatening alien kings here. Just peace.

I wonder if Briaxa loves him. If he loves her back. If he has broken a man’s hand for her or made grand gestures she would appreciate—like summoning a party of reporters to declare her as his fiancé.

I wonder if she’s beautiful and less of a mess than I am. Because that’s what I am. A mess. But I’ve been working for years to detangle myself. I’ve been going to therapy, I started a business and forgave myself for dropping out of college. And now, when I am at the cusp of entering a new stage in life, this alien, horned king appears and tells me he is going to sweep me away.

Maybe I would have let him sweep me off my feet when I cried myself to sleep for months after I dropped out of college. Or when I broke up with my ex. Or when I cut my mother off because she stole my rent money from my purse to gamble it. Or when I dug myself into a hole of debt that I could no longer see the sky. But I overcame all those. I deserve to build something from my achievements.

I had been so close to saving enough money to help Harper hire a good lawyer so she could regain custody of her kid. I wanted to surprise my good friend. But this king tells me to write a will because I’m leaving Earth behind.

The doors open behind me, and I straighten. I expect the king, but instead the judge walks in. He passes me a note scribbled on a white piece of paper, and then rushes to the exit like he was not supposed to speak with me.

I stare at his retreating back in confusion before looking at the note:

If you want to escape the king, send me a signal and I will have something arranged. Men all over are bidding for your hand.

I frown. Bidding for me? Why? Because I’m the alleged soulmate of the most powerful man of the universe? How dehumanizing. I am not a toy.

I keep reading the letter— I am one of those men. Marry me, and you will have my protection. I will save you from the barbarian.

I gasp and look up. Vulcan appears at the entrance, clutching the judge by the back of his neck as if he were a cub. A meaningless threat. The judge grips onto his wrist and cries out, but can’t pry him off.

I stand up as Vulcan drags him toward me. He snatches the letter from my hand and reads it before crumbling in his giant fist. His eyes are dead as he asks the judge, “which hand did you use to write this slander?”

“No, wait!” I interject, the horrifying memory of him breaking the reporter’s hand flashing in my memory.  He can’t break the judge’s hand, too. I don’t want carnage over me.

“Please let him go. I’ll behave. I won’t try to escape. I promise.”

He stares at me for a long second, breathing evenly like a machine made of gold.

Then he releases the judge, who whimpers as he scatters away.

Vulcan drops the letter on the ground and nods. And right then, I fear the seven foot alien. He’s casting a shadow over me, standing still as he scans me from head to toe. Like he’s tracking me. Hunting me. Ready to devour.

I’ve put myself in a vulnerable position. I’ve traded my freedom for the judge’s. Made a promise I don’t want to keep.

I don’t think Harper can save me from this.

A/N: Does Vulcan feel darker than other male leads?

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