The Alien King’s Mate part 7

VIVIAN

By the time we deplane and get in cars to drive  from the airport, I’m mentally exhausted. Exhausted and suffocated because in this car with tinted windows, I’m even closer to the alien king. My thigh pressed against his massive, warm one.

I had been a fool for thinking being in the plane was too overwhelming. This car ride takes the cake.

I’ve learned a few things about him today. Like how the strange electrocuting warmth between us only sparks when our bare skin touches. Like how many shades there seem to be to him. He’s not just the king of gold. He was the king of black titanium as he stomped on that reporter’s hand. The king of steel as he gripped me protectively in his arms.

I don’t know what to make of this man. He says all the right things—promises only found in books. That I’ll be his queen, that he’ll protect me.

But he doesn’t know me.

How could he offer the world to a stranger? How could I accept it? I’ve known the man for one day!

Although I’ve seen him on television over the years, I never saw anything but coldness and distance in his expression. And the warm sparks between us are caused by a chemical bond. It’s artificial. Fool’s gold. Because not everything that shines is gold.

We drive for an hour. Two of his warriors are in the driver and passenger seat. I wonder if there are cars on his planet. If there are therapists. Because based on the way he’s coming on so strongly, I think he needs a few sessions.

I can’t focus on the streets we drive by. This is an entirely new state. A new adventure. And all I see is a blur. One tree, one building, one person for every notification in my phone.

We park in front of a massive government building, and it’s with reporters. They appeared like magic. How did they know we were coming to the embassy? There are even women here, holding signs of affection for the king.

I cringe away from the tinted window, afraid of the flashes.

A guard reaches back, offering a black male jacket. King Vulcan accepts it and holds it out for me. “Cover your head. This will all end soon.”

My mouth dries. I don’t think I want this step to end. Because I don’t know what will be coming next.

I pull the male jacket over my head, wishing it was a larger tarp I could hide under. I hear the door open, and the sound of clicking cameras becomes louder. I bite my lip, trembling with anxiety.

I don’t know who these people are, but they know who I am. Every detail of my past. There is no hiding from their ferocious curiosity.

Hands grab my shoulders—giant, warm hands that I can already recognize although I’ve only known him for one day.

I’m led up the stairs.

“Vivian!”

“Queen!”

They call my name, and a title I don’t recognize. I am no queen.

We enter the building, and the jacket is gently pulled down. I’m stuck between the closed door and the giant alien king hovering over me. He covers the background, so all I can see is his face.

He looks calm, stern. “It will be alright,” he repeats, his voice strong and dominating the whispers behind him.

I dip my head.

He steps back, and reveals security guards of the embassy along with his horned guards. They stare at me, not at the king.

Vulcan takes my hand and walks through the metal detector. The machine goes off, but no one dares to stop him.

A group of five men step out of a room, introducing themselves as a judge, a politician, and three other titles I can’t focus on because I’m busy looking around.

“Please follow us, King. It’s an honor to have you here. May we offer you anything?”

Their eyes are locked on the king. I don’t exist here. It seems like the reporters and onlookers want to know all about me, but these powerful men have nothing to gain from me.

We take a large elevator upstairs and enter a courtroom. We remain standing in the middle of the room as a stenographer takes notes in the background.

“I will make this short. This woman is of special interest to me, and I’m taking her home with me.”

“And I want to stay,” I interject. “I wish for asylum. Please. I know I disrespected the king, but please don’t let him take me.”

The men stare at me for a second, before the judge steps forward. “We are getting the president on the line. We’re sure we can work something out. If you want to take her…”

“You want gold, don’t you?” Asks a scowling Vulcan.

The men share a look, and my stomach tightens. They can’t be serious.

“Your gold could certainly make the girl disappear.”

“Vivian,” Vulcan growls, the sound making me jump. “Her name is Vivian. Show some respect.”

“Vivian,” the man repeats carefully, taking a step back. “I’m sure her citizenship can be revoked and she can be extradited off the planet without much trouble.”

“Revoked?” I rasp. “I was born here. I pay taxes and I vote and—I don’t have a criminal record! I can’t just be given away. Please.”

I’m not cattle to be sold. Even if they’re trying to trade me for gold, I’m a human being.

The men don’t look at me anymore. Keeping their eyes on the king, as if he speaks for me. As if he already owns me.

A sound of frustration rips from my throat as I stomp forward. Vulcan follows, gripping my forearm which I snatch away. I grab the landline phone on a desk and punch in numbers.

“You can’t do that!” Yells one of the men.

“Stop me,” I grit, glaring at him. “Good luck getting through my keeper.”

He knows I’m right. This alien king is obsessed with me. Just this once, I will weaponize it.

“Hello?” Comes Harper’s voice.

I close my eyes and exhale shakily. I think that I’m home, on our couch eating popcorn and saying stupid nonsense. Daydreaming about meeting an alien king one day.

“Harper, hey,” I whisper.

“Oh my god, Vi! I’ve been worried sick! You’re all over the news and—what is going on?!”

“He’s lost it. He says I’m his yuri. I don’t… I want to go home.”

There’s a long stretch of silence before Harper answers. “Listen to me very carefully, Vi. You will go with that man.”

“What!” I rasp, biting my lip to stop the creaking in my voice.

“You don’t know what I’m seeing here. Nations all over the globe are reporting on this. And we disrespected his culture, his family line, by breaking that urn. The only way to make this right is to play along. Your resistance could very well start a war between the planets.”

“Harper!” I yell, speechless.

This is not what I had been expecting to hear. My best friend is hilarious and fierce. She is a fighter that escaped her abusive husband. She boosted me with confidence and convinced me to start our cleaning company. She inspired me to go to therapy to face my demons. I didn’t call her to be told to give up on my life and become an alien king’s pet. I was hoping she would tell me to fight for freedom.

“I’m at the embassy,” I tell her. “They’re letting me go. Selling me.”

“Yeah, doll,” she whispers. “I knew they would. Humans are as predictable as gold’s chemical reactions.”

Was I that naive? That idiotic for thinking I actually had some control over my life, some meaning? It seems like to humans, my one hundred-thirty pounds of existence is worthless compred to a pound of gold.

“I’m not going, Harper. I’m fighting.”

I hang up the phone and I turn to face the six powerful men in the room. I will not fall to my knees before them. They will have to drag me down.

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