The Alien King’s MATE prologue

DESCRIPTION - An alien king with gold horns has declared me as his Mate and Queen of his planet on national television.

Me. The human woman whose most exciting part of the day is cutting coupons from the newspaper. I guess I can kiss my quiet life goodbye now that I'm standing in front of a dozen cameras with a fucking alien king standing beside me, making low grunting noises and... is that a tent I see in his pants?

Holy hell. Someone take me home and bring me a newspaper! I have no interest in going to any alien planet and being a king's mate!

This is a standalone story.

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PROLOGUE | VIVIAN POV

“I’d trade all of my gold just to kiss that man.”

I snort at my best friend and steal a potato chip from the bowl she holds on her lap. We just finished our work shift, and now we’re laying on our couch in the darkness of our shared apartment, watching TV.

The news outlets are celebrating the 42nd year since we made contact with the Versai. Aliens from a far away world, whose planet is smaller than ours, but rotten with natural resources. By Earth terms, they are filthy rich.

The Versai have a monarchy in place. And for the past six years, their king has been coming to Earth to greet us—well, more like acknowledge us. He never looks excited about these things. Miserable, actually. The mood of the seven-foot alien is darker than his shadow. He always wears simple clothes—thin tunics and pants, often black and white. But his golden gauntlets, necklaces, and horns prove he’s anything but simple. He’s the king of gold, but there’s no spark in his eyes. No life. For the past six years since I’ve been watching him appear on TV, I can’t tell if he’s glaring at the cameras and reporters or at the world.

I’ve picked up a few of his mannerisms. How he sets his jaw and taps a finger on the podium three times when a question irritates him. How he runs a hand over a horn in exhaustion right as he declares an interview over.

The king has inspired many books—some historical, most erotic. He hasn’t been king for long, and is in need of a queen. Apparently, his people have soulmates, and humans line up outside his hotel to check if they’ve won the lottery by being his soulmate. Hell, I’ve got so many bills I might as well go and check, too.

He’s a handsome man even with the stripes of gold on his cheek and neck. That’s the thing about these aliens. They can turn items to gold with just their touch. But that’s not exactly a gift. I hear that they destroyed much of their planet through wars. Entire ecosystems were frozen. Plants, rivers, and land covered in so much gold that nothing can grow or thrive anymore. But of course these are only rumors. There are few photographs of their planet, and we have no access to visiting it.

Earth is salivating for their gold. We’ve been negotiating with them for decades, but they refuse to bring their gold to Earth.

“You don’t have much gold, Harper,” I remind my friend.

“I’ll show him what gold truly is when I open this mouth and fall on my knees,” she says, popping a chip in her mouth and licking her lips.

I snort. “Uh-huh. Why don’t we return to reality for a second?”

She rolls her eyes. “Alright. There’s a gig in two days at some gala. Do you want to go?”

Harper and I own a cleaning company. We started a year ago, and business has been going well. She does the people part, and I do the bookkeeping part. We’re a good team. An unexpected one, since we’re nothing alike. She’s a tough older woman that survived a few years in the army, and a few years with an abusive husband. And I’m… me. Just me.

We share an apartment, and I couldn’t ask for a better roommate. Well, maybe one that doesn’t drool over any hot guy that crosses the TV (human or alien. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t discriminate).

“Is the pay good?” I ask her.

“Yeah. We might even run into one of these golden boys.”

“Then let’s go.”

I change the channel, setting it on a home improvement network.

“What if we see the king at the gala?” Asks Harper.

The question makes me snort. So what if we see the king? He certainly won’t be seeing us in our grey scrubs. Our uniforms are plain to make us blend into the background. We walk into the place, clean it, and disappear. That’s how the rich customers like it. And hey, I’m not complaining as long as I get paid for my hard work.

So no. This illusive, mysterious, otherworldly king will not notice us.

“If we run into him, you can show him what true gold is, just like you want to.”

Harper grins, snatches the control from my hand, and changes the channel back to the news. My eyes lock on the king’s horns. They’re stunning, made of pure gold while the rest of his people have white horns.

It’s like his very horns are his crown, but they seem to weigh heavily, because he seems deeply, truly unhappy.

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