by Tana Stone
After waiting for years, Torven’s name had been chosen for the next available human mate. From the image he’d been staring at since he’d gotten the notification, he knew she had pale, wavy hair, and blue eyes. And he knew what he’d already known about all human females—they were small in comparison, and had only two breasts, and no arousal nodes down their spine. What had been a surprise was the jolt of familiarity he’d felt when he’d first seen her face on the screen. He knew it was impossible, but he felt like he already knew this female. Even her image stirred his blood in a way he’d never experienced before.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” Torven said, tapping the edge of his glass for more whiskey.
Dakar gave a snort of disbelief and ran a hand through his own shaggy, brown hair before pulling it up and fastening it into a knot on the top of his head. “I doubt that. You’re lucky, though. I hear they’ve halted transport of humans until the High Command is sure our enemy won’t attack them. They don’t want to risk the females.”
Torven’s temper flared as he thought about the Kronock, the Drexian’s sworn enemy, and violent creatures known for invading and wiping out entire species. As a member of Inferno Force, he’d been fighting them on the outskirts for years, holding them back, and protecting the solar system that contained Earth. When the Kronock had attempted to invade Earth over thirty years earlier, the Drexians had stopped them, discovering that humans were compatible with their species in the process. The governments on Earth made a deal with the Drexians—protection from the Kronock in exchange for human mates. It had worked well—the Kronock had been held at bay and Earth had been saved.
However, only recently, his people had discovered that the Kronock had been hiding their technological advancements and were planning a massive invasion of Earth. The recent incursions had been the reason he’d been unable to join his waiting bride until now. He couldn’t abandon his shipmates in the middle of a battle. Even now, part of him felt guilty taking leave.
“Maybe I should wait until after we’ve defeated them once and for all,” Torven said. “Inferno Force needs every warrior.”
Dakar shook his head. “This war may never end. If you don’t claim your bride, someone else will.”
Even though he’d never met her, he’d been staring at his mate’s image for weeks, and already thought of her as his. The idea of her with another Drexian made him clench his fists.
Dakar laughed. “Don’t worry, Torv. As soon as our shuttle is refueled, we’ll get out of this dump and head for the station.”
Torven slammed back the whiskey the bartender poured him and glanced around the dive bar. He supposed this outpost was as good as any for fuel and supplies, and it was located halfway between his fleet and the space station where he’d meet his bride, but he also knew it attracted smugglers and arms dealers and all sorts of lowlifes. He watched as heads huddled together at the bar and money was passed underneath tables in dark corners. Even the air he breathed was tainted with sour-smelling smoke as patrons used bubbling inhalers to get their high. The sooner they left, the better.
“What about you?” he asked his friend. “You on the list for a bride?”
“I’m on there, somewhere.” Dakar shrugged. “I’m a third son, so I won’t come up for a while.”
Torven nodded. He knew one of the reasons he’d finally been matched was because he was an only son. He would be the only male to carry on his family’s name. Although he wasn’t a member of the elite class, he was descended from a long line of valiant warriors. It was no secret that brides went first to the elite families, and then to only sons. Third sons like Dakar would be farther down the list.
“You could become a captain and move up the list,” Torven said, taking the refilled glass from the bartender. “Our commander didn’t even put himself on the list and was called away because he got matched.”
Dakar choked on his laughter. “Commander Dorn was practically dragged off his ship. I pity the female who got matched with that battle-hardened warrior.”
Torven allowed himself a smile. He, too, remembered the stormy look on their commander’s face when he’d had to leave the fleet and report to the Boat, the space station where tribute brides were housed. “It will be good to see him.”
Dakar nudged him. “You’ll have to tell me all about the Boat. And the fantasy suites.”
Torven’s face warmed. Even though he’d never seen the space station, the stories about it were legendary. It had been designed with human pleasure in mind, and contained everything human females loved most. He had no idea what those things were, but he knew the station was nothing like the old battle cruiser he’d come from. He only hoped he wasn’t a shock to his bride.
He rubbed a hand across the scruff on his cheeks. Warriors in Inferno Force battled in the farthest regions of space, so they were allowed to be rougher around the edges. Torven wondered if he should try to appear less wild for the Earthling, like Dakar had suggested. As he debated the possibility of being clean-shaven for the first time in years, he heard a commotion from the entrance to the bar.
Murmurs passed through the crowd as a group of uniformed Drexians entered—these warriors with close-dropped hair and starched uniforms—and many patrons drifted away, as the heavy boots clomped across the floor. The green-skinned bartender disappeared, as the four warriors approached Dakar and Torven.
Dakar raised an eyebrow and muttered under his breath. “And I thought we weren’t welcome.”
The lead Drexian soldier looked both men up and down when he reached them. “Torven of House Kantar?”
Torven shifted his eyes to his friend before answering. “Yes?”
“Your presence is requested by the High Command.”
“I know,” Torven said. “We’re on our way to the Boat. This is just a quick stop for refueling.”
“It’s a long trip,” Dakar added with a grin.
The other Drexian didn’t smile or acknowledge Daker. “You need to come with us.”
A suspicious tingle ran down Torven’s spine. He’d sent word to the space station that he was en route. Why send a squad to intercept him? They knew he was traveling with Dakar so his friend and crewmate could pilot the shuttle back to Inferno Force. “What’s all this about?”
The Drexian crossed his arms in front of his chest. “We are here to bring you in for questioning.”
Dakar held up his hands. “Whoa. Questioning for what? This guy’s on his way to the Boat to be matched with a tribute bride.”
“Not anymore, he’s not.” The lead Drexian let his eyes slide over to Dakar before returning to Torven. “He’s wanted for questioning in a criminal matter.”
“A criminal matter?” Torven gave a small shake of his head. “I think you have the wrong Drexian.”
“Negative.” The warrior clamped an iron cuff around his wrists before Torven could react. “You, Torven of House Kantar, are being charged with treason and conspiring with the enemy.”
Torven’s mouth dropped open as he stared at the shackles on his hands. He heard his friend protesting loudly in the background, but all he could think about was the pretty blonde who would never be his.
Chapter 2
Trista sighed as she slipped out of the suite, letting the doors slide closed on the loud festivities within, and feeling relieved to be in the relative quiet of the corridor. She could still hear the music pounding and the peals of laughter, but she was glad to be by herself.
“Macarena!” someone screamed from inside, and Trista shook her head. Yep, she’d escaped just in time.
The surprise wedding had evolved from a pretty ceremony overlooking the African savannah (courtesy of alien holographic technology) to a dance party that would probably go until late in the night, if the Palaxian booze had anything to say about it. Her feet, which she’d jammed into high-heeled stripy sandals for the party, already ached.
It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy celebrating with the other tribute brides on the spa
ce station. All the other Earth women were great, but if she was being honest, Trista felt like she didn’t belong.
She glanced down at the simple yellow sundress she had on. She’d much rather be wearing jeans and a loose-fit T-shirt, and the second she got back to her suite, she was losing the dress and heels. Not to mention the makeup the tribute bride liaison, Reina, had put on her. She knew tribute brides were supposed to look a certain way, but when she looked in the mirror and saw her usually wavy blonde hair blown stick straight, and her blue eyes heavily made up, she saw a stranger.
Breathing in the cool night air, Trista stopped along the wooden pathway and looked out over the holographic environment. Even though the savannah was dark, she could hear the sounds of animals and the rustling of tall grass in the breeze. The alien technology that created all of it was pretty amazing, but it was another stark reminder that she was out of her league.
What would the other tribute brides say if they knew what she was really like? They seemed pretty accepting—they’d adapted to living with aliens, after all—but what would they think if they knew about her past? Her new friends on the space station included a former ballerina, an Instagram influencer, and a reporter. That was a far cry from dating members of a motorcycle club and not even holding down a real job, unless you counted working on the broken bikes for no pay.
A bird cawed loudly as it swooped overhead, and Trista jumped. Even though the aliens had cleaned her up pretty well and given her an entirely new wardrobe containing nothing black or leather, she felt like she was living a lie. Not that she wasn’t grateful for being rescued from her crappy former life. Being taken from Earth was the best thing that had ever happened to her, especially since she’d been running from a particularly bad ex-boyfriend. She shuddered even thinking about Rick and his nasty temper. No, she was glad to be far away on a space station. She was just tired.
She sighed as she slipped off her shoes and hooked her index finger through the heel straps to carry them. Tired from the party, but also from trying to pretend she belonged, when deep down, she knew she was a complete fraud.
Technically, none of the Earthlings belonged. They’d all been taken from Earth by the Drexians—huge, brawny alien warriors with bronze skin and muscles for days. Guys who would have been way out of her league back on Earth, Trista’s little voice reminded her.
The Drexians were smart about taking women, she’d give them that. They only took a few at a time. Plus, the chosen women had to be one-hundred-percent compatible with Drexians—not all were—and have few family and friends to miss them.
“That would be me,” Trista muttered to herself, as she padded in her bare feet along the wooden walkway toward the inclinator.
She’d been taken from Earth and brought up to the Boat, the high-tech space station that resided behind Saturn and housed all the tribute brides, as well as other aliens who kept the operation running. That had been a few weeks ago. The other two brides she’d been brought up with, who’d become her friends, were already mated to their guys. She still waited.
If she was being completely honest with herself, Trista hoped her Drexian never arrived. She couldn’t bear to see his disappointment when he saw that he’d been matched to someone who wasn’t beautiful or hard-bodied or glamorous. She touched a hand to her hair, remembering that her stepfather had always called it dishwater blonde, and made a face. Who wanted that?
Trista could imagine how a big, alpha, Drexian warrior would react if she told him she hated wearing dresses and liked working on engines. The Drexians tried to make all the tribute brides happy, but she doubted they would let her tinker with their spaceships. That would go over like a lead balloon. No, she’d rather stay in her perpetual holding pattern on the station, than have her Drexian realize he’d gotten a D-list bride.
Not that waiting on the Boat was a hardship. The station had been designed for the sole purpose of enticing human women and making the process of being taken from Earth and paired with an alien mate more palatable. The Drexians and the other aliens who had designed the station had taken inspiration from Earth movies and TV, and had even nicknamed the station after the show The Love Boat.
Trista laughed to herself as she walked, thinking of the dated television that had inspired the station. The influence of the 70s and 80s could be seen in everything from the decor to the fashion, not that it bothered her much. She reached an arched doorway and swiped her hand across a panel. When the doors swished open, she stepped onto the inclinator—like an elevator that could go sideways as well as up and down—and heard the 80s Muzak piped in overhead.
She hummed along with “Take on Me” as the sleek, white compartment surged up, the uplighting giving the walls a lavender hue. Her suite was only one floor above, on the Greek Isles wing, and as she stepped out of the inclinator, she saw the familiar, whitewashed buildings clinging to the side of the hill that dropped into the sea.
Of course, it wasn’t actually a Greek island, but the Drexians had such sophisticated holographic technology that it not only looked like one, it smelled and sounded like one. Trista breathed in the scent of saltwater, and heard the waves slapping the sides of the fishing boats in the harbor.
Each tribute bride was placed in a holographic fantasy suite designed to look like an idyllic setting—from a South Pacific overwater bungalow, to a ski chalet, to a safari suite on the African savannah. Somehow, they’d known that this mix of bright-white houses topped with blue domes, and pink flowers spilling down the mountain, was her dream vacation—a place she’d never imagined she’d ever see when she was stuck back in a small town in the middle of nowhere.
She walked up the wide, whitewashed stairs until she reached another arched doorway, and waved her hand across a flat panel.
“Trista!” the voice from behind made her pause and cringe.
She’d been so close. Turning, she smiled at the tall, willowy woman with light-gray skin, and a shock of blue hair that curled straight up from her head. “Reina, I thought you were still at the party.”
“The wedding, you mean,” Reina said, giggling. “Can you believe those two managed to plan a surprise wedding that even Serge didn’t know about?”
The doors to her suite glided open, and Trista looked longingly inside. “How is Serge? Did he recover from the shock?”
Reina tapped a spindly finger on her chin. “It may take him a while to get over the disappointment of not getting to plan a splashy wedding. He is a wedding planner at heart. Luckily, he’s got your wedding to distract him.”
Trista’s stomach did a series of flips at the thought of her wedding. The Drexian warrior she’d been matched with was a part of their elite Inferno Force, and had been delayed battling the enemy on the outskirts of space. “I’d have to have a groom to plan a wedding.”
Reina hooked an arm through hers, and walked them both inside the suite. “Like that’s stopped Serge before.”
Trista knew that was true. The pint-sized wedding planner—from an alien species called Gatazoid—was a force of nature when it came to planning. She’d seen how he’d pulled together weddings for the other tributes, sometimes in a matter of days.
“Have you given any more thought to what you’d like for your wedding?” Reina asked as she crossed the living room, her heels clicking against the polished white floors, and opened the sliding-glass door that led onto a balcony.
Trista sank onto one of the white, slipcovered sofas as her pulse quickened. The last thing she wanted to think about was a wedding, especially since she’d never laid eyes on the man she was supposed to marry. She knew she could opt not to be mated to him, but then she’d have to go live with the few humans who’d rejected their matches on the other side of the station. There was no returning to Earth once you’d been taken.
Part of her thought that she could learn to like anyone, especially since all the Drexians seemed to be gorgeous and built. Another part of her knew that there were some things she could never live with again. T
hings she’d promised herself she’d never tolerate.
“Trista?” Reina asked. “Your wedding?”
“What? No, I haven’t really thought about it,” Trista told the Vexling, as she came back inside and took the chair across from her. “I wasn’t the type of girl who grew up daydreaming about a fancy wedding.”
Reina cocked her head. “I thought all Earth females wanted huge weddings. Don’t you all want to ‘say yes to the dress?’”
Trista thought about her ex-boyfriend, and how all she’d wanted was to get so far away from him he’d never be able to find her. Her heart raced, and her mouth went dry. Even though she knew now he could never get to her, the fear still clawed at her. She inhaled deeply to steady her breath and managed a smile. “Don’t believe everything you see on TV.”
“You look a little green, hon,” Reina said. “Did you drink too much at the wedding?”
Trista gave an abrupt shake of her head as she pushed bad memories from her mind and took a couple of deep breaths to help her heart rate return to normal. “I’m fine.”
Reina stood and crossed to the wooden sideboard against one of the whitewashed cave walls, pouring a glass of water from the carafe. “If we’re going to take you dress shopping tomorrow, you need to be feeling your best.”
“Dress shopping?” Trista took the glass and gratefully sipped the cool water.
“Regardless of what type of wedding you have, you’ll need a dress. Even Katie with her surprise wedding had a dress.”
Trista drained the glass and set it on the wooden coffee table. “Dresses don’t look good on me.”
“What do you mean? If I understand Earth phrases correctly, you have an hourglass figure. You’d look lovely in just about any design.”
Trista heard herself repeating phrases her ex-boyfriend had hammered into her psyche. “I’ve got thighs like tree trunks, and my boobs aren’t perky enough.”
“Perky enough for what?” Reina eyed her. “Earth trees must be very small, if your legs are the size of their trunks.”
