Entered in the Alien Bride Lottery
The Khavanai Warrior Bride Games Book One
Margo Bond Collins
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
About the Author
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Entered in the Alien Bride Lottery
Copyright © 2020 by Margo Bond Collins
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.
Published by Dangerous Words Publishing
Cover by Covers by Combs
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author or authors.
Created with Vellum
About Entered in the Alien Bride Lottery
There are about a million ways to end up in the Alien Bride Lottery. But all it takes is one.
Every unmarried female human over the age of twenty-one gets entered once a year. You can also accept extra entries for legal infractions—instead of paying a parking fine, for example, you can request an extra entry. Lots of women do that. I mean, why not? The chances are astronomical that your name will get chosen to be one of the hundred or so women who get shipped off to space every year.
And even if your name is drawn, the odds are slim that you’ll match up with an alien who’s looking for a mate.
Most of the lottery-drawn women come back to Earth every year and resume their lives as if nothing changed.
But some don’t.
And no matter what, getting drawn in the lottery means you have to compete in the Bride Games.
Guess that’s where I’m heading now.
I only hope I can avoid catching the eye of one of the giant, rainbow-hued brutes whose mission is to protect Earth—and who can claim me as a mate.
All because I was Entered in the Alien Bride Lottery…
Chapter One
Natalie
There are about a million ways to end up in the Alien Bride Lottery.
Every unmarried female human between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-five gets entered once a year. You can also choose to accept extra entries instead of dealing with the courts for various legal infractions—instead of paying a parking fine, for example, you can request an extra entry. Lots of women do that. I mean, why not? The chances are astronomical that your name will get chosen to be one of the hundred or so women who get shipped off to space every year.
And even if your name is drawn, the odds are slim that you’ll match up with an alien who’s looking for a mate.
Most of the lottery-drawn women come back to Earth every year and resume their lives as if nothing changed.
But some don’t. We Earth women mostly manage to ignore that part. At least, I always did.
So there I was on my twenty-first birthday, out with my college friends for my first legal drink, worrying a little about the midterm exam in my biology class the next week.
Not worrying about aliens.
Mostly, I had my eye on David Stephens, the sax player for the band that Jasmine, my roommate, had convinced to play tonight.
“Hey, Earth to Natalie.” Jas waved her hand in front of my face. “If you don’t stop eye-fucking him and start trying to get him into your actual bed, I might go hit on him just so someone does.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not his type. He’s pretty much made it clear that he’s not that into me.”
“Oh, bullshit. He’s never said any such thing.” She took a long drink of her whiskey and Coke. I shuddered—whiskey was probably my least favorite alcohol in the world. Jas eyed my own barely touched drink on the table between us. “No wonder you haven’t worked up enough nerve. You need to down your girly drink, then march your sexy ass over there and hit that.”
I laughed aloud but picked up my vodka and cranberry and downed it in two gulps. “It’s going to take more than that, girlfriend.”
“Oh, please, you’re a lightweight. Already slurring your words.” Jas hopped off her stool and grabbed my hand. “Come on. Let’s go talk to him. You have to at least thank the guys for playing tonight. Their break is almost over.”
“Okay, okay.” I stumbled behind her and was still laughing when all the lights went on in the bar. Everyone froze as the giant televisions on either end of the main room turned on and flipped to an image of a Khanavai male with bright green skin and a shock of white-gold hair in a buzzed mohawk.
The Lottery Director and Bride Games Administrator, Vos Klavoii.
“Hello, people of Earth.” He flashed a smile so white it should have been on a toothpaste ad. He’d been drawing the lottery names once a year for as long as I could remember. Not on any schedule that anyone had ever been able to determine, though. Instead, when they were ready, the Khanavai took over every communication device in the world and transmitted the Lottery Drawing.
Over the next few days, the entire world would be watching the most intense reality show ever filmed.
This time, it started at twelve-thirty in the morning, the day after my birthday.
Along with everyone else in the bar, I stared wide-eyed as Vos Klavoii began his usual pre-drawing patter, starting with recapping the treaty that started it all.
“For the last half-century of your Earth years, the Khanavai have protected your planet from the ravages of the Alveron Horde. And all we ask in return is that you send unmarried females for our warriors. That’s right, brides for the soldiers who keep you safe and secure in your home.”
As he spoke, Vos spun the barrel of an old-fashioned wire raffle-ticket drum, as if he were really going to draw a name out. The enormous screen behind him showed a giant image of the lottery’s logo—a hot-pink oval with THE ALIEN BRIDE LOTTERY on it in black—superimposed on a turquoise screen. The colors were garish, like everything about the lottery. Possibly like everything about the Khanavai, given the rainbow hues of their skin coloring.
“This Bride Treaty keeps humanity safe. And the women who are joined with our warriors live happily ever after,” Vos continued.
“Yeah, right,” Jas muttered. “Nothing like leaving behind everyone and everything she ever cared about to make a girl happy.”
I glanced at her and nodded in agreement, but quickly turned my attention back to the television. The Alien Bride Program made for gripping TV, at least. Like most of humanity, I’d be glued to a set all the way through the Bride Games, no matter how long they took.
“You’re in the drawing now, right?” David spoke quietly beside me. I hadn’t even seen him headed toward me—that’s how engrossing the lottery was.
I fought not to jump, instead turning to look at him as I waved a hand airily. “Yeah, but everyone knows you never get chosen your first year.”
“Good,” he whispered, slipping an arm around my waist and resting his hand on my hip. “I’d miss you.”
My grin at
that couldn’t be contained. I caught a glimpse of Jas’s thumbs-up out of the corner of my eye. Ignoring her, I leaned into David.
“It’s time for our first drawing,” Vos announced, stopping the machine and pulling out a ticket with a showman’s flourish. I assumed the tickets were epaper, blank until drawn and then electronically imprinted with the new bride’s name at the last moment.
“Angelica Evatt,” Vos announced. A picture of the alien bride-to-be flashed up on the screen behind him, along with her basic stats—date of birth, city of residence, and the last six digits of her Lottery ID number, just to be sure. Not that it mattered. She had a Khanavai ID chip implanted behind her right ear, just like the rest of us, acting as a universal translator, but also allowing the aliens to keep tabs on every human on the planet. Even if she tried to run, they’d find her.
“Congratulations, Angelica!” Vos exclaimed cheerfully.
David leaned even closer, putting his lips against my ear. A shiver rolled up my spine as he whispered, “This is going to take forever. Let’s get out of here and go celebrate your birthday properly.”
“Definitely.” I hopped off the stool and gathered my purse, giving a little wave to Jas to let her know I was going. My roommate waggled her eyebrows at me, mouthing “Have fun” as I fell into step next to David.
My heartbeat thundered in my chest. I couldn’t believe this was happening. After four years of lusting after the guy, we were finally hooking up. “I’m going home with David Stephens” echoed over and over in my mind like a drumbeat, and I couldn’t quit grinning.
We were almost to the door when Vos sang out, “And our second lottery winner is Natalie Ferguson.”
Wait. That’s me.
My brain stuttered to a stop and I stumbled, then quit walking, still staring at the exit.
So close to escape.
Running was useless.
It had to be a different Natalie Ferguson. My name wasn’t totally unique. That’s why they gave us Lottery IDs. And showed pictures on the screen. My stomach churned. Then a whisper went up around me.
Finally, I forced myself to turn around.
Everyone in the bar was staring at me.
Fuck.
I dragged my eyes up to the screen.
And there it was. My driver’s license picture staring back at me. My mouth dried, and I opened it to say something. Anything. To protest that there was no way that could be me, that no one got their name drawn the first time they were entered. I didn’t have any parking tickets or anything. One single entry.
That’s all it had taken.
But before I could say anything, a cone of light appeared around me. The bar wavered in my sight and my hand pulled away from David’s, even though I was holding onto it as tightly as I could.
“I’m sorry,” I managed to say to him, tears springing to my eyes.
And then I was transported off my planet. Out of my life.
And into my own personal hell.
The Khanavai Bride Games.
Chapter Two
Cav
I frowned at my commanding officer. “Wait. I’ve been what? Um…Sir,” I added as an afterthought.
When Commander Dren had called me in for a meeting, I had been expecting him to tell me I’d been accepted into the dark ops program.
“Your name was drawn in the Bride Lottery, Lieutenant. You’re going to be mated.” Dren beamed at me as if I’d won something precious. I guess in his mind, I had.
Most of my fellow officers would feel the same.
But I didn’t want a mate right now. I wanted to learn spycraft. Join the elite squads that carried out clandestine missions in enemy territory.
Commander Dren read my response in my expression. “This is an honor, you know.” His voice wasn’t unkind—after all, he too was a warrior. “The ops program will still be here when you return. And Command Central likes promoting mated officers. This will be good for your military career.” He slapped a hand on my shoulder. “Now go pack a bag. You’ve been granted leave for this, and your shuttle leaves soon.”
I put on my blandest soldier’s expression. “Yes, sir.”
But as soon as I hit the corridor that led from the commander’s office to my own quarters, I let my true feelings shine through. Apparently, that meant I looked ready to kill. Every soldier who caught a glimpse of me scurried away as quickly as possible.
By the time I’d finished packing my bag, I’d resorted to muttering a constant string of curses.
I’d managed to refrain from asking Dren if another officer could be granted the honor of an Earth bride. I knew better. It was my duty to sire heirs, to keep the Khanavai race alive. To make sure we had warriors for the next generation.
That thought led me to switch over to cursing the Alveron Horde in general. It was their fault the Khanavai only produced males. The vile monsters used chemical warfare. Even the Earthers knew that poisoning one’s enemies was a horrific move. And they’d been well on their way to destroying their planet when we’d intervened to save them.
Lucky for them, their women were compatible with our men. Otherwise, we might have let the otherwise insignificant planet go.
I sighed as I slung my single bag over my shoulder.
I would do my duty. But I didn’t have to be cheerful about it.
The shuttle ride was short and uneventful. Luckily, I hadn’t been far from the station where the Bride Games were held. Flying with other pilots always made me want to chew off my fingernails. Not out of fear—no, our pilots were the best trained in the universe. But out of sheer boredom. I’d much rather be piloting the ship myself, even if it was only a shuttle.
As I stepped out into Station 21’s main thoroughfare from the station’s docking area, I took a deep breath.
Time to act like a civilized Khanavai.
I grinned at the thought. There were races out in the galaxy who might argue that the phrase “civilized Khanavai” was a contradiction in terms. They were wrong, of course. We could be as civilized as anyone—as long as we weren’t provoked.
A slight buzzing alerted me to a message, and I glanced down at the communication device I wore strapped to my wrist. The disembarkation specialist, a tiny nonbinary Poltien with a shock of blue hair from its left nostril, had promised they would have my quarters ready before I hit the Promenade.
Not quite—but close. It would have taken the Poltien longer to reach the main recreational area of the station, and I’d learned to make allowances for lesser creatures.
Like, I assumed, I would have to make allowances for my new Earther bride.
I shook off the irritation that came with the thought and followed the com’s directions to my quarters.
As I passed by the various shopfronts, I found myself noticing the few humans who moved among the crowds. Particularly the females.
With the exception of their generally bland coloring—most of them fell into some shade from pale pink to dark brown—they were attractive enough, with soft, yielding bodies. As a young soldier, I’d even tried a few at the holo-pleasure suites. If the holo designers were to be trusted, human women were also warm in all the right ways.
At the thought, my cock hardened.
Perhaps not all the duties associated with taking a mate would be irritants.
Once in my quarters, I activated the viewscreen to show the latest Lottery Drawing. It had been years since I’d watched the Bride Games, certain that I was a long time away from ever having to participate in them.
Perhaps it was time to begin paying more attention to what might be expected of me.
With nothing to do until I reported to the Games Director, I stretched out on the double-sized bed, a perk of being a groom—the ridiculous human word for a male about to be mated.
As Vos Klavoii drew name after name and images of the women flashed up on the screen, I reached down to touch myself, wondering what it would be like to bury myself in that one with the bright blue eyes. Or the one with th
e puffy lips. How might it feel to have those lips wrapped around my cock?
I stroked myself, imagining the feel of a human woman surrounding me. Perhaps this would be the last time I would have to take matters into my own hands. The thought of an Earther girl’s mouth sliding down over me made me throb. I closed my eyes, swallowing a moan as I climaxed.
I opened my eyes, concentrating again on the images of the human women on the screen.
They were all equally lovely, I decided. Any of them would do. I would accept whichever bride was matched to me, fuck her, impregnate her, and report back for ship duty.
And perhaps Commander Dren was right. Command Central would promote me into the Special Ops program once I had fulfilled my genetic duty as a warrior of the Khanavai.
Satisfied with my decision, I rolled out of the enormous bed and moved to the sanicleanse unit to wash.
After all, I would soon be meeting my new mate.
I dressed in my formal uniform to report to the Bride Games area of the station. The closer I got to it, the stranger everything around me looked.
I had expected many of the Khanavai to be overdressed—after all, Earthers were reportedly much more susceptible to fluctuations in temperature than we were, and they had spent millennia protecting their bodies from the unpredictable weather of their planet. Rumor had it many of them were uncomfortable with nudity.
So of course most of the Khanavai wore excessive amounts of clothing. Even my tribal chavan, wrapped around my waist and falling almost to my knees, and my traditional vandenoi leather strap, worn across one shoulder, meant that I wore less than most of the other warriors headed toward the Bride Games in a steady stream.
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