1
Paige Spencer, Interstellar Brides Processing Center, Miami, Florida
I pushedthe cleaning cart down the empty hallway, the squeaky wheel the only noise this late at night. This place was a zoo most days. Right now, it was eerily quiet. I glanced at my watch. It was after two in the morning and no brides or soldiers were here to be matched or transported at this hour. Heck, no one was even awake. Out of all my assignments through my employer, Trus-T-Kleen, the Coalition Center was the most unusual.
The bookkeeping firm I’d finished cleaning earlier didn’t have a security station with huge Atlan beasts—real life aliens—standing guard. Here, there was literally what I thought of as a portal to another dimension that I dusted and mopped.
When I passed the entry to the last room on my list—the Interstellar Brides’ processing room, a brawny Atlan stood from behind the counter. Up, up, up he went, and I had to tip my head back to see his smile.
“Hello, Miss Spencer. It is good to see you again.”
“Hey, Stohn.” I offered him a grin in return as I pulled a Laffy Taffy from my pocket and held it out. “I didn’t forget. Here.”
He scooped up the treat with his huge dinner plate sized hand. “Yellow. What flavor is this?” he asked, unwrapping it and popping the chewy candy in his mouth. “Banana.”
He nodded, although he may not know what a banana was. I had no idea what they fed these guys. I’d never seen any of them leave the grounds. They all lived and worked here, using their transporter things to make everything they needed, even their food. Every time I came to clean all the gadgets and alien tech made me feel like I was walking around inside an episode of Star Trek.
He flipped over the wrapper and read the joke aloud. “How do you make a tissue dance?” The piece of candy created a little bulge in his cheek as he lifted his eyes to mine.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. How?”
He frowned. “You put a little boogie in it.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, not just at the ridiculous joke, but Stohn’s almost childlike confusion. Before interacting with these guys, I’d never put much thought into how bizarre our language could be.
I explained the two definitions of boogies and that it was also a dance step, which made him grin.
“Do you have much more to do?” he asked, glancing down the hall. “Cleaning this entire wing is a big job for one female.”
I shrugged. “It’s not too bad. I only clean two places instead of four or five in one night.”
His dark brows winged up. “My female would not have to work so hard during sleeping times.” His smile widened, becoming something feral. “I will pleasure her every night and make sure she rests. My mate will not work as hard as you do, Paige Spencer.”
I sighed. “Your future mate will be a very lucky girl.”
“You should be matched. Allow a worthy male to care for and protect you.” He studied me, although not in a creepy way. He treated me like he was my space alien version of an older brother. We’d become friendly over our shared shifts the past few months. “You would honor any worthy male.”
I swallowed hard, because his words were kind even if I didn’t believe them. How could a worthy male, a big, protective, alien warrior, think being matched to me was an honor? More like a burden. Men and I didn’t mix. I’d had exactly zero luck with men on Earth. Not just men, everyone. I had a few friends, but no besties. No boyfriend. No lover. I’d given my virginity to an old high school crush and been sorely disappointed in the whole experience. The one boyfriend I’d had since wasn’t much better. One romantic weekend getaway, and he’d ghosted me even faster than he’d…yeah. That. Even my parents barely tolerated me on holidays and usually asked for money. I was pretty much alone, and I’d been that way for a long, long time.
For being almost eight feet tall and something like a Viking in a romance novel, he had fantastical thoughts. Dreams. Unrealistic ideas about what it meant to live on this planet without a family or a husband. No one was going to take care of me or buy me groceries. I had bills to pay. A second job that expected my arrival in just over six hours. I needed to finish here and go home so I could get at least a few hours of sleep. “I just have to do Warden Egara’s testing rooms and I’ll be out of here.”
Twenty minutes, tops, and I’d be on my way home. Thank god. My feet were killing me, and I was about ready to collapse.
He nodded, stepping back to give me—and my cleaning cart—space to push past his security desk. “Thank you for the banana treat. I shall make sure my boogies don’t dance.”
As I pushed the squeaky cart further down the hall and around the corner to the bride testing rooms, I couldn’t help but smile.
I pulled out my earbuds and tucked them in place, getting my upbeat tunes going again.
The pulsing tempo of one of the songs on my ’Kick Ass’ playlist perked me up when all I wanted to do was sleep. I grabbed a clean cloth and the cleaning spray and began to work my way clockwise around the room, wiping down monitors and hard surfaces. All was quiet except for a screensaver with the IBP logo on the displays.
I imagined what it must be like to volunteer to become an unknown stranger’s bride. Not just any unknown man, but an alien. To come into this room, find a match, and never walk back out again. The women who entered never left, instead they were transported to a new planet. A new life.
Would I go to space for a guy? Not a chance. What would happen if I was tested and found lacking? Just my luck, I’d volunteer and not match with anyone. How mortifying would that be? No one on Earth wanted me. Why would I assume outer space would be any different?
Nope. No way. I wouldn’t risk the devastation of discovering I wasn’t chosen by a single male in the entire universe.
Done with my wipe-down, I reached for the mop. Leaning down, I wrung the excess water back into the bucket and began to clean the floor.
