I wouldn’t want to meet any of these aliens anywhere. But fuck my luck, here I am tied to a tree having to confront all of them. The small island we’re on is just barely enough to house the two trees and the strangers’ black craft. I scan the horizon and see nothing but more tiny clusters of sandy islands. We must be very far from the scene of the crashed si’bok.
I hear the muffled yells again and realize Ke’ain is tied to another tree behind the burly crew of space pirates. He pulls against his restraints. His suit jacket is ripped open, and the gray muscles of his chest ripple. The amount of force he’s putting on his own body makes me fear that he’ll rip an arm from his socket. He’s blindfolded and gagged, but his head thrashes.
“Ke’ain, babe, calm down,” I say unconcernedly. “I’m okay, I’m not hurt—you won’t hurt me, right Captain?”
I wish I knew our captor’s real name. I know, from an extensive binge watch of all of theForensic Files, that captors don’t like it when their victims use their names. It’s humanizing. I wonder if it’s the same for aliens. Or is it my name they need to hear?
“I’m Opal, by the way,” I tack on for good measure.
“Well, Opal, the bounty is dead or alive.” He arches an eyebrow. “Got a good reason I should waste the extra resources on my ship keeping you alive? I don’t think the Deenz plan on keeping you breathing after delivery, human.”
Ke’ain struggles again, the threat on my life not going unnoticed.
“Ugh, the fucking Deenz?” I screech, untethered by the mention of the hive-minded bastards.
Captain frowns and knits his brows at my outburst. “Yes, the Deenz. You are one of the best bounty contracts I’ve seen in a while. What’d you do to piss them off?”
My cheeks flushed with anger. “What did I do to piss off those little purple bastards? Fuck if I know! They’re the ones who stole me from Earth. Why would they even want me back? They sold me like livestock to Ke’ain.”
“They stole you?” Saniri asks, his gaze intense. All three aliens wait for my response.
“Yes, Saniri, they snatched my big ass right out of my car after work. I woke up here and was expected to dance in a fucking bubble. Just call me Opal the bubble babe.”
He frowns. “Fer’oon, we agreed no slaves.”
“No real names, for f’tee’s sake.” Captain—Fer’oon—runs a palm over his masked face in frustration. “I know we said no slaves, but this is just a bounty. We’re not slavers.”
“I don’t give a shit, I’m out if she’s a slave.” Saniri is stern in his response. Captain Fer’oon’s shoulders slump a bit and he turns to the orange alien.
“We need the money,” Fer’oon says.
“I don’t want that money, and you shouldn’t either, Fer’oon.” Saniri’s response seems final.
“Don’t f’teeing touch her!” Ke’ain snarls, having worked the gag from his mouth.
“Regardless of what we decide to do about the bounty, we won’t touch a hair on your head, little prince.” Captain Fer’oon motions for the muscled green goon to replace the gag. “Wouldn’t want the royal family on our tails now, would we?”
“You blew up the si’bok! I think you’re in for a world of hurt from the royal family, you idiot marauders,” Ke’ain screams.
Captain swivels and marches toward the blindfolded Ke’ain. “For the record, prince, we didn’t blow your si’bok sky high. We just seized the opportunity to snatch the human—we’ve been tracking her since the contract went out. The fact that you refused to let her be pulled into the tractor beam alone is on you.” Captain Fer’oon pats Ke’ain on top of his head condescendingly. “Second thing, we’re not idiot marauders, we’re damn good marauders. We plan on delivering your royal ass right back to the palace. A little whiff of harken gas to inspire some fake head trauma confusion, and we might even get a hefty reward for bringing the heir home.”
I curse myself for thinking that they’ve got a pretty good plan. Harken gas, the same thing that robbed us of our memories in the panic room, would be the perfect cover. Without the antidote, Ke’ain wouldn’t remember who he was…or me. They could make a clean getaway. We’re fucked.
“If you hurt her, you hurt the royal house all the same,” Ke’ain says seriously.
“Why’s that? Is she the palace’s favorite whore?” Captain Fer’oon jokes.
“Because…because we’re married,” Ke’ain sputters. “You’ve got the Princess of Sontafrul 6 tied to a tree.”
Did I hit my head harder than I thought? I stare at Ke’ain’s mouth. His lip twitches nervously, his arms flexing against the restraints. I can tell he’s nervous. This is a ploy to get us out safely. My alien boyfriend is trying his best.
“But if you were married, wouldn’t we know about it?” the green goon asks. You can almost see the single brain cell he possesses bouncing behind his eyes.
Ke’ain opens his mouth, but closes it quickly. Shit. Ke’ain might be many wonderful things, but it appears he’s not a great liar. I, on the other hand, am a great liar.
“Human tradition,” I say simply. Maybe it’s my years of working food service, but I can spin a tale to keep guests happy. “It’s human tradition to elope, and to keep it private for everyone but close family for a month until the public ceremony.”
“Why the f’tee would you do that?” Captain Fer’oon asks incredulously.
