Apparently, Egon and I weren't the only ones in this building with secrets.
Before I could ask anything else, Egon turned and walked out of the suite, heading toward whatever spectacle awaited in the ballroom below. The two Prillons fell into position immediately—one stepping in front of me while the other moved behind. The silent escort felt oddly reassuring as they guided me toward the elevators, their broad shoulders forming an armored wall on either side of me as we left the suite behind.
5
Tori
* * *
The season opener was pure chaos. The moment we stepped off the elevator, the quiet calm of the upper floors disappeared completely. Noise rolled through the lower level like a tidal wave—voices, music, instructions being shouted through headsets, cameras moving on wheeled rigs across polished floors. Rohn and Krag didn't hesitate. The two Prillon warriors flanked me immediately, guiding me through the frenzy with silent efficiency until we reached a waiting area tucked behind a curtain of shimmering silver fabric.
And that's when I saw the other contestants. A handful of women already stood there, chatting softly among themselves while production assistants hovered nearby adjusting gowns and fixing hair. Every single one of them was stunning. Models. Actresses. Influencers. Women who looked like they had stepped straight off magazine covers. Their hair fell in glossy waves or elegant braids that reached their waists. Their makeup was flawless, sculpted to perfection under the bright lights. And the gowns… good God. Designer ballgowns glittered everywhere I looked—silk, satin, crystals, metallic fabrics that shimmered like liquid starlight.
For a moment, standing there in the middle of them, I felt like the awkward kid who had wandered into the wrong prom. I wasn't ugly. I knew that much. I was cute-ish in my own way. Pretty enough when I tried. But I didn't have the impossible proportions of a runway model or the glossy perfection that came from professional styling teams and cosmetic enhancements. I wasn't supermodel thin. My lips were naturally full. At least I had that going for me. My skin was much darker than most of the women here. My dark, curly hair—now beautifully styled thanks to Marguerite—still stopped just below my shoulders instead of cascading down my back like liquid silk. I didn’t have the golden blond waves of the contestant nearest me or the straight, black waterfall of one of the Asian women. I was just… me. Fancy makeup and a designer gown could only do so much.
The assistants began moving the contestants toward the waiting limousines outside in small groups. One by one, each woman disappeared through the backstage doors while the rest of us waited our turn. I quickly learned the system. A long line of limousines circled the hotel entrance in a slow loop. Each contestant would ride alone to the front of the building, step out onto the red carpet for her introduction, and then the car would circle back to collect the next woman. Over and over again. A carefully choreographed parade.
Most of the women were already gone. I was late. I was placed at the end of the line. Last. Contestant number forty-one. As Chet had gleefully explained earlier, I had completely thrown off their carefully planned numbers. The original format had been simple—forty women narrowed to twenty. Twenty to ten. Ten to five. Egon would go on individual dates with the final five contestants before narrowing the field to two finalists. During the season finale he would place his mating cuffs on the winner. All dramatic theater. All staged for ratings.
And to assure that the other fighters and Warlords exiled to The Colony would have a chance to come to Earth and find their mates.
Except now the entire structure had been thrown sideways by the inconvenient detail of Egon actually finding his mate before the show even started. Chet had assured him he could still put the mating cuffs on me at the end. But instead of two finalists… there would be three. Whatever. The whole thing would only last ten days. Ten days of filming. Ten days of pretending. After that, it would all be over.
When my turn finally came, Rohn and Krag escorted me out to the limousine waiting behind the hotel. To my surprise, they climbed in with me. The two massive warriors folded themselves into the vehicle on either side of me, their armored shoulders filling the space while sleek silver weapons rested across their thighs. The futuristic armor and strange alien firearms looked like something ripped straight from a video game. I suddenly felt very small between them.
The limousine door closed with a soft thud, sealing us inside. The drive lasted only a couple of minutes as the car joined the slow loop around the building. I tried to steady my breathing.
“You guys take this protection thing seriously, huh? We’re just driving around the building.”
Krag—or maybe Rohn—I was having a hard time keeping track of who was who—narrowed his eyes. “A mate is the most precious thing in the universe. We would never dishonor Warlord Egon by taking chances with your life. We vowed to protect you and we will.”
The other one agreed. “With our lives. Entrusting your mate to the care of another is difficult. Especially when he cannot claim you as he should.”
“What do you mean?” He’d roared at a church full of people and said ‘mine’ so many times I’d lost count.
“He cannot place his mating cuffs on your wrists. His beast will be unsettled and difficult for him to control.” Krag. That one was Krag. Right?
“It was already difficult.” Rohn’s expression was entirely too serious for the circus I was about to participate in. “If anything happens to you, female, Egon will be executed. He cannot maintain control without you. Not anymore. Remember that.”
The car turned the corner before I could come up with anything to say. Two seconds later, it didn’t matter. I forgot how to breathe entirely. The hotel had transformed into something insane. The entire building glittered. Every surface reflected light in a thousand directions, as if someone had weaponized a disco ball and aimed it at a skyscraper. Thousands of reflective panels covered the facade, catching powerful spotlights and scattering rainbows across the surrounding street.
Enormous holographic stars rotated slowly above the entrance. They drifted through the air like glowing constellations, casting shifting shadows over the long red carpet below. And the red carpet itself? Also glitter. Red glitter. It crunched beneath footsteps like tiny shards of glass and clung to shoes like aggressive confetti.
The limousine rolled to a smooth stop. My door opened. Chet Bosworth appeared beside the vehicle, leaning down with a bright grin as he extended his hand toward me. His gaze locked onto each of his mates for a brief second, the heat in his gaze shocking. I felt like a voyeur just seeing the expression in his face.
Chet blinked and it was gone, his smooth, practiced smile shining brightly in my direction. "Welcome," he said smoothly, "to Royalty Among the Stars."
I stared at the glowing chaos surrounding us. "Is the entire theme really… sparkles?"
"The producers wanted 'galactic opulence,'" Chet explained proudly, clutching a small device the size of a cell phone against the front of his ridiculous sequined suit. His yellow feather boa looked slightly worse for wear after the earlier wedding disaster, several feathers bent or missing entirely. "Think celestial royalty meets Vegas meets high-fashion fever dream." His gaze swept over me approvingly. "You look magnificent."
The moment I stepped out of the car, the cameras exploded. I felt rather than saw the two massive Prillon warriors fall in line behind me. Flashbulbs erupted in rapid bursts, dozens of them going off at once. White light flooded my vision again and again, turning the night into a stuttering blur of brightness and shadow. For a few seconds the world felt like a strobe-lit nightmare, the sudden glare making my eyes water as I tried not to stumble on the glitter-covered carpet beneath my heels.
Chet moved smoothly ahead of me, one manicured hand guiding the direction of my walk like he'd done this a thousand times. I followed. The red glitter carpet crunched faintly beneath my shoes as we approached the hotel entrance. Two uniformed attendants stood on either side of the massive doors, holding them open with the perfect stillness of people who had been very well trained to be invisible. Not to react to anything unusual. Including, apparently, the sight of two seven-foot alien warriors escorting a woman in a burgundy gown. Either the staff had incredible discipline… or this sort of thing just happened at Bachelor Beast events.
The paparazzi certainly thought it was normal. "Chet! Chet! Is it true he crashed a wedding?"
"Who's the girl? Is she the bride?"
