“In the most prevalent form of Earth currency, 414,491,000,000 USD, according to the Universal Governing Senate projections.”
I gulp. Four hundred billion?
“And a ship, registered to your metrics. You tell it where to go, within the UGS guidelines, and the autopilot will take you there,” he adds quickly, like it’s the cherry on top of my billions.
For a moment, I just stare at him.
Then I laugh. Not a polite laugh, but the kind that bubbles out of your mouth when your brain can’t process what you just heard.
“Four hundred billion dollars, and a ship,” I drawl.
“Yes.”
“For marrying you?”
“For becoming my mate, and for our mating ceremony,” he corrects.
I stop laughing.
“Your mate, and the mating ceremony,” I repeat.
“Yes, a proper Drefling mating ceremony.”
“You’re serious?”
“Completely. This isn’t something I would joke about.”
I drag a hand down my face, willing my brain to stop short-circuiting.
“Okay, just so I have everything clear.” I point at the datapad. “You transferred half of your… what did you call it?”
“Dread hoard.”
“Right, your terrifying alien warlord treasure.”
His brow tightens, but he lets it slide.
“You transferred half of it to me. Because you want a proper mating ceremony?” I tilt my head, confused by the change. He was already planning on mating me before, without any of the perks.
I pace, throwing my hands up in my long hair and pushing it back from my face like that’ll give me some clarity in this moment.
A ship, four hundred billion dollars, and only my name attached to it.
My entire adult life on Earth had been built on things that were temporary. Stage names, apartments with roommates, house fees to club owners… Despite having some good nights, the money never felt stable enough to last for too long. Nothing had ever really felt like it was mine.
And now, this massive alien warlord just hands me more money than some countries operate on.
I stop pacing and look him square in his eyes. He’s watching me, like he expects me to bolt.
“I know I am not who you would choose, truly,” he says in a near whisper. “But I could ensure that you will at least be taken care of.”
A strange ache settles over my heart. It’s not because of the money, but the way he says it. Like this is the only thing he could ever offer that might matter.
“You barely know me,” I repeat. "I could take the money and run?—"
“I know now you wanted a horse thing, anddespite doing everything right, you never got the chance. I know that life has been unfair to both of us. I know that you’re brave.”
The answer catches me off guard. No one’s ever called me brave.
