Page 15 of You're Not My King!

Fiona turned to me, smiling fondly in a way that made it obvious she thought highly of the dude. At least he had one reference. “Voh-ack.”

REUBEN

Voh-ack, the dude who’d actually bought me, was the stranger I’d met in the forest. That little Easter egg revealed itself the second I stepped out of Fiona’s tent, my skin scrubbed to within an inch of its life and wrapped up like a caveman’s wet dream in a thick, furry gray pelt. My weary gaze met his as if magnetized, drawn to the imposing figure positioned, all suave and regal, in front of the giant tree in the center of the camp, waiting for his bride.We stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. My breath was too heavy in my lungs, and there was a sort of fluttery feeling weaving through me whenever his fin-like ears fanned out and twitched as if restless under my unfaltering observation.

As soon as Fiona had told me my fate, I should have guessed he’d be the one I would see at the end of the aisle. Of course it was gonna be him. He had looked so rich and important in that forest, with more jewels than clothes covering his impressive body, sitting atop his skeletal steed. If he’d worn a crown, it couldn’t have been more obvious that he was the king. In fact, as if to rub in my cluelessness, he was draped in even more finery for our ‘mating,’ with a massive, furry cape over his shoulders, an obsidian sword sheathed at his hip, and a dagger attached to his muscular, bare thigh. His ears were still adorned with hoops, his fingers with silver bands, and I couldn’t help how my eyes skimmed his body as I walked the sandy lime green path toward him, wondering if he was pierced anywhere else.

Probably not the best thing to think about, especially in a toga that barely covered my dick.

Looking back up, though, was an even bigger mistake. For whatever reason, switching up my focus had me losing my balance, stumbling over my feet before I could even comprehend that the ground was getting closer. I let out an embarrassingly high-pitched noise, screwing my eyes shut and bracing for impact, but thankfully, I wasn’t given the chance to break my nose for a second time. Sturdy yet careful fingers circled my biceps, and either my arms were skinnier than I thought, or those hands were exceptionally large, ’cause holy hell, they did not leave a single bit of skin untouched as my clumsy ass was hoisted back to my feet and steadied against a warm, solid chest.

For a long moment, I fixated on those red, spiked abs, faintly struggling to catch the breath that seemed to have run away from me once again. There was movement in my peripheral vision, those same gentle fingers now coming to rest under my chin, and everything felt calmer, as if that one simple nudge was all I needed to regain control. My gaze met his—Voh-ack, my husband to be, JesusfuckingChrist—and something in me settled at the easy smirk sitting on the corner of his wicked mouth. It wasn’t purely arrogance, it was almost like he couldn’t smile without that added touch of sass, but he still wanted to comfort me. It was his way, I guessed, and it felt honest, even if this whole shitshow was anything but.

“Thanks,” I heard myself mumble, and instead of answering with words, he pinned me with those mismatched eyes and nodded, bringing his hand toward my face and grazing his knuckles down my cheek. The gesture was tender, and over before I could either melt into it or flinch. I honestly wasn’t sure which way I would’ve fallen, but now that we’d broken that barrier, he apparently refused to put any distance between us, keeping our bodies flush and his arm around my waist as the ritual began.

I guessed the fact that I didn’t move away was my answer.

The ceremony passed by in a fragmented blur. It was as if I’d just switched off as soon as some older dude had hobbled out in front of us and started chanting in lee-zurd. It wasn’t out of fear, I didn’t think. I was nervous, sure, and sweating a bit at Voh-ack’s and my size difference, but the dude didn’t seem evil. Neither did Zack, my mind unhelpfully supplied, but I ignored it. Despite our earlier fumble, Voh-ack was still intimidating, in that seasoned-warrior type of way, and acted like a typical, cocksure guy, but that wasn’t the reason for my mental absence.

It was just easier to let my thoughts wander than to be aware of every little detail that I had no say in.

There were only a few elements that strayed from human customs, though that could have been entirely for my benefit. It was vaguely similar to handfasting, but with no vows exchanged and a little more blood involved. We had to cut each other’s palms, wrap our linked fingers with a strip of pelt, and let our mixed blood—mine red and his blue—drip into a pool of iridescent water. I didn’t understand the significance but had an inkling, especially when I felt an odd sensation flutter around my wrist, only to peer down and find a thin white tattoo glowing where it hadn’t been before. It was similar to the markings on Voh-ack’s body and identical to the matching line that appeared on his wrist, and for a second, I felt numb, my gut sinking at the implication, at the permanence.

The memory of a similar scenario—more painful, yet just as possessive—flickered through my head, but before it could latch on, debilitating me, the clan erupted in throaty cheers, cutting my wallowing short. Voh-ack thrust our joined hands into the peach sky as if triumphant, showing off our matching bands with pride, my shackle joining me to him as blatantly as a collar around my neck.

At this point, it seemed like it was my destiny to be owned.

Further distraction came in the form of my ‘other half’ removing the knife from his thigh sheath and lifting it toward my throat with determined intent. I flinched backward so hard that I was surprised I didn’t land on my ass. A tattoo was one thing—I could cope with a stupid little line—but slitting my throat so we wore matching scars was a fucking step too damn far.

“Roo, lovey,” Fiona cooed, shuffling out from the ranks to soothe me when everyone else seemed utterly baffled by my very reasonable reaction. “Don’t worry, he isn’t going to harm you. He’s just going to remove your microchip. The one you received at A&R.”

I’d actually forgotten about that amid everything else, but now that my awareness of its presence had returned, I couldn’t help rubbing at the area. Voh-ack nodded at the blade in his hand, and there was no denying that the offer was tempting, but some warning wouldn’t have gone amiss. I also wondered if it was another gesture of control, a ‘the only foreign entity I want inside of you is me,’ type of thing. Or it could have been one step toward free will, even if the aim was skewed and we’d literally taken three steps back with the tattoo.

I sighed, tilting my head to give him access. Probable shitty intentions aside, I decided it was for the best to sever all ties to the space station sooner rather than later—to lose one master in favor of another. Voh-ack was surprisingly gentle. The cut itself only stung for a second—or maybe that was his fingers on my neck, warm and rough as his claw dug under my flesh to pick out the tiny cylinder, making my traitorous body react and the pain give way to pleasure. Who could really say?

Voh-ack cast the offending chip into the water under the tree, the surface rippling and fizzing as if dissolving the tech from existence. It was actually kind of a relief and when I glanced up to the side, clocking the dude’s snarl of satisfaction as his tail swished behind him, a shiver raced down my spine—not the bad kind, either.

Had I already descended into madness?

With that unpleasantness over, we moved on to the afterparty. There wasn’t a traditional reception, but there was a bonfire and a mountain of freshly roasted meats that my new husband kept attempting to feed me bites of, even though I wasn’t very receptive. As well as not knowing what type of meat he was shoving against my lips with a frown, I didn’t have much of an appetite. I had been stolen from my home, taken to a new planet, sold, treated like a zoo animal, and mated to an alien king, all within a month.

I needed a minute to process.

I was just grateful to past me for having enough presence of mind beforehand to ask Fiona if there would be any public ‘displays’—I had threatened to bite a dick clean off if there were. She’d assured me there wouldn’t be. Well, she’d actually said she’d managed to convince Voh-ack to do everything of that nature privately, so I dreaded to imagine how different the whole day would have turned out without her influence.

Go, Fiona.

As if summoned by my thoughts, the doc walked over to where I sat alone on a log, scuffing my booties in the sand, a sad smile on her face that suggested she was coming to tell me something unpleasant. My husband had wandered off during my momentary reflection, so I guessed what she was about to say involved him.

“How are you, lovey?”

I raised my dinky wooden cup—which was unfortunately sans alcohol—in salute. “Still abducted. Thanks for asking.”

She patted my shoulder and sat down beside me, grunting when her knees clicked. “I’ll let the sass slide since I know you’re anxious.”

I hung my head. It wasn’t exactly her fault I was here, she was just unlucky enough to catch the brunt of my bad mood. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

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