Page 13 of The Alien's Captive Bride

Venus laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Oh, don’t worry, I still do. But you’re growing on me... like some kind of charming alien fungus.”

Azlun clutched his chest in mock offense. “Your words wound me, my lady. And after I so gallantly rescued you from that dreadful auction.”

Their banter continued as they finished their meal, the easy rapport between them a stark contrast to their initial antagonism. As the night wore on, they shared stories of their lives—Venus speaking of her family, her fears about the arranged marriage, her dreams for the future. Azlun found himself opening up in turn, talking about the pressures of royal life, the weight of expectations that had been placed on him since birth.

In the quiet of the room with only the distant sounds of the alien city as background, the walls they had built around themselves began to crumble. Azlun saw Venus not just as a strong, capable warrior, but as a woman with hopes and fears, dreams and doubts. And he realized with a clarity that both thrilled and terrified him that he was falling for her—not because of any political arrangement, but because of who she was.

As dawn broke harsh and unforgiving over the alien landscape, Azlun and Venus left the bar behind, stepping outinto a world of jagged rocks and ominous roiling skies. The distant sun cast an eerie, reddish glow over the horizon, painting everything in shades of rust and blood.

“Charming place,” Venus muttered, her eyes scanning the barren wasteland before them. Despite her sarcastic tone, Azlun noticed how she stayed close to him, her hand brushing against his as they walked.

“Stay alert,” Azlun warned, his eyes constantly moving. “This terrain is perfect for ambushes.”

They set off, picking their way carefully across the rocky ground. Azlun kept his senses on high alert, every instinct honed by years of training screaming at him to be ready for anything. But even as he watched for danger, he couldn’t help but be distracted by Venus.

She moved with a grace that belied her lack of experience in such harsh environments. Her eyes were constantly moving, taking in every detail of their surroundings. More than once, she pointed out potential hiding spots or alternate routes that Azlun might have missed. Her quick thinking and adaptability impressed him more with each passing hour.

It was nearing midday when Azlun spotted movement on the horizon. He held up a hand, signaling Venus to stop.

“What is it?” she whispered, her body tensing for action.

“Mercenaries,” Azlun replied, his voice low and tight. “The ones from the auction. They’ve found us.”

Venus’s hand went to the weapon at her hip—a small blaster Azlun had given her from his own arsenal. “How many?”

“At least five, maybe more,” Azlun said, his eyes never leaving the approaching figures. “Venus, I need you to?—“

“If you’re about to tell me to hide while you play the hero, save your breath,” Venus cut him off, her tone brooking no argument. “Not happening.”

Azlun turned to her, ready to insist that she stay back, but the look in her eyes stopped him. There was no fear, only determination and a fierce, burning resolve. In that moment, he realized she was every bit his equal—not a damsel to be rescued, but a warrior in her own right.

“Together, then,” he agreed, drawing his own weapon. “Stay close and watch my back.”

The mercenaries attacked with a ferocity that would have overwhelmed a lesser opponent. But Azlun was no ordinary prince, and Venus was far from helpless. They moved as one, years of training and raw instinct guiding their actions.

Azlun’s combat skills were on full display as he took down two of the attackers with precise, lethal strikes. But it was Venus who truly surprised him. She used the terrain to her advantage, ducking behind rocks for cover and emerging to land shots that would have made a seasoned warrior proud.

As the battle raged on, Azlun found himself watching Venus almost as much as he watched their enemies. There was a fire in her eyes, a determination that matched his own. She wasn’t just fighting to survive—she was fighting to win, to prove herself.

The tide turned when one of the mercenaries managed to flank them, catching Azlun off guard. The alien’s clawed hand raked across his back, tearing through his clothing and leaving a trail of burning pain. Azlun stumbled, momentarily stunned by the intensity of the attack.

But before the mercenary could press its advantage, Venus was there. With a cry of rage, she launched herself at the creature, her small frame belying her strength as she drove it back. Her blaster found its mark, and the alien fell lifeless to the ground.

“Azlun!” Venus was at his side in an instant, her face etched with concern. “How bad are you hurt?”

He grimaced as he straightened up. “It’s not deep. I’ll be fine.”

The remaining mercenaries, seeing their comrades fall and their quarry prove more formidable than expected, retreated into the rocky landscape. Azlun watched them go, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“We need to move,” he said, already scanning for the best route forward. “They’ll be back, and probably with reinforcements.”

Venus nodded, but her eyes were still fixed on the gash across his back. “We need to tend to that wound first. You’re no good to either of us if you bleed out before we reach the ship.”

There was no arguing with her logic. They found a sheltered spot among the rocks, and Venus set about cleaning Azlun’s injury. Her touch was gentle yet firm, and Azlun found himself relaxing despite the pain.

“Thank you,” he said softly as she finished. “For the medical attention and... for saving my life back there.”

Venus looked up, meeting his gaze. For a moment, the masks they both wore—the tough, sarcastic exterior—fell away, and Azlun saw the real Venus. Vulnerable, yes, but also strong, compassionate, and fiercely loyal.

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