Page 39 of The Alien's Captive Bride

Venus raised an eyebrow. “Damage? Last I checked, we were working on an alliance that would benefit both our worlds. But please, enlighten me. What grievous harm have we terrible Earthlings inflicted?”

Oran began to pace, his movements tight with barely contained rage. “You’ve made us weak!” he spat. “This... agreement with your primitive world makes Tharvis look pathetic. Earthlings are savages, your planet a cesspool of violence and ignorance. And yet my king, and now Azlun, would have us treat you as equals?”

Venus felt her own anger rising, but she kept her voice level. “Interesting perspective,” she said, injecting as much sarcasm into her voice as possible. “And your solution is, what? To murder an unarmed woman and her sisters? To plunge your world into war? Tell me, Oran, who’s the real savage here?”

Oran whirled on her, closing the distance between them in two long strides. “You know nothing of our ways or what’s at stake!”

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea,” Venus shot back. “You’re scared. Scared of change, scared of losing your precious status quo. It’s pathetic, really. A big, bad Tharvisian warrior, trembling at the thought of little old Earth.”

Oran’s hand shot out, gripping Venus’s chin painfully. “You dare mock me? Your planet is a blight, a stain on the galaxy. Nothing good has ever come from Earth.”

Venus met his gaze unflinchingly. “Really? Nothing good at all? Not art, not music, not literature? Not the countlessscientific advancements we’ve made? Not pizza?” She paused for effect. “Okay, maybe not pizza. I’ll give you that one.”

She could see Oran’s composure cracking, his grip on her face tightening. Good. The angrier he got, the sloppier he’d become. And the more time Azlun and the others would have to get here.

“You think this is a game?” Oran snarled. “My brother is dead because of your cursed treaty! Eerion died trying to protect our way of life from your corrupting influence!”

Venus’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. “Eerion? Your brother tried to kill me and my sisters. He was a traitor to the crown.”

“He was a patriot!” Oran roared, shoving Venus away. She stumbled but kept her feet, her mind racing. This was about more than just Earth. This was personal.

“A patriot?” Venus scoffed, pushing her advantage. “Is that what you call someone who betrays their prince? Who tries to murder innocent women? Sounds more like a coward to me.”

The tension in the hangar was palpable. Oran’s men shifted uneasily, clearly unsure of how to handle this mouthy Earth female who showed no fear.

Oran’s face contorted with rage. “Enough! I will not stand here and be lectured by some primitive?—“

A distant explosion cut him off, the hangar walls trembling with the aftershock. Venus’s heart leaped. Cavalry’s here.

Oran’s head snapped toward the sound, then back to Venus, comprehension dawning in his eyes. “You,” he growled. “This was a trap.”

Venus allowed herself a small, fierce smile. “What can I say? We primitive Earthlings are full of surprises.”

Chaos erupted as Tharvisian royal guards poured into the hangar. Oran lunged for Venus, but she was ready. She duckedunder his grasp, delivering a swift kick to his solar plexus that left him coughing.

“That,” she panted, “was for calling Earth a cesspool.”

As blaster fire erupted around them, Venus dove for cover. Her eyes scanned the melee, searching for a familiar face. Where was Azlun?

A hand grabbed her arm, and Venus whirled, fist cocked back. But it was Azlun, his eyes wild with a mix of relief and fury.

“Cutting it a bit close, weren’t you?” Venus quipped, unable to keep the relief from her voice.

“You’re insane, you know that?” Azlun growled, pulling her close. “Absolutely, brilliantlyinsane.”

Over Azlun’s shoulder, Venus saw Oran staggering to his feet, murder in his eyes. “Uh, darling? Hate to break up this reunion, but we’ve got company.”

As Azlun turned to face Oran, Venus steeled herself. The real fight was just beginning.

NINETEEN

Azlun’s world narrowed to a singular focus as he faced Oran across the chaos of the hangar. The air crackled with ozone and the hum of advanced weaponry. Azlun’s hand tightened on his plasma sword, its edge shimmering with barely contained energy.

Oran sneered, activating his own weapon - a double-bladed energy sword that pulsed with an ominous red glow. “Come to die alongside your Earth whore, Prince?” he spat.

Azlun’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he settled into a fighting stance, his weapon humming louder as if sensing the impending battle. “It’s over, Oran. Surrender now or face the consequences.”

With a roar of rage, Oran charged. The air sizzled as their blades clashed, sending sparks of energy cascading around them. Azlun parried and struck, each movement a deadly dance of precision and power. Oran fought with brutal efficiency, his blade carving arcs of destruction through the air.

---