Page 13 of The Alien's Unwilling Bride

Roq laughed, the sound surprising even himself. “I’m afraid our pizza delivery options are somewhat limited out here,” he replied, setting about preparing their meal.

As he cooked, the conversation flowed easily between them. Roq opening up to Mila in ways he never had with anyone else.

“You seem remarkably calm for someone who was nearly devoured by an alien predator earlier,” Roq commented, his tone a mixture of dry humor and genuine curiosity. “Is near-death experience a regular part of Earth science expeditions?”

Mila smirked, her eyes glinting in the firelight. “Oh, absolutely. We Earth scientists live for the thrill. Alien predators, quicksand, the occasional volcano eruption—just another day at the office. Besides,” she added with a wink, “it takes more than a few oversized space lizards to rattle me.”

“I’m beginning to think you might be more dangerous than any predator we’ve encountered,” Roq said, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

Mila’s eyebrows shot up. “Why, Roq, was that a compliment? Be careful, or I might start to think you actually like me.”

Every time he heard the nickname it caught him off guard. No one had ever called him “Roq” before. It should have felt too informal for someone of his station. Instead, he found he liked the way it sounded coming from her lips.

As they ate their meal under the stars, Roq found himself fascinated by Mila’s stories of Earth, her passion for science, and her dreams for the future. He realized with a start that he was enjoying her company not as a political ally or future wife, but as a person—someone he genuinely wanted to know better.

“You don’t seem like someone who enjoys being told what to do,” he said, breaking a comfortable silence. “I imagine that’s made things... interesting in your life.”

Mila raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “What gave it away? My charming personality or the fact that I’ve ignored about ninety percent of your royal decrees?”

Roq suppressed a chuckle. “Let’s call it an educated guess. Is that going to be a problem, Dr. Arison?”

“Only if you make it one, Your Highness,” she shot back, her blue eyes glinting with challenge in the firelight. “But something tells me you might enjoy a little rebellion now and then. Keeps things exciting, doesn’t it?”

As the night wore on, their conversation gradually shifted to more personal topics. Mila began to speak about her life on Earth, about the pressure of being the daughter of a powerful political figure.

“Everyone sees me as the president’s daughter,” Mila said, her tone casual but with an underlying edge that Roq didn’t miss. “But all I’ve ever wanted was to be seen for who I really am—a scientist, someone who can actually make a difference. Not just some political pawn to be married off for the sake of intergalactic diplomacy.”

Roq watched her, the flickering light from the campfire casting shadows across her face. There was something raw about her words, a vulnerability he hadn’t expected to see from her. He felt a strange connection forming between them, one that went beyond the political alliance their marriage was supposed to secure.

“I understand that pressure,” Roq said quietly, surprising himself with his honesty. “Every decision I’ve ever made has been under the weight of duty. The crown. My people. There are days I wonder if I’ll ever have a choice in my own life.”

Mila looked at him, genuine surprise flickering across her features. “And here I thought you enjoyed being royalty. Don’t tell me the crown is just for show. Next thing you’ll be saying is that you don’t actually sleep on a bed made of gold.”

Roq let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I hate to disappoint you, but the bed is made of a rare Tharvisian crystal, not gold.” He paused, his tone growing more serious. “Being a prince isn’t all it’s made out to be. I’d much rather be in my lab working on AI advancements than attending royal meetings. Coding makes sense. Politics... don’t.”

“Well, well,” Mila said, leaning back and regarding him with newfound interest. “Looks like there’s more to you than just a pretty face and a fancy title. Who would’ve thought we’d have something in common besides our impending doom—I mean, marriage?”

Roq felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. It was strange, this feeling of being seen for who he really was, not just the crown prince of Tharvis. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him and seen Roq, not just Prince Tharvis.

“You really are nothing like I expected,” Roq said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mila tilted her head, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “Good or bad?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Roq replied, though he knew the answer. Good. Definitely good.

As the fire began to die down, Roq found himself acutely aware of Mila’s presence. The space between them seemed to have shrunk, though neither had moved. He could see the flecks of gold in her blue eyes and hear the soft rhythm of her breathing. The urge to reach out and touch her was almost overwhelming.

“We should probably get some sleep,” Mila said, her voice slightly husky. “Big day of not dying tomorrow, right?”

Roq nodded, trying to ignore the disappointment that welled inside him. “Of course. We should rest.”

As they entered the tent and settled into the shared sleeping area, careful to maintain a respectful distance, Roq couldn’t block her aura from his senses. The soft sound of her breathing, the faint scent of her hair—it was all overwhelming in the best possible way.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, a low growl echoed from the darkness outside. Roq was instantly alert, his hand reaching for his weapon.

“Stay close,” he whispered to Mila, who was now awake and tense beside him. “We’re not alone out here.”

As they faced the unknown threat together, Roq realized that something had fundamentally changed between them. This mission, this marriage—it was no longer just about duty. It was about Mila, about the connection they were forming, about the way she made him feel alive.

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