Page 27 of Alien Prince Fake Fiancé

Zade's brows drew closer together as his smile slipped away, his face settling into a stony mask. He set the maju paste down on the nightstand next to the bed and donned his pants. “Fake? I thought we were past that. You accepted what I offered. I have all but claimed you in truth. The rest are traditional formalities we can complete once the dinner is over.”

She sat up straighter, anger overshadowing her guilt. “Excuse me? Formalities?! No, no, and no.” She pointed back and forth between the two of them. “If that was your version of a proposal, you need serious help. You did not claim me. Not for real, anyway. We are engaged in name only. This is all fake. You want the Council seat, and I want to go home. I’m not a politician. If you really heard everything I said to my sister, you know how I feel about this.”

Shaking his head in the negative, he reached for the cylinder and flipped the top open. “You do not yet believe. I see that now. You need more convincing. Still, you do not know the Council. The Ubrion family has a tremendous amount of power and influence. They've held onto their seat for centuries. By the time we go to dinner, they will know everything there is to know about me.”

“So? What does that have to do with anything? Are you saying you're not qualified for the job? Because it's a little too late to back out now. But then, you made sure of that, didn't you? And for the record, I don't need any more convincing. You won.Antonelius forfeited and you and I are stuck together for the duration of the challenge.”

Zade's lips thinned angrily. “Stubbornshenga. You refuse to see the truth. I only meant I am of theSaltrec. As I said, by dinner the Ubrions, and all the other Council members, will know this about me. I do not have time to explain to you what that means, other than we are more territorial than other Caldorians. More possessive. Some would argue we are more primitive. Lighting our markings is not something the Saltrec can forgo. To do so would result in unnecessary fighting. Death.”

“I'm sure that's an exaggeration. You're a prince. Commander over a huge part of your military. I would think those two things alone would be enough to get most people to do whatever you want them to do, including the Council. Isn't that the foundation of this plan? Put someone in place who can hold on to it?”

“Exaggeration? I cannot hold onto something I do not first possess,” he snarled bitterly, holding out the cylinder. “The Council is here, and they are already suspicious. Now you wish to make it worse by refusing such a simple task?”

“None of this would have happened if you hadn't....” Ashlyn clamped her mouth shut and crossed her arms, hands tucked underneath, securing the sheet. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly as she counted silently to ten. She'd always had a temper, and now was not the time to give it free reign. “Fine. Light your markings. All I’m saying is that there's no reason why you can't light them yourself. I'm not going to do it for you. None of this is real.”

Was that a flash of hurt she glimpsed in his eyes? “Look, I'm sorry. Really. I'm not trying to be difficult.”I’m trying not to die for real.If he knew what the maju paste would do to her, he wouldn’t ask. Damn Dagan for not telling him, for forcing her to keep the secret.

Rather than respond, he smeared the first of his markings with the maju paste. Dipping his fingertips into the cylinder, he repeated the process until all of his markings were lit up with fiery opalescence.

Unable to look away, her fingertips ached to touch him, to trace every detail of his markings, to rub the paste all over his body and watch his eyes go dark with desire for her. She wanted it so badly she shoved her hands under her bottom and closed her eyes to keep herself from reaching out. She was no masochist and watching him was pure torture.

“You are doing more than trying,shenga. You are being difficult when there is absolutely no need. You do not recognize this as a true claiming? You prefer a fake fiancé, as you humans call it? Have it your way. But real or fake, your refusal to do something critical to the success of this mission is not only childish, it is dangerous and puts all our lives at risk.”

Heart thundering in her chest, Ashlyn turned her head away. She couldn't bear to look at Zade another second as he stood proudly before her, his markings lit with an inner fire, declaring him a claimed man, off the market. He was breathtakingly gorgeous, and she wanted to touch, to explore and trace every whorl and swirl. He was a walking fantasy come true. Muscles on top of muscles. Confident. Powerful. A perfect specimen, and he thought she was difficult and childish.

He was justified, of course, to think that of her, unaware of what the paste could do to humans. Why Dagan hadn’t told him, she didn’t know. Weren’t all the candidates hand selected? The best of the best? Surely that meant they could be trusted with the secret. She’d have to get her sister alone later and ask. Maybe Cam knew. Maybe Dagan and Sasha didn’t trust him as much as she’d first thought.

Maybe it's better this way. A clean break. What am I saying? There's nothing to break. We had sex. Treat him like aone-night stand gone wrong and move on, girl. Nothing to see here.

A tear trickled down her cheek as the door slid closed. Zade was gone.

Like an automaton,she went through the motions of getting ready for her first official dinner as C'bor Ubrion's widow. The benefits of her earlier bath were long gone. Sticky from lovemaking, she had to start all over.

She stood in the shower for long minutes as one teardrop led the way to a deluge. By the time she stepped out of the hot spray, she was numb. Empty.

Towel in place, she opened her makeup and hair case. Her skin didn't react well to foundations and powders, so she didn't usually bother with that, but tonight she was going to be on display. She needed to look elegant. Refined. The star of the show.No, I need to look like a bride. With a slow smile, she got to work.

After placing one final pin in her hair, she ambled to the large walk-in closet. Once inside, six full length mirrors floated down, loosely encircling her. Bordered with soft, adjustable lights, she could easily see herself perfectly from any angle she desired. All she had to do was tell them where to go, or what angle she wanted to see, and they moved accordingly.

She used to love visiting her sister. Earth hadn't traded for most of the tech on the base yet. Ironically, the very first thing the Intergalactic Trade Council offered was planetary security in exchange for the governments of Earth to release all of its suppressed technologies to its people. She was still disgusted by that one, if she was honest. Not with the Council, but withher own people. Then climate control apparatuses and food synthesizers that could instantly make anything you wanted were next on the priority list. High tech fabric wouldn’t even make the top hundred. Not when people still suffered. So, the only time she could use nanotech material was during her brief vacations. When she went back home, sadly, she would have to leave it all behind.

Instead of pre-made clothing on hangers, there were dozens of identical white, folded squares of material. The first time she'd used the nanotech fabric to make something to wear, she nearly panicked as it adjusted to her size and changed to conform to her every instruction. Now, she was unfazed.

Dropping the towel, she reached for the nearest piece of fabric and held it against her abdomen. The material had microscopic activation buttons embedded in each corner. She pressed one between her thumb and forefinger and gave a command. “Lace panties. Bikini. Red.”

She waited as the material did its thing, then turned this way and that to see herself in the mirrors. “Hmm. Change color to blue.” Again, she waited. “No. Try black.” Happy with the result, she gave the next instruction. “It's too scratchy. Make it softer, like silk.”

Satisfied, she gave one final instruction. “Hold.”

She grabbed another piece of fabric and held it up to her chest. “Match bra to panties.”

This time, as the fabric created a rough approximation of a modern bra, one corner flowed down and connected momentarily to her newly designed black bikini panties. The bra turned black with a matching lace design, and just as soft. The fit was perfect and made her smallish breasts look amazing. She sighed happily.Those expensive lingerie stores I spend a fortune on can't hold a candle to this.

Next came the dress. Lifting another square from the pile, she hesitated. “Damn. What kind of dress am I supposed to wear?”

As she stared at herself in the mirror, half naked with a messy, upswept hairdo and flawless bridal makeup, the reality of the situation hit her like a freight train. She had absolutely no idea what to wear or how to act, and she'd just pushed a giant wedge between herself and the only person who could help her. Dagan was taking Sasha off planet for safety, and her sister didn't know much more than she did about the Council.That’s not true. Zade could help. Just because you’re mad at him doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be a great resource. Stop being such a ninny. What other option do you have?

Hands trembling, she draped two pieces of fabric over one shoulder and stared in the mirror for several minutes. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she murmured the only instructions that came to mind. “Make something a queen of planets might wear to a formal Intergalactic Council event, along with appropriate matching footwear.” She paused, thinking hard. “And also, is appropriate for an engagement or formal announcement.”

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