Page 2 of Tricked By the Alien Prince

I can only pray that one of these huge alien brutes that are storming our village is her mate, the one she fell madly in love with. She’s getting her fairy-tale ending where the hero swoops in, rescuing her in a dramatic finale.

I’ve got to let her go, let her have her happily ever after.

Even if I don’t get mine.

Still, just because I have to let her go, doesn’t mean I’m going to let the matter go though.

Ariana doesn’t let the world and misfortune beat her down. She’s always stood up for me. It’s time I finally did something in return for her. If there’s anything I can do for my best friend, it’s to clear her name. I need to figure out what’s been going on around here. Then perhaps one day we can meet up again.

I came here for a fresh start, a hope for a new life, and perhaps even a family, and instead I ended up in this situation. The colony council has been lying to us. They’ve used us. They told us no aliens lived on Atraxis, yet the green giants waving swords and spears like Viking warriors begs to differ. Earth brought us here to Atraxis, and for what? Was it truly for the valuable ore or something else? What do they want from us?

I refuse to be used. Not again.

I’m going to get to the bottom of this conspiracy.

I’m going to save Ariana.

I’m going to save everyone.

ChapterTwo

VOLAN

Isaunter down row after row of cages. I can’t help the way that I walk; everything about my upbringing has taught me how to stand, how to appear towards others. Strong, confident, and capable. Even when I’m surrounded by beasts that snarl and swipe out at me with sharp claws, or by the taunts of outsiders.

Except for one.

I tilt my head, studying the young male. He’s waiting quietly at the back of his cage on the metal bench, his dark green skin and dark leather clothing causing him to disappear into the shadows. Too bad for him that I can see quite well in the dark.

My senses flare outwards, searching. All my life I’ve been trained to expect danger at every turn, especially when surrounded by outsiders. This could be a trap to draw me in, or it could be an ambush waiting for me to lower my guard.

Or it could just be a simple male, waiting patiently for his turn in the Pits.

“You are not like the others,” I remark as I step closer to the bars of his cage. Unlike the other warriors and downtrodden males waiting behind bars of their own, he doesn’t roughhouse, call out challenges, or glare at me with poorly concealed hatred. This male truly is different.

“What is your name?” I ask as I lean my light grey arm against the bars. The metal is cool against my flushed and heated skin. The fighting pits are never cool; having so many bodies pressed into the tight confines of one cavern quickly raises the temperature. After years of patrolling these areas, enforcing our own security and quelling any disruptive violence, I’ve become accustomed to the heat.

“Zoran,” the male replies. I don’t miss the slight quiver in his gruff voice. He does his best not to show it, but I know he’s afraid. After all, only a fool wouldn’t fear the Pits. I wonder if this is his first time. It takes considerable bravery to travel this far underground, alone, especially knowing you face certain death. Or maiming.

He must be desperate.

“I am Volan,” I flash the luminae markings on my body twice, introducing myself in the way of my species. The blue glow emerging from my skin brightens up his cell momentarily. I doubt Zoran will recognize the formal greeting; most other species don’t.

“Why are you here to fight, Zoran?” I ask.

The male shifts in his cell, before standing to his full height. He’s taller than me, but only just. I maintain my relaxed composure, not giving any sign that my body becomes tense as he approaches. He’s younger than I expected, barely an adult entered into his prime.

“Come to prove your worth to a female?” I ask.

Zoran shakes his head. “My tribe needs more medicine,” he states.

Ah. The prize that my father offers to the best Pit fighters. Too bad that many of them go through so much medicine just trying to obtain more from their injuries sustained in the fights. Still, a small amount is potent enough to bring a wounded warrior back from the brink of death.

I breathe out heavily as I study him. I wish I could help him, but there’s very little I can do. There’s not enough medicine to go around to all the tribes, and my father keeps a tight control on who receives it.

The male tilts his head, considering me. The action causes some of his dark black hair to fall to the side, revealing a partially shaved scalp covered with intricate, swirling tattoos.

Unlike the markings that cover my body, which glow a soft blue most of the time, his are dark and faded. If he were a Sulthari like me, I would consider him sick and potentially contagious.

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