Page 43 of Tricked By the Alien Prince

I never get to tell her that I’m not who she thinks I am.

Behind us, the door to the lab smashes open, pushed violently open, slamming against the wall with a thud that echoes through the room and down the tunnels.

Immediately, I’m standing in front of Maya, weapons drawn. My trusty daggers held in my palm, the leather-wrapped hilts are a familiar and welcome presence beneath my grip.

I knew we’d have company, but not like this. Not right now. This is an intruder. A threat. Absolutely nothing I have strived for in my life will be worth it if I don’t have Maya by my side, safe and protected. I firm my jaw. I refuse to lose her. Nothing, and I swear nothing, will hurt Maya ever again. I will protect her with my life. On this, I vow.

ChapterTwenty-Five

MAYA

“Maya…”

I hold my breath as Volan leans closer to me. His pale blue eyes search mine, flickering between them as if he’s gathering courage. For once, my fierce warrior looks uncertain, vulnerable even. Honestly, I get it. This moment feels huge between us. My heart pounds so hard I swear he must hear it. I grip my skirt to hide my shaking fingers.

“Yes?” I manage to whisper, my voice barely audible.

Is he going to ask me to be his mate? I’ve spent my whole life keeping people at arm’s length, never allowing myself to be vulnerable after being betrayed by my father. But with Volan... I want to trust him. I do trust him.

“Maya, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” Volan says, his voice deep and husky. He pauses, drawing in a steadying breath. “I want to be completely honest with you. After spending the last few days with you, I’ve realized you mean a lot to me and...”

My breath catches. This is it. After everything we’ve been through together—the scampers, the hot springs, the shared intimacies both physical and emotional—he’s finally going to ask me. A part of me can’t believe I’m here, in this moment, actually wanting an alien to claim me. He’s given me hope, a reason to believe in the future. I can actually see myself happy, rather than this desperate and scared person I’ve become.

All because of him. Volan isn’t just any male. He’s proven himself over and over again.

“Maya, I’m not?—“

The heavy door to the room suddenly swings open, slamming against the wall with a loud bang. Within moments, Volan’s standing in front of me, knife in hand, his body a shield between me and whoever just interrupted us.

I scramble to my feet, though far less gracefully than Volan. His massive cloak that I’d been using as a blanket tangles around my legs, and I nearly trip.

Peering around Volan’s broad back, I spot two aliens in the doorway. More aliens. Because apparently Atraxis is crawling with them despite what Earth told us. One is covered in blue iridescent scales that catch the light, while the other is a massive green giant that reminds me of the harkcana that attacked the colony.

Neither looks all that impressed to see us.

“You!” Volan exclaims, pointing his dagger at them. He shifts his stance wider, clearly trying to hide me from view.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Endearing as his protectiveness is, I’m not some delicate flower who needs constant shielding. Haven’t I proven I can hold my own by now?

“Ohhh, I remember you!” The green alien replies, sounding delighted. He nudges his companion excitedly oblivious to how close he comes to impaling himself on the blue male’s spikes. “Hey, Melvall, this is Vulgar, the one I told you about.”

Vulgar? I bite my lip to keep from laughing. The expression on Volan’s face is priceless.

“Volan,” he corrects, his lip curling with distaste.

“Are you sure?” The green alien asks, looking genuinely confused.

“What?” Volan sounds completely baffled. “Am I sure? About what? My own name?! Of course, I’m bloody well sure!”

“Zoran, I’m pretty sure he’s not called Vulgar,” the blue alien—Melvall—says with a shake of his head.

“I mean, maybe his parental unit disliked him. I could see it happening!” Zoran defends, his green cheeks darkening. “Are you certain your name isn’t Vulgar?”

“My name is Volan. Volan,” my sulthari repeats slowly, as if talking to a child.

I watch this exchange with growing disbelief. Are they seriously arguing about Volan’s name? We’re in a secret underground lab, just discovered by two strangers, and they’re debating whether his parents were in their right minds when they named him. Worse, Zoran doesn’t seem to be taunting Volan; he genuinely seems quite confused. There’s no point arguing; it’s like playing a game of chess with a bird - it’s just going to walk around knocking everything over, shitting on every argument Volan makes. From now on, we shall call him Vulgar, whether he likes it or not.

“What are you doing here?” Volan demands, finally getting to the point.

---