Page 42 of Claimed By the Alien Warlord

He scowls, but there’s a warmth in his eyes. “Is it working?”

I laugh, leaning back on my hands. “Maybe.”

He pours the champagne, the bubbles fizzing as he hands me a glass. I take a sip, the coolness and the sweetness dancing on my tongue. The distant hum of the festival music mixes with the sound of the creek, and I feel… peaceful.

I tilt my glass back, finishing the last of the champagne, when something clinks against my teeth. I freeze, pulling the glass away and peering inside.

“Oh no, I think I have a bug in my glass,” I say, making a face. Without thinking, I flick the object out, watching it disappear into the grass.

Guvan lets out a strangled noise, leaping to his feet. “Reily!”

I blink, startled by his reaction. He’s on his hands and knees, frantically searching the grass. “What are you doing?”

“The bug,” he growls, his voice tight. “It’s not a bug.”

My heart skips a beat. “Wait… what?”

He freezes, his shoulders tense, then slowly turns to look at me. His eyes are wide, a mix of panic and something else—something vulnerable.

“Reily,” he says, his voice rough, “I put a ring in your glass.”

I stare at him, my breath caught in my throat. My hand flies to my mouth, and I let out a strangled sob. “Oh my God, Guvan, I’m so sorry!”

He’s still on his knees, his hands fisted in the grass. “It’s fine,” he mutters, though his tone suggests it’s anything but. “I’ll find it.”

“No, wait,” I say, scrambling to my feet. “Let me help.”

He glares up at me, his red eyes blazing. “Sit down. I’ll handle this.”

But I’m already down on my hands and knees beside him, the moonlight catching the glint of something in the grass. I reach for it, my fingers closing around a small, cool metal band.

“Got it,” I whisper, holding it up.

He stares at me, his expression unreadable, then lets out a long, slow breath. “Give it to me.”

I hesitate, my heart pounding. “Only if you ask nicely.”

His lips twitch like he could laugh. Instead, he sits back on his heels, his gaze never leaving mine. “Reily Dawson,” he says, low and steady, “will you marry me?”

My breath catches, and I feel like the world has stopped. I look down at the ring, then back up at him. “Yes,” I say, my voice trembling. “Yes, you big alien idiot, of course I will.”

He takes the ring from me, his fingers brushing against mine, and slides it onto my finger. It fits perfectly.

“Good,” he says, his voice rough. “Because if you’d said no, I was going to throw you in the creek.”

I laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep inside me. He pulls me into his arms, , we’re just two people under the moonlight, lost in each other.

“Love you, Master,” I murmur against his chest.

He sighs, his breath warm against my hair. “And I you, Little spitfire.”

CHAPTER 19

REILY

The POS rattles and groans as it rolls up the dirt road to Gary’s cabin. The box of my stuff in the passenger seat sways dangerously every time I hit a pothole, which is often. I grip the wheel tighter, muttering under my breath. “Come on, baby. Just one more trip. Don’t die on me now.”

The cabin comes into view, all sleek wood and modern lines, looking like it was plopped down in the middle of the forest by aliens—which, technically, it was. I pull up beside Guvan’s parked limo, cutting the engine. The POS gives a final shudder and goes silent, like it’s exhausted from the effort.

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