Page 26 of Alien Boss. Human Pet

He shoots me a look, but there’s no real heat in it. “Watch it, or I’ll tell Raekon you’re already giving me lip on your wedding day.”

“He’d probably just say it’s about time I started standing up for myself,” I reply, grinning.

Pyke chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re probably right. That man’s got it bad for you.”

I lean back against the plush seat, my fingers tracing the intricate lace of my dress. The limo slows as we approach the venue, and I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. Today’s the day. Today, I become Willow Keong. And I couldn’t be happier.

The limo pulls up to Penthouse 45, and I’m immediately hit with the surreal realization that this is it. My wedding day. Pyke steps out first, his massive frame towering over the doorman, who barely manages to keep his composure. He offers me his hand, and I take it, the coolness of his scales grounding me as I step onto the curb.

“Ready?” Pyke asks, his voice low and steady.

“As I’ll ever be,” I reply, smoothing my dress with my free hand.

Inside, the wedding planner, a man named Julian, descends on us like a tornado in a sequined blazer. “There you are!” he exclaims, flapping his hands like a distressed bird. “We’re already behind schedule. Come, come, we need to get started on the photos.”

I shoot Pyke a look, but he just shrugs, his lips twitching in amusement. “You’re the star of the show, Willow. Better get used to it.”

Julian herds me toward the photographer, a wiry man with a camera slung around his neck and a perpetually harried expression. “Stand here,” Julian instructs, positioning me in front of a floor-to-ceiling window with the Manhattan skyline as the backdrop. “Chin up, shoulders back, and smile like you’re about to marry the man of your dreams.”

I oblige, but after the first dozen shots, my patience starts to wear thin. The photographer keeps adjusting the lighting,the angle, the position of my hands. I’m starting to feel like a mannequin.

“Okay, one more,” the photographer says, crouching down for a low-angle shot.

I stick my tongue out.

He lowers the camera, blinking at me. “Uh… could you not do that?”

“Do what?” I ask innocently, giving him the middle finger this time.

Julian gasps, clutching his chest like I’ve just committed a cardinal sin. “Willow, darling, this is yourwedding. These photos will be cherished for generations!”

“Then they’ll be cherished with my personality intact,” I shoot back, grinning.

Pyke chuckles from the sidelines, his deep laugh rumbling through the room. “She’s got a point, Julian. Let her have some fun.”

Julian throws up his hands. “Fine, fine. But one more shot, please. With Captain Pyke. The father of the bride.”

I glance at Pyke, who’s already striding over. The photographer frowns, looking between us. “Uh, the height difference is… a bit extreme.”

Before I can respond, Pyke scoops me up like I weigh nothing, cradling me in one arm like a child. I burst out laughing, and Pyke joins in, his deep chuckle vibrating through me. The photographer snaps a few shots, capturing the moment perfectly.

“There,” Julian says, clapping his hands. “Now, it’s time to get ready for the march. Willow, follow me.”

I glance out at the gathered guests as Julian leads me away. Most of them are Vakutan, their human disguises flawless but their sheer size giving them away. A handful of Keong Industries employees are scattered among them, looking slightly out ofplace but no less excited. I make a mental note to introduce myself properly after the ceremony.

As the music begins to play, Julian fusses with my veil, his hands trembling slightly. “You’re going to be stunning,” he says, his voice softer now. “Raekon’s a lucky man.”

I smile, my heart swelling with anticipation. “I’m the lucky one.”

Julian steps back, giving me one last appraising look. “Ready?”

I nod. “Let’s do this.”

The music swells, and I’m ready, my arm looped through Pyke’s. The aisle stretches before me, lined with towering Vakutan guests, their human disguises flickering slightly under the weight of their excitement. They’re loud—cheering, clapping, and shouting in a mix of Vakutan and English. One of them, a burly guy with a voice like a foghorn, bellows, “Raekon, you’re the luckiest Vakutan in the galaxy!”

I blush furiously, my cheeks burning as Pyke chuckles beside me. “They’re not wrong,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” I whisper back, grinning despite myself. My heart is pounding so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t echo through the room.

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