Alien Bride, page 3
part #2 of The Alien Series
“Is this alcohol? Is there alcohol in this?” I question, deeply annoyed. I’m on a freaking alien spaceship, I’m really not trying to be tipsy right now. No, now is the time for a level head. “Look Ara, I just want food and a bed. Can we please just do that?”
“You don’t wish to have a retreat?” she asks dumbfounded.
“No, I don’t wish for a retreat. I want a solid meal and uninterrupted sleep. Thank you for going through all the trouble, and I hope I’m not offending you or anything.” I try to muster up something more than a strained smile, but that’s all I’ve got for this woman right now.
Ara hesitates and then finally speaks, “Follow me.”
I let out a sigh of relief. I’m so glad I finally got through to her, I think to myself as I follow Ara through the ship. We eventually get to some clouded glass doors. When we walk inside I see that Ara has in fact not taken me to grant my request but has instead brought me to the doctor. Wonderful.
She pulls the doctor aside and whispers furtively while cutting her eyes at me suspiciously every so often. Great. Fucking great. I was worried about offending them, but instead they think I’m a freak or crazy. Finally, the doctor approaches.
“Hello, Alessandra,” the doctor says slowly. “Ara tells me you do not wish to enjoy a retreat?” Oh my god, here we go.
Chapter 5
Alessandra
“It seems Alessandra is not interested in a retreat… and she did not find her Vhett or Pana appetizing,” Ara whispers, shooting worried glances from me to the doctor.
“Look, it was all lovely, it really was, and I appreciate it. But I’m just tired and hungry and I’d like to go to bed,” I tell them earnestly.
“You feel tired? Then wouldn’t a retreat be wonderful to refresh you?” the doctor says enthusiastically.
“I think good old-fashioned sleep is the prescription I need right now, Doc.” I force a smile. Let’s just wrap this up, guys.
“And you report feeling hungry, but you did not enjoy your Vhett or Pana?” Skepticism etches her face.
“I’m sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve eaten. I’d just like something hearty… maybe some soup or something,” I say, working to keep my voice polite.
The doctor and Ara look at each other as if they are in the room with a certifiable nut. They struggle to keep their faces pleasant as they whisper amongst themselves.
“Allow me to call in a few of my colleagues, they might be able to help address this situation,” the doctor announces to me.
“It really doesn’t have to be a situation. If you don’t have soup or maybe even a sandwich I can just go straight to bed. I don’t want to put anyone out. But again, I do really want some rest and solitude.”
“These are things you could enjoy on your retreat,” the doctor argues.
“Not my kind of rest. Thank you for the offer, but I’d like to call it a night,” I say, more firmly this time.
“And what is your species called?” the doctor asks, typing madly on a tablet.
“I’m human,” I tell her.
“Yes, yes, and what planet are you from?’
“Earth.”
“Yes… well… let’s just go ahead and call in the other doctors.”
“More doctors? I swear I’m fine and I’ll be even better after some sleep. If someone can just point me toward the room I’ll be staying in.”
The door whishes open and three more doctors enter. Doctor Number One starts explaining the conundrum while Ara periodically chimes in to rat me out. I struggle to keep my composure.
Hours pass before I’m finally able to convince Ara, the doctor, and about half a dozen other aliens who can’t fathom the idea of anyone not wanting a retreat, that I really just want to relax, take a nap, and eat a hearty meal. I’m going nuts at this point because I’m tired, overwhelmed, and haven’t eaten since yesterday. Finally, they literally give me the alien version of a psych evaluation before they agree to let me go.
Ara then leads me silently through the halls. She must be convinced I’m a freak at this point and makes no attempt to speak with me anymore. Which is fine by me, because even after weeks of not being able to talk with anyone, the conversations I’ve had so far on this ship are enough to make me want to pull my hair out.
At long last, we arrive at our destination. Large doors glide open, and Ara ushers me into the most opulent room I’ve ever been in. There are art pieces and decorative swords on display. Obviously expensive furniture adorns a living room, and bookshelves line the walls. Two large and ornate musical instruments pique my attention for a moment before I notice that along the far wall is a table stacked high with platters of food—real food, not this Pana and Vhett crap. My teeth clench together.
“This is where I’ll be staying?” I grit out.
“Yes,” Ara answers.
“And there’s all this food here?”
“That’s right,” she says, shifting on her feet.
“Well then, Ara.” My teeth grind together in an effort to remain composed. “Why didn’t you just bring me here when I said I was hungry?” My voice rises a bit, despite my effort to keep calm.
“The Vhett and Pana…” she begins uneasily, and my anger flares. Luckily for her, however, we are no longer alone. A man suddenly steps in from an adjoining room.
“Ah, finally. There you are. I waited so long I had to eat without you. For future reference, I dislike tardiness nearly as much as I dislike dining alone.” He clicks his tongue at me. I immediately recognize him as the alien the Makaan gave us all to as a gift.
“Alessandra Kennedy, Human of Earth, may I present you to Ambassador Kye Amara, Irdesca of Isleria. May your union be lasting,” Ara mumbles, still taken aback by our discussion. But I’m too busy staring at the food to pay these aliens any mind.
“Ara, please send someone to clear this meal,” Kye says.
“Oh no! No, no, no,” I protest, cutting over to the table. The lone plate on the table is small, so I shove it aside. Grabbing a serving platter, I start to load it with a little bit of everything… or maybe a lot of everything. I smell things and bite into them, testing out how edible it is and praying it doesn’t taste anything like the Vhett and Pana. I can feel the two aliens staring at me, but there’s meat and rolls and fruit and vegetables here—so they can just stare all they like.
“Was she not fed?” I hear Kye ask.
“She was offered Vhett and Pana during her retreat…” Ara begins. She pauses to lower her voice. “But she declined her retreat.”
“Declined her retreat?” he asks.
“Declined her retreat,” she repeats meaningfully.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ara! Give it a rest with that goddamned retreat,” I shout, with my mouth stuffed full of food. Ara, who began our encounter a peaceful yoga master, has now devolved into a skittish fool, wringing her hands nervously. She inches backwards toward the door.
“I’ll leave you to become acquainted. Please let me know if there is anything you need,” she says quietly. I look up in time to see that she is directing this statement toward the guy, Kye… I think his name was. Her tone and expression imply she is warning him about me. I roll my eyes. Whatever.
When she departs, Kye makes his way to the table. He dips into the chair at the head, lounging with one leg over the armrest. After a long time, I look up from my food to see him watching me, clearly amused.
“Sorry. I don’t normally have such poor table manners,” I tell him, ripping off a huge chunk of roll. He just raises his eyebrows, teasing disbelief on his face. “Now that I’ve had some real food in me, and believe me, it’s been weeks, I’d like to say thank you. I know I got a little crazy with Ara back there. Apparently not wanting to have a spa day is sacrilegious or something with you people, but I definitely don’t want to present myself as culturally inept or give the impression that I’m not appreciative of your efforts to care for us and return us to our homes.”
I finish talking and he just continues to stare at me, amused. It starts to make me self-conscious, so I grab a napkin and wipe my hands and mouth. “Did Ara say your name was Kye?” I ask.
“Mmm. Kye Amara,” he answers.
“Kye Amara,” I repeat, trying to commit it to memory.
“You may simply call me Kye, of course,” he tells me.
“Thanks, I’m Alessandra Kennedy. Some people call me Ali… but I hate that. I like to go by Alessandra.” I reach over to shake his hand. He pauses for a moment but slowly mimics the gesture. Our hands touch, and something about it gives me a little flurry of butterflies in my stomach—though I can’t fathom why.
“I will keep that in mind.”
“I really do think it is very gracious of you and your people to take the other prisoners and me in,” I tell him.
“It was an ignorant thing the Makaan did, purchasing you and the others,” he says, frowning. “I don’t believe they meant any harm; they were attempting to impress me with a traditional gift of their people.”
“Yeah… somehow, I’m not so concerned with the motives,” I tell him, slightly annoyed by his effort to pass along the Makaan’s reasoning. They are kidnappers and tried to make slaves out of us, for god’s sake. He shrugs, and his lazy smile doesn’t falter.
“Anyway, it was explained that we were going to be taken in by families until we reach your planet. Do you have a wife here? Kids?” I ask, changing the subject to something less likely to make me appear cross and ungrateful. I scan the room for kids’ toys or a woman’s discarded purse or coat or something. He chuckles.
“No children,” he laughs and takes a sip from a glass filled with an amber-colored liquid. “And for the foreseeable future, you, Alessandra Kennedy, are my wife.”
I nearly do a spit take but instead cough in a wildly inelegant manner.
“I’m sorry, what?” I choke out when I compose myself enough so that I can speak. “I think I may have misunderstood. I thought for a moment there you said I was your wife,” I laugh, too loudly and too awkwardly for the situation. It sounds hysterical, even to my ears.
He stares at me just long enough to make me blush with embarrassment before he speaks, “Indeed. You are my wife.” He rises from his chair in a smooth and graceful motion, then saunters over to a wall. He uses a remote-type device to change some settings, and suddenly the wall turns into a fiber optics-like display, reminding me of a fireplace on Earth.
“I… um… I don’t think I understand,” I tell him. He looks at me with assessing eyes, and I am suddenly all too aware that I have been left alone in a room with a goliath of a man who is calling me his wife. Maybe I’m not out of danger. I tug my silky robe tighter around my body.
“I was told that the situation was explained when you and the other females first boarded,” he says, with eyes that still seem to be boring through me.
“I was told we were going to be paired up with a family to help us, I don’t know, acclimate or something, until we reach your planet,” I explain.
“Then what is it you are having difficulty comprehending?”
“Um, the fact that you, a stranger to me, are calling us husband and wife… as in ’til death do us part. I thought I was going to be paired with a family like a foreign exchange student, not a mail-order bride!”
“You are an adult female, correct?” he asks methodically.
“Yes, obviously!”
“And you expected to be paired with a family as if you were their child?” He cocks his eyebrow in condescending disbelief.
“Well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting anything. I wasn’t expecting to be abducted by aliens and sold as a slave. I wasn’t expecting to be given away as if my life didn’t matter, and I sure as shit wasn’t expecting to be forced into marriage by the people who claim to be ‘rescuing’ us!” I shout. I suddenly realize I am standing up in front of the table and have tipped the chair over in my outburst.
“I see. Have you been to see the doctor yet?” he asks dismissively.
“Oh my god, yes. If I never see that doctor again it will be too soon.”
“Um hmm, and did she ask you any questions? Regarding emotional disturbances perhaps?”
“Are you asking if she assessed my mental stability? Or more importantly, are you questioning my mental stability?” I ask, incredulous.
“You seem to be somewhat irate, and you say your expectation was to be cared for as a child…” His tone is almost mocking at this point, and I can hear laughter at the edges of his words.
“Wow. You, sir, are a real blue-ribbon asshole. You’re going to make one hell of a husband someday, but today is not that day. I will not be marrying you,” I say coldly.
“We are already married, but if you wish to cease our union we can do so in a few short days. I have to say this comes as a shock to me. I have never had any of my wives request to cease our union before. Did you say the doctor did or did not perform a mental wellness assessment?” he asks, but he is laughing now—like he’s messing with me.
“How many wives have you had?” I exclaim, while quietly wondering if they are buried beneath the floorboards and I’ve entered some weird outer space version of a horror story.
“Oh, perhaps a dozen or so.” He shrugs noncommittally.
“And where are they now?” I ask horrified.
“I do not keep track of past wives. If I cared to know their whereabouts I would not have dissolved the union in the first place.” He waves his hand at the idea as if shooing away a fly.
“I see, so you’ve been divorced a dozen times. Well, you sound like a real gem of a husband. How did I get so lucky as to end up with the guy with 12 failed marriages under his belt?”
“I do not believe any relationship is a failure, even the ones that come to an end. Each encounter imparts new wisdom.”
“Lovely. How philosophical of you,” I tell him, rolling my eyes.
“I will say, Alessandra,” he says, walking towards me with the fearsome grace of a predator, “I do not think you will find a better husband on this ship than I. In all my marriages I have never had a wife who wanted to dissolve our union. They were all quite pleased by me.”
“Philosophical and cocky.”
“I know my strengths and my worth. There is nothing cocky about that. Why feign humility? Speaking plainly saves time.”
“Well, in any case, I don’t want a husband. Not you or anyone else on this ship.”
“Do you prefer the company of females?”
“Are you asking if I’m a lesbian? No, I like men, thank you very much. Not that it’s any of your business. My issue is that I was raised to believe marriage is something sacred. It’s supposed to be between two people who love one another and who choose to be together.”
“How can you speak of love when we have just met? It is impossible to love anyone without getting to know them first,” he says, with confusion on his brow.
“That’s my line. You aren’t supposed to marry someone before you fall in love, and you can’t fall in love without getting to know them first.”
“But how can you get to know someone if you are not married?”
“That’s the craziest question I’ve ever heard. I don’t even know where to start.”
“If we were on your planet, how would this be done then?”
“We would date. Well, not we as in us, but two people who are attracted to one another. They would start dating.”
“What is ‘dating’?”
“It’s a phase of an intimate relationship where two people begin to spend time together, learn about each other and take progressive steps towards being exclusive…”
“Your people enter non-exclusive relationships?” There is a look of disgust on Kye’s face now.
“Yes, but only during the dating stage, and that’s only until the two decide they would like to be exclusive. After that, it’s just the two of them. That is, unless someone cheats, I guess.”
“Cheats?”
“Yeah, like sneaks around and dates other people without their partner knowing.”
“That is unacceptable. Alessandra, you may dissolve this union if you wish, but I will not have you searching for your next husband while our union is still intact.”
“Believe me you have nothing to worry about. First of all, I have zero interest in dating right now and even less interest in finding a husband. Secondly, I’m no cheater.”
“So, you believe in exclusive relationships?”
‘“Yes, of course.”
“Yet you wish to exit this union?” he asks.
