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GWEN
Switching the gladiator boots out for my heels was absolutely ridiculous. I’d known that even as I was pulling off the lighter-than-air boots and sliding my feet into my Louboutins.
But I’d been about to be thrust into an arena, paired with an alien I’d never seen before, and sent to my death. The red-soled pumps might not be practical, but they were mine. I bought my first pair after my very first promotion and they’d become part of my power uniform. In a sharp suit and my red bottoms, I could not lose in any negotiation.
I always won when I wore those shoes.
I need a little bit of that luck right about now, I’d thought.
Besides, I planned to shove the boots into my samples case and take them with me. The heels were only for what everyone around me was calling the “bonding ceremony.”
I hadn’t expected to have them ripped out of my hands by the rhino-faced guard pushing me down the hallway. He held up the boots and peered at them through his dark, beady eyes. “Excellent. I’ll be taking these home to my mate.”
I hadn’t been tall enough to grab them back from him.
Not even when I jumped.
So now here I stood on the edge of a cliff overlooking a deep, dark canyon below me and feeling deeply embarrassed about my decision to ditch the boots that might have given me a better chance of survival.
We were so high up that mist obscured my view halfway down into the chasm, swirling and roiling, occasionally clearing enough so I could catch a glimpse of the plant life below—which, oddly enough, also seemed to be moving.
I glanced down at my high-heeled Christian Louboutin pumps.
No way in hell I’m going to make it down there in these.
“No, you’re not, tiny human,” the alien said from behind me.
I spent my entire professional life dealing with overbearing men who thought they were smarter than me, better than I was at the same job that we both did. I wasn’t about to let this one get the better of me—even if he was not exactly a man. Not a human one, anyway.
“Do you have anything in that case of yours that might help?” He gestured at my pharmaceuticals samples case.
Unfortunately, mostly what I had in there were weight-loss medications. I doubted either of us would be needing those. I suspected we would be lucky to get enough food to survive, much less eat so much that we’d need diet pills.
However, I also kept a selection of other types of medications, as well, just in case the doctors I visited wanted them.
“Nothing that will help deal with my shoe issue,” I finally said aloud. “But I do have some other things—painkillers, antibiotics, probiotics, even a few opioids and some massive anti-inflammatories.”
The alien frowned at me, clearly sorting through my words—and probably my thoughts, as well.
“I do not need to lose weight,” he finally said, glancing down at his ripped abs and trying to pinch any fat on his side.
No, no he didn’t. He might be an overbearing son of a bitch, but he was definitely fit.
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “You like my form, do you?”
“I didn’t say that. And stay out of my thoughts.” Irritated, I turned back to the issue at hand—how to deal with the problem presented by my shoes.
“What do you have in your supply pack?” I demanded.
Not weight-loss medication, that’s for sure.
I rolled my eyes at his thoughts. “We can ditch the weight loss pills.” I managed to keep my tone steady, but Kaio clearly read my emotional response.
“There’s no need to start eliminating supplies quite yet.”
Holy hell, the man was patronizing.
Maybe I could feed him an overdose of the diet pills. Some studies had suggested that even a slight overdose could cause gastrointestinal distress.
