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Coco chuckles with delight. “Twenty million going once. Twenty million going twice.” She hits a buzzer and shouts out, “Posey Bamburgh issoldand we are having another wedding tonight.”
I blink. He wants to marry me too? Well at least I got what I truly wanted—a short-term commitment to a quiet, contemplative, and easily influenced billionaire. He’ll need patience to put up with someone like me. I have no plans of ever falling in love. Safety and security, with an assumed name, is what I require.
My goals are simple: Wreak retribution upon my enemies. Care for my darling, ailing cat, Demon Spawn.
The lights go up and a roar echoes in the audience. Finally, the mysterious bidder who bought me this evening is revealed. A heavily armed, tattooed male pounds his fists against his hairy chest and strides straight for me, a look of extreme cunning flashing in his other-worldly red eyes. What the heck? My jaw drops when I see this “man” who wants marriage on the spot. He’s…he’s an alien warrior with tusks?
I cannot believe my bad luck. I knew there was a chance a shifter could get the winning bid, but an alien? I think it’s only happened once before. It’s not like there’s a lot of males from other planets living on Earth. We’re considered primitive and far off the shipping lanes.
And then he leaps onto the stage with little effort, and I can see him more clearly in the light. He’s not even wearing a shirt, so I can see all the detailed alien tattoos on his gray skin. He steps closer and my eyes trail down that hard chest to the muscled abs and veiny forearms. Black claws tip his fingers and his head is close-shaven, which makes him even more deadly. Two tusks lengthen down on either side of his mouth, past his chin and his eyes blaze a stunning red.
“Posey,” he says with a deep voice that instantly makes my panties wet.
Oh hell. This is not what I expected at all.
How am I going to reign over a man like this?
2
Waylen
Forty-five minutes earlier…
I slump in my chair, bored, thinking this auction is yet another dead end.
The other human males chat with each other, or with their assistants and auction house personnel, shaking hands and slapping backs. Two lion shifters stand nearby, comparing the size of their fangs. I sit in the dark, alone, tapping my claws on the side table, waiting for the parade of human females to begin. I am not here to make friends with any of these humans, or even the shifters. They are all competitors for my eventual mate and therefore natural enemies.
I cannot believe my life has sunk so low I’m forced to find a mate not of my own species, on a distant planet so far off the shipping lanes. It’s the worst nightmare of a Voltare, and I’m living through that experience.
My hips shift restlessly in my seat and I rub a claw over my close-shaved skull. My body is hot with need, causing restless legs and a lack of sleep, which increases my general irritation. I’m a Voltare warrior in the middle of my heat and not to be trifled with.
I look around the large, luxurious temporary structure that has been erected for tonight’s show. This is how humans find their mates? It’s a silly, transactional mating ritual, ridiculous and inefficient. But I was framed and convicted for a murder that I did not commit and now I’ve been banished from my home planet at the exact moment I require a mate.
Therefore, I need to find my mate amongst these humans.
My cousin, Taygar Tusk, was in a similar situation while he was in heat. He was the first Voltare to discover that humans were compatible with our species. Now he and my uncle both have human mates, so at least I know Voltare are mating compatible with humans. Taygar has half human, half Voltare offspring and they appear healthy and happy. This is acceptable. I have no desire to live permanently on this primitive planet, but when you’re desperate this is what you do.
At least Taygar appears content in his new life. He works with the humans as some sort of ambassador. When offered full restoration on Voltare, he chose to remain on Earth full-time with his mate and offspring. But I am unlike my cousin. I suspect it was easier for him to find his mate amongst the humans because he is a soldier and a diplomat—an urban Tusk, noble and honorable. But I’m of the primitive Tusk order, raised separate from Taygar on the fire islands. A warrior through and through—a rule breaker with a natural streak of obstinance.
How I will meet a human female who is a match for my combative instinct is a mystery yet to be solved.
My cousin purchased a human domicile extremely close to urban living, but I live in the wildlands on Voltare, and I want to create a similar living situation on this planet. And I don’t want millions of other humans close by. To take part in these auctions I had to purchase real estate and open a currency account on Earth to establish residency. The exchange rate here is favorable, so on Earth I’m suddenly a billionaire. This enabled me to purchase a large parcel of land along with a deluxe domicile. If I must suffer this planet, at least I will do so in comfort. If I find my female tonight, I will take her there so she can make her ultimate choice. I assume she will find it acceptable.
I need a strong female with a streak of arrogance. Someone who will not fear a warrior and can withstand my powerful lusts and my cunning nature. The humans at the other auctions were soft and weak and smiled too often, obviously kind and biddable. None of them caught my attention or lit up my pheromones. I’ve returned to auction after auction, in a variety of locations on the planet, hoping to find my mate and avoid eventual madness.
Where is the one female who can end my misery?
So far, I’ve returned empty-clawed.
Finally, tonight’s show starts.
I lean back in my seat and cross my arms over my bare chest and watch the females who appear onstage, offering themselves for mating. Each one is brought forth and bids are called. None of these females interest me and I’ve seen almost all of them. I’m going to have to go to yet another of these damn mating rituals next week, in a different location. I let out a snort of disgust at my circumstances. I’m beginning to despair of ever finding a mate on this planet. Could it be that only Taygar and my uncle were lucky enough to find their mates here? Maybe it isn’t something easily recreated for all Voltare.
And then she steps out last because she was the best of them all.
I sit up straight and watch intently, my chest rising and falling.
Her name is Posey Bamburgh and there’s something enchanting about this exotic human who confidently struts across the stage. She’s dressed entirely different than any of the other females. I enjoy the dark colors she wears and her lithe, strong form. She’s in fact wearing more clothing than the others but it creates a bold mystique. That arrogant lift of her chin and the odd dance that she performs with her forearms lifted and her hands cupped into claws is delightful. I am entranced. It reminds me of Tusk tribal dances.
