Enticed by the Alien Warrior Hope Hart (the giving tree read aloud .TXT) 📖

trusts and why, who he considers family, and the problems keeping him up at night.

It’s just because he’s a king. Sure, Rakiz and Dexar are kings of their tribes, but Arix obviously rules over a much larger territory and many more people. It’s natural for me to want to learn everything I can about a king on an alien planet.

Mm-hmm. It’s his history you have a fascination with. Not his body. Keep telling yourself that.

“This is Rachiv,” he says, nodding toward the guy sitting next to Tridi. “He is also one of my most trusted advisers.”

Rachiv doesn’t look at all impressed with us. In fact, he’s looking at me the way I used to look at the three-day-old sandwich I’d occasionally find in my purse.

I see you, I tell him with my eyes, and he waits until Arix begins introducing us to someone else before he sneers back at me.

Dickhead.

Arix gestures to a couple of servants, who begin pulling out chairs for us to sit in. I blink, hesitating until Sarissa plunks her butt in her seat and raises her eyebrow at me. I kind of assumed we would be sitting at one of the smaller tables surrounding this one, perhaps closer to the edge of the forest or on the other side—near the river. I hadn’t imagined we’d be sitting at the “royal table,” and from the look on Rachiz’s face, he feels the same way.

Korzyn appears, leaning down to murmur in Arix’s ear. Arix shakes his head, gesturing to the empty seat next to Sarissa, and Korzyn’s scowl is so deep I almost laugh.

“So,” Bevix says, once we’re seated and the servants fill our cups. “What is it that you do on your planet? I must admit I’m fascinated at the way you ended up on Agron.”

I smile at him, and he nods at me. He can obviously feel the tension as well as I can, and he’s attempting to make us feel welcome.

Arix’s midnight eyes find mine, and he raises one dark eyebrow. “Yes,” he says. “The human females are indeed intriguing.”

I stare at him, willing myself not to blush. Thankfully, this time, my cheeks don’t heat. Maybe I’m getting better at this.

Bevix glances between me and Sarissa, obviously waiting for an answer.

“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” Sarissa says sweetly, and the entire table freezes.

Good move, Sarissa. I grind my teeth, shooting her a look, and she sends me a wicked grin.

Next to her, Korzyn is practically vibrating with tension.

I clear my throat, channeling my mother with an airy laugh. “That’s an Earth joke,” I explain with a wave of my hand.

“I don’t find it amusing,” Korzyn says.

“You wouldn’t,” Sarissa mutters, and I kick her beneath the table.

She sighs. “I work for our country’s government. I’m one of thousands of people who help protect our country from foreign threats.”

Korzyn is studying her like she’s a bug he’d quite enjoy dissecting.

She sends him a cool look and then smiles at the table at large, and several of Arix’s advisers can’t help but smile back. It’s not often that Sarissa turns on the charm, but when she does, it’s like standing under the heat of the sun. You can’t help but bask in the warmth.

At least that’s how one of her ex-boyfriends described her to me when I ran into him at a bar three months after they broke up.

“It’s pretty boring, really. Vivian has a much more exciting job. Why don’t you tell them about it, V?”

I grind my teeth at that.

“Wow, I’m hungry,” I say. “This is a beautiful setting, by the way. Thanks for inviting us.”

Arix says nothing, his eyes hot on my face.

“And what is your ‘job,’ then?” he murmurs.

“I model.”

“Model.” He tastes the word, saying it in English because there’s obviously no Braxian equivalent.

The entire table seems to be staring at me, even people situated down at the other end, who are craning their heads.

I get it, of course. Korzyn likely has questions about Sarissa’s job that she can’t explain without sounding exactly like what he thinks she is.

A spy.

Unfortunately, that means she has to throw me under the bus.

Thanks, Rissa. Why don’t you back that bus over me while you’re at it?

“On Earth, brands hire me to wear their designs. I’m photographed in their clothes so that others can see those clothes and hopefully decide to buy them.”

It takes an eternity to explain what a photograph is, and a couple of Arix’s advisers seem to think we’re playing with them, while Rachiv murmurs that it sounds like sorcery.

The first course has been taken away by the time they understand how cameras work.

Arix’s eyes are now burning into mine. “And people keep these…pictures of you?”

“Ummm, I don’t know if they keep them,” I hedge, and Sarissa snorts.

“Remember that one stalker you had a few years ago? He sent threatening notes, and all the letters had been cut out of the newspaper.” She laughs. “So old school.” She grins at Arix. “The police eventually got enough for a search warrant, and the psycho had an honest-to-God shrine set up for my baby cousin. He had every photo ever taken of her, I swear.”

That’s it. I kick Sarissa under the table again. “What is your deal?” I hiss at her while Arix scowls at both of us, clearly perturbed by her stalker story.

“Just laying the groundwork, V.”

With that nonanswer, she digs into her stew with relish.

The table turns to small talk, the advisers telling funny stories, all attempting to outdo one another for the king’s amusement. It’s clear they appreciate this time with him, and he listens to them, occasionally commenting or laughing at a joke.

Tiny, sweet pastries have been placed in front of us, and they’re almost demolished when Arix’s dark eyes find mine again.

“Vivian,” he purrs. “Will you take a walk with me?”

I blush as all attention is suddenly on me, fighting the urge to throw the last bite of my pastry at him. His eyes spark as if