Enemy of the Alien Bride Lottery Margo Collins (english love story books txt) 📖

magic on my hair, turning my straight, wash-and-wear style into gentle waves, like some ancient Earth pinup girl from the 1940s.

I had only one complaint. “I can’t walk in these heels.” I wobbled a few steps and turned a beseeching stare toward Drindl. “Can you find something more practical? I don’t want to trip and land flat on my face.”

She and the Poltien exchanged a glance. “We’ll see what we can find,” she promised.

As the two of them left, I stared at myself in the mirror for another few seconds.

“This is how they do it,” I murmured to myself. “They make you feel like a princess being swept off your feet by a handsome prince.”

That realization quashed some of my wonder, and I tried to shake off the rest of it, waving my hands in the air by my sides. “Don’t get fooled into thinking this is real,” I admonished myself.

From a small table beside the single bed—the room wasn’t much different from my space in the halfway house, except for being draped in dozens of different kinds of lace everywhere I looked—my wristcom crackled to life.

That’s weird.

Plofnid and Drindl had assured me my fancy new com wouldn’t work on Station 21—something about being on different wavelengths from the ones on Earth.

But when I picked up the com, it flashed a notification that I had a message. Confidential, it read. Play when alone.

Tapping in my code, I let it run. Roya’s voice emerged from the speaker—but without the customary accompanying vid. “Hi, Dee. We’ve been hoping we could get someone up onto Station 21. I need you to get into the station systems. Find a computer terminal—not the ones the humans are allowed to use, but the ones the Khanavai have access to. The first attached file contains codes that will allow you to log in. Once you’re in, all you have to do is upload the second file and walk away. It will send us all the information we need.” Her voice turned intense, earnest and pleading. “I know you don’t want to get in trouble, but please do this for us. Every woman on Earth deserves the chance to choose her own partner without Khanavai interference. Please. You’re our best hope.”

The message ended, and links to two different files popped up.

I clicked to close the message and swallowed down the fear that had been rising the whole time it played.

Roya was right—I didn’t want to get in trouble again. I definitely did not want to go back to prison.

But more than that, I didn’t want anyone else to ever be forced to participate in some weird marriage market—not if they didn’t want to.

Without thinking about it too much, I kicked off the heels I’d been wearing and slid my feet into my own sneakers.

Then, before Plofnid and Drindl could return and stop me, I opened the door and walked out, hoping I could find my way back through the station.

I had a mission to complete.

I just prayed I could do it before the Khanavai authorities caught up with me.

Chapter Twelve

Wex

Backstage in the auditorium, I scanned the growing crowd of human women, hoping to catch a glimpse of Deandra.

Everywhere I looked, there were human females in dresses of every color, bright enough to rival any Khanavai gathering. They milled around, their bright voices filling the air.

I couldn’t find Deandra anywhere. Of course, she was awfully tiny. I raised up on my toes, even though I was already taller than all the females in the room.

Drindl had told me she and Plofnid planned to dress Deandra in green—after I had decided to let them know about my plan to make Deandra my own. They were thrilled, delighted to participate in yet another successful bride-match.

But there were no human females in green dresses.

Tapping a code into my wristcom to override our computers’ instructions to keep private details off the communications system, I retreated to the edge of the crowd in the back of the room and entered a query.

Locate Deandra Casto.

I waited impatiently, tapping my foot as the com screen showed a flickering line, indicative of its search.

A micro-moment later, the computer returned the results.

Deandra Casto not found aboard Station 21.

What? That could not be correct.

I pinged Drindl on my wristcom. “Do you have Deandra ready yet?”

I left the com open for vid, and the Blordl female’s worried face popped up to float above my arm, her expression worried. “We left to find different shoes for her, and when we returned, she was gone.”

“Gone?” I repeated.

Plofnid popped into the frame, standing on something so it appeared of an equal height with Drindl. “She left the heels she objected to behind and wore her own shoes. Running shoes,” it emphasized with a grimace. “With a ball gown.”

The Poltien was clearly incensed, but Deandra’s footwear was the least of my concerns.

Surely she wouldn’t try to hide on the station. Amelia’s flight had proven that even Earth wasn’t big enough for a runaway bride. Trying to flee on Station 21? That was pure insanity.

“I’ll see if I can track her down,” I said, then tapped the com off before either of Deandra’s flustered handlers had a chance to answer.

I chewed on my bottom lip for a moment, trying to figure out where Deandra might have gone. Station 21 might be much smaller than the planet Earth, but objectively, it was a large military installation—the military part meant that there were few places she would be allowed to enter, however.

If she had any sense, she would try to hide in one of the few areas without heavy vid coverage. The easiest of those to get to was the central garden, and the closest entrance to that was across from the food court in the center of the station.

The food court wasn’t far from the Bride Games area, so I headed there first. As I moved through the Bride Games corridors toward the areas less frequented by humans, the station’s décor changed, moving from the