Enticed by the Alien Warrior (Warriors of Agron #8) - Hope Hart Page 0,2

someone else’s room?”

The guard tilts his head. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“The clothes…”

“They’re for you.”

I feel a little like Alice, and I’ve just fallen down the rabbit hole. I stride to the closet and pull out one of the dresses. It looks like it’ll fit perfectly. But Arix had no way of knowing we’d stay here. Did he?

“Thank you,” I murmur, and the guard nods, backing out of the room.

Moments later, Sarissa appears, nodding at the dress I’m still holding. “It’s weird, huh?”

“Braxian women are so much taller than us. It’s like he had these dresses made in advance.”

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I don’t trust him.”

Sarissa works for the CIA. And no, I have no idea what she does. She clams up every time I ask about it, so I’m pretty sure she’s not allowed to talk about what her day-to-day tasks actually are.

I blow out a breath. “Look, no matter his reasons for wanting us here, we know why we want to be here. If we can get the thruster fixed and find someone to replace that chip…we could be out of here within a few weeks. Let’s keep our eye on the prize.”

Sarissa nods, wandering over to my bed and running her hand over the ruby-red velvet blanket draped over the end. “I’ll get to work on an escape plan,” she murmurs, “just in case.”

Chapter Two

Vivian

I stare into the mirror, poking at one of the dark circles beneath my eyes. I was so tired last night that I thought I’d pass out before my head hit the pillow. Instead, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep properly without the gentle murmur of the camp around me.

I finally snuck out of my room and into Sarissa’s, ignoring the guards posted in the hall. I hadn’t even made it into her bedroom before she appeared, eyes hard, a knife clutched in her hand.

She let out a long breath when our eyes met, glancing down at the knife in her hand apologetically. I merely revealed the knife in my own hand, hidden by the folds of the nightgown I was wearing.

Sarissa smirked. “Proud of you, V.”

We spent the rest of the night huddled next to each other in her huge bed, whispering like kids. Eventually, I fell into a light, continually broken sleep, and I finally gave up when the room began to lighten as the sun rose.

I reach for a cool cloth and press it against my eyes in an attempt to remove some of the puffiness. I can barely throw a punch, but I’ve managed to master the no-makeup look on a barbaric alien planet.

I snort, disgusted with myself.

I know what people think when they look at me. They see a pretty face but not much between the ears. They see decoration. A ditz. Someone who’s only good at looking good.

I guess that’s why I came to Arix in the first place. I was so sick of being left behind every time. I may not be creating poisons like Zoey or hunting the enemy from on top of a dragon like Charlie, but this is a way I can contribute.

That’s the thing about playing a part. When you pretend to be someone different, it’s easy to lose sight of who you really are. Eventually, you become that new person, and before you know it, there’s nothing left of the person you were.

I don’t know who I am anymore.

I jump at a knock on the door. Sarissa wouldn’t knock, and I glance down at the nightgown and robe I’m wearing. Once, when I was a teenager, I opened the front door while still in my pajamas on a Sunday morning. My mother was so furious she couldn’t look at me for days.

I push the thoughts away. I haven’t spoken to my mother for years. So why am I suddenly being assaulted by thoughts about what she would think of me right now?

I march to the door and throw it open, expecting to see one of the guards.

It’s not.

It’s the king.

He stands there, looking coolly amused as I gape at him. Finally, he must get tired of my fish impression because he raises one eyebrow.

“May I come in?”

“Um. Sure.”

The room instantly feels five times smaller as soon as Arix enters it. The guy is one of the largest Braxians I’ve ever seen, and he holds himself with a kind of languid confidence that falls perilously close to arrogance.

His eyes are the color of a moonlit

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