Wrage (Galaxy Gladiators #11) - Alana Khan Page 0,7

lunars ago. We revolted and fought for our freedom, then were welcomed aboard a space vessel manned by other escaped gladiators and their human females.”

“Humans?” I ask, my interest piqued. “I thought humans were outlawed.”

“Yeah, they’re outlawed, but slavers keep abducting them anyway. You have to know this, you’re human.”

“I am not,” I reply angrily. If people knew I was human, they’d re-enslave me. I’ve always maintained I was Morganian.

“You’re going to begin our sacred mated relationship with a lie, Elyse? That’s a bad omen.”

Am I crazy, or does he look genuinely hurt? Couldn’t be. He has to be punking me.

“Morganian,” I say, doubling down.

“I may have been enslaved for the last fifteen annums, but I know a human when I see one. Or hear one. I’ve lived with them for the last two lunars. I’ve heard you use the words ‘fuck’, ‘asshole’, and ‘buellshit’. Those are Earth curse words.”

Busted.

“A girl can’t be too careful,” I say, then inform him, “It’s pronounced bullshit.”

“We’re in this together now,” he says. His face is so alien it’s hard to read him, but from where I’m sitting, he doesn’t look any happier about this mating than I am.

“So, you live on a ship? There are other humans on it? We might be able to make this work. We could get separate cabins and avoid each other like the plague. Our purple dots would still be travelling together in space.”

“Excuse me. Ma’am, sir.” It’s Analac who snuck up behind us. “I forgot one thing. Here.”

He hands me a flat cardboard kit about three inches wide and a foot long. I don’t know what’s in it, but my heart feels heavy in my chest. On some level, I know this isn’t a wedding present.

“As I said, you’re the first couple who’s come to me requesting a divorce. I had to re-read the manual. I’m glad I found you.”

He looks quite proud of himself. I think he’s actually tried to spit-comb his hair.

“Since you seem to have been telling the truth about hating each other, I’ll need proof of the . . . consummation of the mating.”

That old expression you read in novels that sounds so corny, the one about someone’s heart stopping in their chest? Yeah. That’s me.

“Proof?” my voice is high and whiny, like a child protesting their bedtime.

“Why, yes.” Analac nods his head gravely. “This kit . . .” He extends his hand, palm up. “May I?”

Be my guest, Analac. I don’t want anything to do with the heinous thing.

After I hand it to him, he blows the dust off the lid, then opens it.

“You take the wrapping off this stick here after the completion of the . . . marital act. You simply insert . . . then swab the contents into this tube here, and return it to me within the lunar. We on planet Paragon want to ensure a happy, productive union. Frankly, it’s never been used before, but in your case, I thought it was prudent to require this.”

That little Rubick’s Cube in my mind, the one that’s always searching for the easy way out of every situation, has slammed to a halt. How do we wiggle out of this?

“And before you ask me if you can’t simply take a swab from Elyse, and combine it with a swab from Wrage, I’ll inform you that our doctors know the exact ratio of what this would look like when accomplished according to the rules. If you try to circumvent them, we’ll know.”

He has the good sense to look contrite after this last bit of news. Perhaps because he sees the look of utter defeat on my face.

“Look on the bright side. You have a lunar to accomplish this.”

“We leave Paragon in six days,” Wrage says, his face a thundercloud, which is saying a lot when you consider he’s no picnic even in his best moment.

“There’s a dropbox in my door. You can drop it off any time, day or night before you leave.”

He turns and takes a step, then returns. “You’re of the Wryth'N race, correct?” he asks my unhappy companion and receives a tight nod in response. “Might I mention, though it’s none of my business, that for some reason your race can’t tolerate our local brew, havaché. I’d suggest you avoid it. It’s said to affect Wryth'Ns ten times more than other races.” He taps his temple. “It’s kind of a fun fact I’ve always remembered.

“And by the way, I couldn’t help but overhear your plan to sleep