Claimed for the Alien Bride Lottery by Margo Collins (the little red hen read aloud txt) 📗

decided to take a seat in the dining room. After all, no one was going to be ordering anything much until the drawing was done. I might as well take a break. I was practically dead on my feet. Working the 3 a.m. to 10 a.m. overnight shift well into the morning was good, because it meant I could get Josiah to bed at Rebecca’s and then be there when he woke up from his morning nap the next day. We might have to change that once he started school, but for now, it meant that we were home together for most of the day.

That didn’t leave me much time for sleeping, though.

But we were safe.

Someone would have to be watching us pretty closely to be able to tell where we lived. And if they found that out, they’d have to be watching even closer to figure out where Josiah spent his nights.

I stifled a yawn as Vos Klavoii, the bright green game show host who ran the Bride Lottery and Bride Games, continued his mindless chatter about this year’s crop of brides.

Crop. He might as well come out and say it—he thinks human women are grown to be brides for Khanavai males. Like we’re not worthwhile on our own.

This time, my jawbone cracked as I gave a giant yawn.

Sitting down probably hadn’t been a good idea. I was about to drift off to the sound of everyone enjoying the Bride Lottery drawings when the sound of my own name—the one I used now, anyway—jerked me awake.

“Mia Jones,” Vos repeated, flicking his fingers toward the eboard behind him as he waited for the bride’s picture to be flashed on it behind him.

No. It can’t be me. This is not a terribly uncommon name. There must be at least twenty others with the same name, I reassured myself.

“We seem to be having some technical difficulty,” Vos said, his game-show host demeanor not breaking for even a moment. I wondered if he slept with that smile pasted on his face.

All around me in the diner, everyone began jumping up and down and shouting.

“It’s you, Mia, it’s you!” Kitty grabbed my hands with both of hers and pulled me up out of the chair as if we were suddenly best friends.

I tugged my hands out of hers. “You can’t know that. It might not be me at all. Anyway, I’m not eligible for the lottery.”

My coworker stopped her silly dance. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

My breath stuttered to a halt in my chest. How can I answer that?

No one here knew I had a child, and I was not about to tell them.

For that matter, I wasn’t even Mia Jones. I was just playing a part: Mia, a little shy, a little talented in the kitchen, trying to get by as best I could.

That’s all they needed to know.

Wanda peered deep into my eyes as if reading everything there, then turned to the others. “That’s none of your business,” she announced. “Maybe her name was already drawn before.”

“Nah. She’s lying,” Kitty decided. “She just doesn’t want a hottie alien husband. Because she’s insane. Clearly.”

Vos was still on the screen, his green skin glowing almost a neon color as he chattered away about the history of the Bride Games in an attempt to fill time while they sorted out their technical difficulties.

“Oh, here we go,” he finally said. “It looks like we are getting the feed through, finally. I hear they’re sending it over right … now.”

My entire world narrowed down to that one moment, the eternity in the second between Vos announcing the picture was on the way and the picture actually showing up.

When it finally came on the screen, I wished that I could have stayed in that second forever.

It was me.

Somehow, the Bride Lottery registration had gotten my name and new ID number and had drawn me in the Lottery.

Cold washed through my limbs and my vision flickered in and out.

I have to get out of here, have to run. A drumbeat started in my head. Get back to Josiah. Get us out of here. Save him.

The transportation technology picked me up when I was halfway to the door, dashing across the room and ripping my apron off as if it held my tracker. I don’t know where I thought I would go. There was no one on Earth who could save me, no place I could hide. I was acting on pure instinct.

The very last thing I saw as I was transported to Station 21 was the outline of Vos Klavoii’s face fading until only his smile remained.

Like an evil, green, Cheshire cat.

Chapter Two

Eldron Gendovi

“The Alveron Horde has been far too quiet lately,” I insisted. “They are planning something. I know it.”

“No, they’re not. The Horde has been defeated.” General Clovad sighed and shook his head. “I understand your concerns, Commander Gendovi, but they’re unnecessary.”

My jaw clenched, but I managed to simply nod. “Yes, sir.”

“However,” the general continued, “just in case you’re right, I’m going to embed you in the Bride Lottery program this year.”

I had already begun to excuse myself, so his words took me by surprise. “Embed me?”

“Not officially. If you’re wrong, I don’t want to terrify anyone. But on the off-chance that you’re right, I think it would be a good idea to have you close to our best source of viable mates.”

Of course, that would be the general’s primary concern. Rumor had it that his own Khanavai mate—one of the few females remaining of our species on the planet—was dying. And the general, who had married not from love, but from political necessity, already had his eye on replacing her with one of the young Bride Lottery humans.

Still, I was smart enough not to bring that up.

“If they have anything planned,” he continued, “I suspect it will be at the height of this year’s Bride Games—and we will have you there.”

“If I may ask, sir—you’ll have me there as what, exactly?”

The general’s eyes lit up. “As