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

“I’m not who you think I am.”

The Poltien turned a sharp gaze in my direction. “Defrauding the Lottery Commission is a serious offense,” it warned me.

Crap. I needed to get out of here, back home to Josiah. But I couldn’t get caught having switched out my tracking device. And I sure as hell couldn’t get caught pretending to be someone I wasn’t for the Bride Lottery.

There must be a way out of this.

“Do you have anything more to say?” the Poltien asked.

I shook my head meekly, changing tactics midstream.

It would be better if I didn’t say anything at all. The Khanavai were bright, flamboyant, violent warriors. I just needed to be the most closed-in version of myself I could come up with. That was my best bet for losing fast enough to get home, maybe in as soon as twenty-four or forty-eight hours.

Becca would have seen what happened, and I trusted her to keep Josiah. She’d be confused, since women with children weren’t supposed to end up participating in the Bride Games. But she knew I would never leave Josiah for long.

Play dumb, Mia Jones. It’s your best bet.

I grew up watching the Bride Games with my mother, before she passed away. We spent hours every year enthralled by beautiful women from all over the world as they moved through Station 21.

My favorite event was always the Bride Pageant.

I used to dream that I would someday get to be one of them. I imagined myself choosing the perfect red dress, twirling around on the stage and capturing the gaze—and adoration—of one of the Khanavai warriors.

And now that I was here, I felt none of that magic. Instead, my stomach clenched into a tight fist inside me.

I have to go home.

I had no idea how to manage it.

“My name is Thorvid,” the Poltien leading me out of the transporter room introduced itself.

All around us, other short Poltiens and a few tall, willowy, three-breasted Blordls led potential brides out of the transporters, taking them away to be dressed for the pageant as the Khanavai grooms gathered to watch the show.

If this had happened even six years earlier, I would have been giddy with excitement.

But not now.

Actually, I wouldn’t have ended up here even if this name and number had been drawn back then.

“I’m Mia Jones,” I replied shortly.

“Most brides have two assistants,” Thorvid explained as it led me through a series of hallways. “But my usual Blordl partner is back on her home planet, having a baby. So I’m afraid you’re stuck with just me.”

“That’s fine,” I said, only half my attention on the conversation. “I don’t really expect to be here very long.”

Thorvid shot a confused glance in my direction. “Why not?”

Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. I gave a little negating shake of my head. “I just don’t think any of the Khanavai warriors are going to be very interested in me.” I spoke like it was a certainty, even knowing I wasn’t safe from being chosen, as if just saying the words could perform some kind of magic to get me home sooner.

Thorvid stopped in the middle of the empty hallway and turned to gaze at me appraisingly. “Well, I wouldn’t say you’re the worst choice someone could make.”

In my former life, I might have been offended by the remark. This time, though, I simply laughed halfheartedly. “No,” I said, “I’m probably not the worst possibility.”

But not the best, either, I added to myself. Especially if the one choosing is worried about violent exes.

Thorvid showed me into my room in the bride’s quarters. On television, these rooms had always looked magical—light and airy, everything decorated in white with lots of lace.

In person, it looked almost a little tacky. “Very … bridal,” I observed, taking a seat at the mirrored table by the wall.

Thorvid snickered. “It’s starting to get a little outdated, I think. But what do I know? It’s not like fabric with lots of tiny holes in it comes from my world’s traditions.”

“What kinds of marriage traditions do the Poltien have?” I asked, suddenly curious to realize that I had never heard anything about how the genderless race reproduced.

Thorvid’s face flushed the same color as its nose-braid. “We need to go ahead and start getting you ready for the pageant,” it announced brusquely, opening a closet door and pulling out several swaths of fabric to hold up against my face.

Right. The pageant was the first level of choosing.

If I can make it through that without catching the eye of any Khanavai males, I can get back home to Josiah.

Of course, assuming he was watching, Frank would have figured out where I was living—in terms of the town, anyway. I would never be able to go back to the apartment Josiah and I had been living in.

But with any luck, he wouldn’t have figured out where Josiah was staying. No one at work knew where I lived, or even that I had a child—much less who kept that child when I was gone. I could get into town, grab Josiah, and get back out before Frank had time to track us down.

Right?

Even with all his resources, there was a chance I could still escape.

We could still escape.

And what if you can’t? a tiny voice in the back of my mind whispered.

No. I wouldn’t think like that. I had never given in and I wasn’t about to start now.

“… red?”

“I’m sorry?” I had completely lost track of what Thorvid was saying to me.

“For your formal dress for the pageant,” Thorvid said. “I think a dress in this shade of red. It looks beautiful next to your dark skin.”

Thorvid wasn’t wrong. The shade it had chosen from among the fabric swatches was my best color.

And it would also make me stand out. “No. I want to wear something more… traditional.”

The Poltien frowned. “Okay. How about something in a bright yellow?”

“No. I want a black evening gown.”

A pained expression fluttered across Thorvid’s face. “Are you sure? You’re beautiful.” It brushed my