“That makes us sound like pathetic fools.”
She shook her head. “No. Trust me. It makes you relatable. Likable. Wounded in a way that a lot of human women, for whatever reason, seem to have an instinctive need to heal.” Now her hands were on her hips. “Being a veteran makes you more desirable, not less. But you were supposed to choose between the two finalists, Genevieve and Willow. Instead you embarrassed them, knocked down a cameraman, crushed poor Chet’s microphone and scared him so badly he needed to change his boxers—”
She chuckled, but I had no idea what a boxer was, so I waited. I had not seen any boxes on him during the show.
“And then you carried an unknown female off camera, fucked her up against a door on live television, then turned into an out-of-control monster threatening to kill everyone in the building when she tried to walk away. You were tranqed on live TV and fell like a redwood.” She shook her head at me. “Not the image of an honorable, dependable warrior we were going for.”
Hearing her say it like that… She was correct. My actions may have cost many contaminated warriors on The Colony their chance at a bride. I could not live with that. “I apologize that my actions caused that result. Tell me what I must do to make this right. But know this, Olivia Mercier is mine. I will not leave without her.”
“I know that and you know that, but Olivia doesn’t know that. The President of the United States doesn’t know that. Congress doesn’t know that. The public at large doesn’t know that.”
“I do not care about any of those other humans.”
“Well, you have to, because Olivia did not volunteer to be an Interstellar Bride. She did not sign a waiver for the program as a participant in the Bachelor Beast television show. As far as all of Earth is concerned, she is a citizen of Earth and remains under our protection and our laws, not Coalition laws. She has to choose you, Wulf. First, you’ll have two days to convince her to appear with you on live television and convince the world that you two are madly in love.”
“She is mine.”
“It doesn’t work like that here.”
I took a breath to interrupt, but she held up one finger and I waited.
“Two days until the talk show in New York. After that, she must be willing to leave the planet with you. Willing. After New York—and depending on how things go at her house—you will have seven days left until you have to get the hell off this planet and go back to The Colony. Do you hear me? Seven days, and that includes your time in New York.”
“That is not enough time.”
“Tough luck. This is Earth law, not Coalition. Your permission to be on this planet expires in exactly nine days.” She checked a small device on her wrist and scrunched up her nose as she did some kind of mental calculation. “Yes. Nine days, three hours and twenty-seven minutes until I have to transport you off this rock.”
“She is mine. She will come with me.”
“Let’s hope you are right, Wulf. But I want to make it clear, she is not a volunteer. You have to convince her to leave behind everything she’s ever known to go with you. I can’t transport her unless she is wearing your mating cuffs.”
“I should have thirty days to woo a bride. That is in the bride contracts.”
Shaking her head, she clarified, “Listen to me. She. Is. Not. A. Bride. She did not sign a contract. Get that into your head. She’s a regular old citizen who has not even contemplated leaving her life on Earth behind. Your permission to be here expires in just over nine days. You had thirty days on Earth to select a bride. You’ve already spent three weeks, twenty-one of your thirty days, here on the show. The fact that you did not choose one of the contestants is a technicality the government here does not care about. You have nine days left, and then, bride or no bride, you will be transported off this planet.”
“Fuck.”
“Now you are beginning to understand.”
“How do I make a human female choose me?”
She offered me a small smile. “Every woman is different, Wulf.”
“That is not helpful.”
She sighed. “Be honest. Be yourself. You are a worthy, honorable male. She will see that. I’ve given you a two-day head start. That’s all I can do. After that, the paparazzi will find you and you’ll be living in a fishbowl. It’ll be a media circus.”
“What is paparazzi?”
“They follow famous people around for money. Invade their privacy. Take lots of pictures. Write stories about them, like Lindsey does on The Colony, but not as nice. The more shocking and scandalous, the more money they make. Some famous people want the attention. Some don’t. It’s complicated.”
“No. I need no attention. They will not follow my female.” I did not like the sound of that. I knew Hunter Kiel’s mate, the human female Lindsey. She told stories about the warriors on The Colony. Made us feel valued. Seen. Not forgotten. This sounded completely different. “If they go near my mate, I will crush them.”
“Only if you want to go to human prison.”
“My beast would not submit to human authorities.”
“Exactly. So let’s keep the crushing of asshole humans to a minimum, shall we?”
My beast growled, but this time the warden wasn’t laughing.
“I’ll take you to the men’s locker room where you can shower.”
“I do not wish to lose my mate’s scent,” I countered quickly.
She eyed me. “Trust me, Warlord. Scent or not, you need to shower. Your female will want you to be clean and you’re… not. After, I’ll take you to Olivia.”
“I will have my cuffs on her,” I vowed.
A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “About that. The show has your cuffs.”
I stood and bellowed, “What?”
“You destroyed a set, ruined two weeks of planned programming. Don’t get me wrong, they’re thrilled for this twist, but they won’t risk you getting those cuffs on your mate off-screen.”
“They are mine. They have no right.”
“The cuffs are on their way to New York waiting for the tell-all program. There, you will put them on your mate on live TV.”
The idea was horrible, holding my cuffs hostage for something they called ratings. I had no choice. I had to go to New York in order to end the show in a favorable light for my fellow fighters. I also had to get my fucking cuffs and get them on Olivia Mercier. My focus was absolute.
“I am not pleased,” I said.
“Yes, I figured it wouldn’t make you happy.” She waved me over with her hand. “Come on. Shower, then your mate.”
I looked down at myself. The tattered clothes. I had streaks of dirt on my hands and the clothing as if I’d been dragged across a dirty floor. I probably had. If I were to see my mate again, I needed to make a good impression. Anything was better than the first, except being filthy.
6
Wulf
Warden Egara personally drove me in a small metal and plastic vehicle to Olivia Mercier’s residence. It hadn’t been as simple as it sounded, for I was at least a foot taller than almost all humans, even more than that for a large section of the population. Therefore I was very noticeable. Since I’d made such a mess of the live broadcast, I was as famous as ever. This was why I was grateful for the dark of night, which offered us some hint of anonymity.