3. Poppy
POPPY
If looks could kill, there would three separate murder trials, and I would be the star victim.
At least I’ll look hot in my murder board montage.
My head feels like a Swedish Fish is swimming directly through my brain, a consequence of my third margarita. Thank god I stopped there.
But despite the unholy hangover, I am maintaining my posture. I am standing tall in my adorable, purchased-especially-for-this-moment marabou kitten heels, throwing my shoulders back, and radiating sex goddess.
It might not be the vibe for the survival show, but if I wanted vibes I would have stayed on Earth. I’m here because I wanted more than a vibrator.
I can’t stop grinning like a maniac.
"Poppy," Ellison grits out, her face deathly pale, her ponytail hanging on by a single thread of elastic. "What day is it?"
"How is this possible?" Lily mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose as if she can physically squeeze the tequila out of her brain cells. “Where are we?”
"Poppy," Lucy and Lily say together.
“You… you didn’t,” Lucy says, and her eyes start to brim with tears. Tears! As if I didn’t deliver them into the reality show they’ve been dreaming about for literal years!
I swallow the guilt down and smile broadly at them.
"Listen," I start, then clear my throat. "You don’t have to go to work today. Ell, you hated that job.” Her jaw drops as the realization hits her.
“Lily, you were one bad email away from committing assault on your boss. We are living the dream. We are finally on a reality show and making our wishes came true.”
I refrain from telling them I’m your fairy godmother, but it’s a close call.
"You knew," Ellison gasps, her brown eyes wide. She points a shaking finger at my pretty slip.
I tug the hem down slightly, frowning.
"You knew that this was happening, and you wore lingerie for it." She shakes her head. “No wonder you insisted on last night being a pajama party.”
Lily looks like she is actually contemplating my death. Then she goes green and dry heaves.
"You signed the paperwork," I argue, crossing my arms over my chest. The I let them hang at my sides, because the boobs need to be perky.
"It’s not my fault if you didn’t read the whole contract through. You all have been fucking miserable for ages. I just chose to do something about it."
“You got us drunk,” Lucy croaks, staring at me in horror. “You got us drunk and abducted.”
Before they can tackle me into the chrome floor of whatever spaceship we've been beamed into, a computerized voice booms from the ceiling.
"You will each be paired with a partner of your choosing to complete the course with.
The object is to survive together as you make it to a series of waypoints...
Each couple to complete the course successfully will be rewarded with a mansion and a parcel of land on Sueva, as well as one million galactic credits. "
"See?!" I whisper-shout, gesturing grandly to the ceiling like a game show model. "Mansion. Land. One million credits. I manifested this.”
“You didn’t manifest it.” Lily glares at me. “You manipulated it into being.”
"Credits?" Lucy whispers, her brow furrowing. "That could be like one dollar."
Lily immediately raises her hand toward the ceiling. "How much money is that in, er, American dollars?"
The announcer ignores her, which is incredibly rude, but I toss my still wavy hair—thank you, mousse—and keep my triumphant smile on my face.
Until a pneumatic door slides open with a sharp hiss, another woman striding through. I'm expecting another glamorous human contestant—maybe a Miss Universe runner-up or a reality TV veteran to give us some stiff competition.
Instead, a thin, hard-looking woman walks in. Her collarbones jut out like razor blades beneath a suit that looks like something a military contractor might wear. Her shoulders are hunched, her dark eyes completely empty of the starry-eyed excitement I’ve been feeling.
"Introducing Selene!" the computer intones.
I flash my best, most comforting pageant smile at her. "Hi! Welcome to the—"
Selene doesn’t smile back. She surveys the four of us with suspicion that makes the hairs on my arms stand up. She looks like a woman who didn't sign a contract. She looks like she’s going to kick our asses.
A tiny, uncomfortable knot forms in my stomach.
Okay, so maybe the casting department went a little dark with this one.
"Before we begin," the announcer booms, "you will be allowed to select your mate now, and once chosen, you will be marked and dropped at a secret location. Welcome to Mated and Afraid."
Dramatic reality TV music swells through the speakers, and the opaque glass wall in front of us ripples, turning perfectly clear.
My breath catches.
Oh yeah. This is why I signed up. A quick side long glance tells me my friends are too stunned to speak.
Five winged alien Draegon warriors stand on the other side of the glass. They are... oh, holy shit balls. They are so. Damn. big.
Mountains of muscle, skin shifting in vivid shades of green, purples, and deep reds. Their wings jut over their shoulders, and their tails whip behind them like angry leopards.
They look feral. Terrifying.
And they are absolutely breathtaking.
"Those are our partners?" Lucy squeaks, sounding like she’s about to faint straight into her messy hair mop.
"Ellison Price, you will choose first."
The clock starts ticking down from thirty.
Ellison doesn't even hesitate.
She shakes her head, locks eyes with a gorgeous, sage-green alien with his hair tied half-up in a bun, and points at him immediately. The green Draegon smiles, then steps straight through the glass.
That’s gonna look great on screen.
A second later, she’s in his arms, a determined set to her face. An X glows red on the floor, they step on it, and I gasp as the floor opens up.
Ellison and her partner vanish through the floor, the only sign they were here at all the sound of her screaming in freefall.
Okay. I didn’t expect that. Nerves make my palms go clammy. Oh shit. This might have been a bad—
"Poppy Harrington, you will choose next."
The thirty-second timer restarts, flashing neon red against the glass.
I take a deep breath, smoothing down my slip, my competitive brain instantly homing in on the gorgeous men in front of me.
I don't want a fixer-upper. I want the most dominant one in the room.
My gaze locks onto the ruby-red Draegon in the center.
Yummy.
His scales glimmer like rubies under the spaceship lights, his curling dark horns arching elegantly over his head. His golden eyes are fixed entirely on me, his chest expanding with a breath that makes his broad shoulders look even bigger.
He looks possessive. Beautiful. Completely lethal.
Perfect.
"The red one," I announce, lifting my chin and pointing my finger with absolute finality.
The water-like glass ripples, and my Draegon steps through. Up close, he is so big he completely obliterates the light source behind him. He descends upon me in a rustle of scales and leather, and suddenly, I’m not so sure about this.
It’s a lot different to be skin to scale with an alien and looking at dropping down from orbit with no life jacket or whatever it’s called than it is to be daydreaming about it.
Still, I have to set an example for the rest of my girls.
"Let's go get ‘em," I tell him, stepping onto the glowing red X with a final look of “see? You’ll thank me later.” At my friends.
The floor vanishes beneath my marabou kitten heels.
I let out a thrilled shriek as he scoops me up, body hot against mine. We plunge into the open sky, the wind whipping my perfectly waved hair into a frenzy.
It’s exhilarating. I’m literally flying high. I am a genius. I’m going to get my mansion, my five minutes of fame, and—
The red Draegon's huge arms wrap around my waist, pulling my back flush against his rock-hard chest to break our descent. His wings snap open with a deafening crack against the wind.
The tips of his wing talons scrape down the exposed skin of my thighs. It stings, a sharp tear of intense pain.
“What the fuck?” I ask, the words lost on the wind.
Within a millisecond, a wave of scorching heat sears through my bloodstream. I moan in pain, all my sureness flying out of me as fast as we launched from that damned space ship. My skin feels as if I’ve been thrown into the sun.
And then? A blinding spike of pure lust hits me, so intense my eyes cross. My heart hammers against my ribs, an undeniable biological need melting my brain cells and telling my girl parts that we need something down there real, real bad.
Behind me, the Draegon lets out a deep, gravelly groan, something long and heavy pulsing violently against my lower back.
That’s a dick. That’s the alien dick I wanted.
Be careful what you wish for.
I clutch at his bicep, my chest heaving as the liquid fire cooks me from the inside out. I didn't read any biological addendums. There was no mention of a fever in the primary terms and conditions.
My confidence in this scheme might have been misplaced.
Uh oh.