Love is Alien (The Intergalactic Dating Show #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Lydia

I’ve fucked up. Badly.

I’m frozen partway down the ladder that leads from Killan’s house to the sunken forest. I’m gripping the railing so tightly my knuckles pale, and my fingers ache in protest. My heart pounds in my chest, and my internal voice shouts at me for thinking today would be a good day to face my lifelong fear of heights.

I’d been so lonely, though, trapped inside with nothing to do but sulk about the failure of LOVE GALAXY. Smith abandoned us almost two months ago, and nothing’s changed since then. I’m still trapped on Ril II, with no idea of how to get back to Earth.

I hate it here. It’s windy all the time, a howling wind that sucks the soul out of everything it touches. Nothing can grow on the planet’s surface, and there’s dust everywhere, which wreaks havoc with my asthma. If I want to keep breathing, I’ve got to stay underground, away from the wind.

The problem is there’s not much to do underground. There’s Killan’s house, where I’ve been staying, which is connected to Sorin’s and Roan’s smaller cottages by tunnels. There’s the algae farm.

And then there’s the forest.

It’s growing in an enormous collapsed cave, the trees protected from the wind by the cave walls that stretch many meters overhead. Unfortunately, the only way down into the forest is via a ladder, and it’s that ladder I’m clinging to, too scared to keep moving in case I slip.

I’m definitely up high enough that I’d die if I fell.

I scrunch my eyes closed and release a ragged breath, as sweat prickles my forehead and drips in rivulets down my spine.

Briar and Harlee have been sweet, attempting to sympathize with my feelings. But it isn’t the same now they’re both happily in relationships and pleased to be staying on Ril II.

Sorin and Roan, their alien boyfriends, have been avoiding me.

At first, it was subtle enough that I convinced myself I was imagining their reluctance to remain in the same room as me for long.

But almost two months of them coming up with excuses to escape my presence, and I know I’m not being paranoid.

Not that I can blame them. I’d hate my company if I were them.

And Killan…

Killan is frustrating. He’s never hidden his dislike of me, preferring to pick fights than to keep his distance. It’s not my fault LOVE GALAXY imploded. And it’s not my fault Smith crept away in the middle of the night, abandoning us Humans with no way of returning to Earth.

I’m stuck on this stupid windswept planet with nothing more than a few clothes and toiletries.

I don’t have any money. I don’t have any way of communicating with anyone off-world.

Everything I eat and drink is provided by Killan.

Every night, when I go to sleep, I’m sleeping in Killan’s bed.

And every time I shower or flush the toilet, it’s Killan’s water I’m using.

I hate every second of it.

I hate having to rely on the charity of a man who resents me being in his home.

So that’s why I’m here, clinging to the ladder as my hands slowly grow slick with panic-sweat, terrified I’m going to fall.

I needed to get out of Killan’s house, at least for a little while.

And the forest is the only place on this entire planet that provides some semblance of privacy.

If only I wasn’t so fucking scared of heights.

Distant voices echo through one of the tunnels, and I wince. The only way this day could get any worse is if someone were to find me like this.

Painfully slowly, I slide one hand a few inches up the railing, hoping that I’m closer to the mezzanine than to the cave floor and that I’ve got some chance of returning to Killan’s kitchen before I’m discovered.

“…a commitment ceremony,” Roan is saying as he steps from the tunnel into the forest cavern. By the sound of it, he’s come from the direction of the underground lakes, where the algae farm is.

“You are Mates,” Killan answers, and my stomach sinks. Of course, he’d be the one to find me. “A ceremony would change nothing.”

“I know that,” Roan says.

Their footsteps pause, and I guess that Roan has turned around to glare at Killan. “But it is important to Harlee, and so it is important to me.”

I glance down. They’re standing at the base of the ladder, and I catch a glimpse of green scales before my muscles tense with renewed fear at the sight of the long drop. Quickly, I return to staring straight ahead at the rock wall to which the ladder is attached.

“A wett-ing ceremony?” comes Killan’s incredulous voice. It echoes a little in the cavernous space. I can hear their conversation almost as clearly as if they were standing directly behind me.

Still, it takes me a moment to realize he was trying to say “wedding,” but he butchered the pronunciation of the unfamiliar English word. Evidently, there isn’t an equivalent word in his own language, or he’d have used the translation instead.

“We exchange fingers,” Roan explains, sounding smug that he knows something his older brother doesn’t. “And then we kiss and spend the rest of our lives together.”

“I do not need to watch you kissing,” Killan grumbles, apparently more annoyed by the idea of seeing Roan and Harlee making out than worried about them “exchanging fingers.”

Typical Killan. I don’t need to see him to know he’s scowling. I bet his upper arms are crossed over his chest, and I bet he’s got his head tilted forward a fraction, a silent and arrogant reminder to Roan that Killan’s taller.

I shift my right hand a fraction until it’s as high as I can comfortably reach.

But my left leg is like a lead weight, refusing to release contact with the ladder long enough for me to step up onto the next rung.

I steady my breathing, trying to ignore how fast my heart’s racing, as I attempt to trick my brain into tricking my leg into stepping up.

Nothing happens.

I’ve really fucked up.

I don’t even have a proper excuse for being so scared.

I didn’t fall out of a tree as a kid. I never tumbled off playground equipment.

Nothing happened in my life that would instill in me a rational reason for being frightened.

Rather, when I step too close to the mezzanine railing or try climbing a ladder, my brain presents me with all the scenarios of things that could happen.

I could slip and fall. I could crack my head open and bleed out on the ground far below.

“When is this ceremony?” Killan asks, and I focus on their conversation as a way of drowning out a little of my irrational panic.

“Next week, I am guessing,” answers Roan. “First, I must ask Harlee if she wishes to wet me.”

“But you already know she does. It was Harlee’s idea.”

“Yes.” Roan’s amused, enjoying Killan’s confusion.

I’m tempted to interrupt, for Harlee’s sake.

Planning a wedding for next week? That’s so not going to happen; Harlee deserves more than a week of prep time.

But I bite my lower lip, keeping quiet. I don’t want to draw their attention to me, but most of all I’m ashamed of the spike of jealousy I feel, thinking about Roan and Harlee getting engaged.

It’s another step Harlee is taking away from me—and from Earth. I want to feel happy for her, I do. But…it’s hard. Everything’s changing so fast. And every change further cements the new reality that is Harlee and Briar starting new lives on Ril II, while I’m still stuck wanting to return home.

I don’t want this to be my new normal. I don’t want to be trapped on a planet with a population of six people and more wind than is healthy.

I wipe my cheek on my shoulder, brushing away silent tears.

I haven’t cried in front of the others since the night Smith abandoned us, and I’ve got no intention of doing so again. It would be another reminder of how I’m the odd one out.

I’m the only one who isn’t happy. I’m the only one who wants to go home. I’m the only one who didn’t fall in love.

Well…technically, me and Killan. But Killan doesn’t count. Sure, he never seems particularly happy. And sure, he didn’t fall in love. But Ril II is his home; he isn’t trapped here against his will.

“Come,” Roan says, followed by a soft thud—maybe him clapping Killan on the shoulder. “I am giving myself the afternoon off. I would return to my Mate.”

“You barely did any work,” Killan grumbles. “Akh. I left my datapad in the drying room. Fetch it for me, would you.” It’s a request, not a question.

“Really?” comes Roan’s voice. “I thought you left it upstairs.”

“Really.”

Silence follows.

Even from up here, I can tell Roan wants to refuse, but he’s too good-natured, and a moment later I hear him jogging back the way they’d come.

Fuck.

Killan doesn’t acknowledge me as he begins climbing, even though I bet he sent Roan on a wild goose chase because of me. Why, though? To save me the humiliation of being found by two people? Or so he can keep the pleasure of gloating all to himself?

Now, I silently beg my legs. Now would be the perfect time to start working again.

Nothing.

“Climb over me,” I say, attempting an air of nonchalance as Killan nears. “Pretend I’m not here.”

If he’d wanted to be kind, he could’ve used the excuse of forgetting his tablet and gone back for it himself, leaving Roan to find me.

I’d much rather it had been Roan. The youngest of the three brothers, he hasn’t yet grown out of his boyish charm.

And even though he’s been avoiding me lately, I trust him not to make me feel worse about failing.

I’ve got no idea what Killan’s going to say. I can never predict what mood he’s going to be in. Grumpy? Angry? Frustrated? Exasperated? Condescending? Whatever it is, it’s never fun.

He doesn’t stop climbing until he’s looming over me. I can feel him behind me, the length of his body pressed to my back, as if he’s never heard of personal space. Even standing on the rung below the one I’m on, he’s taller than me.

I’m in the cage of his arms, one on either side of me. And he’s still got a hand free with which to pluck at my stiff fingers.

“Don’t!” I press as close as I can get to the ladder, but that doesn’t stop Killan from prying my left hand loose, him being so much stronger than me.

“I’m serious.” Panic fills my voice. I suddenly don’t care who knows how fucking terrified I am, if only he’d stop.

I yank my hand out of his hold and make a grab for the railing again, but he catches my wrist in his free left hand and transfers it to his other left arm—the one holding on to the ladder, so that I’m clutching him as I would clutch the railing.

I don’t care that my fingers are digging into his scales. I don’t care that I’m probably hurting him. His muscles flex under my hold, but at least he’s solid, and now that I’m holding on to him I don’t think I can let go. He’s going to have to pry me off him.

Serves him right.

He presses against my right side, evidently trying to turn me around so that I’m facing him instead of the wall. I refuse, and he growls low in the back of his throat.

“Let go, Lydia.”

“Yeah, nah.” I shake my head. “That’s not happening.”

“Do you think I would let you fall?”

“You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.”

He snorts. Not in amusement, but in annoyance, and his hot breath tickles the back of my neck. It makes me shudder, and he takes the opportunity to yank my right hand off the ladder. In a heartbeat, he’s turned me around.

Gasping, I wrap myself around him—my legs around his straight waist, my arms around his neck.

“Screw you,” I hiss, but my words lose their sting because I’m already burying my face against his chest, my eyes pressed tightly closed so that I don’t have to see how far I could fall.