Oh No, I Carved A Pumpkin And Kissed An Alien Diplomat (At The Alien Hotel #4)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

KHATAK

My mission is already doomed.

The thought crashes through my mind the exact moment my overstuffed suitcase decides to betray me. The latch gives way with a pathetic click, and suddenly the pristine lobby of the Alien Hotel is being showered with my belongings.

A pair of ceremonial robes unfurls like a banner. My datapad skitters across the polished floor. And—oh gods, no—my undergarments tumble out in a horrifying cascade of fabric that seems determined to land in the most visible locations possible.

“No, no, no!” I drop to my knees, scrambling to gather everything before—

A Drakoon guest with impressive golden wings sweeps past, one leathery appendage catching a pair of my shorts and launching them directly into a display of orange gourds. The vegetables—carved with leering faces for some inexplicable reason—roll across the floor with hollow thuds.

Perfect. Just perfect.

“Sorry, sorry!” I mutter to the Drakoon as he scowls heavily at me, his spiked eyebrows cast low in displeasure. Don’t stop and help the poor Volscian clearly having a bad day with exploding luggage, no… just get annoyed that I’m in your way, like I had the audacity to just simply exist.

I sigh. This is my life, and I really have to stop thinking it’ll change. People ignoring me, or treating me like I am lesser, simply because I am not as successful as my older brother.

But that’s all going to change. Today. I’m on a mission. A very important diplomatic mission to secure an alliance with Prince Rist that will finally—finally—prove to my parents that I’m not a complete disappointment.

Glancing around, I search for my missing items. The hotel lobby is decorated with bizarre white fabric shapes hanging from the ceiling—each with two holes cut out in place of eyes. What are those supposed to be? Are we meant to wear them? Some sort of ceremonial garb?

And there, hanging among the billowing fabric, is one of my socks.

“I’m so sorry,” I mutter to a translucent slime-being, reaching around it to retrieve my waylaid item. I’ve never interacted with a slime before, and something tells me I shouldn’t just reach through it despite the fact I can see right through. “I’ll just—excuse me—“

The sock is caught on something. I tug harder.

With a rip, one of the white fabric shapes tears free from above and drapes over my head.

Through the material, I hear a sound—a soft snort quickly stifled, like someone’s caught themselves before laughing out loud at my predicament.

I yank the fabric off my horns and freeze.

She’s beautiful.

The female approaching me has dark brown hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, though a few rebellious strands frame her face. Her skin is a warm brown that seems to glow in the orange lighting strung throughout the lobby.

She’s a human.

Everyone’s heard of the species. The arrival of a dozen females, all exotic and hailing from a galaxy far, far away, caused quite a stir in both Federation and Volscian space.

I never ranked important enough to actually meet one. And that was before several human females mated kings and galactic leaders.

And now, one’s standing right in front of me. In my time gawking at her, mouth probably hanging open, she’s managed to walk right up to me. With our height difference, I have to tilt my head down, yet I don’t find the weight of my horns at this angle dragging me down annoyingly.

It’s true that the humans are entirely defenseless; no visible claws, scales or natural armor at all.

Everything about her screams that she needs protection.

My tail twitches with the urge to curl around her, to keep her safe from the chaos of the lobby.

It’s no wonder it’s so crowded in here, with all the visiting aliens hoping to simply get a glance at such a beauty.

“Let me help you with that.” She kneels to help gather my scattered belongings. The only being to help me, and it’s someone far too good to be crawling about on the dirty floor. Especially for me.

“I can explain.” It tumbles out of my mouth.

I should say something suave. Something diplomatic.

“I overpacked.” That’s what I chose to say? Of all things? “I wasn’t sure what to bring, so I brought... everything. Which, in retrospect, was clearly a mistake.”

Kneeling before me, she tilts her slender neck up and gazes at me with a soft smile touching her lips.

But it’s her eyes that capture me—deep brown, and sparkling with an inner light. The skin crinkles at the edges of her eyes and she looks at me not unkindly, but rather like we share a secret.

“I do the exact same thing,” she states. “Overpacking, that is. I don’t regularly participate in suitcase explosions. More along the lines of sitting on my bag so that it can be zipped shut, all while hoping nothing inside is damaged.”

In that one moment, it feels like we are truly connected. No one else stands in the lobby with us; it’s just me and her and my rapidly pounding heart sharing a common experience.

“I’m Khatak,” I tell her. “A guest here at the hotel. I have a booking…”

Of course, that much is obvious. Who else travels to a hotel such as this one with full luggage, without checking in? What kind of weirdo would just hang around a public place like this otherwise?

“Hi, Khatak.” She says my name, practically in a whisper. It’s as if it’s for my ears alone, breathy and full of smiles and sunshine.

“I’m Selene.” She hands me an item, her small fingers brushing mine and lingering. Warmth spreads up my arm as my fingers curl around the device. “I’m one of the staff here helping coordinate the latest events and activities.”

And just like that, the illusion shatters. She’s not talking to me because she’s interested in me, but because it’s her assigned role. I realize that her shirt bears the hotel logo.

“And you are now checked in,” Selene tells me, fingers tapping away at her data pad. “Did you, ah, want some help navigating the Halloween activities?” she asks, looking up at me expectantly.

Halloween. I glance around at the strange decorations with new understanding—this is all for one of the fabled events this hotel has become known for—and yet, I’m still rather confused about what it all means. “I have to admit, I’m not familiar with this Halloween.”

Why am I still talking? I sound like a complete idiot, not someone smart or self-assured. Or knowledgeable. I’m a complete disaster. In front of someone like her.

“Oh!” Her expression shifts to something more animated. “Right, let me explain. Halloween is a human custom. Basically a celebration where we dress up, carve vegetables, and do scary things.”

I blink at her. “You... celebrate being frightened?”

“Well, when you put it that way, it does sound weird.” She laughs, and the sound is dangerously pleasant, a tingling chime to my ears.

“It ties into a lot of historical and cultural stuff, but that’s a lot to go into.

For most people, it’s about having fun with fear.

Making it silly instead of serious. That’s what we are doing here this week.

We have activities planned—pumpkin carving, bobbing for apples, a haunted house tour, and more. ”

Her hands wave to encompass the yellow and orange gourds that I may have had a hand in knocking over with my escaped underwear.

“You carved one of these gourds with the faces?” I ask.

“Not me, but my friends did. I haven’t had the chance yet,” she tells me. “But if you join the activities, you’ll get to carve one yourself. It’s very therapeutic.” She pauses, tilting her head. “Do Volscians celebrate anything similar?”

“We have the Festival of Blades, but that involves actual combat, so probably not the same thing.” I gesture at the hanging fabrics. “And these are...?”

“Ghosts. Spirits of the dead. Very spooky.” She makes her voice low and wavering on the last word, clearly teasing.

“The dead,” I repeat slowly. “You decorate with representations of corpses.”

“Okay, yeah… Maybe Halloween doesn’t translate well.” Her smile slides from her face, and immediately I regret my words. She should be smiling, always.

“No, no, it’s...” I scramble for the right words. I can’t offend her. Can’t make her think I’m dismissing her culture, or herself. “It’s interesting. Different. I’m looking forward to learning more about it.”

Smooth recovery. My brother would be proud. Actually, no, he wouldn’t.

“We’ll have someone assigned to guide you through all the events,” Selene tells me. “Let me check the roster and—”

“You?” The word bursts out before I can stop it.

She blinks. “I’m sorry?”

She hesitates, something apologetic crossing her face. “I appreciate that, but I’m actually Rist’s personal assistant. I really should be available in case he needs me, and coordinating guest activities isn’t really part of my—”

“Rist.” The name escapes before I can stop it, too sharp, too interested. Rist… as in Prince Rist? The very male I’ve come here seeking.

Her eyebrows lift slightly.

My mind races. She works directly with him. She could—no, she probably arranges his schedule. His meetings. If I could just... but I can’t ask. Can’t reveal why I’m here. Can’t make it obvious.

“I mean—” I scramble for something, anything. “That sounds like an important position. You must be very busy.”

“It can be,” she agrees, still watching me with that slight curiosity.

Say something normal. Something that doesn’t sound desperate.

“But if you had time—even just for one activity?” The words tumble out too quickly. “Could you be my guide? If that’s possible? You’re already here, and you seem very organized. I really would appreciate your guidance specifically. You explained things so clearly just now, and I...”

I gesture at the neat stack she’s made of my belongings. “And I clearly need all the help I can get with human customs.”

I’m being too eager. Too obvious. But I can’t seem to stop myself.

Heat floods my face. She studies me for a long moment, and I’m certain she can see right through me. I’ve overstepped. Of course I’ve overstepped.

If I can get her to soften up toward me, perhaps she’ll be willing to arrange a meeting. If I ask too early though, my entire mission might be shut down before it’s even begun. I cannot afford that. The risk is too high.

Her expression softens.

“You know what? Why not. Rist’s schedule is light this afternoon anyway.” A small smile touches her lips—the same warm one from before. She glances around the packed lobby. “I could use a bit of a change of environment. It’s a bit hectic in here with all these aliens about.”

My heart skips a beat. “Really?”

“Really. Though I should warn you—the first activity starts in about thirty minutes. Pumpkin carving. Think you can handle a knife?”

I laugh at the idea. Holding my hands out toward her, I flex my fingers until my claws slide smoothly out.

“I’m a Volscian. Our species is practically born with blades in our hands.”

The words come out more confident than I feel. Unlike my brother, unlike any other Volscian I’ve met, I’ve never even had to use them. I’m not even sure I can use them against another. I’m not a warrior like my brother and father. I’m just… me.

I grimace down at the deadly sharp tips, trying to envision what it would feel like to pierce them through tough hide and into soft flesh… of a vegetable. It doesn’t sound pleasant.

She laughs—actually laughs—probably mistaking my look of self-derision for disgust at the idea of using them in such a manner. And yet, my negative thoughts vanish, and all I want to hear is the sound of her amusement again.

“Don’t worry too much. We supply knives and tools for everyone to use. Also, wear something that you can get a bit dirty. It’s going to be messy.”

Her enthusiasm is contagious, especially the way she bounces on her feet in anticipation.

“Messy does not sound fun,” I remark, doubt creeping in. I want to join her, but what if I spill dirt or gourd innards on myself. What will people think?

“The event’s supposed to be fun, not perfect. That’s kind of the whole point of Halloween.”

Fun. Not perfect. Foreign concepts in my family.

“What if I’m terrible at it?” I blurt out.

“Then you’ll fit right in. Half the guests won’t know what they’re doing either.”

I don’t get a chance to talk to her more as Selene’s already turning to help a tentacled being who’s gotten tangled in one of the nearby hanging decorations. “The event starts in thirty minutes. I’ll see you at the carving station!”

I watch her go, marveling at how she moves through the chaos with such ease. Nothing at all like my own disorganized chaos. I look down at my armload of possessions, clothing barely contained in my bag, and head for the elevators.

In my room, I drop everything on the bed and stare at my reflection. Red skin, black hair escaping its tie, horns that barely clear my hairline. I look exactly like someone who would fail at everything—diplomatic missions, family expectations, apparently even pumpkin carving.

But Selene didn’t look at me like I was a failure. She looked at me like I was just... another guest.

Maybe that’s enough for now. At least I can pretend that she saw more in me.

At least I can pretend that something is actually going to go right for me, for once in my life.