22. Poppy
POPPY
The morning does not include a complimentary breakfast.
No, Vael and I wake up, get dressed, and get our asses back out there. I want to find Lucy and my friends, and instead, I find a fucking trap.
White studio lights and the aggressive blast of an industrial wind machine threatens to blow my mess of hair right off my scalp the minute we step out of the peaceful grotto.
I blink against the glare, my hand flying up to shield my eyes.
“Fuck me,” I say under my breath.
Vael gives me a look that says he very much would.
I grin at him, but the smile fades fast.
The next challenge, from the looks of it, is fucked.
A narrow catwalk swings over a pit of bubbling, neon-green liquid. Strung across the catwalk are dozens of shifting red laser grids that hum with energy. And mounted every ten feet along the walls are high-definition drone cameras, their lenses zooming in and out with mechanical eagerness.
A sharp, deafening camera shutter sound echoes through the rafters.
"Welcome, Poppy and Vael-Torin, to the Promotional Billboard Romance Challenge!
" Ken’s voice booms, and he sounds entirely too proud of himself.
"The network marketing team, which is me, of course, reports that our current promotional assets lack romance.
The viewers want passion. They want drama.
They want the raw aesthetic of a vintage Earth paperback romance novel.
To deactivate the laser grids and advance, you must stop at the designated photo-markers and execute a classic Earth seduction pose for the cameras.
Let's see some smoldering, contestants. First position: The Seductive Cover Clinch. Begin!"
The first laser grid ahead of us begins to pulse, a countdown timer appearing in the air.
"Poppy," Vael says, his hand instantly clamping around my waist. Before I can object, he hoists me into the air like a heavy sack of grain, trying to shield me behind his bulk. "The energy fields are active. I will assume a defensive formation and crush the recording spheres."
"No, Vael, put me down. We can't fight the lasers. There’s no point. Let’s just do the damn challenge.
" I kick my legs, my boots smacking against his thighs until he reluctantly slides me back down.
I drag him by his wrist onto the glowing pink X on the floor.
"We have to play the game. Look at the camera drone. "
"What is the directive?" he growls, his tail lashing the metal catwalk in tight, frustrated arcs.
"We need to look like models. We need to do a pose." I step into his personal space, grabbing his left hand. "Take this hand and put it on my hip. Trust me. This is my kind of battle, okay? I was born to pose.”
Vael-Torin’s brow furrows. He places his hand on my hip, but his grip is so rigid his fingers wrap entirely around my waist, his blunt talons accidentally hooking into the tech mesh.
"Like this?" he barks, stiffening his spine. "I am anchoring your skeleton against the wind machine."
I don’t think anyone’s ever told me they were going to anchor my skeleton, and I’m taken aback for a moment.
"Gentler. You're supposed to be holding me like you're overwhelmed by desire, not like you're condensing my bones." I grab his other hand and try to guide it toward the back of my neck.
It’s actually a total logistical nightmare. He has gotta be over six-foot-seven and built like a brick fortress; my head barely reaches his nipples. Every time I try to lean into him, my forehead smashes directly into the rigid scales of his chest.
"Lean back slightly," I instruct, panting as I struggle against his bulk. "And slide your right leg forward so it hooks between mine."
Vael attempts to listen, but his tail swings forward at the exact same time, tangling around my ankle and tripping me entirely.
I yelp, slipping on the smooth metal. Vael panics, his wings snapping wide with a deafening crack to catch the air, and he yanks my torso back up with such force that my nose buries itself straight into his throat.
"Is this the proper pose?" Vael rumbles, breathing heavily. "Is this a sacred human ritual? A physical performance to appease your gods?"
I pull my head back, spitting a stray lock of hair out of my mouth. The wind machine is blasting at full force. Conditions are not ideal.
"No, Vael. This is just... weird. Just be glad we’re not planning a gender reveal or something. Those get dangerous. You just hold still."
I reach up, physically molding his fingers into the strands of my hair.
I force him to bend his knees so our heights match up a little better.
There. "Now, arch your back. Thrust your chest out.
And look down at me like you want to conquer a planet but you're too tortured by love to do it.
"I slap his pec, and then do a little rub, because yeah, it’s a nice pec.
"Smolder, Vael. Smolder. Smize! Think about my cunt! "
Vael stops fighting me.
His pupils expand until his eyes are almost entirely black, his gaze locking entirely on my lips. Okay, yeah. He isn't faking the intensity anymore. The unhinged desire in his face is completely real.
A loud camera click echoes through the chamber.
"Biometric scan complete," Ken intones. "Incredible composition! A whopping ninety-four percent raw, mass-market passion. The Fabio metrics are off the charts!"
The first red laser grid instantly snaps off, clearing the path ahead.
This is some true what-the-fuckery.
"Yes!" I breathe, breaking the pose and untangling my legs from his tail. "Come on, next position before the timer resets."
We scramble down the catwalk, dodging a sudden burst of sparks from the bubbling green liquid below. The next pink X appears ten feet away, right before a swirling wall of red laser beams.
"Next position!" Ken bellows. "The Tragic Ballroom Dip!"
"Okay, this one requires serious coordination," I tell Vael, grabbing his shoulders. "Put your right arm around my lower back. When I lean back, you support my entire weight. Do not drop me into the acid, or you’ll never have to worry about my skeleton again."
Vael nods grimly. He steps forward, plants his heavy boots, and throws his arm around my spine.
But he doesn't understand the concept of a gradual dip.
The moment I begin to tilt my shoulders, he drops his center of gravity instantly, plunging my torso downward like he's throwing a wrestling opponent to the mat.
I let out a breathless shriek as my head drops toward the bubbling green acid. My hands fly up, searching for purchase, and my fingers lock hard around the curve of his horns.
His physical reaction is instantaneous. He lets out a choked groan, his entire body focusing on mine. He forgets to hold me up, his hand slipping from my back as the pleasure hits him.
His cock begins skithing. Not sure if that’s part of a clinch cover on alien planets, but it should be.
"Vael!" I yell, my core muscles screaming as I try to keep myself from sliding into the pit.
He recovers a millisecond later, bicep flexing he snatches my waist, hoisting me back up so fast our foreheads crack together with a painful thud.
"Ow!" I yell, rubbing my brow.
"Forgive me," Vael rasps, his throat smoking with a faint purple heat.
That’s not a good sign. I stare at him, my heart hammering. I’ve heard of people getting oiled up for photo shoot or whatever, but I’m covered in sweat.
"Your grip on my horns... it is a direct line to my cock, Poppy. You cannot engage the horns unless you want to ride my cock."
"I was trying not to die in the acid pool!" I roll my eyes. "And you dropped me like a sack of potatoes."
"I was executing the dip with maximum velocity to beat the countdown timer," he barks back. He rubs his own forehead, his tail twitching erratically. "This human courtship is highly strange. Why must we simulate a structural failure of your spine?"
"Because Ken is a psycho," I scream over the wind machine. "Now get back in position. We have ten seconds!"
Vael lets out a long-suffering sigh that I definitely feel deep down in my bones.
Or my skeleton, as Vael would say.
He steps back in, his posture stiff. This time, he moves with extreme caution. He slides his arm under my lower back, his rough scales scraping my skin, and slowly, millimeter by millimeter, lowers my upper body over the edge of the catwalk.
I hang there, my hair in danger of acid burns, completely supported by the strength of his grip.
He looms over me, his dark red wings flared out wide like sails to catch the artificial gale.
He glares down into my face, his canines bared, looking exactly like a predatory alien warlord who has just claimed his prize from the wreckage of a civilization.
"Do not touch the horns," he warns in a dark, breathless rasp.
"I won't," I whisper back. "Just look at the camera, sexy."
I’m not gonna lie. This pose is doing it for me.
He doesn't look at the drone. He keeps his eyes locked entirely on mine, his thumb rubbing a slow circle against my hip, melting the last of my annoyance.
Click.
"Ninety-seven percent passion!" Ken screams over the speakers. "The dramatic tension of the domestic dispute right before the shot was sublime. Marketing is weeping tears of joy. Next!"
The second laser grid disintegrates.
Vael hoists my body back up and onto my feet. We’re both breathing heavily, completely lost in the bizarre, high-heat energy of this challenge. I look at his proud, handsome face, and a wild laugh rips out of my throat.
"One more to go," I pant, sliding my fingers back into his palm.
Vael closes his hand around mine, locking our fingers tight.