Epilogue
SANDRA
Aknock thunders through the suite.
We freeze. My brain, still pleasantly fuzzy from everything that just happened, takes a moment to catch up.
Someone's at the door, it announces helpfully. You're naked. He's naked. This is a problem.
"Ignore it," Fercer murmurs against my hair, his arm tightening around me.
Another knock. Louder.
"I know you're in there!" A woman's voice, warm and confident. "I brought the cinnamon rolls you ordered. Come and get them while they're hot!"
My eyes go wide. "Cinnamon rolls? You ordered me cinnamon rolls?"
"Because I knew you'd act like this." Fercer chuckles, nuzzling at my neck. "When are you not eating something? Trust me, I've noticed the hoarding."
"I don't hoard—"
"You absolutely hoard."
"It's not my fault you keep feeding me!" I laugh, absolutely delighted that food somehow keeps ending up in front of me.
Fercer's already rolling out of bed, reaching for his pants.
The knocking intensifies.
I scramble for clothes. Another one of his shirts, because mine is still somewhere in the jungle of fabric thrown across our floor. My fingers fumble with buttons as Fercer hops on one foot, trying to get his leg through a pant hole.
"Coming!" I call.
"That's what you said last night too," Fercer mutters.
I shoot him a look that's equal parts exasperated and delighted.
"I'm coming in!"
What is with people just barging in on us? It’s like a never-ending infestation.
"Wait!"
The door slides open.
A dark-haired woman barges through, carrying a plate of pastries like it's a battering ram. Her eyes sweep the room. The rumpled bed. Fercer's bare chest. My very obvious case of just-been-thoroughly-ravished hair.
Her grin could power a small starship.
"Well," she says, setting the platter down with a decisive thunk. "It's been days since you arrived, and I'm finally getting to meet you properly. I'm Elana." She sticks out her hand. "I'd say sorry for the interruption, but I'm really not."
I shake her hand, acutely aware that I'm standing here in nothing but Fercer's shirt. Again. This is becoming a pattern.
"Sandra," I manage. "Wait, you look familiar. Are you...?"
"Yep!" Elana points a thumb at her chest. "Security detail. I tackled Vyla yesterday. Did you see? It was a full-on flying-leap tackle. I gave it to her good."
"Thanks for, um, the tackling. Yesterday."
"Don't worry about it. Totally fun." Her eyes light up in a way that's slightly concerning. "I haven't had a good tackle in weeks. Sutek won't let me practice on the guests anymore." She jerks a thumb at the massive Volscian looming in the doorway. "Spoilsport."
He's all scarred muscle and broken horn stumps. In any other situation, he'd be terrifying. Definitely not a guy you'd like to bump into in a dark alleyway. But he's gazing down at Elana with a gentle smile.
As soon as she glances back at him, a scowl appears, as if that tender look was never there.
"You broke the last one's collarbone," he says, voice rough.
"He was fine."
Sutek shakes his head, but his twitching lips give him away as he gazes down at his mate.
A throat-clearing has Sutek stepping inside our suite. Behind him, a familiar male steps forward—all refined clothing, smooth hair, and an even smoother voice.
"Perhaps we could take this conversation to the balcony? Give our hosts a moment to... compose themselves?"
Yes, my brain screams. Composing is good.
Five minutes later, I'm marginally more dressed and standing on the balcony overlooking the hotel gardens. The morning sun is warm. The jungle shimmers. And I'm surrounded by people who apparently consider barging into post-coital bliss a normal social activity.
"I'm very sorry this has occurred during your holiday," Rist says smoothly, accepting a cup of something steaming from a service bot. His British accent makes everything sound terribly civilized. "In fact, we've been doing some creative restructuring of the narrative."
“Restructuring?” Fercer's hand finds mine. "What kind of restructuring?"
Rist and Elana exchange a look.
"Well," Elana says, "you know how the hotel sometimes holds special events? Immersive experiences for guests?"
I did not know this.
"We are framing it as a performance piece," Rist confirms. "You are one of our VIP clients, after all. Our entertainment packages are popular with certain clientele. The guests were thrilled to be included."
I think of the chaos in the lobby. The screaming. Vyla waving a laser pistol while Fercer declared his love for me in front of an audience of bewildered aliens.
I stare at him. "There was a gun."
"There was a gun in my performance piece too!" Elana laughs. "Lots of guns. A total shootout."
Sutek sighs. "You destroyed the hotel."
"Eh," Elana mutters. "Totally worth it."
Rist's eyes widen impossibly. His blackened gaze turns to Sutek. "She's worse than you with your rockets."
"What's wrong with rockets?"
A long, quiet moment hangs in the air. Elana looks completely unrepentant and a touch devious, wiggling her eyebrows at me. Sutek's brows crease in what appears to be utter confusion. And Rist—he looks tired.
"Anyway," Rist continues, "Vyla is in custody, already handed over to our resident Peace Keeper. The performance story will protect Fercer's professional reputation while she faces appropriate consequences."
"Your label is already spinning it," Elana chimes in. "Avant-garde marketing. The Devil stages the galaxy's most elaborate proposal. Very romantic. Very on-brand."
Fercer makes a strangled sound. "My proposal?"
"You did declare your love in front of approximately forty witnesses," Rist points out. "And then kissed her. The footage is quite compelling."
My face is on fire. I have somehow become the center of a galaxy-wide romantic spectacle, and I'm standing here in borrowed clothes with sex hair.
But Fercer's hand is warm in mine. And when I look up at him, he's smiling. Not the stage smile. The real one. The one that reaches his black eyes and makes them shine.
"So," Elana says, leaning forward with obvious anticipation, "what's the plan now? Back on tour? Whirlwind media appearances? Your names are all over the holovids."
Fercer's grip tightens on my fingers.
"I think," I say slowly, "I need a vacation."
Fercer's laugh is bright and real. "You're on vacation."
"No, I was surviving." I turn to face him, and his eyes are soft, warm, impossibly fond. "Dodging stalkers and fake-engaging rock stars and falling off patio furniture. That's not a vacation. That's a disaster."
"A romantic disaster," he offers.
"The most romantic disaster." I lean into his warmth. His arms come around me like it's the most natural thing in the world. "So now I want the real thing. The kind with absolutely no one pointing weapons at me."
"We can arrange that," Elana exclaims. "Well. Sutek might point weapons. But only at threats. Never us girls. Trust me, I'll kick his bum if he did that."
"I'll take it." I laugh. "Is that okay with you, Fercer?"
Somehow, despite all his declarations, I'm suddenly nervous. This is the moment he could go back, leaving me behind. It's a fear that I've lived with for so long, it's not going to go away overnight. But I'm working on it, one day at a time.
"Yeah," he says. "I think I'm taking a break from performing."
Silence.
"Your label..." Rist starts.
"Can wait." Fercer's voice is steady. Sure. "I've been running on empty for years. Performing so hard I forgot who I actually am without an audience. And now..." He looks at me, and something soft moves through his expression. "I've always wanted a happily ever after, and now I've found mine."
I think about his obsession with romance novels. About all those stories that end with declarations and kisses and the promise that everything will be perfect forever.
And I think about how real life is messier than that. Harder. More complicated.
But also, maybe, better.
"I think," I say, tilting my face up to meet his eyes, "this isn’t our happy ending. It’s our happy beginning."
He kisses me, soft and sweet and full of promise. A life of just the two of us together, dictating our own futures.
"Well," Rist says, rising gracefully. "It seems you'll be staying with us for a while, then. Both of you." His dark eyes meet mine, and I see the same quiet offer he made when we first arrived. The same steady assurance.
You're safe here. You're wanted here.
"Let me be the first to properly say this, then. Welcome home, Sandra. Welcome to the Alien Hotel."
The End…