I leaned forward, trying to get a look at the glamor squad but all I saw was a group of well-dressed individuals. "Who?"

  "Mates of the top earners on the team," Yui squeaked.

  "Our mates are new to the roster," Tayma mentioned, pointing out two players on the field. "Number twenty is Loi Puhn, Yui's mate."

  Yui swooned.

  "And number twenty-three, Eris Kei Nubia, belongs to me." Tayma grinned and rose up to shout at a youngling, "DON'T LET HIM BOSS YOU AROUND, LITTLE GUY!"

  Her outburst had me snickering but drew some scowls from the parents. On the field, Eris shook his head as if used to it. He was the same species as Joa-Trell.

  "What number is your mate?" I asked him.

  Before Joa-Trell could utter a word, Tayma declared, "He's mine too."

  He grunted.

  "Oh. Ohhhhh," I trailed. "So you three...?"

  "We were cubhood friends," Joa-Trell said. "We both ended up bonded to Tayma. It's... challenging."

  "I keep telling them to screw and play nice," Tayma sighed, "but they aren't interested. Allegedly."

  Yui giggled and Joa-Trell growled, which sounded like a rumbling cave about to crumble in on itself.

  To be a fly on their wall.

  They probably had enough romantic drama to fill a whole TV show.

  Will Joa-Trell and Eris finally give their mate a good dicking down and... possibly... each other? Stay tuned for next week!

  "So, you see," Tayma uncurled her clawed fingers through the air, "you're better off with us, not the glamor squad."

  "Oh." I shrugged. "Okay."

  Tayma sent me a sideways glance as if gauging for a reaction. "You really don't care, do you?"

  Panic spiked my blood for a second. Should I care? Would I care if I was Omen's real mate? I tried to think of a good excuse to explain away my lack of interest in whose side or whose squad I was on.

  "I'm new to all this."

  At least that was the truth.

  She shared a glance with Yui and Joa-Trell as if communicating on a wavelength I didn't have access to before she nodded once. "We like you. So we'll help you out."

  I laughed. "Well, thanks?"

  "Put the book away before you embarrass yourself further," Joa-Trell advised in his gruff voice. "We'll teach you everything you need to know."

  "Deal!" They didn't have to offer twice. I quickly stashed my book back into my purse. "Explain it to me like I'm five."

  "The main facts to remember: there are six goals in noda, and each one has a different amount of points," he started before I held up a finger.

  "Question."

  "What?"

  "Why six goals and why are they all different amounts?"

  "Noda has six goals for the challenge. The slem is the smallest."

  "How many points?"

  "Ten, because it's the hardest to net. And the kley is the largest. Only offers one point."

  "Got it." I nodded. "What are they playing with out there? A ball?"

  "Essentially," Tayma cut in. "It's called a grit and it changes shape, just slightly, depending on how it's being used. If it's held or thrown, it's fru or ovoid. If it's ground play it's tuw, or round. Everyone just refers to it as the orb."

  My brows knit together. "Why does the shape change?"

  "For versatile play," Yui piped up. "Harder to hold a round ball under the arm while running and impossible to guide the grit down the field if it's ovoid."

  "Fair enough."

  "The grit changes temperature. The longer it's in a single player's possession, the hotter it gets."

  "Are you saying a bunch of grown men are playing hot potato?" I grinned.

  "I don't know what a potato is," Joa-Trell claimed, "but it's to encourage passing. Once it's tossed to another player, it immediately cools down before it repeats the process."

  "So weird. I'll have to see this for myself." I pulled out a bag of fruit snacks and popped a chunk into my mouth before offering some to my new friends. "So how many players on the field?"

  "There's four krogs for each team, but only two on the field at a time. They defend half the goals, and all six goals rotate every five minutes."

  I shook my head. This game sounded dizzying and I couldn't keep up with the names of the positions as he continued to break down who went where and why.

  "So that's... ten players?" I'd lost count.

  "Nine on the field for each team and twelve in reserves, which makes a roster of twenty-one."

  From what I gathered, this game was like a fever dream fusion of Earth's American and European football and rugby, with a truck load of alien stuff thrown in. It was like learning another language.

  A quarter of a million dollars, a quarter of a million dollars, a quarter of a million dollars...

  "You continue to shock and amaze," Tayma declared when I pushed my sleeves up to my elbows. I should've worn a T-shirt.

  "Huh?"

  She pointed a trimmed claw at the faded red X on my forearm from Kosmos. "Your ker'kiio charm."

  My eyes bugged and too quickly I blurted, "You know what this is?"

  Tayma cocked her head. "You don't?"

  "No! Some weird lady at the Nobbekury Market muttered something about Loco or Luki never missing a mark and, no matter how hard I scrub, this thing won't come off."

  "You mean Luoko?" Yui whispered, her eyes widening.

  The way she said it made my scalp pull tight and tingle. "...Yeah. That's it."

  "That, my new human friend, is a love charm." Tayma grinned. "Or a curse, depending on how you look at it. Luoko is relentless. If you believe in ker'kiio lore, anyway."

  "I-I don't."

  I didn't know anything about ker'kiio culture. Like, at all. Only reason I'd known Kosmos was ker'kiio was because I'd briefly seen them mentioned in my guidebook.

  "Don't worry, it's probably nothing," Joa-Trell brushed it aside. "Whoever did that was wasting their time. You're already mated to Bainbridge."

  Except... I wasn't.

  16

  BIRDIE

  This was bad.

  This was really bad.

  For days I'd tried to ignore the sweeping tide called Omen that threatened to overtake me, physically, mentally, emotionally.

  It's not real, I consoled myself while I paced on the deck. It's just an unwanted love charm. A curse.

  I'd pinned all my rage on Kosmos' little trick. If I could find her, if I could get her to remove the mark, I had convinced myself I could go back to normal. My normal. I wouldn't have this spark of whatever Omen lit within me.

  Hope.

  The spark was hope.

  Like maybe him holding me close out in public wasn't just another game, but something genuine. Maybe he felt the same feverish ache in his chest when I returned his embrace or slid my hand into his and held it tight?

  And none of this was a fucked up hallucination brought on by exhaustion either. Honestly, I'd had the best sleep of my life this past week.

  Every morning, my back remained warm and his scent clung to the space behind me as if he'd held me all night long and only vanished moments before I pried open my eyes.

  Day after day, I rushed to Nobbekury Market since I'd found out about the charm. And every day, Kosmos' stall was empty.

  "When will she be back?" I'd asked the neighboring booth. "It's extremely important I speak with her."

  "Kosmos comes and goes," the reptilian merchant uttered with an indifferent shrug. "When she's here, she's here. And when she's gone, she's gone."

  I snatched up my purse and headed out, the familiar route to the market ingrained in my head now. Maybe I'd gone insane, making this trip over and over that gave me the same results every time, but I had to try.

  Please be here today, please be here today, please be here today, I chanted as I made a beeline through the crowd toward her stall.

  The sight of liquid-filled glass bottles and a flash of red skin and blue hair sent a spike of adrenaline surging through my veins as I dipped and dodged amongst the throng of alien people.

  "Kosmos!" I was breathless by the time I skidded to a halt before her and jerked my sleeve up my arm to reveal the mark. "Take it back."

  Her pale gray eyes darted to the mark and up at me. She batted her hand as if brushing away a gnat. "What's done is done."

  A fuzzy feeling prodded at my mind and I shook my head, forcing it away. "You can't use your tricks on me this time."

  After some research, I'd learned a number of older ker'kiio had a knack for controlling the thoughts and emotions of those unaware of their talent.

  Now that I knew what Kosmos was attempting? It didn't work.

  Kosmos harrumphed, her face pinching into a scowl. "Luoko has already been called upon."

  From what I could find, the ker'kiio believed love was a force, as real an element as rain or fire, and they called it Luoko.

  I leaned in so my conversation with Kosmos wasn't overheard. "I don't believe in Luoko."

  "Liar." She cackled in my face. "Why else would you be here?"

  "I... I..."

  "You want to know what I think?" Kosmos lifted a single blue brow.

  "Not particularly," I muttered.

  "Luoko has already arrived. Planted a seed." She jabbed my chest with her bony finger.

  "Ow."

  "Right there."

  I frowned and gingerly rubbed at the spot as if she'd left another curse on my person.

  "Now go away. I'm busy."

  She dropped the curtain, ending our conversation.

  The world was a blur of muted sounds, vibrations, and colors as I made my way back to the hotel, my steps slow and wooden. My mind was a chaotic roar of all that had happened and the mark on my arm burned like a hot iron brand, reminding me of its existence.

  Love isn't real.

  It only existed on the feathery pages of a scripted drama. No one I knew had found this elusive thing. Only lust and comfortable reliance existed in real life. Eventually relationships broke and crumbled and people moved on. People used each other for a finite amount of time so they didn't have to be alone.

  That couldn't be love.

  That's what I told myself. That's what soothed my restless soul. This was all some silly mind trick that I'd fallen for, but if I just pulled myself together, I'd be okay because—

  Love isn't real.

  ****

  OMEN

  "I want you to hold onto him. Cling to Omen as if he's the oxygen in your lungs and you need him to survive."

  Birdie's hazel eyes peered up at me beneath her dark, curled lashes while the photographer, Frey, spouted instructions at us.

  My eyes locked with Birdie's and the rapid fluttering of her heart beat in my ears. It sped up and her round pupils widened.

  Through this whole product shoot, it'd been this way.

  Her pink tongue would dart across her bottom lip, especially when her gaze fell to my mouth, as if by reflex.

  What was going on in that beautiful head of hers?

  "This isn't going to work," Frey quickly deduced and snapped her three fingered hand, summoning one of the many assistants in the studio. "Bring the stool. I want her to appear ethereal, weightless, as if her dainty human body is floating in this gown."

  "Dainty?" Birdie muttered dubiously under her breath and I cracked a smile.

  A stool was placed beneath her and Birdie's pulse kicked into a gallop now that she was closer. We were nearly eye-level as we stood there, me in my black noda bodysuit, her in the newest gown Waya Ris designed.

  The prismatic fabric was imbued with quarkit smart fibers. The long skirt and train shrank and expanded on its own, never touching the ground once activated. It billowed and undulated all around Birdie, gently swaying as if she were floating underwater.

  The straps curved over her shoulders, the neckline sharply plunged between the perfect mounds of her breasts, and the bodice hugged her torso before flaring at the curve of her hip.

  The sight of her exquisitely formed legs exposed by the daring slits up the sides only hypnotized me further.

  She was the most mesmerizing creature I'd ever laid eyes on. And no, that wasn't my cock speaking, even if I wished it were.

  Fucking idiot, that's me.

  "Drop your right hand," Frey told Birdie.

  "Like this?" She laid her palm on the space beneath my shoulder and above my pectoral muscle, her arm reaching across my chest to do so.

  "Yes, yes, yes," Frey delightedly hissed. "Now lift your right leg. Omen, hold her against your body."

  Birdie cleared her throat and awkwardly muttered an apology as she dragged her knee up my body.

  I could fuck her right now, just like this, if I angled my body toward hers.

  I curled my fingers over her silky bare skin. My digits tucked into the soft crease at the back of her knee, holding it to me. With her balancing on one foot against the stepstool, she shifted her weight against me, her breasts pressed into my chest.

  Do not get hard, I coached myself.

  "Tilt your head back," Frey called. "I want to see a look of desire! You're a seductress from another world and need a virile male who's able to meet your needs!"

  A sound eked at the back of Birdie's throat as that unnaturally captivating blush spread across her nose and cheeks. She immediately looked up at me.

  "Yes, yes!" Frey cheered, snapping photos.

  When she peered at me with those strangely beautiful eyes, we were in our own cocoon. The studio staff beyond the bright set lights, and Frey shouting her enthusiasm, fell away.

  My hand slid over Birdie's hip, the insatiable need to have more of her against me rearing its head.

  It didn't matter that I held her every night while she slept.

  Because again, I'm a fucking idiot.

  By any standards, I should've had my fill. But I was a greedy motherfucker. There was so much more I wanted from her.

  That thread she strummed, somewhere deep at my core, had only magnified. It called for Birdie, whether she could hear it or not. Whether I buried it and refused to acknowledge it.

  This was udonie.

  Even if I dismissed it—which I certainly fucking did—or attempted to explain it away...

  The fever wouldn't be calmed.

  Birdie was mine.

  Her breathing deepened. Her hand inched upward, fingertips gliding against my neck, twisting into my mane. Her face was only a breath away from—

  She kissed me.

  Her lips pillowed against mine, a bolt of awareness blazing a searing hot trail through me.

  She kissed me in her human way and I...

  Fuck.

  One hand tightened on her hip and the other that held her leg gripped her plush thigh. My claws gently dug into her flesh.

  Is this what I've been missing out on?

  I groaned against her mouth, tasting citrus on her tongue when it slid against my fang. I almost cursed the six devils.

  Sensation blasted through my body, consuming me whole. My nostrils flared, her arousal hitting me like a speeding tram, slamming me square in the—

  "That's a wrap!" Frey shouted. "We got the shot!"

  Birdie swiftly broke away. Her eyes bore into mine.

  A line had been crossed.

  She knew it.

  I fucking knew it.

  This might've started as a fake arrangement, a mutually beneficial situation, but it was more now.

  It was real.

  17

  BIRDIE

  We were supposed to be on our way to the charity gala being hosted by Omen's parents, but I didn't care.

  The entire half hour between our photoshoot kiss and now had been pure torture. I almost chewed off my entire thumbnail waiting for Frey's crew to outfit Omen in a robe that complimented my dress.

  Now we were in his sporty transport, speeding through the lit up city and all I fucking wanted to do was finish what we started.

  I slammed my hand against the navigation screen and gathered the expensive fabric of the Waya Ris gown—that was on loan—in my arms, and climbed over the middle console separating me and Omen.

  "Rerouting. Rerouting. Rerouting."

  I didn't care if the transport rerouted us across the globe as long as it kept driving.

  "I want you so fucking bad," Omen growled against my mouth when I straddled his lap. He captured my lips for another soul-stealing kiss.

  His mouth on mine?

  The best kiss of my life.

  It was new and exciting. His intensity tore down my inhibitions, devoured me, and drove me wild.

  He followed my lead at first, learning with inhuman speed what made me moan and writhe. It wasn't long before I was gasping for breath because Omen took what he wanted, craved, desired, leaving me panting for breath and wanting more.

  Every pull from his lips, every time his mouth locked against mine, an eternity stretched inside a fleeting moment.

  It broke all the rules. Went against the contract we signed.

  I don't care.

  Maybe it was self-sabotage, maybe I was a glutton for landing myself in situations that would inevitably end badly for me.

  Or...

  Or maybe I just wanted this.

  Maybe I just wanted to live in this singular moment and share a physically satisfying encounter with an alien man.

  I didn't need to think about the contract, the curse, or what might happen ten minutes from now, an hour from now, tomorrow, next week—

  Just... this.

  Omen curled his fingers over my shoulders, pulling the straps down my arms, tugging until he freed my tits.

  "Fuck..." he exhaled, his eyes drinking in my naked chest with a raw hunger.

  My nipples tightened, hardening under his beastly gaze.

  Prey, meet predator.

  I pulled my arms out of the straps, my hands diving into his fluffy mane and pulling him close. "Kiss them," I begged, biting into the tip of my tongue when he obliged.

  The feel of my nipple being sucked into his hot, demanding mouth stole my breath. When he flicked his textured tongue against it? My clit throbbed like there was a direct line to my pussy.

  "Omen..." His name was a prayer on my lips.

  My hips rocked against his, the bulge in his pants telling me he wanted this just as badly as I did.

 

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