Free The Alien King and I by Lizzie Lynn Lee

The Alien King and I
     
    I was kidnapped by an alien on my
thirtieth birthday. And not just any alien, he told me he was the
king of his people from a faraway planet: Naxia of Alpha Centauri
B, the nearest star system to our sun. So he had said.
    “ I am Fairoh du Urugna,
Lord of Stinani, Vanou, Edora, Adilor, and Iatil, Protector of the
Free Lands, Quadrant Three of Naxia,” he announced in his deep,
baritone voice.
    “ But I can call you Steve,
right?” Because, really?
    Of course I didn’t believe him. I was
expecting a male stripper. It was my birthday, after all, and my
BFF Carrie had arranged a special party for me hitting the big
three-zero. All the single girls in my office and my close female
friends had been invited. Carrie and I had promised them the party
would be a blast—a wild night in Vegas would look like a Sunday
sermon at the Vatican.
    “ Nay, woman,” he rebuked
me, straight-faced. “You may address me as Lord Fai, for you have
been granted the privilege as my chosen mate.”
    “ Right.” Strippers these
days seemed to be very committed to their role.
    One thing I didn’t understand, though,
was how he’d managed to get me into the room in the first place?
The girls and I had begun partying and I had consumed a
considerable amount of alcohol when I’d opened the door to the,
much awaited, highlight of our party. We were all excited and
giggled “ooh” and “aah” when we saw him.
    He was better looking than what I had
anticipated and not in attire I would have expected. For a
stripper, he had dressed too much. The hunk was over seven feet
tall, clad in shiny metal armor like a warrior from the video game
HALO that my nephew is so fond of playing. The only thing missing
from his ensemble was the self-sustaining helmet and a big-assed
laser rifle.
    “ Pray, tell me, are you
Lindsey Cunningham?” His voice was deep, seductive.
    “ Why, of course, sexy,” I
had answered. “What can I do you for? Missionary? Cowgirl? Reverse
cowgirl? I’m a lady of many talents.” The girls behind me were
jeering and catcalling like raunchy bitches in heat.
    He had only smirked and touched my
forehead with his metal-gloved hand and seconds later, I found
myself standing in the middle of the room that looked like a set
from a bad, low-budget Sci-Fi flick.
    How the hell had he done that? What
kind of Houdini tricks had he used on me? I don’t think even Chris
Angel would have been that good, let alone some run-of-the-mill
stripper. I asked him and that was when he told me he was an alien.
He had come to get me because I was his chosen mate and would carry
his royal heirs.
    I needed another martini. Several,
maybe.
    I didn’t realize I had voiced my
thoughts out loud.
    Steve, or rather Lord Fai, narrowed
his eyes and gave me a reproachful look. “You are obviously
inebriated.” He spewed it with such distaste, I found it hilarious.
I thought male strippers preferred their clients drunk off their
asses. Males are males and no man I know didn’t care for loose
women.
    Apparently, Lord Fai
didn’t.
    He strode to the adjoining room and
vanished from my sight. Feeling more curious than a fickle cat, I
followed him. The moment I stepped in, I was welcomed by the sight
of an upscale, stainless steel professional chef’s
kitchen.
    Yeah, alien my ass. I swore I spotted
a Kitchen Aid mixer.
    If they wanted to make it believable,
why didn’t they make the set thoroughly consistent?
    Besides, his lordship Fai spoke
perfect English. Only, his accent was unrecognizable. But I knew
some guys who pulled this kind of stunt just to get into women’s
panties. They drawled in some exotic accent, like French or German,
when in reality, they were from Jersey.
    So, I thought, the unexplainable time
lapse, like one second I was standing in the hallway of my
apartment and the next I was here, was nothing but the result of
too much alcohol on an empty stomach. I had heard stories that when
alcohol hit too hard it could