Love: BBW Alien Lottery Romance (Chosen by the Karal Book 2) (5 page)

Failure flickered through his head. Would he be brought to his knees by a human woman, just as Marin had? Not while he could still be responsible for his own actions! However, when she said to him, “Don’t worry. We’ll get through this together,” he knew she had seen his weakness.

“I am not afraid,” he said resolutely.

“Of course you’re not.” She smiled again, but not in a way that belittled him. Then she turned her attention from him. “Where do you want us, Mr. Drass?”

Who was Mr. Drass? Oh, the little man with the clipboard. Torac had taken no notice of the name; he had been too caught up with Celia. Even now as she followed them, he could sense her compassion for her fellow man. While Mr. Drass was undeniably nervous about the Stream, she tried to put him at ease.

“We don’t mind doing the photoshoot first do we, Torac?”

“No,” he answered.

Mr Drass complimented her on her dress and asked her if she wanted to go to Makeup. She laughed, and said she would love to, but one look at Torac made her say, “But we should go straight to the shoot. I think we are on a tight schedule.”

“No, problem. I’ll get Jenny to come and put some powder on your face while you get set up. She doesn’t usually do mobile, but I’m sure she’ll make an exception.”

Torac took a back seat while Celia continued to smile and talk to everyone. So fascinating to watch how everyone reacted to her. Torac could see how women were so different to men; he could see how their world would be different with them in it. He began to question whether they were happy as a race, living as they did with only males of their species. And their children? Did they deserve to live without their mother’s love?

Torac remembered the touch of her father’s hand in his, the need to look after her, the need to protect her. Those feelings, once so alien to him, had a place inside him now. He had a
knowing
that he had not had before today. The other difference, which surprised him above all else, was that he no longer wanted to fight those feelings. He wanted to make them part of him.

When Torac had walked into the dress store earlier, she had thought him extremely commandeering, the type of man who wanted to take charge and have things his own way. The opposite of her father. Now she could see the vulnerable side of him, the side that was out of his depth. Just as she would be out of her depth when they went to his planet.

Yet he refused to show it, refused to let a chink appear in his hard exterior; she could see why the other people in the room feared him. Mr. Drass, especially, seemed intimidated by the alien. Torac didn’t exactly scowl, but there was something about him that told everyone he did not suffer fools, and they must all wonder what their fate would be if they upset him.

“They want us to stand together in front of the camera over there,” Celia said, going back to him. Jenny had done her job, and Celia could feel the makeup on her face. She looked a little more attractive now, but did not feel it inside.

“What is that on the screen?” He indicated a screen that had images on it. The photographer was cycling through the images, some of which showed the universe, galaxies, and distant stars, while others showed lost landscapes, green grass, and tall trees, the kind that had long disappeared from Earth. These days, trees were never left to grow for many years; their timber was needed. It was a false economy, really; Celia knew the timber would be more plentiful and stronger if they allowed the trees a few more decades, but there was no way the logging companies would allow it. Profit was profit.

“Well, they have some images from telescopes which have been sent out to explore the universe, and the others are what Earth used to be like.”

“Before humans destroyed it?”

“If that’s what you want to call it. But basically, they want people to think that is what your planet is like.”

“Why? It’s a lie.”

“Your planet doesn’t have grass and trees?”

“Not those species.”

“Well, since you haven’t given them any pictures of Karal, they are using poetic licence.”

“What is that?”

“Making it up.” She laughed at his frown. “You can’t be all mysterious and then get upset that we just imagine your world based on what we hope it’s like.”

“What does it matter? Only a very small proportion of your population will ever see my planet.”

“Yes, but you’ve given people a dream. You have given them hope.”

“Then it is misplaced.”

“I think you should keep that to yourself. Come on, it’s time. I have to show off my pretty dress.” She took his hand. He didn’t object as she pulled him forward to face the cameras. “This bit is easy,” she said, smiling. “It’s the part where we have to talk about ourselves that I’m dreading.”

“I’m surprised. You appear to like talking.” His voice held no humour, and his expression for the camera made him look dark and foreboding. She hoped this wasn’t what he was always like. Did the man ever actually smile?

“I like talking to people about themselves. But I don’t like talking about me.”

“Why?”

They listened to the photographer and adjusted their position. Torac put his arms around her waist and tried to look relaxed, but there was about two feet between their bodies so the pose looked totally false.

“I’m not exactly interesting and I’m certainly not a success. They’ll all know I’m a ‘skim,’ despite the dress and makeup.”

“Skim?”

“Lower classes, you know, the people who skim along the bottom of this world?” It was the name she had been called all her life; her family were of a lower class. Bottom feeders in the great big ocean of human life. Even at university it was easy to tell the students, like Celia, who had got where they were on a scholarship, their parents too poor to pay the tuition fees.

“But you won the lottery, people will look at you differently. I would think other human women would be jealous of you.”

“No one will ever be jealous of me, or want to be me.”

“I don’t believe that.” She stared up at him while the camera clicked. He sounded so truthful. But his body betrayed him; when the photographer asked Torac to kiss her, he visibly balked at the idea.

“See, even you don’t want me.” She tried to say it lightly, but her eyes betrayed her true feelings.

Torac placed his arm around her, pulling her close to his body, allowing her soft curves to press against his hard muscles. Then he placed his free hand on the nape of her neck, looking deep into her green eyes as he kissed her. Somewhere she heard a gasp of shock, she couldn’t tell if it was from Jenny, the makeup girl, or if it came from her own lips. She lost all her senses as they shut down one by one, his lips overwhelming her brain.

While other girls at college had relationships, often sleeping with a different boy each week, Celia had kept herself to herself. She had concentrated on work, knowing this was the greatest opportunity she would ever have. When she wasn’t studying, she had taken on any odd job she could, anything to prevent her having to ask her mom and dad for more money. It meant this kiss, from an alien, was her first real kiss. And what a kiss it was.

His tongue slipped along her lower lip. She could tell he tasted her, his skin passing messages to her body where they touched. Not just arousal or lust. No, his thoughts of sex were tempered with wonder. As if this was his first real kiss too. Yet he most definitely had experience. His hands and lips told her that.

Soft at first, his mouth became harder, filled with passion, filled with longing. For a long moment everything else ceased to exist, neither of them heard the camera as it clicked endlessly, capturing two creatures from different planets in a hot embrace. If Torac had known the two of them were going to be the new faces of the lottery, then he might have pulled back. As it was, he was too enraptured in her, his hand sliding down from the small of her back to caress her bottom.

Tremors flooded her body. She pressed herself forward against him, telling him she wanted more in that one small movement. But, instead of taking what she offered, he pulled away.

“Do you have what you need?” he asked, his voice flat and emotionless.

“Yes. Everything.” The photographer looked a little hot himself, his camera falling to his side as he watched the alien take Celia by the hand and lead her out of there.

“Wait! The interview,” said Mr. Drass.

“We don’t have time,” Torac said, practically dragging Celia behind him. She had gone into a daze, wondering if he carried some kind of drug on his lips. She felt powerless against him. However, the face of her dad popped up into her mind, a passion-killer for sure. She dug her heels in and made him stop.

“We have to do the interview.” She was nearly dragged over as he kept on walking, but she stood her ground.

“I don’t want to do the interview.” He turned to glare at her, sounding like a child, but looking like a man who had plans of the sexual kind. She swallowed her fear, her hand burning in his grasp. Looking down she saw the colours rushing over his skin, red predominantly, mixed with oranges and greens.

Pulling her hand away, she looked up into his face, seeing the colours there, more muted as he fought for control. “We have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“No, but I do,” she insisted.

He studied her for a moment, she wanted to turn from him, but she kept his gaze. Although when he said, “But you don’t
want
to,” she once again thought he could read her mind.

“No, I don’t. I hate the idea of being on the Stream. The photographs are one thing, but actually talking on camera is another.”

“Then we will go.” He turned as if the matter was settled.

“I can’t. I have to do it.” She turned the opposite way and began walking back to where Mr. Drass was standing with his clipboard, looking scared. Celia wondered if Torac’s rage was that bad. She imagined him stood behind her, glaring at her with his alien laser-beam eyes while smoke came out of his ears. Too many cast-off comic books in her childhood days had left her with an overly active imagination.

“I am leaving,” he said from behind her.

She stopped, not knowing what to do. Mr. Drass slipped away; he appeared to have something urgent to discuss with the photographer. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to Torac, hoping she could make this impossible Karalian see sense. Her sense, at least.

“Please. It will take half an hour.” She tried not to beg him, but she knew that was how she sounded.

“No. They have their pictures.”

“I thought the interview was part of the contract.” She knew that was not going to persuade him; he had no notion of contracts or obligations, not on Earth at least.

“I want to leave this planet and go to Karal.” He stated it as a fact he was not going to compromise on.

“Look, Torac.” She paused, thinking how she could put this in a way he would understand. But he came from a world of no shortages, no need to borrow coins so that your daughter could wear a pretty dress. “I have to do the interview.”

He cocked his head to one side, she knew he was trying to read her emotions, so she opened herself up to him, watching his face change as he tuned into her emotions. “Why?” he asked.

“You tell me?” She longed to know how accurate his assessment of her emotions were. If there came a time when she didn’t want him to know how she was feeling, she needed to know just how good he was.

“You are scared.” He looked at her harder, making her feel as if he could see her very soul. “But mixed in this you are brave, committed to helping your family. No, something different. You feel … I don’t know. It’s an emotion I don’t know. Explain.”

“Explain what?” she asked, not sure what he meant.

“The thing that makes you do things you don’t want to. It’s not as if someone is forcing you, yet they are. A very strong emotion.” He thought for a moment. “It was strong in your house. When your family were there.”

Love.
Tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t speak, the sudden loss coming to her. Feeling faint, she put her hand on the wall and took big, gulping breaths.
How could she leave them?

“Celia,” he said coming to her, his face no longer an unfeeling mask. “What is wrong? Are you ill? We need to go.”

“No,” she said, her breath coming in gasps. “I’m OK.”

He put his hand under her arm and helped her up, oblivious to the people watching from the studio and the flash of the camera. “Perhaps some air?”

“No.” She stood up, straightening her dress and slipping out of his grasp. “Torac. Listen, I know I entered your lottery. I know I agreed to go to your planet and have your … child.” She had pushed all thoughts about actually having sex with him away, but having so much contact with him made her notice him in a different way. Or maybe it was just the kiss…

“Why are you telling me this?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to pull out? Because that is not an option.” Torac’s body language changed from concerned to possessive; she thought he was going to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder. Then he would carry her out of here, ripping off any door that got in his away.

“No. No, not at all.” Although she would love to go home and forget this had ever happened. But she wanted her parents to be taken care of, not hounded as the family whose daughter made enemies of the aliens who had come to Earth to save them. “But … my mom wanted me to have a pretty dress for the photos and everything.”

“And you have a pretty dress.” His toned was derisory.

“She wanted me to have it … so that I wouldn’t have to go on the Stream in cast-off clothes. I told her it didn’t matter, but sometimes you have to do what’s best for other people, above your own feelings. It wouldn’t matter to me if I stood here in rags. But it mattered to her.”

“Then she is happy.”

“My mom borrowed the coins. Well, Mr. Collier said she could have the money if I mentioned his store in the interview.” It sounded so stupid now. But she couldn’t bear the thought of her family being more in debt because of her.

“That is the reason you want to do this interview?” he asked, but she could tell he didn’t understand.