The Alien’s Unwanted Bride (Alien Brides #4)

Chapter 1

ONE

Z ora Arison awoke to a symphony of alien bird songs, their melodies weaving through the air like liquid crystal. A smile bloomed on her face before she even opened her eyes. Another day on Tharvis. Her excitement bubbled up, making her want to leap out of bed and rush to the window.

She resisted the urge, savoring the moment instead. The silk sheets whispered against her skin as she stretched, catlike and content. Finally, she allowed her eyes to flutter open, drinking in the sight of her chamber in the Tharvisian royal palace.

Sunlight filtered through the translucent curtains, casting prismatic patterns across the marble floor. The room was a masterpiece of alien artistry—intricate tapestries depicting Tharvisian legends adorned the walls while furniture crafted from materials unknown to Earth seemed to defy gravity.

Zora sat up, her auburn hair a wild tangle around her face. “Good morning, Tharvis,” she whispered, her voice full of wonder even after months on the planet.

A cheerful beep responded to her greeting. Sprig, her robotic assistant, whirred to life from its charging station. The floating, spherical bot, the size of a large softball, was a gift from the Tharvisian royal family upon her arrival.

“Good morning, Zora Arison!” Sprig chirped, its optical sensors glowing a warm green. “Today’s atmospheric conditions are optimal for botanical exploration. Shall I prepare your field kit?”

Zora laughed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Easy there, buddy. Breakfast first, then exploration. But, yes, please download the data. I have a feeling today’s going to be special.”

As she dressed in her favorite outfit—a practical jumpsuit in Earth-sky blue with plenty of pockets for specimens—Zora’s mind whirled with possibilities. Every day on Tharvis brought new discoveries and new wonders. As a xenobotanist with multiple PhDs, she was in paradise.

“Sprig, what’s on the official agenda today?” she asked, braiding her hair with practiced ease.

The robot’s processors whirred. “Your schedule includes breakfast with your sisters and their husbands at 0800 hours, followed by?—”

“Let me guess,” Zora interrupted with a grin. “Free time until some fancy dinner?”

“Correct,” Sprig confirmed. “The evening banquet is at 1900 hours.”

“Perfect!” Zora clapped her hands together. “That gives us plenty of time to investigate that new species of luminescent fungi I spotted yesterday.”

She practically skipped down the ornate palace corridors, Sprig bobbing along beside her. The halls were a marvel of technology and tradition—holographic interfaces flickered to life as they passed, displaying everything from daily schedules to real-time updates on interplanetary affairs, all seamlessly integrated with the ancient Tharvisian architecture.

The grand dining hall buzzed with lively chatter as Zora entered. The air was filled with the aroma of spices unknown to Earth, making her mouth water in anticipation. Her sisters were already seated with their Tharvisian husbands, their animated conversations punctuated by laughter.

“Zora!” Mila called out, waving enthusiastically. “Over here! You’ve got to try these uttaberry pancakes. They change flavor with every bite.”

Grinning, Zora made her way to the table. “Morning, everyone. Those pancakes sound amazing, but are they as good as Raelee’s infamous ‘Diplomatic Disaster’ waffles?”

A chorus of groans and giggles erupted around the table. Raelee, the eldest Arison sister, rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I thought we agreed never to speak of that again,” she said, trying to look stern but failing to hide her smile.

“Oh no,” Venus chimed in, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “That story is going down in family history. The look on the European ambassador’s face when the syrup started erupting like a volcano—priceless!”

Vexor Tharvis, the Crown Prince and Raelee’s husband, looked between the sisters with fond amusement. “I feel there’s a story I’ve yet to hear,” he said, his deep voice tinged with curiosity.

Raelee groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Not you too, Vex. I thought husbands were supposed to be on their wives’ side.”

“Oh, I’m always on your side, my love,” Vexor replied smoothly, placing a kiss on Raelee’s cheek. “But I’m also on the side of good stories, and this sounds like a great one.”

As the sisters launched into a dramatic retelling of the “Diplomatic Disaster,” complete with wild gesticulations and creative reenactments, Zora felt a warmth bloom in her chest. This was why she loved these breakfasts. Despite their busy lives and important roles, they always made time to be just sisters—brilliant, goofy, loving sisters.

“So,” Mila said once the laughter had died down, “what’s everyone up to today? Roqron and I are putting the finishing touches on our new atmospheric purifier. Want a sneak peek, Zora? It uses some fascinating bioengineering principles.”

Zora’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, yes please! Maybe later this afternoon? I’m heading to the Whispering Grove to study those bioluminescent fungi we discovered.”

“The ones that respond to sonic vibrations?” Venus asked, leaning forward with interest. “Azlun and I were talking about incorporating something similar into the designs for the new civic center. A living, responsive building but this one I get to help design. Imagine the possibilities.”

“Speaking of possibilities,” Raelee interjected, a sly smile playing on her lips, “has anyone seen Dravek this morning? He’s usually so punctual.”

A ripple of knowing looks passed around the table. Zora felt her cheeks grow warm, though she couldn’t quite say why. “I’m sure he’s just busy,” she said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “You know how dedicated he is to his duties.”

“Mh-mmm,” Mila hummed, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Venus. “Dedicated to his duties... and to observing certain xenobotanists in the garden, perhaps?”