The Intergalactic Duke's Inconvenient Engagement Read online

  Table of Contents

  Big Sky Alien Mail Order Brides

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Join Us!

  About the Author

  Thank You!

  Intergalactic Dating Agency

  Black Hole Brides

  The Intergalactic Duke's Inconvenient Engagement

  Turns out, alien abduction is a thing. Who would’ve believed it? Not Rayna Quaye, hard-headed, hard-working Earth girl. But when she wakes up on an abandoned space station orbiting a black hole many, many lightyears from home, she gets a crash course in such extraterrestrial inconveniences.

  Speaking of inconveniences… His Grace, Aelazar Amrazal Thorkonos, Duke of Azthronos, has enough problems on his interplanetary plate. His inherited solar system is in debt, his mother wants to marry him off, and now Raz has to rescue some baffled back-world female.

  But then the Black Holes Brides are bequeathed the salvaged space station. Faster than light, Rayna has fortune hunters after her. Conveniently, the Duke of Azthronos has an engaging idea…

  Join the Intergalactic Dating Agency, where some hearts are still dreaming of the stars…

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  Looking for love in all the wrong galaxies

  Welcome to the Intergalactic Dating Agency

  Putting the sigh and friction in science fiction romance!

  See all the stories from the INTERGALACTIC DATING AGENCY

  Copyright © 2017 by Elsa Jade

  Cover by Croco Designs

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as factual. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be scanned, reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Chapter 1

  Rayna Quaye dreamed that she woke in a glass coffin.

  Staring at the translucent pane right above her head, she blinked in confusion, hazily conscious of her hands crossed peacefully over her breasts. With another blink, she focused past the glass to the stars—stars?—above her.

  Had she died in her dream? A glass coffin seemed a little pretentious, not her style at all. Was this heaven? She’d tried to lead a good life—she’d raised her younger sister after their mother left, she worked hard at her part-time job as a sales associate at Mr. Evens’ Odds & Ends Shop, she paid her taxes willingly to help others except for that one time she’d bitched about a proposed sidewalk improvement tax because she kind of liked Sunset Falls, Montana, being so rustic, but God wouldn’t hold that against her, would he?—so she hoped it wasn’t the other place…

  Wait, if she was dreaming, why was she still thinking about sidewalk taxes? If she was in heaven, why was she still in a coffin?

  Her heartbeat ramped up, pounding against her palms.

  If she was dead, why was her heart pounding?

  Because she wasn’t dead.

  And the only thing worse than being dead in a pretentious glass coffin was being not dead in any coffin.

  The dreamy confusion evaporated in a rush of adrenaline. She slammed her hands onto the glass above her, her heart raging as if it wanted out of her body as much as she wanted out of this box. Though the pane appeared thin, it held against her wallop. Panicked breaths seethed between her teeth, along with a scream she dared not release. Not until she got out. How long had she been in here? How much air did she have left?

  She pulled her elbows tight to her sides then punched upward again, bracing herself for the bite of glass. But there wasn’t room enough for more than a glancing blow. She was going to die in here after all—

  No. No no no. The scream she dared not let out echoed crazily in her head. She’d moved to Big Sky Country specifically because she needed her freedom. She’d sworn she’d never be stuck again…

  She screamed.

  She couldn’t help it. The hoarse sound tore raggedly at her throat, ripping past her dry, cracked lips. With all the force of that wordless shriek, she launched her fist at the glass right above her heart, twisting her shoulders and even her hips to put everything she had behind the fierce strike.

  Her fist broke through and then the rest of her arm. Momentum carried her upright, and she smacked her head on the pane. As if the breaking glass was a broken spell, the entire structure of the coffin shattered, practically dissolving in a heap of octagonal shards around her.

  Above, the stars twinkled—approving or mocking, she couldn’t tell.

  She rolled to one side, slithering on the broken glass. And fell off the platform where the coffin had been resting.

  Another scream jolted from her before she hit the floor just a couple feet down. Good thing it hadn’t been higher… She scrabbled in the debris, her palms stinging from the splinters, and forced herself upright on wavering limbs.

  The thin, white shift that was her only clothing swung around her thighs, and the glass bit at the bare soles of her feet as she twisted, staring around wildly.

  What? The? Fuck?

  A dozen more glass coffins in a row—she was near one end—glowed softly in the starlight under another glass dome, this one several stories overhead, like the atrium of a greenhouse. But there was no sunlight here, just that black night sky speckled with pinpoints of faraway light.

  She was no astronomer, but she’d spent more than a few nights at the unimproved sidewalk seating outside the Sunset Falls Saloon, admiring the Big Sky at night. And none of these constellations looked at all familiar.

  A chill—not just because of the ridiculously short shift she was wearing—prickled over her skin.

  Where? The? Fuck?

  Cautiously, she sidled through the glass fragments, her heart throbbing faster than the twinkling stars with one message: getoutgetoutgetout.

  She edged toward the next coffin, half expecting alarms to blare or someone to rush in to investigate the ruckus or something. But the atrium was eerily silent except for a soft shush of sound like ventilation, as if the room was breathing. Maybe that was why she hadn’t suffocated in that coffin.

  Getoutgetoutgetout, the hush whispered.

  Well, yeah, but which way? She hadn’t thought much past getoutgetoutgetout of the coffin.

  As she paused at the next coffin to glance around for a door, she looked down through the glass.

  “Oh god,” she whimpered.

  It was another woman lying there, eyes closed, hands folded over the white shift covering her breasts.

  Who? The? Fuck?

  Just like her. Someone trapped. She spun to look at the other coffins. Were they all trapped?

  Her knees trembled with the urge to flee. She had to get out. She could send the authorities to rescue anyone else. But…what if something happened before help came?

  She didn’t even have a weapon.

 
Whirling back to the coffin next to her, she scanned the surface. It wasn’t quite as featureless as it looked from the inside. A narrow panel of pastel lights glowed on the side. What those lights meant…

  She smashed her palm over them, her fingers jabbing randomly. “Open up,” she hissed. “Let us out!”

  As if reproaching her violence, the panel chimed melodically. But didn’t open.

  However, the eyes of the woman inside did.

  Rayna had only the briefest impression of wild, white-ringed eyes before a yellow gas flowed into the coffin.

  “Shit,” she gasped. Yellow gas probably wasn’t ever good.

  Fingertips and palms, paler than the dark skin around them, splayed frantically on the inside of the glass.

  Rearing back, Rayna brought both fists smashing down on the glass near where the woman’s midsection would be, at least partially protected by the thin shift.

  The glass splintered. As before, once the seal was broken, the entire structure disintegrated in pretty little octagons. Heavy yellow gas flowed down the platform, and the woman jackknifed upright.

  Swinging a punch right for Rayna’s nose.

  She jumped back, stumbling. “Stop,” she cried. “I’m rescuing you.” Sort of.

  The dark-skinned woman held her second blow. “Who the fuck are you?” she snarled, her voice grating, as if from disuse.

  “My name’s Rayna Quaye. I was in the coffin next door. We have to get out of here before—”

  She didn’t know before what, but it was probably bad.

  The other woman shoved off the platform. And then grabbed at the edge as her knees buckled. “That fucking gas,” she said with a cough. “Almost knocked me out again.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rayna babbled. “I didn’t know—”

  The woman sliced a hand through the air, not to punch this time, but still cutting Rayna off. “Which way?” A twang of the deep South barely softened the urgency in her strengthening voice. She continued the sweep of her hand right through the glass…and managed to find the one big shard left.

  “Uh.” Rayna glanced in all directions. The atrium was basically a big circle, and the starlight barely reached the edges.

  Her new companion rolled her dark eyes. “Some rescue.”

  “This really isn’t the time for Star Wars quotes,” Rayna muttered.

  The woman flashed her a smile even sharper than her improvised weapon. “Hey now,” she drawled. “We have a new hope, so there’s that. I’m Lishelle. Not so nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” Rayna gestured at the other coffins. “We can’t leave them.”

  Lishelle nodded. “You go that way.” She gestured down the row in one direction. “I got these.” Her expression hardened. “And if he comes, I get first crack.”

  Rayna swallowed hard, holding back the gibbering shrieks that had plagued her since opening her eyes. She was over that now, right? Now that they were free.

  Free-ish.

  “He who?” Her question was little more than a croak, as if she’d swallowed some of that gas and found herself wanting to fall back into sleep. She stiffened against the compulsion. A long time ago she’d learned not to wait for someone to rescue her. “Who?” she demanded.

  Lishelle straightened. Even barefoot, she was easily six inches taller than Rayna’s five-four, and her broad shoulders and broader hips gave her an intimidating authority that Rayna found almost comforting until she said, “The piece of shit who abducted us.”

  “Abducted…” Rayna swayed.

  Lishelle grabbed her elbow. “You don’t remember?”

  “I…” Indistinct images—not even images, more like sensations—of confusion, dizziness, her body jerking uncontrollably, made her stomach heave. “I don’t know.”

  “Lucky you.” Lishelle spun her toward the nearest coffin. “Get the others out. Don’t hit the yellow button. Just the blue.”

  How did Lishelle know? How long had she been…abducted? This time, Rayna’s whole body heaved.

  But she ran unsteadily down the row of coffins, slapping at the pale blue light on the panels hard enough to send a spasm up her arm, which she just now realized was bleeding. Panes on the first two coffins retracted to reveal empty interiors.

  The third… She leaned forward impatiently, ready to issue half-assed explanations and unbelievable reassurances before hustling on to the next panel—but then she staggered back as the stench rolled out from the opening pane.

  She clamped her forearm over her nose and mouth, staring in horror.

  Same white shift, same posture with hands folded peacefully.

  Skeletal hands, the flesh fallen in, the skin mottled. Long blond hair coiled loosely under the skull with its sunken eyes. At least these eyes were closed.

  Bare feet slapping on the smooth, cold floor, Rayna ran to the next coffin, one thought thudding dully like her heels.

  What would he do if he caught them?

  Caught them again…

  The last coffin yielded one more prisoner.

  Helping the young woman sit up, Rayna brushed back the tangle of hair—brown and a little greasy, not blond and dry like the corpse’s… She caught her breath on a not-quite sob as the girl blinked at her. The confusion tugged at Rayna’s heart, remembering her own confusion, remembering the way her little sister used to look at her after a tumble off a bicycle or when a friend at school was mean: hurt, baffled, lost…

  “C’mon,” she said grimly. “We’re getting out of here.”

  The young woman hesitated a split second, then tumbled toward Rayna in her identical thin gown and bare feet. She touched Rayna’s arm. “He hurt you,” she murmured as Rayna helped her down from the platform, supporting the smaller woman’s slight weight. “He never hurt me. He never said anything.”

  Rayna half nodded, half shook her head, in a weird, confused circle. Did everyone remember their abductor except her? “It wasn’t him that did this,” she said. “I’m Rayna. What’s your name?”

  “Trixie,” the girl said hesitantly. Then louder, with more confidence—as if she was taking back her identify from the man who had stolen it, and her—she repeated, “I’m Trixie Boudreaux.”

  From the other end of the row of coffins, Lishelle waved at them. She had two other women with her wearing the same short, white shifts and dazed, fearful expressions.

  Trixie glanced around them. “Where are the police?”

  “Uh, this is kind of a do-it-yourself rescue,” Rayna told her.

  Trixie’s eyes widened, but she followed Rayna hastily toward Lishelle and the others.

  Lishelle looked at Trixie then Rayna. “Just one?”

  Without answering aloud, Rayna closed her eyes. The image of the dead woman would never leave her. If only she’d woken up in time… “We have to get out,” she said. “We don’t know how long—”

  How long they’d been asleep. How much longer until their captor returned.

  Lishelle jerked her head in a sharp nod, the tight, black curls of her hair gleaming in the starlight. She still had the piece of broken glass in her hand—brighter than the stars.

  Trixie eyed the impromptu weapon with appreciation. “What next?”

  Everyone looked at Rayna.

  Okay, this was why she’d gone to Sunset Falls. She’d kept house while her father had been deployed, and she raised her little sister Vaughn—she’d been done with being the one everyone looked to and needed. So done. And she’d actually been good at making mac’n’cheez and balancing the checkbook. This? She had no idea what to do here. She didn’t even know where here was. “We have to get out”—getoutgetoutgetout—“of here before he gets back. We can find a way to contact the police when we’re away from this place.”

  To her relief—and dismay—everyone nodded, even Lishelle who seemed much more the confident leader type what with the makeshift shiv clenched in her fingers.

  Trixie cleared her throat. “There’s a bigger room that way.” She pointed past Lishel
le. “Maybe…”

  Lishelle looked at her sharply. “How do you know what’s there?”

  “I got out,” Trixie said in a small voice. “Once. I prayed and prayed, but…”

  Out sounded good to Rayna. Once was all she needed. Without another word, adrenalin snapping in her veins, she rushed across the atrium in the direction Trixie had indicated. The patter of four pairs of bare feet behind her kept pace.

  At the end—well, not really end, but in the curve of the atrium, a thicker framing showed one glass panel was a doorway. Rayna hesitated, almost stumbling.

  If she opened the door and their captor was on the other side…

  “I’ll cut him,” Lishelle snarled, as if she heard Rayna’s thoughts. Or more likely, the same thought was going through her head.

  Rayna shoved at the pane, and it pivoted open.

  To reveal another atrium, this one as empty as the black sky above.

  For a head-spinning moment, she had the nauseating feeling they were just rats in a maze, their captor cruelly letting them think they had run of the place while they fulfilled whatever sick experiment he’d had in mind when he took them.

  At least it was a smaller atrium, and the double panes with thick framing at the far side were big enough that she knew—guessed, hoped, prayed—there’d be something different on the other side. Would it be him?

  She waved Lishelle up beside her. “Get ready,” she muttered.

  The statuesque women nodded grimly and hefted her sliver of glass. Not much to work with.

  She’d never had much to work with, so that was nothing new.

  Rayna slammed through the next set of doors, hardly caring what she’d find on the other side as long as it wasn’t more of this. Let the nightmare be over, whatever that meant.

  But one step into the room—another damned atrium—she stumbled to a halt. All the women behind her gasped as if on cue.

  It was a paradise, a freaking tropical paradise, like some exotic, upscale hotel lobby. Welcome to Ye Olde Madman’s Inn of Glass Coffins.

  High arched trusses framed panes that let in a light almost as bright as sunlight but somehow didn’t blot out the stars. The glow burnished the odd-looking plantings. Maybe it was just because she’d spent the last seeming eternity running through a maze for her life, but the foliage struck her as utterly bizarre, like something from a Dr. Seuss fever dream. Her gaze tracked up one particularly tall, purple tree trunk to a tongue-like frond that brushed against the highest glass pane of the atrium.