Forced Marriage To The Alien General

Benedict Blackwell stood at the foot of the bed. His military boots struck the linoleum floor with a heavy, final thud.

The pheromones radiating off him were suffocating. It was a heavy, dominant scent that made Allegra's chest tight. She struggled to pull air into her lungs.

He offered a stiff, shallow bow.

"I apologize for the incident," Benedict said. His voice was a low, mechanical rumble, completely devoid of warmth. "I am here to finalize the military liability waiver."

Allegra gripped the edge of the blanket. Her knuckles turned white. She forced the corners of her mouth up into a fragile, trembling smile.

"I'm fine," she whispered, trying to sound as harmless as possible. "Really. No major damage."

Benedict didn't react to her smile. He pulled a small, sleek device from his belt. A holographic document projected into the space between them. At the bottom of the glowing text was a settlement figure.

It was a seven-figure sum of credits.

Allegra stared at the astronomical number. Her stomach dropped. The sheer wealth of this military empire was terrifying. She nodded slowly, pretending to read the alien text.

"I accept," she said quietly.

Benedict's icy blue eyes swept over her face. His gaze traveled down the smooth, unblemished skin of her neck and collarbone. His thick brow furrowed.

"Where are your Primal Markers?" he demanded.

Allegra's heart stopped. The monitor beside her bed gave a rapid, high-pitched beep before she forced herself to breathe. She remembered the sci-fi novels she used to read back on Earth. She needed a biological excuse.

She lowered her chin, feigning deep insecurity.

"They're scales," she murmured, keeping her eyes glued to her lap. "They're hidden. Under my clothes."

Benedict's snow leopard ears flicked forward. A flicker of surprise crossed his stoic features. Reptilian markers were rare, and usually not something a female would admit to with pride.

He didn't ask her to undress to prove it. The strict etiquette of a high-ranking officer forbade it.

Allegra saw the tension leave his shoulders. She exhaled a shaky breath. She had survived the first hurdle.

Benedict pushed the holographic tablet closer to her.

"Extend your wrist for the Bio-ID scan," he ordered. "It is a strict violation of Imperial law to remain undocumented. For your own safety, you must be registered."

Allegra froze. The blood drained from her face. She didn't have a chip. There was nothing under her skin but human veins.

"I... I can't," she stammered. She pulled her hands beneath the blanket. "My chip. It was damaged in the crash. It's not reading."

Benedict's eyes darkened. The air around him seemed to drop ten degrees.

He didn't hesitate. He lunged forward. His massive hand shot out and clamped around her left wrist, dragging it out from under the covers.

Allegra gasped. His palm was rough, calloused, and burned with unnatural heat. The sudden, forceful contact sent a jolt of electricity up her arm.

Benedict stiffened for a fraction of a second, his thumb pressing into her erratic pulse. He ignored the strange spark of heat and twisted her arm slightly, inspecting the skin.

There was no scar. No raised bump of a neural link. Nothing.

He snapped his head up. His glacial eyes pinned her to the mattress. The military interrogator had replaced the polite general.

"You don't have a damaged chip," he growled. "You were never implanted with one at all."

Allegra's lungs seized. She yanked her arm, trying to break his grip. It was like pulling against a steel beam. He didn't budge an inch.

Panic clawed at her throat. She needed to deflect. She needed to make him the bad guy.

"Let go of me!" she cried out, her voice cracking. "You're hurting me!"

Benedict dropped her wrist as if her skin had caught fire.

He stumbled back a half-step. His snow leopard ears flattened against his hair in immediate, visceral guilt. The biological imperative of a high-tier male to protect a fragile female overrode his military suspicion.

Allegra cradled her wrist against her chest. She rubbed the reddened skin, letting her eyes well up with tears.

Benedict stared at the red marks his fingers had left on her pale skin. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek.

"I apologize," he said, his voice noticeably softer, rougher. He holstered the tablet. "If your chip is non-functional, you cannot leave this facility. I will escort you to the commercial district to register for a new one."

"No," Allegra blurted out. "That's not necessary. I can do it later."

"It is mandatory," Benedict stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Without an ID, you are a ghost in the Empire. I will not leave a civilian stranded."

Allegra swallowed hard. She was trapped. If she refused, he would arrest her. If she went, the machines would expose her. She had to go with him and find a way to run.

She gave a defeated nod.

Benedict turned his back to her. He tapped his earpiece, ordering his lieutenant to prep the hovercar. Behind him, his thick, spotted tail began to sway in a slow, rhythmic motion. He was completely unaware of the nervous energy leaking out of him.

Paige scurried into the room holding a stack of folded civilian clothes. She placed them on the bed and gestured for Allegra to change.

Benedict remained facing the door, giving her privacy. But his hearing was predatory.

Every rustle of fabric, every soft slide of cotton over Allegra's skin, echoed in his ears. The sound was deafening.

A slow, dark flush crept up the back of Benedict's neck. He took a deep, jagged breath, fighting the sudden spike of heat in his blood.

"I'm ready," Allegra said quietly.

She stood by the bed in an oversized beige sweater and loose pants. She looked small, fragile, and utterly lost.

Benedict turned around. He looked at her swallowed up in the clothes, and a strange, heavy sense of responsibility settled in his chest.

"Follow me," he commanded.

He walked out the door. Allegra took a deep breath and followed the predator out of the cage.