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.