If I never have to deal with another bride-to-be in my life, it’ll be too soon.

Alana Watson laughed out loud at that thought as she sat alone at her desk. Because she made her living as a wedding planner, never dealing with another bride-to-be was nothing but a pipedream. She loved her job. She loved every aspect of planning and making a couple’s big day be as grand, memorable, and magical as could be. But there was a downside to it, too, when her client turned into a bridezilla. Alana was blessed with incredible patience by nature. But that had a limit. She wasn’t a saint. And today was one of the days she wished she wasn’t a wedding planner.

“I could change careers,” she said to the empty room. “I’m only in my mid-thirties. Become a dog walker or a mortician. I’ll sell my business and enroll in mortuary school. Dead people don’t talk back and complain. Yeah. That’s sweet. I could do that. Sure.”

Her employees were in the back, wisely avoiding her, after the bridezilla had just made them all want to tear their hair out. Fortunately, they weren’t all like the bridezilla, but enough were that the idea of changing professions occurred to Alana at least once or twice a month.

The bell above the door chimed, and Alana almost groaned out loud. Not another one already.

Gathering the remaining patience she had, Alana forced a smile and looked up as she rose from her desk. Her dread melted away instantaneously. Her grin was genuine when she saw the two men who stepped into her shop. They looked around at the various fabrics, décor, and flowers of her samples. They each carried a large bag from Barnes & Noble.

This is a nice change, she thought. Alana was always happy to plan gay weddings. She had never had to deal with a same-sex couple that was as exasperating as some of the brides she’d had to deal with.

None had ever shown up in matching bespoke suits before, either. She recognized the cut of them and the quality, because she’d dealt with her share of tuxedos over the years. Their suits were made from expensive imported Italian fabric and the craftsmanship was exquisite. She already could see big dollar signs dancing in her head. Cha-ching! This wedding would probably be a no-expense-spared sort of event, and she loved having a huge budget to work with. The planning was so much more fun for everyone when money wasn’t an issue.

Both men were tall, well-built, with piercing, light eyes and long, silver hair down their backs. They were both handsome, but the one following a step behind the larger man was stunning. His eyes locked with Alana’s, and a shiver went through her.

He’s clearly taken, you dolt. Leave it to you to get turned on by an engaged gay man. Shame on you, girl.

“Hello, I’m Alana Watson,” she said as she approached them and held out her hand. “How can I help you gentlemen today?”

The one who’d walked in first stared at her hand a moment as if he didn’t know what it was. When the other one slapped his arm, he said, “Oh,” and shook her hand. The stunning man stepped up and took her hand in his large one to shake it firmly. His hand was oddly cool but dry, and once again she chided herself for the little tingle it sent through her.

He pulled his hand back to himself. “We see that you plan weddings.”

“Yes, yes I do.” She gestured for them to come in and sit in the chairs in front of her desk. “Have you two set a date yet?”

They sat as awkwardly as they’d stood inside her door. The gorgeous one shook his head as if he didn’t understand. “I am Ice Silverkiller, and this,” he said, gesturing to his partner, “is Storm Dreadhowl.”

His accent was slight, but noticeable, and unlike any she’d ever heard before. Was this a joke, or were they using their cosplayer names or something? “Pleased to meet you. Interesting names.”

“Those are the closest translations from our native language.”

“What language is that?”

“Crimean.”

Alana frowned. Didn’t they mostly speak Russian in Crimea? Maybe it was a dialect she’d never heard of. “I see. Well, it’s easier to plan before you set the date anyway, because so many things take a lot of time to set up. Do you have a general idea of when you want to get married, what you want the wedding to be like, those sorts of things?”

Ice’s silver brows drew down. “We simply need to know what motivates two adult people to want to join and have children.”

Huh?

Alana didn’t answer for a moment. Maybe “wedding” didn’t translate into Crimean or Russian or whatever these two originally spoke, and they thought she could help with relationship troubles instead.

She blinked and quickly gathered herself.

“In that case I think you’d get more help from a couples’ counselor than a wedding planner. I’m the one who handles things after a couple decides to commit and get married, not the build-up to it.”

Alana used both hands to pull her long, reddish-brown hair back into a ponytail and hold it there for a minute, a habit of hers when she was nervous or uncomfortable. She’d imagined some fun event planning and a good payday when they’d walked in dressed to the nines, and now it seemed this was a mistake at best, or a joke at worst. She let go of her hair and sighed. “I can help you find someone in the phone book, if you’d like. You can probably get an appointment with a decent counselor within a few weeks.”

Both their eyes widened. “Weeks? We only have a few days.”

Alana held her hands up in surrender. “Maybe if you offer them money for a rush appointment…”

“I thought you would be an expert in bringing two people together.” Ice crossed his arms and looked as frustrated as Alana felt. “But you’re not?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am for one day. A wedding should be the happiest of days and one to remember forever. I’m good at making the event unforgettable and exactly what a couple wants. Hopefully that helps cement the relationship and gets the marriage off on the right foot.”

Ice and Storm glanced at each other, their faces brightening. “Then I think you can help us, Alana,” Ice said.

What did she have to lose? She didn’t have anything pressing to do, so she guessed she could humor them for a little while. And maybe if they worked everything out she’d get to plan their wedding after all.

Ice leaned forward in his chair. “What is it that makes two people want to be together?”

His light, silvery eyes held her attention. She’d never seen anyone who looked quite like him, or had the presence he did. She wished she had better answers for him, because she really wanted to see him smile, pleased with her response. But all she could do was shrug.

“I wish I knew. I’ve never had much luck in that department. But once two people find each other and decide to get married, I know what makes the wedding a wonderful memory for the couple.”

“And that is?”

Alana stood and walked around her desk to prop herself on the corner of it, nearest him. “It’s about feeling special, like the two of you are the only people in the world who matter for just that one day. For most brides, the wedding is the only day they get to dress and feel truly like a princess. But for you two, I suppose it’s about feeling like you’re each a prince who has found his perfect match.”

Storm straightened in his chair as if she’d said something insulting. Ice leaned toward him. “What’s the matter with you?” he whispered.

Storm shot daggers at Alana with a look and whispered back, “I am a warrior. Not a prince.”

Ice frowned and turned back to her. “Go on.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you by saying prince, but the concept is the same no matter who’s getting married. It’s a day you want to feel special, even magical.”

Ice dug into his bag. “We’ve purchased some instructional materials, but there’s no replacement for conversation and interaction.” He held up a DVD and a couple of books. “These may prove useful once we have time to study them, but I’d appreciate it if you could tell us which ones are the best, as well as answer more of my questions.”

Alana held up the book Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. “I’ve heard a lot of people talk about this book, but I’ve never read it.”

“I’m not sure how useful it will be for us, as we’re neither Martians or Venusians, but the clerk at the store highly recommended it.”

Alana chuckled. Ice wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met. His regal presence and seriousness were strangely charming. Storm frowned at that book and opened his mouth to speak, but when Ice glared at him, he closed it. His eyes were the same clear, almost transparent blue as Ice’s, but the hardness, and maybe even a sadness, in them was different. When he said he was a warrior, maybe he meant in the Crimean army? Alana was sure he’d been through things that Ice hadn’t, things that had hardened him.

The DVD was a porn-ish parody of a blockbuster film, and to Alana’s surprise, it was hetero porn. She lifted her eyes to meet Ice’s. “Seriously?”

“I don’t understand,” he said innocently.

The other book was a steamy BDSM bodice-ripper, the kind she might have read if she wanted to spend a little time in her bed with a battery-operated boyfriend. “Are all your books and DVDs like these?”

Ice offered up his bag, and yes, they were all like that. The Mars/Venus book was the only actual relationship advice book in there. The rest ranged from Harlequin-type category romance to out-and-out erotica.

“I’m not sure any of this is going to tell you what draws two people together or keeps them in love, frankly. You might learn some things about sex, but—”

“Sex!” Ice exclaimed exuberantly. “That’s exactly it. We need to know what makes two people want to have sex and procreate.”

She dropped the books and DVDs back into the bag. This had to be an elaborate joke. “People want to have sex for all sorts of reasons, and it often doesn’t involve procreation.”

“Tell me more,” he said, almost breathlessly.

A chirping sound drew the men’s attention. Storm wore something that looked like an Apple watch knock-off. He stared at the little screen intently. His lifted his head and his facial expression blanked for a moment before shot to his feet. “Sir, we have to go.”

“What is it? We’re finally getting the information we need.”

“The ship has uncloaked, sir.” He then leaned close and whispered in a guttural-sounding language.

The ship has uncloaked, sir? So this was some sort of a cosplay. They were probably pretending to be new to Earth, asking her questions in character for some kind of fandom challenge or contest. She might have done something like that for fun when she was younger, but these two were probably close to her age, so it annoyed her. Gimme a break.

“Good luck to you both,” she said as she walked around her desk.

“Please come with us,” Ice said. “I have so many questions.”

Alana sat down and nodded. “Sure, how about you go fix your little ship and come back to see me when you’re all cloaked up again, okay?” She opened her laptop and decided to pointedly ignore them until they left.

Storm tapped his watch a few times. “Sir, His Venerable believes it might have been sabotage. We have to go before the ship is discovered.”

“I’m sorry, Alana,” Ice said. “You may be the key to my planet’s survival. We need your help.”

Alana sighed and looked up at Ice, about to tell him to go take a flying leap off his uncloaked ship and leave her alone. But he waved his hand in front of her face, and the world went black.