Sex, Love, and Aliens, Volume 1

by Imogene Nix

  There was a pause, and then the comm beeped again. “It’s really great to have you back, buddy. Haze hasn’t been the same without you. I’m holding you to the drinks.”

  Ric chuckled. There was a minute wide pause before the comm beeped again.

  “Come on home,” Monte said.

  Ric smiled grimly as he readied the craft. For better or worse, he was going to be at his wife’s side soon.

  * * * *

  The trip back from Air Harbor to his isolated Sea Gate Manor was long and tiring. He had to take mag train until he reached the small town of Old Wounds. The magnetic track stopped there and so did public transportation. He hired a driver for the last ten miles of his journey.

  Brae’s vision kept her from piloting, so he hadn’t asked her to pick him up. The old land to air short haul runner probably wouldn’t have started anyway since the rusted, hulking machine was new when his father was still running the mines, before the fuel crystals had tapped out when he was in his teens.

  He ached from the top of his head to the soles of his feet, and he hadn’t been able to bathe in five days. There was no way he wanted the girl to see him in this condition. If he’d told her he was coming in tomorrow, he would have had time to stop off in the city for a night. Gods knew he was rich enough now to afford the finest hotel after selling the gems.

  Looking up at the decaying visage of his ancestral home, it was too late to change his mind. He was home. Brae came running out of the weather-beaten front door. Her wrinkled, albeit beloved, face came into view, and he dropped his bag. The elderly housekeeper ran into his arms, and he hugged her tight.

  “How’s my favorite bossy lady?”

  Brae crackled with laughter. “Right as the rain. How’s my favorite reckless little boy?”

  “Too old for that nickname.”

  Brae chuckled again and squeezed him tighter. “I’m not the only one who’s happy you’re home. Kateri is nervous, but excited. You treat her nice!”

  Ric’s stomach dropped. He grimaced. “I’m going to release her from her vows. It’s done and she’s financially secure. Her father only requested fifteen percent for her, but I made sure thirty went into her account. I noticed she hasn’t spent much. Does she know how to access her money?”

  “Heavens yes, I wouldn’t let her sit on funds if she needed something, but I think you’ve got the only frugal woman on Metricia. She bought a few things, but otherwise she lives like a pauper. I knew you wouldn’t mind, so I’ve used a bit of household money to see to her comfort. She’s a good girl.”

  “Thank you for that. I should have…” He paused. Ric ran his hand through his messy hair. “I don’t even know what I should’ve done, but I’m glad you’ve been taking care of her. Did you have any issues with the grocery deliveries while I was gone?”

  “We’ve been taking care of each other. The deliveries have been fine since you had that talk with Seama. The old house is still standing, and your wife has been faithful. I hope you have too.”

  Ric ignored the hot flush that ran up his neck to warm his cheeks. He wasn’t going to have that conversation with Brae. She was like a grandmother to him.

  “She’s free if she wants freedom. I would have released her sooner, but I wanted to sell the gems first so I was sure she’d be comfortable.”

  “Aydric, she doesn’t want a divorce. You would break her heart.”

  “Brae, she’s sweet, but surely she can’t wish to remain married to a stranger. Given her upbringing, she probably doesn’t even know she has a choice.”

  Brae’s face scrunched into a wrathful scowl. “Don’t be hasty or foolish. Talk to her, not at her.” With those sassy words of wisdom his ancient housekeeper flounced back into the house.

  Ric shook his head, crossed his arms over his chest, and watched the clouds above Sea Gate rolling. Monte hadn’t been wrong about the coming storm. “Happy homecoming,” he muttered. Picking up his bag, he went inside.

  The interior was impeccable. Someone had even painted the walls and repaired the area in the floor where it had rotted. He meant to fix it, but never seemed to have the time. The pictures of his ancestors hung straight and dusted. Great-great-great-grandfather didn’t have the cobwebs obscuring his frighteningly unpleasant face anymore. Ric paused to study the sour scowl on the founder of Sea Gate Mine’s face.

  It was rumored his only son wasn’t his because Ric’s great-great-great-grandmother had a thing for young miners. Thank the gods. He wouldn’t have wanted to look like that man. His fearful young bride would be even more terrified. Dear gods. Kateri...what am I going to do with her?

  He could see she’d been busy slaving away making his home livable. She deserved better than someone like him. What business do I have trying to be a husband? I’m not even able to take care of an old house. How can I make a woman who lost everything happy?

  He rubbed the stubble on his face. At least he should be presentable when he offered her an amicable divorce. He shrugged his bag higher up on his shoulder as he kept walking through the homier house. Strangely, he actually felt at home there, and that hadn’t happened since he’d been a boy.

  Ric’s tormented body protested as he climbed the flight of twisting stairs to the third floor. The only thing on this level was the master bedroom, bath, and a long abandoned nursery. Fragrant herbs and flora scented the air, and the moment he opened the bedroom door the grandeur of the room struck him. He’d never seen it looking this good. White drapes snapped in the sea breeze from the open doors that led out onto the balcony. More white fabric covered the bed and twirled around the dark, thick posts. Everything was fresh and welcoming.

  Then he remembered he’d told her to use this room. Their room. If this marriage was real they’d sleep there together tonight, just like a couple would have in the days when his hideous great-great-great-grandfather brought his young bride to the manor. Arrows of something he was afraid to name stabbed into his stomach and emotion rose up to clog his throat.

  In his mind’s eye, he could see himself peeling away her layers of virginal scarves until she was naked and under him. His shallow breath was the only sound in the room as he gazed in fanciful wonder at the bed. Ric shook his head as if he could dispel the image from his mind and slipped off his shoes before removing the shirt and pants he wore. Allowing the dirty garments to lie where they fell, he walked into the adjoining bathroom.

  He didn’t see a bunch of feminine items, but he noticed someone had managed to make the grimy, molding porcelain gleam like new. With a groan, he stretched his back and plucked a towel from the rack before opening the drawer where he kept his razor. His items were undisturbed, and another wave of gratitude for the woman who’d been living in his house crashed into him.

  He made precise work of shaving before getting into the shower. Minutes later, Ric stood wet and naked in the bathroom. He dripped water as he rubbed the towel into his hair. It was time for a cut, but right now, he just wanted the shaggy locks to be dry. He was still damp when he carelessly dropped the towel into the puddle he’d left on the mosaic-tiled floor.

  When he stepped into the bedroom, no one was there, but his clothing was gone and his shoes sat neatly next to the door. Scowling, he went to the closet, expecting to have a hard time finding his clothing, but instead stared in disbelief. His shirts were just as he’d left them except for the fact they had been moved down the rack to allow room for three garments. Kateri had lived in this house for a year. Irritation left him feeling off-kilter. He didn’t know why it felt like this was his mistake. He wasn’t in charge of what she wore.

  He picked up the first garment. It was a lovely, very Metrician dress and looked new. The next garment was a two-piece pants and top combination. The top affixed to the sides of the pants with silver rings and this style would bare midriff. The clothing was very stylishly Metrician. His scowl deepened. The idea of his veiled, virginal wife wearing this into Old Wounds or one of the other small towns near the manor bothered him. He
could tell this was more worn-looking than the dress. The third item was a traditional Daroo dress, and he realized it was what she normally wore.

  Every time they’d talked on the comm, she’d been wearing the same thing. He’d never taken the time to notice. Guilt flared inside of him. He should have questioned Brae in private about her welfare, or at the very least noticed what she wore. He’d spent so much of those conversations trying to picture what she looked like under the shroud that he hadn’t given her clothing a moment’s consideration.

  “Fuck,” he muttered as he put her things back where they’d hung and reached for his newest, most stylish shirt. He closed the closet and went to the dresser. The silly trinkets he’d sent her stood lined up in a row across the top, mocking him. He should have sent her clothing instead of cultural junk. In the old days, Metrician men took their role as protector very seriously.

  He remembered thinking how barbaric those men had been when his grandfather told him stories about the first settlers. It was little wonder his people had given up on the practice of marriage as their society spiraled into the chaos of self-worship. Thinking of another’s welfare was unnatural to him and realizing his fault vexed him. If she were a ship, he’d know what to do to care for her. Resisting the urge to swipe at the knickknacks to knock them away, he opened the top drawer.

  Ric finished dressing and ran his comb quickly through his hair before leaving the room. He’d sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight. Hopefully, his bride had been as fastidious with them as she was the rest of the house.

  When he reached the main floor, something smelled wonderful. He followed the aroma to the kitchen. His wife stood stirring something on the stove. Her layers of translucent veils danced in the slight breeze from the window.

  “Isn’t it dangerous to be around an open flame with all that fabric?” he asked.

  Kateri squeaked with surprise. She turned toward him. “Welcome home, Ric.”

  “Thank you. You’ve been busy. The house looks wonderful. Were you the one who picked up my dirty clothes?” He wished he could see her expression.

  “Yes. I hope I have not offended you.”

  “I was just surprised. You aren’t here to serve me. You’re a free woman. But I appreciate what you’ve done. Brae isn’t young, and I haven’t seen her this happy in a very long time. I want to talk to you a moment about the divorce—”

  “Divorce?” she interrupted him in uncharacteristic rudeness. Her normally serene voice rose an octave and he could hear the panic.

  “Well, yes. I thought…”

  “We have not spoken about such things. Why would you think this is what I want?”

  Ric frowned. He crossed his arms over his chest and took a stubborn stance. “You deserve your freedom. I’m not going to hold you to a promise we made in a time of distress. I married you to save your life, not because I was looking for a bride. I won’t force you to stay. This isn’t Daroo. You have choices now.”

  “I understand.”

  The cold way she said the words made him desperate to see her reaction. Tormented with curiosity, he’d had enough of this woman hiding behind her culture. He wanted to see her. A need to know what Kateri really wanted drove him past the point of self-control.

  Ric was across the room in three steps. He yanked her away from the stove. She didn’t fight him and lay limply in his arms. His bride didn’t weigh much and smelled of clean freshness. Purity. Kateri was something so foreign to him he didn’t understand her. She didn’t move, and he ripped the headdress away from her face.

  Ric gasped at the same moment she did. Her skin was blemish free, without so much as a freckle, and lightly tanned. Her wide eyes were startling green and almond shaped. The veils were pinned in a mass of wavy, black hair. He couldn’t help himself and caressed the silken strands lightly. Her nose was small and slightly pointed. Adorable. Slack with shock, her naturally dark mauve lips parted, and he could see she wore no makeup or other artifice. Kateri lay in his arms looking up at him, made beautiful by the gods, not cosmetics, and all his. She was the most stunning woman he’d ever seen, and he was her husband. His blood ran hot, then cold. Lust made his mouth dry. No woman should be this perfect.

  “Gods, you’re beautiful,” he breathed softly, unable to stop the words.

  Her cheeks darkened with a flush, and then she frowned. “Please release me,” she requested in a gentle, but firm tone.

  Ric carefully set her on her feet. He couldn’t stop looking at her face. Of its own accord, his hand rose and caressed her warm cheek with the pad of his thumb. She didn’t move as he held her face.

  “Forgive me, I… My actions were inexcusable,” Ric weakly apologized. “I just needed to see you.”

  She swallowed reflexively, and he watched her throat move. Her neck was long.

  “Now you have seen. That was not the unveiling I had imagined.”

  Guilt shot through Ric. He didn’t know much about her culture, but the little he’d learned taught him of the significance of the first time a husband sees his bride. He understood the magic now as he was still reeling from his surprise. He’d thought she’d be just a woman, he never expected a goddess.

  “Sit and eat. The food is ready. Brae has taken her meal in her room, because she is tired.”

  Ric doubted very much the old woman was tired, but he didn’t say what he really thought her intention was.

  Two places were set at the small table. He was glad his wife hadn’t set the table in the formal dining room. He hated that dark space. When he’d been a boy, he’d convinced himself it was haunted. He still felt uncomfortable sitting in the room.

  He waited until she brought over the platter and set it on the table, then he pulled out her chair. She took her seat. When he sat down, he realized she’d made his favorite Metrician meal. The hearty vegetable and meat stew was eaten on top of crusty bread. He was sure Brae had suggested the choice, but he could see the old woman wasn’t the cook. This was far more elaborate and elegant than Brae would serve. He could see herbs growing in the windows around the kitchen. His first bite told him she’d put many of them in the stew. His taste buds exploded with delight.

  “Delicious,” he muttered as he took the second bite.

  She didn’t say anything, but nodded and raised a morsel to her mouth.

  Ric watched her slow, formal eating. In Daroo fashion, she was using a sharp meal blade and food spear, with its two sharp tongs, instead of her fingers. Her graceful movements and sad face kept him transfixed.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Ric muttered.

  She set her utensils down slowly.

  “I am your wife. My father would not have given me to a bad man for a husband. I trust his judgment. I have no one and nowhere to go. I would not divorce you if I have the choice,” she said. “I have grown…fond of you. The many conversations we have shared have made you a friend, not a stranger.”

  “You have money, a lot of it, and I would help you find a place. It wouldn’t take long for you to find people. Believe me, you aren’t hard to like.”

  “If you like me, why do you want me to go away? You seem desperate for me to leave.”

  As he listened to her musical accent, regret bubbled inside of him, and he could understand how she’d believe he wanted her to leave.

  “I want you to be happy, there’s a difference,” he argued.

  The comm buzzed. She got up without a word and went over to the wall unit. Kateri paused before touching the screen option for voice only. Ric didn’t recognize the name that displayed. Eroz Motin.

  “Hello, Mr. Motin,” Kateri answered.

  “Kateri, how are you this evening?”

  “I am just fine, sir. Earth is not for sale.”

  “My employer has raised the amount he’s willing to pay. Fifty thousand. Your people would understand. You need to take care of yourself. My employer is also willing to buy your eggs. He’ll pay one hundred thousand to harvest from you for a year.”

/>   Ric’s eyes widened. Her lack of surprise told him this wasn’t the first time Eroz Motin had made the offer.

  “I will never let you harvest anything from me. Earth is never going to be sold. That piece of our ancient mother is mine to care for.”

  “You have a responsibility to your people. We must see that priceless relic protected. You are the last female of your kind, according to intergalactic censes. You have a moral obligation to allow us to harvest you. My petition with the Metrician government might have been rejected, but you can save your race.”

  “What you ask would disgrace my people. I would never allow you to create children from me that would never know me. A mother’s love is the core of our people’s belief. Do not ask me for this again.” She disconnected the communication without another word.

  Ric was shaking from the force of his anger. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? Brae!” He turned to bellow toward the stairs and Brae’s second floor room.

  “Do not blame her. I begged her not to tell you. You were focused on the gems, and I did not want to burden you. Brae helped me find legal representation. She helped me dress like a modern woman of your people so the court would not see me as something unique. We traveled to Sky Harbor a few times for the proceedings.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe her own words. “Your people were just and declined Mr. Motin’s request for forcible extraction of my genetic material. He has been trying to buy Earth from me, but that piece of our first home has been in my family’s care since the exodus. I will not sell or give it to a stranger.” She paused and sighed. “I might not be religious, but deep down I hope to see my father and mother in the afterworld. I would not want to go to them in shame.”

  She went back to her seat and took a bite, eating as if nothing had happened. Ric was gapping at her wordlessly. He’d never considered her rarity could put her in danger. She could have been violated against her will, and he’d never have known she was fighting for her rights. He wasn’t eating because he was busy watching her serene face. She set her fork down, and for a silent collection of seconds that stretched into a minute, they studied each other.