Hawkeye: Stargazer Alien Mail Order Brides #9 (Intergalactic Dating Agency)

by Tasha Black

  “Trinity,” Hawkeye said, his eyes sparkling.

  Trinity held her breath.

  “Will you marry me?” Hawkeye asked.

  Trinity heard the question echoed around the table, but her whole world was Hawkeye.

  “It’s so soon,” she said.

  “Yes,” he agreed.

  “This is crazy,” she whispered.

  “Yes, it is.” He smiled up at her.

  “So I guess you want an answer, don’t you?” she asked.

  “When you’re ready,” he said. “Doesn’t have to be today. But I wanted you to know that whenever you’re ready, I am too.”

  Trinity was surprised to find that she didn’t have to search her heart. She already knew.

  “I don’t need time,” she said. “I already know my answer.”

  For the first time his expression faltered and her big confident alien looked boyish and worried.

  “It’s yes,” she said immediately.

  He leapt up, pulled her out of her seat and wrapped his arms around her.

  “It’s about damned time, Trinity,” Brooke muttered.

  But Trinity was too busy kissing her fiancé to care.

  25

  Hawkeye

  The following weeks seemed to melt away for Hawkeye. Happiness with Trinity filled his heart and made the days so light they flew.

  Now, for the first time since their joining, they had been separated for a whole day.

  He had never been in the corridor behind the chapel where he and Trinity worked every day, let alone in the lounge where he sat now.

  He perched on an ancient carved wooden chair, so old it looked like it belonged in the cartoon movie about young King Arthur.

  Lobo sat on an identical chair opposite him.

  Conan paced and occasionally peered out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was happening outside.

  “What are you looking at, Conan?” Lobo asked.

  “I’m trying to see our fiancées,” Conan replied with a grin.

  “We’re not supposed to see them before the wedding,” Lobo scolded him.

  “That’s an old wives’ tale,” Hawkeye said. “Or at least Trinity told me it was. But it does seem nice to have a surprise.”

  There was a gentle knock on the door.

  “Come in,” Hawkeye said.

  The mayor entered, clapping him on the back as he passed.

  “Are you boys ready?” he asked, a smile peeking out from under his white beard.

  “Yes,” Hawkeye said, noticing again how much the man looked like Santa Claus.

  “Excellent,” the mayor said. “Let’s go find these prospective husbands some wives.”

  They all trailed out after him, through the door to the chapel.

  The oak tables had been moved and were replaced with chairs in two sections with an aisle between them, leading to a raised dais at the front.

  Candles in every windowsill were probably meant to be romantic. At first, Hawkeye was reminded unpleasantly of the glow of the fire that had filled this room just a month ago.

  But then he remembered that the fire had brought them together.

  And he knew that no room could be safer from fire than one that was occupied by himself and Trinity together.

  He continued in, and was excited to see some of his brothers were in attendance. It was difficult to march solemnly forward to the beat of the music instead of greeting them, but he knew this was important to Trinity, so he did as he had practiced.

  At last they reached the front of the chapel and turned.

  There he saw Bond, Rocky and Magnum with their wives. He was thunderstruck to see that Posey was holding a baby.

  And beside them were his brothers, Indiana, Kitt and Remington, and each of them had a woman beside him too.

  Hawkeye’s eyes grew wet and he experienced a brief moment of relief from a guilt he hadn’t even known he’d felt. He wasn’t the only one who was happy today. None of his brothers were alone.

  None of the ones that were there, anyway.

  He scanned the room for signs of the others, but came up empty. He supposed they were still caught up in the search for their mates. He hoped they would be as lucky as he had been.

  Indiana winked at him and the woman beside him shoved him lightly with her elbow.

  Good.

  Indiana was a mischief-maker - he needed to be kept on a short leash. Indiana had obviously chosen a proper mate.

  Before Hawkeye could examine any of his other sisters-in-law the music changed and everyone turned.

  Beside him, Lobo gasped.

  Veronica entered first, radiant in a lavender gown with her long raven hair flowing over her shoulders. Zeus ambled along agreeably by her side, totally unfazed by the room full of people. The enormous Rottweiler wore a purple flower in his collar to match Veronica’s gown. Hawkeye felt it was just right that the dog they had rescued and rehabilitated together would be part of Lobo and Veronica’s ceremony.

  Next, Brooke swept in. Never one to march to anyone else’s beat, she walked just a bit quicker than the music. Her blonde hair was twisted on top of her head and she wore a blue velvet gown that made her look like a character from a fairy tale movie.

  Hawkeye didn’t get to see Brooke join Conan, because he caught sight of Trinity’s shadow in the hall and fixed his eyes on the doorway.

  Trinity stepped as softly as a cloud into the chapel, her expression so gentle he felt something rip in his chest.

  She came to him slowly and he watched her, wishing he could memorize this moment when the world was before them.

  Her gown was the color of a foggy sky, with lace netting over it so delicate it looked like… snow.

  He smiled in recognition of the significance of her dress, and she smiled back at him, not so solemn anymore.

  She got closer and he realized her hair was adorned with dozens of tiny braids interspersed between her dark locks. Each braid ended with a crystal bead, shimmering like a melting flake.

  In their hearts it would always be snowing.

  The room blurred as tears prickled his eyes for the second time in ten minutes.

  And then she was by his side.

  The mayor began to speak, about love and commitment and Veronica and Lobo recited their vows.

  Next, Brooke and Conan spoke the words that made them one.

  Finally it was Hawkeye’s turn.

  Trinity looked up at him, her eyes so filled with love it hurt.

  “I do,” he heard himself repeat.

  Then there was cheering as he kissed her, and the whole formal thing broke down as the brothers leapt up from their seats and everyone began to talk and embrace.

  Someone turned on music and they danced and ate, and there was cake and wine and laughter.

  But Hawkeye would never remember any of it but Trinity - the way she laughed, the play of the light on her hair as they danced, the feel of her fingers entwined with his as they finally headed home, hand in hand.

  26

  Trinity

  Trinity drank in the fresh night air outside the chapel.

  The dancing had gone on so long, and the wine had gone to her head. All her usual shyness evaporated as she met her great big new family with an open heart.

  But now the night had wound down and no one was left but the six who lived in the old academy. Ever since Brooke had purchased the building, she had been super gung-ho about sprucing the place up. They had all agreed to put the projects on hold for a week after the wedding. Trinity was happy for the quality of life improvements, but she was also really looking forward to a week without waking to the sound of power tools.

  Conan and Brooke headed homeward first and Lobo and Veronica followed.

  The moon was bright above the overgrown boxwood labyrinth, and the stars sparkled enticingly.

  “Want to go for a walk?” Hawkeye asked, as if he had read her mind.

  “Yes,” she said. “Guys, we’ll see you tomorr
ow,” she called to her friends.

  Veronica turned around and waved just as Lobo swept her off her feet and carried her toward home.

  Brooke smiled and blew a kiss, and Conan waved.

  Trinity turned back to her husband.

  Husband.

  Somehow, the word just felt right.

  Together they walked into the labyrinth.

  “Do you feel any different?” he asked her.

  “Yes, and no,” she said. “I think everything was decided with us the night we clicked. But tonight was magical, too.”

  “I agree,” he said, squeezing her hand as they turned the first corner, past a small concrete birdbath.

  “The best part was meeting your family,” she told him.

  “Well, we’re doing it all over again next month so that I can meet yours,” he reminded her.

  “I can’t wait,” she said. “My brothers are going to love you.”

  They walked on in silence for a few minutes more. It was a pleasantly warm night with just enough mist hanging close to the grass to lend the labyrinth a haunting quality.

  “I had a dream about this,” she heard herself say.

  “What about it?” he asked.

  “Oh, um, nothing just about the labyrinth,” she said quickly.

  “Was I in it?” he asked teasingly.

  She hesitated. It would be wrong to begin their marriage with a lie, but she was still a little embarrassed to admit she’d been dreaming about him.

  “I was,” he said with a wicked grin.

  She laughed and jogged ahead, shivering a little as she passed the cavorting fox statues from her dream.

  “Don’t run from me, wife,” Hawkeye teased, his deep voice playing harmonics on her libido.

  She ran on and an idea came to her.

  She called on her gift a little.

  Sure enough, the mist around her feet began to sparkle.

  She pushed a little harder.

  When she rounded the corner into the center of the labyrinth her breath caught in her throat.

  Snowflakes drifted down to dot the late summer roses around the old sundial. A dusting had already settled on the marble benches.

  She stood transfixed for a moment, breathless at what she had done.

  One moment she was alone in the center of the labyrinth. The next she wasn’t.

  Hawkeye’s wide shouldered form appeared.

  “Trinity,” he said, his deep voice caressing her from across the little garden.

  Trinity moved toward him.

  Hawkeye’s smoldering gaze was hypnotic. And Trinity would never resist him again.

  Her heart seemed to beat in time with her footsteps.

  Closer, closer, closer…

  At last she reached him.

  He wrapped his arms around her and she shivered with the rightness of it.

  She slid her hands up his muscled chest. She had never looked at him without wanting to feel his pecs under her palms.

  He cupped her cheek with a massive warm hand, gazed down at her as if she were the most precious treasure in the world.

  Trinity looked into his dark eyes and saw her own face reflected back in them, more beautiful than she could ever have imagined.

  He bent to kiss her, his eyes closing at the last moment, lashes brushing his chiseled cheek.

  She felt the warmth of his mouth against hers. Her whole body welcomed the sweet touch.

  He smelled like a snowy forest. His hands slid down her back, molding her curves.

  Trinity felt warm all over, the cool flakes exciting her heated skin.

  She swayed against him, ready for anything, unsurprised when he swept her up in his arms.

  “I need to get you home,” he said roughly.

  Home.

  The word had never sounded so sweet.

  She cupped her hand around his cheek, stroked his jaw with her thumb as she gazed into those gorgeous brown eyes.

  “Just one more minute here,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “One more minute - all the minutes in the world, if you want them.”

  “No, just this one,” she whispered.

  Trinity drank in one last view of the snowy garden.

  “I’m ready now,” she told him.

  He leaned down and kissed her forehead, then cradled her close as he carried her back through the labyrinth.

  Trinity leaned her cheek against Hawkeye’s warm chest, and let her gaze rise up to the sky.

  Above them, lazy snowflakes blended into the background of stars so that there seemed to be no barrier between the Earth and the heavens.

  ***

  Thanks for reading Hawkeye!

  Keep reading for a sample of more steamy SciFi romance with Reconstructed: Building a Hero (Book 1).

  Or grab your next book right now:

  http://www.tashablack.com

  Reconstructed (Sample)

  Prologue

  Shadows pressed in on Gibson from every side.

  Somewhere in the darkness they were hiding, waiting to pounce the moment he let his guard down.

  Gibson fought to stay calm, but his heart hammered so loudly, he was sure they would hear it.

  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, tasting the air as much as smelling it.

  The feedback was immediate and overwhelming. His head filled with the pungent smell of his own sweat, the metal of the cyclone fence that enclosed the field and buildings, and the exact scent of each man that lay in wait for him.

  A shiver lifted the hair on his arms and he shook himself and opened his eyes to prevent the giving in to it.

  All around him, the shadows moved like living things.

  He advanced through the darkness, heading away from the ones he had scented. Not much further now.

  A tiny sound stopped him in his tracks.

  Again, he closed his eyes.

  When he opened his ears to their full potential, he nearly lost his tenuous grip on his self-control.

  He tuned out the thunder of his own heart, and reached beyond. The harsh breath of one of his brothers let Gibson know he wasn’t the only one struggling to keep it together.

  He inhaled again, letting the powerful combination of sensations wash over him.

  The air took on a familiar coppery taste, and the ground trembled almost imperceptibly.

  The night lit up in a blinding flash and the smell of ozone washed every other scent from his palette.

  He covered his sensitive ears to shield them from the assault.

  The deafening crash ended with a blaze of fire and the smell of burning wood.

  Fear grasped him like a cold hand, and he dropped to the ground, cowering and whining low in his throat. His skin crawled and this time he welcomed it.

  The change would bring safety.

  The voices of the men seemed far away as the electricity sizzled under his skin. He heard the clicks of their rifles and their shouted orders, but he didn’t care.

  A higher voice cut through the chaos.

  Her silhouette appeared then, backlit by fire.

  She was dressed like his brothers, but she wasn’t one of them.

  “Easy, Gibson,” she said, her green eyes sparkling through the gloom.

  He didn’t fully recognize the words, but felt her meaning.

  “Just listen to the sound of my voice,” she continued in her throaty soprano. “Hold onto it, sweet one. Hold on.”

  He focused on her voice, the fascinating timbre that walked the line between cheer and lullaby.

  “You were doing very well,” she praised him. “We didn’t expect a thunder storm. What you heard and saw was lightning striking the tree in the yard.”

  He didn’t understand. But he latched onto her voice like a drowning man, and at length his heartbeat slowed and he was able to hold the thing inside him at bay.

  When she seemed satisfied with his composure, the woman snapped her fingers and one of the men with guns approached.r />
  “Bring him back to his quarters,” she told the man. “And be sure he has something good to eat.”

  She turned to Gibson.

  “Good work, my brave one,” she said with a smile that was as professional as it was kind.

  Warmth at pleasing her blossomed in Gibson’s chest as he followed the other man away.

  1

  The ballerinas had arrived.

  Cordelia Cross stared out the window and took a few cleansing breaths while she waited for the elevator to bring them up from the lobby.

  No amount of meditation would actually prepare her for the crazy scene she was about to orchestrate.

  She knew better than that.

  But she always tried to be calm enough on the outside that she wouldn’t add to the chaos.

  The top floor of the Worthington building practically skimmed the clouds. Outside, the night sky drizzled over Glacier City and the bustle of tiny car lights and umbrellas below. Some days Cordelia felt like she was looking down onto one of her sister’s train set scenes. How perfect and pre-arranged everything looked when observed from a distance.

  Giggling in the elevator shaft alerted Cordelia to the arrival of her employer’s latest conquest.

  Not that he had put a whole lot of effort into this one.

  Well, he’d seen the ballet - that much he had done. Though, to be fair, he had left in the middle. Edward Dalton, his head of security, had brought lavish flowers and invitations to attend a private party backstage afterward.

  Despite his reputation, six of the young dancers had been brave, or foolish enough to accept.

  A few minutes ago Mr. Worthington had stormed around the room denouncing the food, which Cordelia had arranged. His handsome face twisted with displeasure and his massive frame set the mahogany tables shivering.

  “Why the hell would I want to eat yogurt and fruit? I work out hard. I want real food!”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Worthington. Dancers have to be very careful about what they eat. I thought they might relax and enjoy themselves more if you served something healthy.”