by Lynn Best
“They raped you.” Charis stared at Brandy unflinchingly.
“What? No. No, they didn’t. At first, Drake was kind of rough, but we worked it out. They didn’t—”
“Brandy,” Charis said, stopping her. “You’re pregnant.”
The blood drained from Brandy’s head.
“What did you say?”
Charis squeezed her hand, appearing as if she was delivering the world’s worst news. “I said you’re pregnant. You’re having a baby. One of theirs.”
13
Brandy laid in bed, staring at the canopy. Charis had wanted to stay, but Brandy had insisted on being alone. News like this was best processed by herself. Alone. Devastated.
She was pregnant. There was a life inside her. Touching her stomach did not make it feel real. Even vomiting up the bubbling liquid Charis had given her didn’t do it. She felt her body changing. Her stomach felt taut. It kept cramping in a way she’d never felt before, but she’d just been through a major ordeal and had been teleported from one alien ship to another, so, yeah, she was queasy. It was to be expected.
But Charis had explained that when they’d gotten her on board, the ship’s doctor had done a full body scan to make sure she had no injuries and found the pregnancy. Apparently, the growth rate of Cartharians also made it possible to detect upon conception. If she chose to believe she was with child, she would have lots of questions for Charis, but she was choosing not to believe it. If she ignored it for long enough, it would go away. That was how her mother dealt with raising Brandy anyway.
Motherhood. What a disaster. Her own mother had barely tolerated her. How in the world was Brandy going to deal with mothering a child who was not even human? To make matters worse, whoever the father was, he’d be incarcerated. She’d be a single mother to an alien son. Tears leaked from her eyes, and she brushed them away.
No, it couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t.
Charis brought food. She offered more anti-nausea drink. Seeing the mess of sick, she got a cleaning crew to take care of it. She’d even ordered a chair and slept in it beside Brandy’s bed, her watermelon-sized belly rising and falling as she slept.
Brandy stared at Charis’s sleeping form in the dim light, unable to sleep. The baby was a source of joy for Charis. She was in love with Han and knew he was her life mate. Brandy didn’t even know who the father of her child was. Wrek or Tork, it could be either one.
In the morning when Charis stirred, it was the first question she asked her friend.
“Can I find out who the father of the child is?” she asked a groggy Charis.
“Good morning to you, too,” she said, pushing the unruly brown hair out of her eyes. Her round face was radiant. Charis was one of those pregnant ladies who glowed when expecting. “And yes, you can, but not until it is born.”
“All this advanced technology and I can’t know until it’s born?” Brandy dropped her hands onto her bedspread, exasperated.
Charis shrugged, rubbing a hand over her baby bump. “Do you have an idea whose it is?”
“One of two guys.”
Charis kept her eyes down as she asked another uncomfortable question. “And did you like either of them?”
“Both actually.”
“Hmm,” Charis said.
“It wasn’t rape,” Brandy said, feeling choked up again. “It was consensual. I like Wrek and Tork very much. Even Drake is just hurt and misunderstood.”
“Sounds like someone I know,” Charis said, and Brandy knew she was thinking of Han.
“What’s going to happen to them?”
When Charis looked up, the worry in her face twisted Brandy’s insides. “Nothing yet, but Han was talking execution.”
Brandy sprung up. “We have to stop him.”
Charis was on her feet a moment later. “I know where he is. Come on.”
The best friends gripped hands and started out of the room. An alien guard murmured concern in his language, but Charis waved him away. “It’s fine. We’re allowed to move as we choose. We’re going to see the king.”
When the alien didn’t do anything to stop them, Brandy knew Charis ran the roost around here.
They ran barefoot and pregnant through the glowing white halls. Charis found the room Han was in and pressed her hand to it. As it disintegrated, men at a conference table appeared. Han sat with his brothers and a few other humanoid aliens. They were clearly discussing something important, but they stopped as the women entered the room.
Han stood, the rest following. “What are you doing here, sweetheart?” he said, walking to Charis. “Aren’t you two supposed to be resting?”
“There’s something really important we need to talk to you about,” Charis said, taking a step back. “Brandy says she wasn’t raped. She cares about those men. You can’t kill them.”
Han’s face darkened. He glanced back to Rahan and Kahn. “But they did abduct her and hold her against her will, as well as attack our ship and disregard direct orders. Their crimes are numerous.”
“But they didn’t see any other way. Your people and Drake’s have been at war for a long time, right? Maybe some forgiveness could go a long way to smoothing that over.” Brandy gave Han a hopeful look.
His face did not soften. “It has been decided. Drake and his brothers will die.”
“No!” Brandy exclaimed, falling forward. Charis caught her, barely holding her up. Rahan came forward and took Brandy in his arms, lifting her up like a rag doll.
“Han!” Charis said in protest. Han pulled her aside to speak with her while Rahan began walking out of the room with Brandy in his arms.
“It’s all going to be okay,” Rahan said, holding her close.
“It’s not,” she said, crying into his chest. His shirt was open, and her tears smeared against his skin. She thought of the times they’d been together, but none of them had compared to her times with Wrek and Tork. And who even knew about Drake? She’d just been getting to know him. Now they all were going to die.
“It’s all my fault,” she moaned.
Rahan stopped walking. “None of this is your fault. You have to know that.”
She shook her head. “They just wanted a mate. Just like you and your brothers. Was that so much to ask?”
“They abducted you, dove,” he said, a growl in his voice. “We were so worried.”
“I appreciate that, but you have to understand. They don’t deserve to die.” She peered into his eyes, hoping he would see her pain. “One of them is the father of my child.”
Rahan’s expression tightened. She could tell what she was saying hit him. He set her down gently, making sure she was steady on her feet before letting go. “What if I take you to them?”
“You’d do that?” She squeezed his arm in anticipation and hope.
His impish smile appeared. “It’s my ship, after all.”
Brandy hadn’t smiled in a long time, but she did now. Putting her arm in Rahan’s, she let him lead her to where they were holding the others.
They walked for quite a while, winding around until Brandy felt like they were near the bottom of the ship. Rahan stopped in front of a wall with two posted guards. The creatures nodded at their captain and moved aside as he rubbed his hands together.
“I want to warn you, they’re in chains. I don’t think they were beaten, but—”
“Don’t think they were beaten?” Her voice was piercing. “How could you?”
“I didn’t do it,” he said, holding his hands up in defense. “Just be prepared. You have three minutes. Say what you need to, but don’t get too close.”
“They wouldn’t hurt me.”
“You don’t have any idea what desperate men will do,” Rahan said in an admonishing tone. “Okay, let’s go.”
He pressed both hands to the wall. It took much longer for the surface to begin to disintegrate than normal. When it did, Brandy’s stomach began to knot as her eyes tried to adjust to the darkness inside.
They stepped in, Rahan at her back.
The space was small, low ceilings dripping with unnecessary water. The walls were rocky, old, and dank. She wondered if this was a simulator room made like a medieval dungeon or if they just kept a dungeon handy. On the far wall, she spotted the brothers. They were indeed shackled by the wrists with thick metal chains. Exhaustion permeated their bodies, heads hanging forward as if dead.
She forgot Rahan’s words and ran to them, centering herself between Tork and Wrek, putting her hands on their bare chests.
“Brandy, stop!” Rahan called, running up behind her.
All three heads lifted. Three pairs of eyes focused on her face. Wrek was the least tattered, no bloody cuts or black eyes for him. Drake and Tork had not fared so well. Each had apparently taken many blows to the face and torso, judging from their cuts and bruises. Tears sprang to Brandy’s eyes.
Gentle smiles bloomed on all three faces as they studied her.
“Are you okay?” Wrek asked in a cracked and dry voice.
“Are they treating you well?” Tork asked.
Drake inclined his head in her direction, lifting one side of his bruised mouth. “Good to see you.”
“Oh, boys,” she said, still crying. “I’m so sorry. How could they have done this to you? I’m getting you out of here. I don’t know how, but I am.”
“Brandy,” Rahan said with an edge of warning in his voice.
The men shifted their gazes to him. Drake sneered. Tork seemed as if he could rip Rahan’s head clean off.
“Shut up, pretty boy, and face me like a man.” Tork pulled against his chains, making them rattle.
Rahan rolled his eyes. He touched Brandy gently on the elbow. “Are you done?”
“No,” she said, turning away from him. She touched each of their faces tenderly, careful to avoid cuts and bruises. She wanted to memorize every feature just in case.
“Rahan,” Wrek said, locking eyes with the prince. “Can we make a bargain? Han wouldn’t speak to me, but maybe you—”
“If Han wouldn’t speak to you, I shouldn’t either.”
“I thought you were afraid,” Tork said, the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut flashing. “I could smell your cowardice when you walked in.”
“Shut up,” Rahan said, surging forward.
Brandy blocked him with her body. “Just talk to Wrek,” she begged. “Please.”
Rahan shook his head, his shoulder-length hair swaying. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“I have something spectacular,” Wrek said, leaning forward until his chains strained. “I can fix our fertility problem. For good.”
Rahan’s eyes widened, but Brandy went cold. Now it was dawning on her how she’d gotten pregnant. Had Wrek been using her as a guinea pig for his experiments? Heat burned through her body as she zeroed in on Wrek. She’d kill him. She’d…
“I’ll talk to Han,” Rahan said, but his voice held no confidence. “He’ll want to see what you can do.”
“It’s in the testing phase right now,” Wrek added.
Rahan’s brow furrowed.
“He can do it,” Drake said. “If my brother says he can fix our problem, he can.”
Rahan glanced back and forth between them. “All right. I’ll ask him. Brandy?” He held a hand out, waiting to lead her out of the cell, but she planted her feet.
“I need to talk to them.”
“You already have.”
“Alone,” she commanded. It was so unlike her, but it worked.
Rahan started to back up. “I’ll give you one minute. Any funny business from them and the deal is off.” He eyed the men to let them know he meant business and then exited the room, closing the door behind him.
They turned to her. Wrek was the first to speak. “Brandy, thank you.”
“Shut it,” she said, her voice teetering on the edge of tears. “You owe me an explanation.”
He frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I can fix our fertility,” she mimed in a whiny voice. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Did you?” She was in his face, her hands fisted at her sides and her heart pounding. She wanted to slap Wrek across his beautiful face.
But he didn’t crumble with shame, only appeared confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out.
All three men stared at her.
“Wow,” Wrek said. “That’s… amazing.”
“And terrifying,” she said, her tears flowing freely now. “Are you telling me you didn’t do this to me? As your experiment?”
Wrek shook his head. “I didn’t experiment on you if that’s what you’re thinking. Though, it could have been my fault because… you know.” He widened her eyes, trying to remind her of their tryst without actually saying it.
The other two seemed to catch on anyway. “Good for you, little brother,” Drake said with a wry smile.
Brandy dropped her eyes. “It could be Tork’s, too.”
Tork smirked as Drake glanced over at him. “What can I say? Women love me.”
“I’m the only one? Gods!” Drake slumped against the wall.
“Regardless, you are telling me that this child was made the normal way?” Brandy’s hand strayed to her already-expanding belly. No bikinis for a while.
Wrek nodded. “Turns out you can carry our children after all.”
Her head swirled. She’d been so worried. Then so angry. Now she was just… tired.
“What do we do?”
“I wish I could hold you right now,” Wrek said sweetly.
“Get in line,” Tork grumbled. When she met his eyes, his were tender. “If we get out of here, we’ll take care of you. All of us.”
She studied the three male faces, each signing a contract with their eyes. They meant what they said. They would stand by her.
“All right,” she said. “Then we need to convince Han to take your deal.”
14
Brandy waited outside the closed wall as Rahan and Han talked inside. From the sounds of things, the conversation wasn’t going well.
Men’s voices argued. Something crashed. Brandy bit her nails until they were ragged. There was no moment in her life more important than this one, and the tension of it all made her feel sick. Or maybe that was the pregnancy.
The wall split open and Rahan stormed out, Kahn at his heels. Rahan glanced at Brandy standing there and shook his head. “Pigheaded, that one. Stubborn as a moose.”
“Maybe stubborn as a mule?” Kahn offered. “He’s just in a mood. Charis’s time is close.”
“So?” Rahan said loudly. “We’ve got three of our cousins, and warlords of clans that want to kill us, and he thinks a public execution is a good idea? It’s a great way to start a war! Can’t wait to see how they retaliate,” Rahan yelled inside loud enough for Han to hear. More crashing sounded from the room.
Brandy cringed. “Nothing changed his mind?”
Rahan sadly shook his head, and Kahn offered her a sympathetic shrug. “We’ll keep trying.”
“But he wants to do it tomorrow,” Brandy cried with exasperation in her voice.
“A lot can happen in a day,” Kahn offered.
“No,” she said, marching past the boys and into the room. She was going to confront Han herself. Sure, he was brash, rude, and angry, but he was also her best friend’s mate and she’d seen him melt more than once at Charis’s touch. He had a soft side, and she could find it.
“What are you doing in here?” Han growled.
Lord, he was big. Standing over six and a half feet tall, Han was imposing, more so than the abnormally big males she’d been around. He was pure intimidation, and it sent chills up her spine. Most of her wanted to turn around and run, but she remembered her baby and her men. She stood her ground.
“Your Majesty, I come to plead my case.”
“I’ve heard your case,” Han said, thumping a book shut on his desk. The area resem
bled a mid-century office room from some British house of Parliament—oak desks, scrolling woodwork, lots of bookshelves and tapestries. Stacks of books waited beside the big leather chair in the corner by the fire. He glanced at them, clearly wanting to be done with her already.
“Han, these men are not criminals. One of them is the father of my child.”
“Which makes the other two unnecessary. What if I spare one of them in order for the child to have a father? The man would spend his life in jail, but the child would be able to see him from time to time.”
“How can you even suggest that?” she asked, her voice rising. “What you want to do is barbaric. We don’t do public executions anymore.”
“On Earth. But this isn’t Earth, and you cannot pretend to know the Cartharian ways. You are human and a woman. I do not need your counsel, so good day.” He turned his back, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.
Oh, he was making her furious. She even stomped her foot. “Han, listen to me.”
“Sire,” a voice said from the doorway. A humanoid guard rushed in. “It’s time.”
When Han stared blankly, the guard tried again. “Your mate, sire. She is giving birth to your child.”
Han’s face went white. The book dropped from his hands as he took off running.
Charis was having her baby? Brandy had been so preoccupied she hadn’t even asked how much time Charis had left. She had to be there.
Forgetting everything, she took off running after Han.
Sprinting down the hallway, she came to a room flooded with commotion. Aliens were coming in and out. Hushed voices were turning into shouts. Inside, someone was screaming.
Brandy recognized her friend’s pained cry, turning like a corkscrew into her chest. She pushed past an alien guard and slipped into the room.
It was bright white and devoid of furniture except for what she guessed was a bed in the center of the room, though she couldn’t see it for the group of people clustered around. Aliens and humanoids both were blocking her view of her friend, so Brandy rushed forward, ducking under elbows until she could wiggle to the front.
Charis lay on the bed, sweaty and disheveled, like she’d just run a marathon or swam the English Channel. Her shapeless white gown was drenched in sweat. Brown hair lay in soggy curls on her forehead and down the nape of her neck. Brandy watched, pained, as Charis squeezed her face up, moaning and balling the blanket into her clenched fists. Her cry sounded like pure agony.