by Allie Marell
Horizons was a surprise summer hit, creeping into the top hundred chart and now there was Horizons Delta sitting proudly at number one a week before Christmas.
Squeezing closed his eyes, he savours the moment in his own way. Too many years of iron control to let his feelings show, but he’s slowly getting there. Andra waits for him to come back to her, always sensitive to his moods. Teaching him day by day that it’s okay to put his feelings on show. It’s okay to love and be loved.
When he opens his eyes, she’s grinning. Reaching out to touch the screen as if she doesn’t quite believe it’s real.
“Crack open the champagne. I’ve some posts to make,” she says and opens another tab to bring up Kel Dextar’s social media accounts. He remembers how many hours she spent deciding on a suitable pen name when he would have been happy to use the first one in his head.
“Isn’t it a bit early in the day for grain based fermented spirits?”
“Alcohol,” Andra says, her hands flying over the keyboard. “And no, it’s never early for a celebratory drink.”
“Alcohol, a better word, yes.”
Daily, he remembers more of how William spoke before the abduction, but now with his hardware, the tracker, alpha core and translator all offline, he’s having to fill in the blanks of this English language the old way.
Soon there will be nothing left of the enhancements that turned him into a super soldier. The bio-components designed to break down organically when compromised to stop the tech being scavenged by enemy forces in battle will disappear leaving his fused fingers the only indication that he’s not quite human.
He takes a moment to study the tree they decorated together the night before, the pile of wrapped gifts beneath. Oliver and Emma will be with them on Christmas Day and, if they can persuade her to leave her room, Nora will be the guest of honour. They gave it time getting to know each other again and every day he appreciates the sacrifices she made for him. Relishes the stories she tells of his father and his stepfather, both of them heroes in their own way.
He could wish for no better mother. A few months after their reunion he received a parcel in the post containing a passport, birth certificate, and all the documents needed to give him a paper trail and free passage in this world. Legal papers, showing off Zegar’s power and influence and though he wanted to throw them back into the Harvester’s face, he knew how much it cost his mother to beg for favours from the creature she seemed to love and hate in equal measure.
He’d given up trying to fathom their relationship. Had his own life to lead now and if the papers gave him an identity, that was another step towards freedom.
And then he thinks of Andra. His feisty saviour who lends her quiet solace in the dark of the night, when memories crowd his mind and he awakes in a cold sweat from dreams that feel too real.
His lover and his companion.
Between them they created the mysterious author Kel Dextar, he providing the plots and lurid details, she turning them into readable novels the science fiction reading public can’t get enough of.
When his written skills catch up, they’ll be an unbeatable team.
His gaze falls on one particular gift, in faded wrapping, the edges curling, the sliver of shiny red string holding it closed ragged at the ends. He respected his mother’s request to refrain from opening it last year. He waited this long, another year made little difference. He knows what it contains and he’s glad she made him realise that time and distance lend perspective. This year he’ll open it and relive fond memories instead of the trauma of what he lost.
When he returns with the champagne and two glasses, Andra is deep in conversation with their readers, graciously accepting congratulations, issuing thanks for their support. He leaves all that to her, content to remain the mysterious element in Kel Dextar’s success.
Content. He muses on the word as he eases the cork from the champagne bottle with a pop that causes the dog to drop to the carpet and cower behind the sofa and Tam the cat to open one laconic eye to see what all the fuss is about.
Yes, for the first time since his abduction, he’s content. What more could he ask for?
“Cheers! They clink glasses, Andra’s face shining with a satisfied glee as she basks in the victory, and he thinks that perhaps there is something more. With his legal papers in hand, he’s free to ask the question that, according to male-oriented online chat sites, puts fear in the hardest man’s soul. And if he read it right, it must be done in formal style.
Putting down his glass, he clears his throat and drops to one knee. Andra stares down at him, a little bemused by the sudden gesture. A world of emotion cycles through her eyes, panic, surprise and then she’s hovering, waiting for him to speak. And he realises exactly how these few simple words can elicit so much terror in a male.
What if she says no? What if he bungles this and spoils what they have forever?
“Andra.” She’s smiling now, trying and failing to keep it inside. And from the mischievous look in her eyes, not about to put him out of his misery any time soon.
“Yes, Santar.” Batting her eyelids, she feigns blank incomprehension of what he’s about to say. She tried calling him William, but he’ll be forever Santar to her.
“I was wondering...no... Will you consent...” How did it go? Suddenly he couldn’t remember the words. He tried again. “I was wondering if you’d consent to make this union legal. To allow me the great honour of being your matrimonial spouse...”
“I’ll marry you, Santar.” Andra’s smile would have lit whole worlds. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“That is an affirmative? You’ll be my bonded partner, my wife in the eyes of the law?” He’s making a complete mess of the whole proposal, but he doesn’t care. She said yes. He thinks.
Rising on tiptoe, Andra touches her lips to his, sealing the moment with a champagne kiss that feels like the promise of a future he never thought to have.
“That was definitely a yes.” She whispers warm breath onto his cheek, igniting a coil of desire deep inside of him. “Shall we go upstairs and seal the deal?” Her hand slides down his arm, catching his fingers in hers. Tugging him from the room. No encouragement required. He’s already ahead of her, lifting her into his arms and taking the stairs at a run.
Behind them, the dog is following, grimly determined to be a part of this moment too. At the top of the stairs, Santar sets Andra on her feet and they sway together in the rising morning light.
He came a long way for this moment. But finally, he’s home.
Thank you for reading Once Upon a Starman. I hope you enjoyed Santar and Andra’s story.
To find free reads and information about new releases, join my mailing list and connect with me at:
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Books written as Allie Marell
Once Upon a Starman
The Cursed Princess
Siren Sweetly Singing
The Wedding Ghost
Books written as Alexandra Marell
Prison Moon – Ice Heart
Prison Moon – Stone Dragon
Lords of the Dark Fall – Fabian
Lords of the Dark Fall – Marcellus
Can I Keep You
Can I Love You Again
Moon Child’s Wish
Lupine
Tian’s Guardian
Wolf Christmas
AUTHOR BIO
I write under two pen names, Allie and Alexandra Marell, but always with the same tight focus on the main characters and their emotional journey. I’m addicted to buying pianos, and on dark, stormy nights you’ll find me in some spooky mansion or old castle as part of a paranormal investigation team.
COPYRIGHT
Once Upon a Starman
First Edition Copyright © 2019 Allie Marell
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by a
ny means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The right of Allie Marell to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.