Page 72 of Alien God

I managed to do it by simultaneously lowering my head and raising my hands. I took a small sip, shuddered, then sighed. Luscious heat bloomed down my throat, warming me from the inside out. It was the sweetened milk drink that accompanied so many of the meals here, but there was something distinctive about it. It seemed that Wylfrael had a different recipe than the Sionnachans who I assumed normally prepared my meals. It still had that honey-like sweetness, but there was a biting spice, too. Not quite like ginger, but close. I took another sip, already feeling better than before.

Wylfrael watched me drink, leaning back against the crystal counter, his arms crossed, his eyes focused slits. As I worked my way through the drink, he began to speak.

“The only ones who can locate your friends are the stone sky gods at Heofonraed. They are called the Council of the Gods. I also require their assistance in another matter. But they will not hear petitions. In order for either of us to gain access to them and their resources, I will have to join the council and put forth both our cases.”

I lowered my cup, needing all my focus to follow the influx of information.

“In order to join the council,” he continued, speaking with a mundane, matter-of-fact style that made everything all the more surreal, “I require a bride.”

“Why?” I asked.

Wylfrael sighed tightly, as if already trying to determine how much effort to spend on explaining what was likely a long and convoluted story.

“Every stone sky god has one true mate. The one he starburns for and binds his life to. The one he’s meant to marry.”

“And... I’m yours?”

Wylfrael’s mouth flattened harshly, his response cold and cutting.

“No.”

“Then... What? Why? Go find your soulmate or whatever and marry her! Just let me go! I want nothing to do with this!” My head ached, and I took another sip of the fortifying drink.

“I cannot claim my true mate for my own reasons,” he said icily. “But as long as you play your part correctly, no one will know that you are not her.”

“So... it would be a sham marriage?”

Wylfrael’s wings twitched. He rose from where he’d been leaning against the counter and went to the door that led into the entrance hall, as if making sure no one was near. Apparently satisfied, he came back and crouched so that his face was at my eye level.

“Yes.”

The firelight played over the left side of his face while shadow painted the other. In that moment, he had two faces, one warm and distinct, one dark and lit only by the cold blue glow that came from within him. I wondered, sitting across from him, if I had two faces, too.

“So, I’ll pretend to be your wife so you can get into this council, and then you’ll help me track down the other women on the ship? And I’ll be free?”

The two split sides of Wylfrael’s face answered in unison.

“Precisely.”

The effect of the light was strange, making him slide in and out of my reality. I wanted to ask him to turn one way or the other, to either be fully in the shadow or fully in the light.

But instead, I asked him something I hadn’t even realized I’d been thinking about until it was out of my mouth.

“And you won’t require anything else of me? The things one would expect in a marriage. You won’t-”

“Love you?” He gave a mirthless, scraping laugh. But there was a discordant note in the sound. Like something in my question had unnerved him.

“I’m not asking about love,” I said archly. “That’s obviously not even part of the equation. I’m asking about physical relations.”

His nostrils flared slightly, but otherwise he went very still.

“I require only that you behave in such a way as to convince anyone around us that the bond is true between us. No one, not even the Sionnachans who are loyal to me, must know that this is false. This will mean some displays of affection, some touching, but likely nothing close to what you would deem relations.”

I tried to imagine it. Wylfrael touching me to imitate affection instead of power or control. What disturbed me was that I didn’t have to try very hard to picture it. I only had to call back to some of the odd, still moments we’d shared, when he’d stroked me tenderly, as if searching for something, sliding his thumb along my cheek or down my bruised arm.

Well, if more of that sort of touching was required, I supposed that wouldn’t be too terrible. He was already doing that. And it beat getting ordered around and grabbed.

A smile unfurled on my face as I realized just how much control a bargain like this could give me.

---