Page 23 of The Marriage Bargain

She sounded so hesitant. Fearful, even. My pulse quickened. I decided to try and draw her out on the purpose of her call.

“Of course,” I answered. “This isn’t about Zyn and your sister, is it? All is well with your sister and her child?”

“Oh, yeah, no, everything’s good there. She still has a little while till her due date. This—this isn’t about that. It’s something else.”

“Ah.” I could think of two reasons why she might have contacted me, and if it had nothing to do with her sister’s time approaching and Zyn needing to be away from work and with his wife, that left but one option.

My bargain. My marriage bargain. Had she reconsidered?

I could only hope so, both for her sake and my own. My father had contacted me twice since Delle and I had spoken. My brother clung to life, but was technically being kept alive by machines. The end was inevitable. My father knew it. I knew it. And I knew what was coming once my brother passed. Yesterday, I’d had to endure a half-hour of pressure from him to consider returning home and assuming my proper role as an Asterion noble.

Not a chance in hell, as these Earthlings would say.

Not to mention, the rumors of a breeder’s list had intensified within the past fourteen Earth days. Asterions now talked freely among themselves concerning which females they had set their sights on—who they would claim once the actual lists were up and females were available to request.

Delle’s name had been mentioned in my hearing more than once. Strangely—or, not so strangely—I found that it was fine for me to think longing thoughts of Delle’s curves, her body, her fiery eyes, her luscious mouth, but I didn’t like hearing other Asterion males mention them. There was a part of me that wanted to throttle any of my peers who dared to salivate over the human female I wanted. It not only made me jealous—an unfamiliar emotion—it made me fearful for her. Most of the Asterion males who mentioned her name were not bad, insofar as bad humans or bad Asterions went. But some—like Flight Commander Abidah had a reputation for harshness that concerned me. Delle didn’t need a male who would be harsh with her. She needed one who would support her.

She needed me.

Or, so I told myself.

“When could we…when could we meet?” I heard her ask. The inquiry caught my attention, drawing it back to the present.

“As soon as you like,” I answered quickly. Perhaps too quickly. I didn’t wish to betray my eagerness to speak with her.

“Tonight?”

That quickly? She must be serious.

“Of course,” I replied, striving to calm my voice. “Would you like to meet here, in my office, again?”

“No, thank you. I…uh, I’m not really interested in visiting the Citadel right now.”

“I see,” I said, although the simple remark set my mind to racing with questions. Questions I chose not to pursue. Instead, I asked, “Where would you like to meet?”

“Do you know Evergreen Park?”

I knew the area. The humans—with Asterion assistance—were working to establish a spot outside Citadel walls where trees and plants were cultivated. Where greenery and blooms could flourish. Where there could be beauty again in the mostly barren, war-torn landscape.

“I know it,” I said.

“Could you meet me there in a half-hour? By the waterfall?”

I didn’t say to her that it was too cold for water to be flowing, or that current temperatures out-of-doors meant meeting indoors would be more comfortable. She knew that. She had a reason for choosing the spot she mentioned.

“I will be there,” I said, glancing down at myself. I could use a shower. A fresh change of clothing, but that would take more time than she’d allotted. Part of me thought I should clean up before going to meet the human female I wanted for my prospective wife. However, the practical side of me reasoned that if she was to be my wife, she would have to become accustomed to a husband who came home covered in wood shavings and dust. In truth, she lived in a house with Zyn, who often did the same. It shouldn’t be that off-putting to her, should it?

Choosing to ignore my first instinct, I said, “Half-an-hour.”

“Thank you. See you then.”

Before I could reply, I heard the click, signaling the end of the call. Sliding my phone into my back pocket, I rose to leave for the meeting.

* * *

I was not typically given to nervousness, but I was anxious while trudging along the muddy path to the waterfall. The wind seemed to echo my sense of unease, climbing around rocks and crevices and stealing down the back of my neck, scraping my flesh with invisible, icy fingers.

J’tet!

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