Page 13 of The Pregnancy Pact

“How many women have you brought back here and showed your magic bar?”

The female spoke, shattering my thoughts, along with my sensual daydreams.

Mostly of her in my bed, but she did not need to know this.

Yet.

“Magic…bar?”

Was this some coarse human reference to—

“Yes, this,” she clarified, waving a hand over the shelf of liquor. “A bar is what we call a place to go drink. They used to be more common than they are now. And it’s like magic because of the way it popped up out of the wall.” She shrugged. “Sorry, lame description, I guess.”

Human and Asterion descriptions did not always align, even with the translating chip, but I grasped her meaning.

“Why do you wish to know?” I asked, arching a brow.

She shrugged again, drinking her lyven. “I don’t know. Just curious, I guess. Wondering if you’re the playboy who uses alcohol to seduce tons of women or if you only try it every now and then when you’re lonely.”

There was the tiniest edge to her tone that warned me she would not like my answer if I told her the truth.

Choosing not to be forthright, I said, “I have a proposal. I will give you the answer. In turn, you must answer any question I ask.”

Her brows lifted. “So, like a game of twenty questions then?”

“Five, ten, twenty…what matters?” I waffled a hand. “And there is more.”

“More?”

“For every question we ask and answer we give, we must take a drink.”

She leaned against the wall, holding her crystal glass by the stem. “We’re already drinking.”

“This will make us drink more.”

She tilted her head, considering. “What have I got to lose? Who goes first?”

Chapter 6

Ellax

Itook the strange expression to mean acquiescence. “You.”

“Okay, first question…” She smiled a tiny smile. “What’s your name?” Before I could answer she added, “Oh yeah, drink.” And tipped her glass back for a healthy swallow of lyven.

“My name is Ellax Pendorgrin, son of Ellax Pendorgrin before me, and his father before him.”

She blinked a few times. “So, what, you’re pretty high up in the Asterion nobility or something?’

“I am descended from a long lineage of Elders,” I said proudly.

She seemed less impressed than she ought to have been. “Hmmm. Interesting. Okay, your turn.”

I could have made my first question sexual, but decided to wait until she—and I—had both imbibed more lyven.

“What is your name?” I asked her in return, tipping my own goblet back. “Lorelai,” she said. She glanced down at her glass, rubbing the stem between her fingers. “Lorelai Bristol. I went back to my maiden name after my divorce. I didn’t want anything from Charlie, except our sons.”

“Maiden name?”

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