Page 42 of The Pregnancy Pact

“Yes?” he replied without glancing my way.

I pursed my lips.

I’m his frickin’ wife. I can talk to him.

Emboldened, I said, “What about jewelry? Is this okay? Plus, do Asterions wear wedding rings? Should I have one before we meet your peers?”

He barely flicked me a glance. “Asterions approve of jewels and jewelry,” he answered. “A great deal of our wealth comes from the mines on our home planet. We enjoy displaying it.”

I glanced at his ears. Ah. That explained it. I’d never heard that before.

“So, yes, we wear rings,” he said, picking up a gaudy bauble and sliding it onto his own finger. “I suppose we wear them at our weddings.” He paused, his face freezing in concentration. “I believe I did when I married Druea.”

“No, not wear them at your wedding,” I said. “That’s not what I meant. Wear them as a symbol that you’re married. On Earth, when you get married, you exchange rings. You wear them to show the world that you’re married.”

Now he shot me a tiny frown. “Why would we need rings for that? We have our marriage marks. Soon, the entire planet of Asterion will know we are married. This announcement will be sufficient.”

“Never mind.” I shook my head. “It’s no big deal.”

I continued to feel Ellax’s stare on me as I finished my hair before rising to pick up my borrowed gown.

About twenty minutes back, a knock at the door had heralded our Doreethan flight attendant, who was standing outside holding a garment bag full of clothing. Ellax had taken the bag, closed the door with a bare thank you, then brought it to the bed where he’d laid it out. I’d hovered behind his shoulder while he’d rifled through the colorful clothing, finally holding up one dress and saying,

“This. It looks the closest to your size, and should complement you.”

For once, I hadn’t argued. After all, he knew his people and their clothing and customs better than I did. I’d decided to trust him and go with his pick, which I did now, taking the dress he’d selected and stepping into the closet to change. I suppose I could have dropped my clothing right there in front of him. After all, unless some miraculous intervention occurred, we’d soon have our pact sealed and witnessed and be getting into bed together. But I wasn’t ready for that quite yet. Besides, he had a nice full-length mirror tucked away in here…which I purposefully avoided studying while I stripped down to my bra and panties. I knew what my body looked like. I resisted the urge to scrutinize it in light of the fact that I would soon be getting in bed with the most beautiful creature I’d ever laid eyes on. I didn’t want to see the stretch marks, cellulite, and hip dips. What was the point? They weren’t going anywhere.

He can either like it or lump it, I thought, yanking the extraordinarily soft fabric over my head.

Or he might be like Charlie. Have sex. No frills. No fun. Get it done, get up and clean up. Leave. Let’s be real. Most men don’t really care what you look like, as long as you allow them to stick it in you.

Not exactly great thoughts for my self-esteem, but, hey. I was doing my best to hang on.

Not until I was fully dressed, did I turn to stare in the mirror.

Oh wow.

I’d never owned anything like this before. I didn’t know what type of plants or fibers Asterions used in their clothing, but this was certainly the softest fabric I’d ever worn. The royal blue color contrasted well with my blue eyes and dark-blonde hair, while the style of the dress, gently belted and tucked in at the waist, complimented my figure. I felt…youthful. Graceful. Classic. Things I couldn’t necessarily remember feeling in a very long time.

He has good taste, I’ll give him that, I thought, emerging from the closet.

Apparently, Ellax figured he had good taste too.

When I walked out, he paused what he was doing to inspect me. I allowed him, thinking he might actually give me some helpful pointers. Instead, he nodded approvingly.

“The dress is becoming, as I knew it would be.”

That was it. Complimenting himself rather than me. Oh well. It was preferable to Charlie’s snide remarks or put downs.

“How much longer until we land?” I asked, seating myself on the chair in front of the desk and draping my arm over its back.

“Soon,” he answered. “I can feel the ship’s descent.”

Admittedly, I’d been so wrapped up in my own head that I hadn’t even noticed, but he was correct. The Coalition’s space ships were so well made you could soar through space and not notice any outside forces. However, if I paid careful attention, I could discern the subtle downward drift of the aircraft around me.

We were almost there.

By the sickening twist in my stomach, I knew without a doubt that, whatever awaited me, I was not prepared for it.

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