Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 52529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
But…no one's agreed to get married? Zakoar's been silent. I know marriage isn't an alien thing for most cultures that I've run into. You just claim that someone's your mate and boom, it's all done. This sounds like it would be far more involved and I worry Zakoar's going to balk. "Um, we need to talk it over first," I begin.
"We will be there in an hour," Zakoar says. "We'll need to catch a flight and can't wait until late this afternoon."
"Are you sure?" I whisper, squeezing his hand.
He gives me a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Rektar leans away from the vid-screen and mumbles something to someone out of sight. He sighs, then nods, and faces us once more. "Very well. If you can be in Port in an hour, we will accommodate your human ceremony." The view winks out and then it's just me and Lucy and Zakoar seated around the table again.
"Oh man." Lucy gets a dreamy look on her face as we end the call. "Is it just me, or is he really cute? I love a man in uniform."
"Super cute," I agree politely, though I can't even remember what Rektar's face looked like. Big and broad…and not nearly as handsome as Zakoar, though I am absolutely biased.
Zakoar growls and jerks up from the table, my hand still in his. "We need to talk," he says, and his tone is so flat that I just know he's upset. Shit. Shit shit shit. He doesn't want to get married. My heart falls, but I force myself to put a bright smile on my face and head to the back bedroom with him, where we'd been happy just a short time ago. I feel like I'm falling apart.
He doesn't want to get married. It's too much for him. Me being his slave is all right, but not marriage. I shouldn't be surprised, but—
The moment I'm in the bedroom, he shuts the door behind us and pulls me toward him, gazing down into my eyes. "I don't want you to feel trapped into this."
I blink up at him in surprise. "That-that's what I was about to say to you."
His jaw flexes, as if he's grinding his teeth, and then he gives me a narrow-eyed look. "Do you want to do this human mating ceremony? With me? Even if it's forever?"
"More than anything," I admit.
Zakoar looks surprised. "Really?"
Now I'm the one that's confused. "Why would you doubt me?"
"You just said he was handsome!" He gestures back at the other room. "I don't want you to feel trapped into a life-long relationship with me if you do not wish to be my mate, either."
"I was being nice!" I hiss at him. "What am I supposed to say? That he has a face like a shovel and he's pissing me off?"
He blinks. Twice.
Then, Zakoar chuckles.
I cross my arms over my chest, relief flooding through me. "Are you jealous?"
"Of course I'm jealous," he grumbles, running a hand over the smooth metal on the side of his head. "You're perfect and beautiful and being forced to mate me in exchange for your freedom."
"I want to," I tell him, shaking my head in disbelief. "How can you think that I don't want to? Marrying you would be an absolute dream."
There's a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "You…wouldn't feel trapped? Enslaved in a different way?"
"No and no." I move toward him, putting my hands on his waist and gazing up at him. "I love you. I want to be with you forever, I don't care if it's here or if it's on the station, as long as I get to wake up with you every morning and go to bed with you every night."
Zakoar groans, and the sound is sweet. He cups my face and presses a kiss to my lips. "Then let us go and get married in front of that shovel-faced fool."
Epilogue
Months Later
Dear Tessa,
It's so fun having a pen pal! I look forward to each and every message you send. Not just because you have off-world information, but because I just like talking to someone that doesn't want to discuss meat-stock ad nauseam. I wish we had a computer to type messages into and send just like email, but since I don't know the native language, paper and pen will have to do! They look at me like I'm crazy every time I send you a letter, but I hope this manages to wing its way to you.
Not much is new here. It's harvesting season, which means my bots are hard at work. Please thank your hubby for me! I didn't realize they were working so poorly until he tuned them up. I even put in the new chip he sent—all by myself!—and they're working like a charm. They're busy harvesting and I'm…well, I'm bored. I never thought that being a farmer would just mean pushing a few buttons here and there and that's all. I guess I should consider myself lucky I don't have to go out into the field with a hoe or something, but sometimes I wish there was a little more for a girl to do.