Chapter 8

Rosemary:

The world ended on a Tuesday. You’d never suspect Tuesday because no one trusted Monday, by the time Tuesday rolled around, people’s guards were down. Not that the day was called Tuesday on Sangrin. Here it was Marth. That didn’t even sound like a real word, let alone a day of the week. At least they had a seven-day week on Sangrin.

She deleted the latest message from Vince. Somehow, he had gotten her new contact information after she ditched her old Earth phone for a Sangrin-based number. In theory, the communication technology was the same on both planets. Modern phone networks were based on Mahdfel tech, after all. However, using an Earth device off-planet got expensive. Fast.

The new number brought her a few months of peace, and then the messages started. Vince had a lawyer now. For once, the blockhead actually listened to her, in a bizarre twist of fate. The messages from the lawyer grew more terse and demanding. She needed to reach a settlement or they would sue for custody.

Vince infuriated her. They had a settlement with the papers drawn up and he bailed.

He was the worst. Just the absolutely worst and the number one reason why she couldn’t trust her judgment when it came to men. Muscular physiques turned her head but every relationship based on raw physical attraction fizzled in the end.

Or exploded in a fiery mess, like Vince.

She called her old lawyer on Earth, who advised her to find an attorney based on Sangrin and file for custody there. The interplanetary red tape could keep the custody dispute tied up for years. She’d never be able to pour the same amount of credits into legal fees that Vince’s family could, but stalling as long as possible was something.

Rosemary didn't know where to start. When she searched the network, all the contact info was in Sangrin. She couldn't read any of the adverts or get contact pages well enough to discern what type of lawyer to contact. Cold-calling a number remained an option, but her in-ear translator did not work well over the phone or video chat. It created a distorted echo that left her feeling dizzy. An implanted translator bypassed those problems, but the price was out of her budget.

Beyond the language issue was the problem of credit. Lawyers cost money, or at least they did on Earth. She expected the profession to be just as pricey on Sangrin. Some truths were universal.

She hesitated to ask Tani, who had already done so much, for assistance. Asking Hazel for help would only mean she’d have to confess her blunder with the million credits.

Rosemary could do this. She just needed to cold call law offices and either deal with the cheap translator, learn enough of an entirely new language to get by or scrape up the credits for a translator chip implant.

The easiest solution was to stall for time and ignore the calls and the messages. Vince could bluster and shout all he wanted, but he had no legal reach on Sangrin. As long as she stayed off-planet, the situation was under control. Sort of.

That was a plan, right? A siege? Wait out the enemy, safe in her fortress.

Okay, so it kept her up at night. It sucked. Life on Sangrin was good for her and Michael. She didn’t want to mess up the good thing they had going, and that included getting involved with Mene. Sure, she couldn’t ignore her attraction to the man. He was gorgeous. She wasn’t blind. He was also kind and patient. They butted heads and he never lost his temper, which was more than she could say. How could she not be drawn to him?

Life was good on Sangrin. With her relationship track record, getting involved with her boss’ son would put that good life in jeopardy.

All this, of course, happened before the Ministry arrived.

The door chimed as another patron entered the Tasting Room. Rosemary wiped down the counter and gave a friendly smile, careful not to show teeth. A toothy smile could be taken as a sign of aggression by Sangrins. "Beautiful day today," she said. "How can I help you?"

The male wore a serious expression. He approached the counter but did not look at the tasting menu. "Rosemary Rovelli?"

Dread curled tight in her stomach. "Who's asking?"

"Ministry of Mahdfel Affairs." He flashed a badge and sent the identity signature to her phone. She recognized the government seal, a yellow blossom heavily stylized to resemble the sun. "I need to verify that you're a registered resident."

"My, um, employer handled all that. She's in the office. Let me go get her."

Rosemary practically ran up the stairs to the office. Tani sat at her desk and fumbled with the tablet in hand as Rosemary banged the door open. "What is it?"

"Ministry. Registration. They. Want. Papers," she managed to say between gasps, sides burning. Running up the stairs was no joke.

"Oh, is that all? I have the application for your work permit here." Tani opened a drawer and fumbled around before pulling out a sheet of paper.

Neat and tidy handwriting filled out the page. It was even stamped at the bottom.

Rosemary frowned. “If you submitted it, then why are they here?”

“It must be a processing error. Those happen all the time.”

Rosemary sank into a chair. Her heart raced, and she felt cold, a shivery cold all over. This wasn't good. "I'm freaking out, Tani. They're going to send me back to Earth." Back to Vince and his team of lawyers. His family could afford the best and, in her panic, that one lawyer morphed into an entire team of legal jackals, ready to tear her apart and take Michael away.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," the older woman said in a soothing tone, the kind reserved for children frightened of the dark or monster under the bed. Well, the monster wasn't under the bed. It was downstairs in the Tasting Room. "I'll just invite our visitor on up, and we can talk about this in a reasonable manner." More soothing, saccharine tones. She even patted Rosemary on the head as she went by.

Insufferable. Rosemary might have complained except she'd seen Tani take the exact same demeaning tone with her gigantic, grown warrior son.

She shook her hair out and refastened the bun in a nervous fit.

"It's all very simple," the stranger said as he entered the room. "I'm not here about her work permit."

"We'll get it filled out by the end of the day, so you don't have to worry about any fines," Tani said.

"So Ms. Rovelli is a resident of Sangrin?" He directed the question to her. Rosemary nodded. "As a resident, you must sign up for the Mahdfel Bride Registry."

His words made no sense.

"No, I don't."

"According to the terms of the treaty, you do." He set a case down on the desk and clicked it open.

"I'm not eligible. I have a son."

He took out a tablet and thumbed through various screens. "Is that child an infant?"

"No. He's seven."

"Then you are required to register and submit to testing."

"But I'm not eligible. I don't have to."

He held up the table and snapped her picture. "You're from Earth?"

"Yes. What does that have to do with—"

"The terms of the Mahdfel-Earth Treaty differ from those of the Sangrin."

"But I'm Earthian. Terran. Human. Whatever." She stumbled over her words, distraught.

"According to the terms of the treaty, all eligible females must register." He read directly from the tablet. "And you are eligible."

"All eligible Sangrin females must register." Rosemary took the tablet to read for herself. Fortunately it had been translated to English. There it was, in black and white. All eligible females. No mention of the planet.

Sugar snap peas.

"There's been some sort of misunderstanding," she said.

"No misunderstanding." He took out a plastic bracelet and fixed it to her wrist. "Your presence was reported. You have no work permit or residence papers. You must register tomorrow at the Ministry."

"If I register, I'll be tested?" Tested and then matched to a Mahdfel, married and whisked away to some random place in the galaxy. The last few months had exposed her to some Mahdfel. They weren't the brutish, barbaric monsters she feared, but she'd be matched to a stranger.

A total stranger.

And she'd have to bring Michael along with her, to live with an unknown man. Somewhere. Maybe a ship like Hazel or a space station or, possibly, even the middle of a war zone.

No. She refused to bring Michael to a war zone. Throwing axes and hunting giant crabs was safer than that. She'd do anything to avoid that. She'd—

She didn't know what she'd do.

“If I refuse?”

The man shut the case with a snap. “Imprisonment until you consent.”

“That’s hardly consent,” she said. Irritation scratched at the back of her head like a headache.

“Or you will be deported back to Earth. The Ministry has no preference, but if you wish to remain on Sangrin, you will register, and you will be tested.”

"There has to be something I can do. I can appeal," she said.

"No appeal. Report to the location on the bracelet at the assigned time."

She glanced at the date and time. Tomorrow, first thing in the morning. Wonderful.

Fudging bureaucrat. He'd never have to be tested and torn away from his world. He'd never have to worry about bringing his son to an unknown environment and hope that his new spouse was kind, not cruel, and a good person and hope that they would love Michael as if he were their own.

For as much as Mene drove her crazy, he accepted Michael without reservation. He'd be a good dad when the time came.

Mental images of him over her, his thick arms planted on either side of her head, and the weight of his hard body pressing against her flooded her mind. He would be a good father. He'd probably even be a good husband. If she had to marry a Mahdfel, she'd want it to be to a man like Mene.

Or she could just marry Mene.

Tani gave her an awkward, one-armed embrace. "You'll be fine. You'll marry one of my sons. Both will agree. Choose one."

“Mene,” she said instantly. She chose Mene. “But not like this.” Not when he would be forced into it. Clearly, he was attracted to her, but there was a huge gap between stealing a kiss or two and marriage.

"Whatever you decide," the bureaucrat said, "report to the Ministry's testing facility tomorrow."

Mene:

The dampness of spring lingered in the air. Mene had little patience to admire the shadows lingering in the valley or the warm glow of the house. The worry in his mother’s voice compelled him to return home quickly.

“Where is she?”

Unruffled and suspiciously not harried or worried, Tani poured tea into the opalescent cups she preferred. She pressed a cup of into his hands; the flower shaped vessel was tiny and ridiculous in his paws.

“Rosemary is in the back,” she said, radiating calmness.

Mene made to move past his mother, but she stalled him with a cleverly timed flick to his horn. He bit back his immediate curse and rubbed his horn.

“Don’t give me that look,” Tani said. “We need a moment to discuss what you’re going to say to her.”

“You led me to believe this was urgent and could not wait.”

Tani adjusted her robes and sat down at the low table, legs folded gracefully to the side as she sat on a cushion.

“It is, but if you bluster in with all your,” she waved a hand vaguely, “natural charm, you’ll push her away. And we don’t want that, do we?” She smiled and took a sip from her own steaming cup of tea.

“No,” Mene admitted. Every time he spoke to Rosemary, he mucked it up. When he wanted to praise, he criticized. When he intended to flatter, he insulted. The only thing he seemed to do correctly was when he pushed her to the muddy ground and kissed her. Rosemary enjoyed that.

The base of his horns ached and his tattoos burned at the thought. As much fun as that had been, he doubted it would help in this particular situation.

Perhaps his mother was on to something.

He joined Tani at the table, heaving his bulky frame down onto a cushion. He sniffed the tea, finding it overly sweet but drank to appease his mother. He did not know why he was there, not being the type of male to calm or soothe Rosemary with words. No, his talents lay elsewhere. If someone upset her or threatened her, he would end them. Simple. He was the male for that. Tani mentioned the Bride Registry and someone reporting Rosemary to the Ministry. Surely his father was the one to remedy any political trouble. If Rosemary was to be matched to another male—

His mind went blank with white-hot fury. “What would you have me do?”

“I want you to mate her,” she said calmly, as if commenting on the weather.

“She will never agree.” The last time they spoke, they didn’t really speak. Their bodies conversed.

Horizontally.

He couldn’t find it within him to be shamed at his dishonorable behavior.

“Never is a strong word, and I don’t believe that at all,” his mother said.

“Perhaps I do not wish to mate her. Perhaps Lorran is better suited for the task.” The bitter words fell from his mouth like poison.

Tani set her cup down and smoothed the sleeves of her robe. “The Ministry came. She was not registered for the compatibility screening. She has to report tomorrow or face imprisonment.”

“They won’t send her back to Earth?”

Tani shrugged. “That is what the officer said.”

“She is not a citizen of Sangrin, but she has rights,” Mene said.

“She is undocumented. She will be tested tomorrow. She will be matched with a Mahdfel male.”

Mene huffed. “Did you not complete the correct forms?”

“I did, but that’s not the issue. Tomorrow she will be matched with a stranger.”

The growl was so low that he did not notice it until Tani patted his arm. He did not like the situation at all.

“You know what needs to be done,” Tani said. “I will prepare the tea. Do you think she’ll want a wedding robe? I don’t have one in the correct color, and all mine will be too short on her anyway.”

“You are optimistic.” Far more than him. He would do it, but Rosemary had no reason to accept his proposal to be his mate, even as a ploy to avoid being matched or deported to Earth. He wanted her to stay. Of course he did. The thought of having Rosemary in his arms, in his bed, thrilled him beyond measure.

He just needed to find the right words.

It did not take him long to find his mate. Her scent, appealing as ever, led to the cluster of tall trees at the edge of the lawn. Beyond the lawn, the ground sloped down to the vineyard. Shadows stretched as the sun set, swallowing the orderly rows of vines.

Rosemary sat with her back to a tree, a blue scarf wrapped around her shoulders and drinking straight from a wine bottle. Her blonde hair shone like a beacon against the wet bark of the tree, pulling him toward her.

“I did not think you drank the wine,” he said.

“Special occasion today.” Rosemary took another swig from the bottle, not bothering to look at him. Tension radiated from her body.

Mene grimaced. Already he spoiled the mood. He sat on the ground next to her. She scooted away, hiding the movement as she adjusted the shawl.

“I will not insult you—”

She snorted.

“By wasting your time. You need a mate. I will consent.” Mene nodded at his clear, concise words. There was no way she could possibly misunderstand him.

The bottle slipped from her grip, splashing her lap and the ground. “You’ll consent to marry me because your mother is making you.”

He frowned, unsure how she twisted his words. “That is not what I said.”

“You’ll marry me. I heard you.” Rosemary dusted off the bottle and held it up to the light, frowning at the remaining wine.

“I am here of my own will.”

“I doubt that.”

“I have never lied or spoken a falsehood to you.” He did not disclose the entirety of his thoughts or emotions, but he never spoke an untruth.

She frowned. “You might get along better with people if you learned how to tell a little white lie.”

He would not. The idea of spouting falsehoods for flattering or to avoid discomfort appalled him. “You need a mate or tomorrow you will be matched to an unknown male. You could be sent anywhere.” The idea of Rosemary with another male, any male, incensed him. She was his. His.

“Michael and me, I know.” Her voice was quiet and contemplative. “I can’t uproot him again. I don’t want to marry a stranger. I never did. That’s why—” She sighed. “That’s why I had Michael.”

“Can you not return to Earth?” His heart broke just asking the question. He did not want her to leave or even entertain the notion of returning to her home world where she had an exemption from the compatibility test, but she needed to consider all her options.

She shook her head, and he exhaled the breath he did not realize he had been holding. Good. Earth was not an option.

“That’s not really an option,” she said.

“Explain.”

“Custody with Michael's father is mess." Hazel frowned. "All Vince wants is money. Money, money, money. So I gave it to him, ya know? One million credits. Had papers drawn up and everything. But you know what that weasel did?"

Mene was unsure of what a weasel was, but it could not be good. "He acted dishonorably."

"You can say that again."

Mene repeated himself, earning a faint smile from his mate.

"He took the money and vanished. Poof." She gestured with her hands to demonstrate. "I was such an idiot."

"Do not speak harshly about yourself."

She patted him on the leg. "You're sweet but I was dumb. I gave Vince the money and just thought he'd sign on the dotted line."

"So we make him sign." Again, suggesting that course of action pained him. He wanted his mate to remain but did not think she would stay for affection alone.

"See, that's the thing. His family has money and they don't want any trouble. They'll pour all their money into lawyers and drag this into court. I can't fight that. My last lawyer worked pro bono. They'll take Michael away."

"Unacceptable."

"Exactly." Rosemary took another swig from the bottle. "I shouldn't be drinking."

"Staying helps you."

"Well, yeah. Custody battles are crazy complicated across state lines. Can you imagine the mess for inter planetary custody? It's complicated so that's keeping them away. Besides, I like it here." She leaned against him. "I even like you."

"I like you," he replied.

“So those are my choices. Marry a stranger or marry you,” she said.

Mene shifted on the ground, maintaining the distance between them. His entire body vibrated with awareness of her: her scent, her heat and the way she leaned away from him. “I will claim you as a mate. We will go to the Ministry together, and you will be removed from the registry.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“The Mahdfel mate for life, don’t they?”

His eyes narrowed, unsure of her intentions. “Usually. Divorce is rare but happens once or twice a generation. A widower may claim another mate. Is this not true with Terrans?”

She shrugged. “But if you marry me, you won’t be able to find your true mate?”

The urge to press her to the damp ground and claim her lips overwhelmed him. He needed to feel her body underneath his, to have her moan and writhe with desire. She was his true mate. No other.

“Perhaps you are my true mate, and I have waited for you,” he said.

She snorted; it was exactly the response he expected. She did not believe him. “You don’t even like me.”

“Did I not prove my affection for you? Must I kiss you again? It is no hardship.”

“That’s lust, not like.” Then, muttered, “Not love.”

Ah. She feared he could not love her? Did he not love her already? A new mission became clear. He must prove his devotion.

“My family likes you and Michael. You like my family.” He paused, gathering more words. He needed to lay out the benefits of being his mate before the conversation was sidetracked. “You will remain here and not uproot your son. You have every incentive to accept my proposal.”

“And you? What do you get out of this?”

Mene stared off into the foggy valley for a moment. Twice before the Bride Registry matched him with compatible females and twice before they had both recoiled in horror when they saw him.

Rosemary never shunned from him. Not once. To have a mate who viewed him as whole, who saw beneath his scars, was everything to him.

“I am ugly,” he said. “No female can look at me and not flinch.”

“You’re not that bad,” she replied.

“I am that bad. I see the looks. The disgust.” He hated to admit it because what did an ugly face damage besides his vanity and pride?

“Wow, you must be blind. That woman at the school was totally checking you out.”

“She had seen me before. She was… prepared for this.” He waved toward his disfiguring scars.

She examined his face, fingers reaching out to touch the thick scarring that pulled down his lips. “Well, I like the way you look. I think the scars make you look dangerous.”

“I am dangerous.” He was Mahdfel. He was an elite warrior.

“Dangerous in a sexy way.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she spoke.

“You find me sexy?” He wanted to hear her say the words again.

She scrubbed a hand over her face “Not answering that. Did Tani report me to the Bride Registry? Be honest.”

He had wondered just that but decided against it. “She is too impulsive for such a plan.”

“I don’t know. Seems like the only person who’d be happy if we got married is Tani.”

“Taking you as my mate would please me,” he said.

“You can barely stand me.”

“I like you well enough.”

“You don’t even find me attractive.”

“You are not unattractive.”

“Seriously, Mene? You know I’m desperate to avoid the Draft—or whatever you call it here—and the best you can come up with is I’m not unattractive? I say you’re sexy and you say I’m not unattractive. You want some help with that hole you’re digging?”

“That is not what I meant—” He knew the words were poorly chosen the moment they left his mouth. If he could claw them back, he would. His mate was perfection to his eyes. To profuse this now would sound disingenuous, as if he were only placating her wounded pride, yet to let her continue to feel insulted offered no good resolution. “Do not misunderstand me.”

“Really? Sounded pretty clear to me, like I have nothing to offer you. Nothing.” She took a long pull from the bottle draining it. Empty, she tossed it away. “Not even my body because I’m gross to you.”

“I did not say you were gross.” The translator chip provided multiple meanings to the Terran word. All were unpleasant.

“It’s insulting that you come out here to make a martyr of yourself, sacrificing yourself so I can keep my job and my home and provide a stable life for my son. The only thing I can do for you is to stop the mean girls from making you feel ugly. I get it. The feeling sucks.” She screwed up her voice into a mocking tone. “I should marry Lorran. At least he’s nice to me.”

“I am nice to you.”

She laughed, sharp and cruel.

“I can be nice,” he amended.

“He’s my friend, Mene.”

“I am your friend.”

“When have you been my friend? When you’re not berating me for being a careless parent, you’re scolding me for being overprotective. Let’s not forget the way you totally ignore my rules and never ask permission with Michael.”

“Criticism helps us learn and improve—”

“I don’t need your criticism, Mene. I’m not perfect, but I’m a good mom, and I don’t need parenting pointers from you. Michael is my world. My world! I would do anything for him.” She paused, dabbing the edge of the scarf to her eyes. “I didn’t understand unconditional love until he was born. When the nurse put him in my arms, that was it. I had to stop thinking about what was best for myself and start thinking about what was best for him, and I didn’t mind. I was happy to sacrifice anything for him. Working long hours. Making do with old shoes. Anything.”

“Do not let your pride—”

“You think this is about my pride?” Her lips peeled back in a grimace. “If this was about my pride, I’d march up to a shuttle and high tail it back to Earth. But I can’t. You know why. Do you know how stressful that is for Michael? Always afraid that this stranger is going to take him away?”

“If his father wants to be involved—”

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she mumbled under her breath. Pink flushed her cheeks. “If Vince had ever expressed the littlest bit of interest in Michael, we’d share custody. He just sees my son as a piggy bank.”

Mene was unsure what that word meant, but he understood enough from context. The biological father used his offspring for material gain and cared nothing for the young male.

“So here I am, without my pride.” Rosemary spread her hands wide. “Letting the sexiest man I’ve seen who also doesn’t find me unattractive, insult me and offer to marry me out of pity. If I married Lorran, I’d be on the same ship as Hazel—”

Mene could not do it. He could not sit there passively and listen to his mate—his!—praise his amiable and superior-in-every-way younger brother.

“Lorran is not here! I am here!” He stood, fists clenched. Everything about this conversation had gone wrong. He was not good with words, not like his brother and now the one female he ever desired as his mate proclaimed her preference for that brother. “He cannot get here in time. I am your only option!”

His fist slammed into the tree, bark flying.

Rosemary jumped to her feet. “What are you doing? Don’t hurt yourself.”

She examined his knuckles, red and raw, concern etched onto her brow. His fury leached away.

“I am here,” he said, taking her hands in his. “I will do this because it would crush me to see you with another male.” Her eyes went wide, like she wanted to believe him. “I can only offer you my home, my family, and my life. It is not enough for all that you give me.”

“What’s that?”

“Purpose.”

Her lips tugged up into a brief smile. “That sounds really pretty but—”

“I have never spoken a falsehood to you. If I say I want to claim you as my mate, I want you as my mate. There is no other.”

“Mene, we barely know each other. What if we mess up?”

“No.” He lifted her hands to his lips and pressed a light kiss.

“No?” That brief smile again. The tattoos on his arms itched and burned, spreading up from their joined hands and headed toward the center of his being. “I’m going to need more than no.”

“I am not good with words,” he said. She rolled her eyes but did not pull away from him. “I will be your friend.”

“And my fake husband?”

“Not fake. You are my true mate.”

She adjusted the scarf once more. “If I were to agree, how do we do this? Do we go to the courthouse or—”

“A mating is a private matter. Just us. We do it here.” A courthouse. Why involve government officials? Terrans made everything so needlessly complicated. “We report to the Ministry and show them my mark on you, they will believe our mating is true.”

“Mark?”

“It will go here.” His fingers skimmed along her soft skin where her neck and shoulder met. She closed her eyes and shivered.

“You won’t insist on… you know, more?”

He spread his hands wide to show compliance. He wanted a true mating, but a hunter exercised patience. “I will take whatever you give, gladly, and nothing more.”

She nodded, cheeks flushed pink and eyes bright. “And show off the proof in the morning.”

“As you say.” Still, he wouldn’t mind the complications she brought to him.

“I’ll need some stipulations.”

“As will I.”

She held out a hand in that curious Terran custom. “Better the devil I know. Let’s do this.”