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.”
Chapter Nine
Rosemary
The day kept getting weirder and weirder. She didn’t have the energy to process it all and the bottle of wine didn’t help.
Rosemary glanced down at the stain on her lap.
Well, part of a bottle of wine.
Nothing about Mene’s offer felt like a trick or a trap. It was unexpectedly kind. She didn’t know what to think about it, or him. She had a terrible track record with judging men. Still, there was one man in her life whose judgment she trusted.
Michael sat at the kitchen table, pencil in hand and tongue poking out in concentration.
“What are you writing, honey?”
“The alphabet. Want to see my name in Sangrin?” He held up the workbook page. The letters looked for all the world like disjointed squiggles to her. His penmanship had improved since the day he unknowingly wrote boobies in front of the school admission officer.
“Oh, wow. Is that your whole name?” She admired his work before sitting down.
Michael wrinkled his nose. “You smell funny.”
“I dropped a wine bottle on me today. Sorry.”
“No. You smell funny in your mouth.”
“I had a glass.” Or two. Or half a bottle.
“You shouldn’t drink when you’re sad,” he said, returning his attention to practicing letters.
Alien Warlord's Passion (Warlord Brides Index Book 2) Page 11
