by J. S. Wilder
For a moment, the disappointment in his gray eyes stole her breath, but then he smiled and winked. “That sounds amazing. The food in this place tastes like cardboard.”
She laughed along with him but her insides churned. How was she going to tell her father that tomorrow, he’d be back at the low-income hospital? Where they did their best but they didn’t have the latest equipment or experts. How many times had she prayed all night for a miracle? For her dad to be healed? She’d give him her kidney and bone marrow or whatever he needed if she could but she wasn’t a match. That news had crushed her when she’d heard the results.
While her dad peeked at the crossword puzzles, her mind drifted to her conversation with Cynthia. She’d never thought about being a surrogate before. Part of her imagined it would be weird to carry another couple’s child. But if it paid as well as her friend claimed…
“Pumpkin patch, you okay?” Her father leaned over and placed his hand over hers. “You’re a million miles away.”
“Sorry, Dad.” She shook herself, putting her smile back on for him. “Just thinking about work and stuff. No big deal. So I was thinking of pumpkin pie tomorrow. It’s almost October but I can convince George to have an early treat.”
His smile widened. “Sounds amazing. But I think you work too hard. How about you take one day this weekend off from entertaining an old man? Go out and have fun. To the beach or something or take a trip to Mexico and live your life.”
She picked at the worn seam on jeans. How could she do any of those things knowing he was hooked up to machines and could…no…she wouldn’t even think like that. “I’m fine Dad, really.”
“You should meet other people. How long’s it been since you had a boyfriend?” He set the crossword puzzles down, staring at her like only her father could like he could read her thoughts.
“Dad, I meet people all the time, every day. Too many if you ask me.”
“That’s not the same.” He coughed for a few minutes. His skin appeared paler than yesterday. Was he eating enough? Maybe they needed to change his medicine. “I’ve seen the way customers treat wait staff—like you’re not even a person. How hard would it be for them to say thank you every once in a while?”
“Comes with the job.” And sometimes there was a pleasant patron, like the guy this evening who had the golden eyes and talked to her like she was his equal despite the vast differences in their social and economic status. “Besides, they aren’t all that bad.”
His gray eyebrows raised.
“All right,” she let out a laugh, “Most of the time they’re horrid.”
“Thought so. When you gonna get out of the foodservice industry and go back to college?” He reached for his water but Megan leapt up and gave it to him.
College. That felt like a lifetime ago. She’d gotten a partial scholarship and started classes in business management. Everything was perfect. Then her mom got diagnosed with breast cancer. Her dad took a leave of absence from his job to stay home and care for her while Megan continued school. Soon the bills mounted but nothing helped and her mom passed away. Another corporation bought out her father’s employer and laid her father and a dozen other works off. Then his health started to deteriorate too and Megan had dropped out of school to work full-time and help pay the bills.
“I’ve looked into some night classes, like you suggested.” She tucked her brown hair behind her ear. He’d wanted her to continue her school and had been bugging her for months to take some courses. One of the many reasons he refused to let her sit up here after visiting hours.
“Looking is one thing, but have you signed up yet?”
She slumped down in her chair. How could her father read her so easily? But she dared not tell him of all the extra work she was taking on or he’d make her quit at least half the jobs.
“Didn’t think so,” he huffed. “And you’ve got dark circles under your eyes again. Have you had trouble sleeping?”
“A bit. I’m just worried about you.” She leaned forward and squeezed his hand.
“Bah…don’t worry about me.” He winked. “I’m in the best hospital in the state.”
For less than twenty-four hours, then he’d be back in the tiny medical center in their small town.
“I ran into Cynthia today. Did you know she got a new job?”
“Good for her, maybe she can put in a word for you and you can stop waitressing.” His cough returned.
Her mouth dried. She couldn’t tell him about being a surrogate. How would he react if he knew she was considering it? Sure, it was great for others but somehow she thought he’d feel it was too personal especially since she’d never been pregnant before. Or maybe she was being old-fashioned. What was wrong with loaning out her womb for a couple in need and bringing life into the world?
“Visiting hours will be over in five minutes,” the intercom interrupted her thoughts.
“Give me your word that you’ll follow up with Cynthia—never know where a change for the better might come from.” He pulled her down for a hug and kissed her cheek. “And I want to see proof of your college class registration next time. I’m not asking much. Start with one course then we’ll build on more.”
Tears stung her eyes but she forced a chuckle and squeezed him back. Might as well wait to tell him about the surrogacy. Besides the company could refuse to allow her to participate anyway and she would have riled up her dad for nothing. But she’d do whatever it took to get accepted then worry about how to tell her dad later. First, get the surrogacy company to pay half up-front so she could keep her dad here, then tell him what she’d done in a few months. She could quit her house-cleaning jobs or at least reduce them enough to be able to take a college class and have a life outside of work.
Her voice shaky despite her best efforts to steady her words. “I won’t let you down, promise.”
Chapter 4
Levx
“You aren’t even trying,” Levx’s father grumbled. “Most of your brothers and some of your sisters have found mates and are expecting. We’ve been here for so long and yet you’ve nothing to show for it.”
“Sydron has hired a surrogate to have his baby.” Levx shrugged. How many kids did their father want? A whole planet of them? “And with everyone having babes, why do I need to?”
“Because our race is dying out!” His father roared. “Renjerians…dragons as humans called us…will be no more. Our race is nearly extinct and you’re not doing your duty. How can I ask the handful of our loyal subjects to carry this burden alone? No, it is up to every one of my children who have my royal blood in their veins to carry on our lineage.”
He rolled his eyes when his father shook his head. “Would you be satisfied if I go Sydron’s route?” Which included deceiving the woman into thinking she was carrying a human couple’s baby and not an alien’s or that the baby was half hers.
“I don’t care if you never mate with a human or not…but you will have offspring…or I will gut you and roast you and toss you up to the old gods as a sacrifice.” His father narrowed his gray eyes, his thin lips nearly disappearing in his scowl. Would Levx ever get used to seeing his Renjerian parent in his human form rather than his massive reptilian one?
“Fine. I’ll arrange a surrogate through Sydron’s fake company.” All he had to do was get a girl pregnant. But the idea of lying to someone carrying his child made a hole burn in his chest. He wanted to find someone to care about, maybe even love, but the Tryns had come to his planet and laid waste to so much of it and killed so many of his people and family that he’d had time for little more than surviving and war.
“See that you do.” His dad snatched up a beer bottle: one of his vices since returning to earth though his dad complained for the longest that mead and ale wasn’t as prevalent. “What kind of king am I if I can’t get my own sons to obey my rule and do their very best to increase our numbers so we might one day return to Renjer and cast out our enemies.”
Desmonda, Levx’s sister
, placed a tray of fruits on the table and plopped down beside him. “Hungry?”
His dad stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
“Not after the verbal ear chewing, I just got.” Levx crossed his arms.
“Well, I’ve got three younglings,” she popped a grape in her mouth and chewed, “you can always borrow one and pass it off as yours until father gets wise.”
Levx chuckled. “Our father might be old and should’ve tried again to abdicate the throne again after our brother’s death, but he’s no fool. He’d know I didn’t hatch a full-blooded, two-year-old Renjerian.”
“So what are you going to do?” She cocked her head. Her appearance so different now than on their home-world. Here, she had blond hair and turquoise eyes. If he squinted just right, he could almost imagine her in her true form.
“Do what Sydron’s doing…hire a surrogate. Might as well, it’ll get father off my back and I helped Sydron start up this company in the first place by giving him a healthy share of the gold from our mines.”
“It just seems so impersonal.” She shivered. “D-do the human women know? I mean that they’re carrying a Renjerian’s baby and everything? Deanna and Isabelle have had a contract drawn up, swearing the women to secrecy about the father’s identity and everything, but I can’t help wondering if it’s too much of a gamble. So much could go wrong.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her that his brothers who had used the service never told the women what they were. One human had already died giving birth. Her child didn’t survive and the Renjerian had claimed he loved her, turning himself into his dragon form and flying straight up into the sky until he died and crashed into the ocean because he loved her.
Or that for months, Levx had interviewed dozens of women to carry his baby but none felt right to him. Which was ridiculous. They were only tools to have more Renjerians…or half-breeds anyway…what did it matter if he liked them at all or was even attracted to them? He wasn’t going to have sex with any of them. Dena had given them syringes to shot their sperm up into the women once they agreed. Nine months later, a baby would be born, the woman paid and forgotten.
But Levx didn’t want that. He wanted his child to know his or her mother. A chance at a family that he never had. His own mother had been killed in one of the Tryns battles when he was younger. Too young to have lost a mother. His father, as king, was too busy to care for a youngling and Desmonda had done her best to care for her brothers and be the substitute mom in their lives.
“Father doesn’t care about the issues, only results.” Even without discussing it, he knew the king would object to anything about trying to find a life-mate or forget love. His father had lost his heart to a human who didn’t make the transformation into Renjerian after his brother Khol was born and was never the same. Females were little more than broodmares to him now. A way to increase their numbers. But the Tryns had them beat in that depart. The devils multiplied rapidly; all they need was dead carcasses.
“You should eat something.” His sister nudged him. “Give me an excuse to stay for a little more quiet time while my mate guards the kids.”
“Wha—you don’t fool me—you love your triplets.” For good measure though, he snatched an apple from the tray and spun it in his hand.
“Never said I didn’t. But having a break is nice,” she said with half-closed eyes.
“How about you stay here and take a nap?” He gestured to his couch across the chamber. Since they’d been in America, the Renjerians had bought this apartment building and each family had their own. Big improvement from the caves they were living in on Renjerian, but he still missed the massive palaces they’d occupied before the Tryns came.
She laid her head on the table. “I’m fine. Just need to close my eyes a minute.”
Eight seconds later she was snoring. Levx picked her up and carried her to his couch. After he laid her down, he grabbed his phone and headed out.
Time he stopped this silly romantic notion of finding true love. It didn’t exist anymore. Not for his kind.
He typed a text to his two brothers who usually worked late as he rode down the elevator.
Heading into the office and I’ll take the next client that walks in the door as my surrogate.
Chapter 5
Megan
Megan chewed on her lip as she marched down the street. The address for the surrogate company splashed in bold font on her phone. Cynthia had gone to the hospital for labor pains, which turned out to be false contractions. But she had insisted on giving Megan the surrogate company even though she wasn’t able to meet her for a late dinner.
Outside of the skyscraper, Megan paced back and forth. The steel and glass shone in the late afternoon sun, glistening like a fortress that Megan was trespassing on. What if they refused to give her funds upfront? She doubted she’d get the embryo implanted in a few hours and a confirmed pregnancy before the hospital kicked out her dad. But she wouldn’t get any answers outside either.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the door and stepped inside.
An elderly woman sat at the receptionist desk and smiled at her. “Evening. How may I help you?”
Many of the lights inside the building were dim as if they might be closing. Was she too late? Had everyone gone home for the day? Damn, she should’ve come as soon as she left her dad. Her stomach twisted in knots.
“Miss?” the woman asked.
“Sorry.” She walked up to the desk. “Um…I don’t have an appointment but I was hoping to talk to someone at…” she glanced down at her phone. “The Renjer Associates?”
“Let me check and see if they’re still in.” She tapped on her keyboard, squinting at the computer screen. “No, sorry. Looks like they’ve closed for the day. My advice is to send them an email or leave them a message. If you like, I can get something to them first thing in the morning when I come in.”
Disappointment choked her. She knew it was too late to expect anyone here tonight. Tomorrow. She’d have to return early before her shift at the diner. “What time do they get in?”
“Nine am and they usually leave before four.”
Nice. Better than banker hours. God, I wish I had workdays like that. She’d have plenty of time to meet with her dad and take online college courses too. “Okay. Thanks for your help. I’ll contact them first thing tomorrow morning.”
“May I tell Renjer Associates who stopped by?” The receptionist inclined her head and it looked so odd, like not quite human that Megan’s mouth dropped open a second before she snapped it closed.
What if they wanted her name to put her on some kind of do-not-call list? But she had to do something to get the money she needed. Still, worry, doubt, and nerves paraded across her insides. “Megan…Megan Wheeler.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Wheeler.” She scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Here’s Renjerian’s main number, give them a call in the morning and someone will get right back with you.”
She took the paper and tucked it into her pocket. “Thanks, but call me Megan.”
“You’re welcome.” The woman turned off her computer, then gathered her purse and items. “Good luck, Megan.”
The night air cooled Megan’s hot skin. She was pretty sure she still blushed from head to foot after going to a surrogate agency. She’d been desperate and worried about her dad. Surely, she could do something else. Maybe Mitch would loan her the money? She’d clean the bathrooms three-times a week to pay him back. That might work.
She let out a nervous laugh, shaking her head as she hustled down to her job. George would still be there, cleaning the kitchen. Ooh, maybe she could add that to her list of jobs to pay Mitch back. Quickly, she sent her boss a text asking him to meet her at work. With any luck, she could have the funds transferred into her bank account by noon and pay the hospital so they didn’t move her dad.
Instead of spending money on a cab, she took a bus to the other side of town.
At the restaurant, s
he tapped on the glass window. George waved. His shuffling steps brought him to the door and he opened it for her. She’d never asked why he had a limp, but Alice said she thought it was from being a soldier.
“Whatcha you doing here this time of night?” he asked, closing and locking the door behind her. “Sleepwalking? Your shift ain’t until dawn, right?”
“Sorry, yeah, but I gotta talk to Mitch about some stuff.”
George spun his Jets baseball cap around. “If you thinking about asking for a raise, don’t. Bossman be in a foul mood tonight.”
Shit! “Really? We got any apple pie and whip cream left?” Mitch’s favorite and the sweet dessert would soften him up a fraction, maybe.
“A small piece, I was gonna throw it out.” George shrugged. “But we don’t have any more cream.”
Better than nothing. “I’ll take it.”
Loaded with a glass of milk and the sliver of apple pie, Megan pushed through the kitchen to Mitch’s office. Yellowed walls and newspaper clippings of recipes and articles about restaurants taped across every square inch of the room. A small brown desk and a torn leather chair Mitch had salvaged from a dumpster crowded the space.
“Speak your peace then leave.” He didn’t look up from the stacks in front of him.
“I brought you a piece of pie and milk.” She set them on his desk than sat in the wooden chair across from him. Her stomach churned with nerves.
With a snort, he took the offering, his hook nose flaring. “Must be bad to bring me this.” His expression didn’t soften any. He took a bite of the pie, a crumb sticking to his gray goatee.
She smoothed her hands down her jeans. How to begin? Complements first? “That was the last of the pie, I wish we had more for you, I know how busy you are with this place and your other cafes in Journey and Sundale.”
