The Wife Lottery_Fallon

by Charlie Hart

  I can’t help but sneak a sideways glance at the man, and when I do, I see his lips twitch up just slightly.

  Behind me I hear Kate and Lilah sigh as they take in Giles. I twist my neck, looking back at them with wide eyes, my heart suddenly lighter than it has been in weeks. Maybe this isn’t the worst-case scenario.

  The next few names are called quickly, and each man comes on stage, taking his place in a line next to Giles. And I try my best to remember their names as they’re called out.

  Huxley is the second. He’s a good five inches shorter than Giles, but his face is pleasing, and his eyes, a clear blue rimmed with dark lashes, give me the impression that he is intelligent.

  Next is Banks, with his olive skin, jet black hair, and dark piercing eyes that seem almost skeptical of me as he takes his place with the other men. There’s a slight arrogance to him that makes me a bit apprehensive.

  And I wonder if I wasn’t his first choice. Maybe he put tickets in for the other women as well. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and glance away.

  The fourth man to be called is Emerson. Sporting a full sleeve tattoo on his left arm, his eyes are a striking turquoise. Tall, with long, light brown hair pulled back in a bun, his size is comparable to Giles. And I have no doubt that whatever his job is, it requires strenuous labor.

  I glance out across the sea of faces, catching the blue eyes of the man I’d noticed earlier. When the fifth name is called, his nostrils flare slightly, and I see his jaw twitch.

  There’s a slight murmur of disapproval from the men, as the man called makes his way on stage.

  Shaggy, dark blond hair, and friendly brown eyes, the man looks almost confused that his name has been called, which is odd, since each man here had to pay a serious amount of money to be included in the lottery.

  But there’s no denying his frown as he glances over at me.

  Shit. This is not doing much for my confidence.

  The Director seems more familiar with him than the other men, and a satisfied grin stretches across his face as he watches Salinger take his place next to Emerson.

  I take in the five men next to me. All different in their own way. But each one appealing, even handsome. And I let out a small nervous laugh.

  This is actually happening. These men will all call me wife before the night is through.

  The last ticket is called, and a round of disappointed grumbling fills the room.

  But no one moves towards the stage.

  “Fallon Hudson,” the Director repeats.

  My gaze drifts back to the man who’d caught my attention earlier. He holds my gaze for a long, intense second, and I see a flicker of something in his eyes, something primal, a hunger, and I can’t help the warmth that spreads through my body.

  Then he gives a small, almost unperceivable half-smile, and pushes himself off the wall. Cool and collected, he makes his way towards me.

  There’s something familiar about him. Something I can’t place. Like a distant memory or a dream.

  Fallon, his name echoes in my mind.

  Chapter 2

  Fallon

  My entire life is about control. Having it. Keeping it. Mastering it.

  But one look at the woman on the stage in front of me and I feel that control shredding.

  The common misconception from the outside world is that there aren’t any women left in Alaska, other than the ones that come here for refuge, which is why we’ve resorted to this type of union.

  In fact, we’ve seen a greater number of female children born, compared to the world’s dwindling rates, since the Alaskan government instituted the lottery ten years ago.

  It’s not a perfect system, but it works. Keeping our women safe is our number one priority.

  “Fallon Hudson,” the Director says my name again as I take the steps up towards the stage and stand in front of the woman who, after tonight, will be my wife.

  She’s beautiful, but that’s not the main reason I spent my last five years of savings to put my name in her lottery. I was the pilot that flew her from the port in Seward to the base two weeks ago. I doubt she’ll remember me. She’d been half-frozen, and barely able to keep her eyes open. I’d picked the three women up, after they’d been discovered hidden on a fishing charter.

  Despite being malnourished, dehydrated, and hypothermic, she’d fought me as I’d tried to carry her, insisting she could walk, even though she stumbled with each step.

  Stubborn.

  The woman was the obvious leader of her little group. The strength that had helped them survive when the captain of the charter ship had gone on a drinking binge, and forgot to inform the local officials that the women were below deck.

  It was pure luck that one of the crew had found them before they froze to death.

  I study her now. She’s still a little too thin, but there’s color in her cheeks, and the fire I’d seen that night blazes in her hazel eyes.

  Hypatia. It’s an odd name. I’d heard the other woman call her Tia for short, but I liked Hypatia. It spoke of strength and passion. And she’ll need both in this barren wasteland.

  Especially with the men who had been randomly chosen to be her husbands.

  I look over each of them as we’re escorted off stage, and into one of the back rooms where the wedding ceremony will take place.

  An unease fills me when my gaze falls on Huxley. He’s a shady character. His blue eyes a little too intelligent for my liking, always darting around like he’s collecting information to be used at a later date. Unlike the other five of us, he doesn’t work for the government. He owns a small bookstore in town, one that’s been passed down through each generation.

  But I know the rules. After the ceremony, these men will be my family.

  That includes Salinger. The Director's kid. He’s only a few years younger than me, but the way his father treats him, even in public, I’ve never been able to see him as anything more than a sniveling trust-fund brat. I wouldn’t doubt he had his father rig the damn lottery so his name was called.

  The low growl I let out must be audible because Emerson looks back at me and raises a brow. I give a pointed look at Salinger, but Emerson just shrugs and gives me a silent warning to keep my opinions to myself.

  Inside the small, unfurnished room, the door shuts behind us, leaving us alone.

  Silence stretches between us, but there are a dozen different inaudible conversations going on among the men. And I read each one of the looks, even those not directed at me.

  Giles gives me a hard nod, dark red hair falling over his forehead as he does. What are the fucking odds we’d be paired together? There’s a history between us. One that pulls memories that I’ve tried for years to forget.

  He’s a good man.

  We may have our differences, but I have no doubt that the men will do anything to protect the woman we’ll call ours. And that is the first and most important duty we have.

  The only man I don’t know is Banks. There’s an arrogance to him, an aura of confidence that I can respect. He’s older than the rest of us, and if I had to guess, I’d say he was closing in on the lottery cut off age of thirty-five. Dark eyes flash in my direction and he gives me a tight smile.

  “I’ll be your officiant this evening,” a uniformed man explains. “Each of you are to take a ring from the table and then we can begin the vows.”

  “I’m ready when you are,” Huxley says with a cocky grin as he plucks a gold band from the display, taking things into his own hands. Not surprising. I know his reputation. The black-market operation in his bookstore has been on the government's radar for years. “And for you, Tia,” he says, handing her a small gold band with a solitaire diamond. “Let’s get you home. And I promise I’ll get you a better ring. One that matches your beauty.”

  I grunt at the man’s words, and Giles raises a brow at me.

  Tia takes the ring from Huxley, a tentative look on her face. My jaw clenches as their hands brush one another’s, and then he
has the audacity to take her fingers and bring them to his lips, brushing them against her knuckles.

  Lech. Rake. Swindler. A dozen names go through my head.

  But she must like this kind of man because she thanks him with a smile. A smile I want turned to me.

  I want to be the man she looks at. But I need to get used to sharing her. She’s not my wife alone. And hell, if she likes a man like Huxley, I don’t know if I’ll be the kind of man she wants.

  I stride over to the table and find a ring big enough to fit my large fingers. I’m a tall man, broad shouldered. I was made for the wilds of Alaska. Unlike Huxley and Salinger.

  If Hypatia wants a real man, she’ll need to come to me for protection. I bet some of these men have never even shot a gun in their damn lives.

  Once we all have our rings we move to our assigned spots, forming a circle around Hypatia.

  The officiant asks each of us to state our full names, and in turn, we do.

  Even though I have issues with some of the men around me, right now, my eyes are fixed on my bride. She is the reason I am here, the reason I am staying put, no matter what. She was lost on that cargo ship--nearly dead--with no man to protect her.

  I will be that man.

  Now and forever.

  And as we begin repeating the words of the officiant, that vow is sealed in my heart. I may know next to nothing about her, but I do know this -- she is mine.

  With these rings, we do wed. One wife, six husbands, together a family.

  I watch Hypatia as she says these words, her lips pink and full, her heart-shaped face flawless. She looks like she was raised in a museum--her skin seems to have never seen a harsh day in its life.

  I notice that her breathing is heavy, and with each syllable, her breasts rise and fall. There’s a heaviness about her as she repeats the words along with each of us men.

  Good.

  I don’t want her to take this lightly. I’ve waited my entire life for her.

  I am yours and you are mine.

  Across the circle, Salinger clears his throat, as if choking on the words. The officiant gives him a hard look. “Do you need some water?”

  Salinger shakes his head. “No, I’m fine,” he says, waving the question off. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  My eyebrows narrow as I consider his words. But before I can question them, we say our final vows.

  In sickness and in health, may we bring a new life into the world, multiplying the population and ensuring humanities survival.

  I swallow hard that those words. Traditional wedding vows have altered, just like our entire world. Now, we live in a world where it’s survival of the fittest.

  We are directed to continue the vows, and the words don’t leave my lips easily.

  Nothing is easy anymore.

  In richer or poorer, until death do us part.

  Death do us part. Fuck, I don’t want to think about that. Not on my wedding day.

  Too many wives have already died in childbirth. And I will do anything in my power to make sure Hypatia isn’t one of them.

  The officiant clasps his hands together. “With those words, you are now bound together. The seven of you are a unit under the protection of the Alaskan Precinct of Marriage and Family.” With that he exits the room to give us a moment alone as a family.

  I allow each man to say a few words to her, before approaching.

  She gives me a small smile that reaches her eyes, and my chest tightens.

  “Hi,” she says softly.

  “I’m Fallon,” I tell her, offering her my hand.

  “I know,” she says, twisting her lips.

  “Right, well,” I clench my jaw, suddenly at a loss for words, and run a hand over my beard. Damn, I can hardly think while looking at her.

  She’s all curves and glossy hair and bright eyes. Like a fucking princess in her ball gown. Completely impractical attire for the Alaskan wilderness, mind you, but somehow, it’s sexy as sin. She has no clue what she’s in for, living out here in the woods. But she doesn’t need to. That is why I’m here. “Are you alright?” she asks, setting a hand on my arm.

  Heat burns through me, going straight to my balls.

  I pull back my shoulders, collecting myself. “I’m fine,” I say, looking at her intently, feeling a fire ignite inside as I take her in, and knowing that this doe-like creature is both the beginning and end for me.

  She feels it too. I know she does as she steps closer to me, the space between us hot. And when she lifts her eyes to mine, I can see that while some of these other men may have caught her eye, the attraction between us is electric.

  She’ll be mine first. I’ll make sure of it.

  It will be her choice. Always her choice. But I will have her.

  “What happens now?” she asks, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth.

  All I want to do is pull her in my arms, carry her out of this room and take her somewhere private. She can keep her gown on, but I want to pull down the panties she’s wearing and claim her as mine.

  Behind me the voices of her other men bring me back to reality. Her other husbands. Like it or not, I can’t just have my way with my wife. This is no ordinary relationship.

  I step back, not trusting myself to be so close to her, and explain, “They’ll take us to the compound once the others are finished with their ceremonies.”

  “Compound?” Her brows turn down.

  “Our house. It’s in a gated area where the other families live.”

  “Families.” She says the word like it’s something foreign to her. “Did you live there before?”

  “No.” I frown at how little she seems to know about our way of life. “Most of the men who aren’t married live on the base, or in town. There are some families who choose to live outside of the compound, but the military can’t assure their protection.”

  I knew that too well.

  “Oh.” Her hands twist, and she worries her lip between her teeth again.

  “You don’t need to be concerned. We have the top security system in place here. No one will harm you as long as you stay within our borders.”

  She lets out a small shaky breath, and I get the feeling that she doesn’t believe me. But then, I have no idea what she’s faced before she came here. I’ve read stories about the way women are treated on the mainland, and in other parts of the world, treating them more like cattle to be sold, than human beings with equal choice.

  Even marriage has become more like a business transaction, easily discarded. I’d heard horror stories from some of the women I’d rescued over the years. Women who had been passed among dozens of men when they couldn’t produce viable offspring. Others who had been treated as sex slaves by men who thought it was their right to take whatever they wanted, take what wasn’t theirs.

  We’d had a few of those men show up on our shores over the years.

  A shiver races down my spine as a dark memory surfaces. I push it away.

  Tia won’t end up like Caroline.

  I don’t know my wife’s past. Don’t care. All that matters now is our future. And keeping her safe.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Salinger says looking around the sterile room. “I fucking hate this place.”

  And while I don’t trust that fool, I do agree.

  It’s time to get our wife home.

  Chapter 3

  Tia

  A large government issued SUV that fits all seven of us waits just outside the building. Fallon takes the keys from the officiant, as well as a stack large manila envelopes for each of the men, then rounds the vehicle towards the driver’s side.

  There’s a small mob of people outside the building by the gates, men who crane their necks to get a glimpse of the car...or rather me. And I’m pretty sure more than one of them takes a picture of me as Giles takes my hand and helps me into the front passenger seat.

  I duck my head, hiding my face. “I thought there was a law about taking pictures of the...�
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  “Refugees,” Salinger offers, getting in behind me, roughing a hand over his mop of sandy blond hair. “There is.”

  Guards have already started to swarm the mob and the men begin to disperse.

  “Fucking perverts, that’s all,” Salinger mutters.

  “Oh.” My stomach twists at the thought of what the photos will be used for.

  “These...lotteries,” I hear the sneer in the word, when Salinger says it. “Can bring out the worst in people.”

  “Not having any women around brings out the worst in people,” Huxley says, and I’m not sure if it’s meant to be funny, but no one laughs. “What? You know I’m right.”

  Fallon grunts as he turns the ignition.

  As we drive toward our new home I am in awe of my surroundings, all white washed in a fresh blanket of snow. Large mountain ranges loom above us, covered in pine trees, and the sky is dotted with a thousand stars, each one seemingly brighter than the last.

  A flash of light shoots across the sky.

  “Did you see that?”

  “What?” Fallon asks.

  “A shooting star.”

  He chuckles. “You’ll see a lot of those out here.”

  “I’ve never seen one before.”

  I may be a grown woman who just got married, but somewhere deep inside I’m still a girl longing to be loved. I close my eyes and make a wish.

  I wish that these men are good, true men.

  A simple wish, but right now I feel more vulnerable than I ever have in my life. I am leaving the supposed safety of the Alaskan government, and barreling toward a night with six men who have every legal right to do with my body as they wish.

  Men who are all suspiciously quiet right now.

  “You okay?” Fallon asks, looking over at me. The light of the moon falls over his face, and even though this man is hard lines and rough exterior, in this moment he also seems big enough to protect me from any of the other men going home with us tonight.

  I need a burly man on my side. A man capable of knocking down doors and breaking jaws.