by Tasha Black
She didn’t answer, but she also didn’t argue when he lifted her into his arms.
As soon as her soft form pressed against him, the mating thrall began to tug at him once more. He had to get her alone, had to talk to her…
He burst into the main corridor and ran for the platform that would bring them to her private rooms.
“Hey,” someone shouted as he ran past. “Hey, that’s Serena Scott.”
Shit.
In his haste, he had forgotten that his client had celebrity status and was supposed to use the back halls. It was a rookie mistake, and one he never would have made under any other circumstances.
More shouts sounded behind him, followed by footsteps running after them.
Serena buried her face in his chest.
He pushed himself to the limit and made it to her platform, slamming his palm down on the sensor and praying they had already set it up to allow him access.
“Honeymoon suite,” he gasped.
The platform jerked to life, sailing skyward as the assailants shouted their displeasure from below.
“Th-thank you,” Serena whispered. “They hate me. Everyone hates me.”
“I don’t hate you,” he told her tenderly.
“Even though I threw up on you?”
“Especially because you threw up on me,” he told her. “Oh Serena, I can’t believe I found you again.”
“I know,” she muttered. “I can’t even get a one-night stand right.”
Ouch.
He reminded himself that she did not know his people, and probably didn’t know why she felt the way she did about him.
She doesn’t know why her heart felt like it was breaking all day. She must be terrified.
“You’re having a hard day,” he told her gently. “Let’s get you comfortable.”
The platform came to stop.
“I’m a mess,” she moaned.
“Not for long,” he told her. “I’m here.”
He strode to her door and placed his palm against the sensor.
It swung open to reveal a beautiful stateroom bathed in soft light and swathed in white frilly things.
From the breathy movement of the portal curtains under the air vents, to the canopy of the bed, to the soft drexxan fur rug on the marble floor, the space was a study in white.
“It’s like a cloud,” Serena murmured.
“It’s very pretty,” Oz agreed.
“And I’m going to throw up all over it,” Serena said sadly.
Oz moved quickly but smoothly to the washroom and placed her carefully on the floor, where she knelt by the toilet.
“You’re okay.” He moved behind her, swept her hair off her neck. “I’ve got you.”
She retched twice but nothing came up.
“This is so gross,” she said.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he told her honestly.
She was shivering now.
“Let’s get you in the bath,” he suggested. “You’ll feel better in the warm water with a cup of honeyed tea.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked in a grumpy way.
He smiled, undeterred. “Because that’s my job,” he told her. “Let’s get you out of those clothes.”
He helped her peel off her clothing, which was saturated with the pink liquid. Then he stripped out of his own.
He took both bundles of clothing and stuffed them in the chute.
“Tea,” he told the box by the door.
“My clothes,” she murmured.
“The droids will launder them and bring them back,” he told her. “Let’s get you into the water.”
He tried not to notice her supple curves, her round breasts, the swirl of her hair down her back, as he helped her into the little hot spring tub.
“Ahh,” she said appreciatively as she sank into the steamy bath.
The little hot spring was almost large enough for swimming, but warm enough that the user wouldn’t want to.
He stepped in carefully, relishing the heat and the feeling of sharing the water with her.
“Let me help you with your hair,” he told her, squeezing a little product onto his palms.
She allowed him to bathe her as she half-floated in the water.
Oz’s body was bursting as he slid soapy palms through her silky hair, and then slowly, slowly over her body.
Soon her breathing was deeper, and her sweet nipples stiffened.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured. “If I’m sick, why does this feel so good?”
“I’ll tell you everything, but first let me please you,” he murmured into the nape of her neck.
She didn’t say anything, but she allowed him to smooth his hands over her belly and slide against her swollen sex.
His cock throbbed against her posterior, desperate to enter. But he focused on her, caressing her breasts with the hand that held her tight to him, strumming her sex with the other.
“Oz,” she whimpered.
He circled her clitoris with his thumb and felt her shiver out a climax.
“Better?” he asked her.
She spun around in his arms, pressing her breasts to his chest, clearly ready for him to be inside her.
“First we need to talk,” he told her, battling his own need, unsure how long he could hold out.
“What do you want to talk about?” she asked him, her eyes hazy with need.
“Let’s get out first,” he said, hoping that getting some clothes on her would help with his self-control. “We’ll get you into bed, then I’ll explain.”
She looked disappointed, but she didn’t fight him.
They got out and he helped her dry off, then wrapped them each in a fluffy bathrobe.
He grabbed the steaming mug of honeyed tea from the box on the way back to the bedroom.
When she was settled in, leaning against the headboard, he handed it to her, then crawled in beside her.
Serena lifted the tea to her lips, swallowed and then smiled at him. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m very sorry that I threw up on you.”
Well, this was as good an opener as any.
“Did you know that where I come from, that’s called a Maltaffian baby shower?” he asked.
“I didn’t,” she said. “But that doesn’t make it any less upsetting.”
“As a matter of fact, it does,” he told her. “I’m about to tell you some things that are… a pretty big deal. I want you to know that I’m here for you. No matter how you react, no matter how you feel, I’m here to help.”
“Oh-kay,” she said slowly.
“I hope this doesn’t come off the wrong way, but let’s start with last night,” he began. “You don’t strike me as the type of person who has a lot of random one-night stands.”
“As a matter of fact, that was my first,” she admitted.
His heart sang. He knew it might be chauvinistic, but he was glad she hadn’t chosen to share her body all over the galaxy, that he was special.
“I’m not fond of one-nights stands myself,” he told her honestly. “But last night wasn’t a one-night stand. It was something very special.”
“A two-night stand?” she joked weakly, gesturing to the two of them in bed.
He chuckled. “Much nicer than that,” he said. “When my people mate, it’s for life. We find our match, and we have each other’s backs, forever.”
She blinked up at him.
“Serena, you are the one for me,” he told her solemnly. “You are my mate. This isn’t just for a few nights. I am yours forever.”
She opened her mouth and closed it again.
She wasn’t arguing.
Which meant she felt it, she knew it to be true.
“And there’s more,” he told her. “Our bond must be exceptionally strong. This is truly a rare thing. But there’s something I need to tell you…”
He tried to find the words to help her understand that her whole world was about to change.
“
A Maltaffian baby shower…” she murmured.
She was a smart one.
He nodded and slowly extended a hand to rest on her belly.
“Really?” she asked him, her expression becoming unreadable.
“Definitely,” he told her.
8
Serena
Serena looked down at Oz’s big hand on her belly.
Her tummy had never been flat, and it certainly didn’t seem any different today than it had been yesterday.
And she no longer felt nauseated.
She felt hungry.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Talk to me.”
She shook her head, unable to separate her thoughts.
She’d been left at the altar. She was over thirty. She had spent the last week mourning quietly over the seemingly inevitable fact that she would never be a mother.
It seemed impossible that after one reckless night, she was bonded to a mate and pregnant with his child.
She had been sick all over everything - that much was true. But even that didn’t make sense.
“It’s too fast,” she said out loud. “I wouldn’t have morning sickness the next day.”
“It would be far too fast for a typical human pregnancy,” he agreed. “But as I told you, this is a rare thing. There is nothing typical about it.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Conditions are often extreme for my people. It would be unwise to bring a newborn into a hostile environment, so copulation is seldom successful,” he told her. “But when it is, the pregnancy is substantially shorter than for humans.”
“How much shorter?” she demanded, leaning forward to look him in the eyes.
“Days, normally,” he said. “Usually less than a week.”
A week?
She blinked at him. “That’s like something out of a horror movie.”
“I’m told the body adjusts,” he said. “It is rare, but not unheard of. They say there is no more discomfort for a human carrying a Maltaffian than a human child. And it’s over with so quickly.”
“This is impossible,” she said, jumping out of the bed and pacing the obnoxiously soft carpet. “I’m on birth control.”
“The biology doesn’t work the same way with our species,” he told her, shaking his head.
Of course not.
His beautiful eyes were so mournful.
Fuck his beautiful eyes.
“You’re being ridiculous,” she said firmly. “I ate something bad, probably those stupid cakes. I feel much better now, and I have a lot to do. I need to get dressed.”
“The ship’s physician is coming,” he told her calmly. “She can verify all of this for you.”
“Call her off,” Serena said, trying not to scream. “I need to get dressed.”
“As you wish,” Oz replied.
He went to the communicator and touched a button. “Postpone the in-suite physician’s visit.”
“It’s not postponed, it’s canceled,” Serena practically shouted.
“Let me help you get dressed,” Oz said mildly.
She scowled at him, but didn’t fight him when he unlocked the big wardrobe.
Her cases had been sent ahead so that she wouldn’t have to bother with them. She knew they were filled with beautiful gowns and filmy negligees, all meant to entice her wretched ex on what was supposed to be a dream honeymoon.
She selected the most businesslike dress she had with her, a dark sheath.
Oz nodded approvingly and held it for her as she pulled of her robe and slid on some undergarments.
When she took the dress, he waited as she put it on, and then helped her with the stays in the back. He stood by as she slid on a pair of cling-heels and grabbed a purse.
“I’m fine,” she told him.
“I know you don’t believe me about our baby,” he said carefully. “But please, humor me with one thing.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Don’t drink any alcohol,” he said.
She laughed.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m meeting with the power elite from some of the most important places in the galaxy,” she said. “How am I supposed to do that drinking fizzy pop?”
“Ask for Maltaffian moss wine,” he suggested. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
“What even is that?” she asked.
“When you order it? A simple ginger seltzer,” he told her. “If anyone else orders it, it comes with two shots of warmed vodka.”
She shook her head and headed for the door.
“I’ll get that for you,” he said.
“Oh no, I don’t need a babysitter,” she said.
“Do you happen to remember what happened when I carried you through the crowd just now?” he asked. “I’m coming to protect you. And also to guide you along a corridor that isn’t public.”
She didn’t respond.
“It is literally my job,” he reminded her.
So he was going to babysit her.
Her heart thumped happily, and then she winced.
Somehow, she had managed to snag the biggest weirdo stalker type in the universe in her one attempt at a one-night stand.
And she was pretty sure she was falling for him, in spite of every sign that he was delusional.
Wasn’t that just her luck?
“Fine,” she said. “You can come with me, but don’t cramp my style. Not a single word about turbo pregnancy or mate bonds. Got it?”
“Got it,” he replied with a broad grin.
Her heart did another little flip-flop and she smiled back in spite of herself.
It was hard to imagine that only a few days ago, she was worried that her trip was going to be boring and lonely.
Oz opened the door and she took a deep, steadying breath before heading out.
9
Ozmarck
Oz looked on as Serena enjoyed exotic appetizers with an array of beings from across the system.
She had taken his news about as well as he could have expected. Now all he had to do was stay close and watch her pregnancy progress.
He figured that even if she thought he was crazy, she would keep him close for protection. Besides, when she learned how committed he was to keep up with her cravings, she wouldn’t be able to resist him.
For tonight, her biggest challenge would most likely be mood swings.
Oz had never expected to be a father. Pregnancy among Maltaffians was rare, even more so for a guard, whose loyalty was soul-pledged to his client.
In this case, his soul-pledge and his mate bond were one.
Serena Scott might just be the most protected being in the universe.
At any rate, he had never paid much attention to the grandmothers’ circle when they chatted with the young women of his clan about pregnancy.
He seemed to remember that the sickness came first. Hours had passed since that stage, so Serena should be safe from further incidents.
The next phase was mostly mood swings and food cravings.
So far, she was holding up beautifully.
She told him that everyone hated her, but he could see how the group leaned in when she spoke, and how many of the ambassadors looked to Serena before responding to an idea proposed by another.
She was a born leader.
He felt very proud to have such a woman as his mate.
Oz had read her file before knowing who she was. Maltaffian guards often took anonymous clients, even if their files often made it clear who they were.
But until he’d read over it just before meeting her in person again this morning, he hadn’t realized Ambassador Scott was a young woman - her file was filled with the accomplishments of someone twice her age.
He was also surprised that someone so young had managed to enact such a controversial piece of legislation. There was an occupation of Cerulean soldiers in her sector, and she had enacted a resolution to get them out.
Which, if he was being h
onest, wasn’t a bad idea. As a guard himself, he appreciated the concept of protection. But unchecked power wasn’t good for any society.
Even the Ceruleans, allegedly the most pure soldiers in the universe, could be corrupted. It was the nature of sentience to look out for number one. Given enough time, that instinct overcame even the best training and morality - especially when there was no other shoe to drop.
But the wealthy of Serena’s system, and the Ceruleans themselves, had taken her stance as a threat to their way of life. The blowback had been swift, and harsh.
He wasn’t surprised her wimpy fiancé had wanted out.
Oz was only glad it had happened before they met. Serena having a fiancé would not have changed the fact of their mate bond, and Oz imagined it might have made the situation mildly difficult when he took her away from the pretender to her affections.
The waiter leaned in to take Serena’s drink order, and Oz held his breath.
“Maltaffian moss wine,” she said casually.
Oz felt a pang of gratitude.
She winked at him from her place at the table, and he felt the blood rush to his face.
She believed him.
Or at least she was willing to humor him.
Either way, it was a show of loyalty, and he appreciated it.
He watched and tried not to listen as she continued her dinner with the dignitaries.
Part of being a Maltaffian guard was discretion. And Oz found it easiest to block out what was being said in the first place, rather than putting it behind a mental filter, though he had been trained to do so through a form of self-hypnosis, when necessary.
Instead, he tried to enjoy being in Serena’s presence while his senses focused on the room, sensitive to any threat to her.
Happily, the private dining room had only two doors and there were no windows, so his task was not overly difficult.
Once the meal was over, the dignitaries rose.
He hoped to get Serena back to her suite, but there was talk of dancing.
Oz followed as few paces behind as he dared, annoyed that they would think of taking Serena into an unsecured space, but reminding himself that he mustn’t let his personal feelings interfere with professional duties.
Clients took risks. They opened themselves to bad things happening. Oz made sure they never did.
