by Tasha Black
“What happens if there isn’t a strong mate bond?” Serena asked.
“Lucky for you, you won’t have to find out,” the doctor said with a grim smile. “Eat plenty, rest when you’re tired. And be sensible.”
“Of course,” Serena said automatically.
“You’re saying of course but I can see you’re redecorating,” Dr. Bryx said, indicating the puddle of paint on the floor. “Don’t expose yourself to chemicals at this time. You’re only going to be pregnant a few more days. I think you can pick your paint colors next week, don’t you?”
“Oh, but that’s—” Serena began.
“Thank you, doctor, thank you so much,” Oz interrupted. “Maybe you’ll be present for the birth?”
“My fee is fourteen thousand credits, payable up front,” the doctor said firmly.
“Done,” Oz said, touching the band at his wrist.
The doctor’s screen lit up.
“Excellent,” she said, smiling for the first time since she’d arrived. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
Oz led her around the paint puddle to the door.
“We’ll see you then,” he said politely.
Serena waited until the door slid shut again.
“What was that about?” she asked.
“If you want the ship’s physician to attend you in the birth, we may not want to tell her you’re the target of terroristic threats,” he said. “Ship security is coming with your fruit tray and to take statement.”
“I’m not hungry anymore,” Serena said in the most dignified voice she could muster.
Her stomach chose that exact moment to growl like a wildcat.
“Are you okay?” Oz asked her.
She shrugged.
She was bringing a child into a world where people wanted to scream and throw paint on her.
And she was bringing that child into the world this week.
And her mate was in full military mode.
She bit her lower lip, willing herself not to cry.
“Hey,” he said gently. “Hey.”
He strode over and wrapped his arms around her.
All at once her troubles seemed to recede.
“I’m sorry if I’m all business,” he said after a moment. “It’s how I react when I’m scared. You’re my mate, I want to protect you.”
“Thank you,” she said into his chest, unwilling to let go long enough to meet his eyes.
There was a chime at the door.
“I’m going to answer that,” he said. “Why don’t you hop in bed? If they have questions for you, we can answer from there. We can’t have you on your feet for too long.”
The feel of his hand stroking her tummy was so delicious she nearly purred.
Deep inside her belly, she felt the baby move, as if it were stroking him back.
Oz gasped.
The door chimed again.
He kissed the top of her head and waited while she climbed in bed.
“Who is it?” His voice was hard as flint again as he addressed the screen.
“Onboard security,” a refined voice replied.
“Employee number?” Oz asked.
“Really?”
“You can tell it to me, or you can scream it into the void when I toss you out the nearest airlock,” Oz spat.
“Seven-oh-seven,” the guard replied.
Oz lifted his wrist to his mouth. “Anna, can you confirm the employee number of the security head you sent?”
There was a pause and then a crackle. “Seven-oh-seven” she said.
“Copy that,” Oz said, touching his wrist again.
He placed a palm against the sensor and the door slid open.
Serena gasped when she saw the man on the other side.
He was tall with long dark hair and a beard.
And his skin was Cerulean blue, not at all unlike the paint that still pooled on the floor.
“What the fuck is this?” Oz demanded, sliding an electrified blade out of his jeans and holding it up to the soldier.
“I’m the head of security on this shift,” the Cerulean said calmly. “Please put your weapon away.”
“The hells I will,” Oz retorted. “Get out of here.”
“I’m the head of security on this shift,” the man repeated.
“Anna,” Oz said into his wrist, the blade held high to prevent the Cerulean from entering. “Did you send a Cerulean here?”
“Ozmarck, you of all people know we don’t discriminate here,” Anna’s voice came back.
“He has an obvious conflict of interest,” Oz growled.
“Rex Tylarr has been a valued member of our security team since we founded this ship,” Anna replied. “If you want the best, this is the best. If you want second best, by all means send him back to me.”
“Gods damn it all,” Oz moaned.
“It’s fine,” Serena murmured. “Let him stay.”
Oz clicked his wrist and turned to her. “Are you sure?”
“Very sure,” she said, nodding. “Please put that away.”
She turned back to Rex, who deactivated his own electrified blade, making it vanish into some unseen pocket like a clever magic trick.
“It’s good of you to come,” Serena said politely to the Cerulean guard.
“The pleasure is mine,” he said, his voice warming slightly when he addressed her. “Though I’m sorry for the reason I’m visiting. May I come in?”
“Please,” Serena said, in spite of the stormy look on Oz’s face.
Rex strode in and sat in the chair opposite the bed. “Are you unwell?”
“Just trying to rest up,” Serena said, indicating her belly.
“Congratulations,” Rex said, inclining his head.
“Thank you,” she said. “But given the circumstances, it’s got us both a bit on edge.”
“Understood,” Rex said, with a glance at Oz.
Oz froze, then finally nodded.
“What can you tell me about the incident?” he asked.
“Not much,” she said. “I opened the door and he threw some paint. It all happened pretty fast.”
Oz huffed out a breath as if in exasperation.
“Maybe your husband noticed more?” Rex suggested.
Husband?
She didn’t feel like going through the effort of correcting him.
“She called for the doctor and for room service,” Oz said. “And twenty minutes later someone rang.”
“Yes, but—you don’t think that’s somehow related, do you?” Serena was stunned.
Rex’s hands were moving on his tablet.
Clearly, he thought it was.
“So you opened the door?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I thought it was my breakfast.”
“But it wasn’t,” Rex nodded. “Can you describe your assailant?”
She tried to think back. “He was male, fairly young…”
“Was he Cerulean?” Rex asked.
Serena opened her mouth and closed it again. “No.”
Rex nodded and typed in a few more notes.
“He was humanoid, dark hair, blue t-shirt,” Oz said matter-of-factly. “He had a green wristband and a silver hoop earring in his left ear. Cheeks were flushed so maybe high blood pressure, or hopped up on something, more likely just scared. Shoes were inexpensive and well-worn. I’d guess he’s Terran, somewhere in the 14th to 16th rings.”
“Wow,” Serena breathed.
Rex nodded and continued typing.
“Paint tests out as just paint,” Oz added. “No additives, not dangerous.”
Serena gave this some thought.
“So you were attacked with blue paint,” Rex said. “Either this is a message on behalf of Ceruleans, or you were meant to think of it as that.”
Why would anyone try to make it look like more than it was?
It didn’t make sense to Serena, but Oz nodded in agreement.
“Can you classify the typical being who woul
d have an objection to your position on the Cerulean situation?” Rex asked.
“Well… Cerulean,” Serena said, feeling terrible that she was saying it to Rex. “Or someone of great wealth, someone who feels the occupation protects their interests.”
Oh. That made sense.
“Would you say your assailant fit any of those categories?” Rex asked.
She shook her head.
He nodded again. “I’ll holo the paint then we’ll send someone to clean it up. We’ll run your husband’s description through the system and find the guy. It’s not like he could have gone far. Hopefully, we’ll be able to get to the bottom of why he was here.”
“Do you think this was just some kind of prank?” Serena asked hopefully.
“On a space cruiser in motion with top notch security?” Rex asked. “No. I do not think it was a prank. I think it was a threat. You have my promise that our entire security staff will be on high alert. We will do everything possible to assure your safety.”
Oz shook his head.
Serena leaned forward and placed her hand on Rex’s blue one. “Thank you for your help.”
He looked up at her, nodded once more, and rose.
Oz stepped out of the way to let him pass.
As soon as the door slid shut behind Rex, Oz strode over to the bed.
Serena put her arms out and he crawled in with her, holding her close.
“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “Do you want food?”
She was somehow not surprised that she was still ravenous, even after everything that had happened.
“Yes,” she said emphatically, the mere thought of food making her feel more cheerful again.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she immediately felt a sense of peace wash over her again.
13
Ozmarck
Oz flipped the crackling Terran bacon in the pan and smiled at Serena.
She was sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen bar, gazing dreamily at the steaming pan.
If the way to her heart was through her stomach, they were both in luck. Oz was a good cook, and he enjoyed preparing meals. He had never really had anyone else to prepare a meal for, but he couldn’t help appreciating the efficiency of feeding two beings with the same effort it took to feed just himself.
Three beings, he corrected himself, his heart stuttering as he thought of the child who grew in Serena’s expanding belly.
The doctor was right, this pregnancy was progressing quickly, even by Maltaffian standards. Their bond was strong.
“What are you thinking about?” Serena asked from her perch on the stool.
“Just thinking about how happy I am to have you and junior in my life,” he told her.
“Junior?” she echoed archly.
“Well, the baby,” he said.
“So we’re assuming it’s male?”
She was teasing him, and he knew it.
“This baby is clearly very eager to meet you,” he said. “That’s how I know it takes after me.”
She laughed and the sound shot through him, awakening him, like rain on the parched soil of his homeworld.
It had been a long time since he had laughter in his life. His work often left him lonely and far from home. And sometimes his clients ended up being less than reputable, like that idiot king he’d just ditched before picking up Serena.
It had never been a big deal before. He just moved on to the next job.
But now he had a family. What were they going to do?
“Thank you for having my back today,” Serena said. “I know I should be completely overwhelmed and scared, but… I just feel safe with you. Like I know everything will be okay now.”
Pride blossomed in his chest and he was unable to speak for a moment.
He simply nodded and turned back to the bacon.
When their meal was prepared, he placed the plates on the bar and lifted his tea mug.
“To our family,” he said.
“To our family,” she replied, touching her mug to his.
He watched as she took a sip and then closed her eyes in ecstasy.
“Oh my God,” she moaned. “This is so good.”
“Honeyed tea is a specialty of mine,” he told her. “And that’s fortified with folic acid and heavy cream.”
She took another big sip instead of answering him and he smiled approvingly.
“So is there anything you want to arrange?” He phrased the question carefully, not wanting to frighten her.
“What do you mean?” she asked, wiping the froth of tea from her lips with a napkin and grabbing a slice of bacon.
“The doctor mentioned that we can expect the baby to arrive soon,” he said. “What kind of things do Terran women like to have around for babies and for themselves?”
Serena blinked. “I never really thought about it. I guess the first thing is a book.”
“I don’t think he will be able to read right away,” Oz teased.
She gave him a look over another sip of tea.
“Makes sense,” Oz admitted. “What else?”
“Diapers, blankets, baby clothing,” she listed. “But, Oz…”
Her face became troubled.
“What is it?”
“I know the pregnancy is accelerated, but does that mean the baby’s childhood is accelerated, too?”
He took a deep breath.
He had known the question was coming, it was a natural follow-up to all she knew so far. But he had no idea how to answer.
“I grew to maturity in about half the time it took you to do so,” he told her. “But our child is not all Maltaffian. In Terran-Maltaffian gestations, the Maltaffian speed is dominant. But childhood growth expresses itself differently with different children of mixed heritage.”
“So we just have to wait and see?” She looked calmer about this than he had expected.
“We just have to wait and see,” he agreed.
“Okay,” she said. “I can live with that. We won’t be bored, will we, Oz?”
“We will never be bored,” he promised her, his heart feeling lighter now that the conversation was done.
Terrans had arrived in the galaxy so much later than most other beings. But once they were on the scene, they seemed to have made a priority out of mating with every species with whom they were even remotely compatible.
He realized that maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised that Serena took the news about the pregnancy and gestation with relative ease. Terrans were adaptable in ways he was only beginning to understand.
“We’ll put together a list and see if we can arrange for someone to do a little shopping for us,” he suggested.
Serena nodded, looking sadly down at her plate.
It was completely empty.
He chuckled and spooned his own breakfast onto her plate. “Eat this while I fix more.”
Her eyes lit up and she got right to work cleaning her plate again.
Oz hummed an upbeat Maltaffian sailing song as he opened the fresher to consider what to cook next.
14
Ramm
Ambassador Ramm Vox observed the holo-images of his ex-fiancée with disgust.
Serena was wearing a simple sheath dress instead of a gown. She had forgotten her spectacles, and was grinning like a Zimbithian school girl at the brute Maltaffian who was meant to be her bodyguard, not her dance partner.
But the worst part was her belly.
Ramm squinted his eyes to be sure, but it wasn’t even necessary to rotate the image to see what was right before him.
Serena was pregnant.
Ramm sighed and picked at the cuticle of his left thumb - a dreadful habit, but one he couldn’t seem to shake in times of stress. He wouldn’t bite it though, at least not in front of the paparazzo idiot standing in front of him, panting like a spaniel waiting for a treat.
“I assume you have the requisite documentation?” Ramm asked in the most bored voice he co
uld muster.
“Of-of course, Ambassador Vox,” the idiot replied. “It’s all been sent to you in a sealed e-box.”
“You digitized the verification?” Ramm spat.
“Always do,” the idiot said proudly, not realizing that Ramm was angry. “Makes it easier to secure your records permanently, and database file them, should you ever need to retrieve them.”
So the pregnancy was on record. Not that he would have really thought it could be kept quiet. After all, she’d been dancing on a packed dance floor on a space cruiser.
“Very well,” Ramm said, touching his wrist sensor. “The customary fee has been dispatched to your employer.”
The dummy blinked at him for a moment, as if he had expected a tip, or maybe a pat on the head.
Ramm turned on his heel and looked out the window until he heard soft footsteps retreating from the room. He strode back to the door and closed it, then sat at his desk to think.
He had broken things off with Serena because of her stance on Cerulean occupation. She might actually be right, but it was practically political suicide to say so at this point. And Ramm was having enough trouble with his constituency as it was.
But this…
Ramm had obviously impregnated her during their time together, a miracle given their infrequent sexual encounters. And now it looked like he had left her to be an unwed mother to his child.
The optics were terrible.
This seemingly boorish behavior was worse than requesting an end to Cerulean occupation. At least, it would be seen that way by his wealthy, ultra-conservative constituents.
Of course they wouldn’t care that he hadn’t known. Which raised another question. Why hadn’t the little pig told him she was knocked up?
His thumb arrived in his mouth without warning, where he tore mercilessly at the offending cuticle with his teeth as he tried to think.
“You have to get her back, Ramm,” he muttered to himself as he gnawed on his thumb. “That’s a no-brainer. But then what?”
He cringed, thinking about how he was supposed to be married to a woman who wanted the Ceruleans out of Terran sectors.
But he certainly couldn’t let her float around as a single mother. Everyone would think he was a monster…
Maybe he could convince her to change her mind about the Ceruleans.
