When She's Married: A SciFi Alien Romance Novella

by Dixon, Ruby

  “We’re far enough away now, I think,” she says. Her voice sounds entirely different. Gone is the calm, sweet tone. Gone is the air of fragility, too. In its place is a woman with steel in her spine. She reaches over and pulls off the shock-bracelet and then tosses it out the window. “Fuck that thing.”

  Well, well, well. This gets more interesting by the moment. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”

  She gives me a cool glance. “Jutari said you were re-captured and waiting for deportation. I thought you might be perfect for my needs. So I went to the jail and greased a few palms to get you out.”

  So she knows my old friend Jutari? I narrow my eyes, watching her. She went there looking specifically for me, then. It means that the entire show of “choosing” someone at the jail was all made up. It means she knew exactly what she wanted the moment she showed up. It means she’s been planning all this and played the innocent, bewildered miss back at the jail to work those guards over.

  Kef me, but I’ve never been so damned turned on in my life. “You have me out. What do you want?”

  I expect to hear any number of things. I’m a convict, on the run from prison. No one comes to Risda III because the universe has given them a good shake. They come here to hide out, to hope the universe never notices them again. She could be asking me to steal something for her. To murder someone. To help her do any number of things, both sordid and not.

  Instead, this fascinating human looks over at me with those big brown eyes. “We have to get married. Also, I need you to get me pregnant. Tonight, preferably.”

  2

  PIPER

  His reaction to my proposal is…not encouraging.

  I know it’s a lot to take in. I’m still processing all of it myself. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and I’ve learned that I’m willing to do anything—anything at all—to save my farm and my freedom.

  If that means springing a convict, marrying him, and then having him get me pregnant? I’m game.

  It’s clearly a lot for him to absorb, though. I’ve had weeks to process this, to cry, and then to grimly accept my fate. I’ve been working on this plan for sleepless night after sleepless night, trying to figure out the best way to move forward while staying under the radar. It was Chloe—the wife of an alien named Jutari—who alerted me to their friend and his situation. That Jutari knew an old friend from Haven, which was a prison planet. That the man had escaped and been lying low on Risda and doing odd jobs, but he’d gotten scooped up by bounty hunters looking to make a quick buck on the side. He’s been rotting in jail for days now, about to be shipped off world and back to the prison.

  His situation is desperate. Mine, too. Luckily for me, I know there’s a lot of shady things that happen behind closed doors, so it’s a problem that can be fixed with the right amount of money. I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere with the peace officers here if they’d known I was looking to get Vordigar specifically. They would have charged me a fortune and squeezed every last credit out of me that they could have.

  So I played up the dumb, innocent human. I baked those fuckers cookies. I batted my lashes and pretended to be completely and utterly unsure of myself. I told them I needed a slave to run my farm, no questions asked, and they were all too happy to take my bribe. That’s how things go on the outer rim, I’ve learned. Credits pave the way for everything and laws can be completely circumvented with the right bribe. Now, Vordigar is mine.

  Theoretically. Since it’s all under the table, my “ownership” of him is only going to last until he escapes. From the look of him, that won’t be long, either.

  He rubs his wrist, silent, in the spot where he had the shock-bracelet on his hand. I try not to stare at him as my air-sled speeds over crop fields, heading toward my distant farm. I’m a few hours’ flight away from port, so I’ve got plenty of time to convince Vordigar he needs to stay with me.

  “I know it’s a lot to throw at you at once,” I say. “But hear me out.”

  “Oh, I’m listening.” He’s starting to recover, that sly grin returning to his mouth. He’s clearly the type that uses humor to deflect, but I don’t have time for fun and games. I notice he watches the countryside and eyes my air-sled’s control panel. He’s got a look on his face that tells me he’s already plotting his next move.

  I don’t feel unsafe, though. I’ve been around murderers and all kinds of galactic scum in the past. You notice real quickly the ones that won’t think twice about killing you. They have a certain look in their eye when they watch you, like you’re an ant that they’re thinking about holding a magnifying glass over. They’re more interested in how to hurt you than anything else. There’s a coldness to their manner.

  Jutari has that. Chloe told me he used to be an assassin, and I absolutely believe it. There’s a calculating, almost cruel look in his gaze when he studies anyone…anyone except his wife and baby, that is. With them, he melts.

  This man—alien—doesn’t have that cold calculation in his eyes. He’s scheming, all right, but when he looks at me, he watches my face, glances at my tits, and studies my hands. He looks at me like I’m a person, not a thing to be disposed of. Whatever he was in prison for, it’s not murder. I’ve heard that a lot of mesakkah got shipped off to prisons when some war of theirs went awry, though. Maybe that’s the case here.

  “You’re from Homeworld?” I ask Vordigar, trying to get him to open up. He’s clearly mesakkah, the blue-skinned race of alien that Chloe’s husband Jutari is.

  “Me?” He snorts. “Not directly. Family is, but I’m just freighter trash. Wouldn’t say I come from anywhere in particular.”

  I study him. He does have a hard look to his appearance. All of the mesakkah I’ve seen at spaceports here and there dress in flowing, elegant robes. They cap their curling, tall horns with shining metal and groom their thick hair into a flowing waterfall. There’s a certain elegance to the rich elite of the mesakkah Homeworld. This guy, however, is covered in tattoos. They crawl up his neck and down his arms, masking a lot of the brilliant blue of his skin. His horns are capped, but the metal looks dull and slightly scuffed. His face is a mess of scars on one side and pitted on the cheek. It’s clear he’s had some sort of injury, and Jutari said he was a soldier so I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s probably hideous to his people, but to me, he’s just another strange-looking alien. His mouth’s a little twisted when he smiles, and his clothes are tight-fitting and look as if they’ve seen better days. Elegant, he’s not. Easy on the eyes, he’s not. He does, however, look dangerous and just a bit overwhelming, which suits my purposes.

  So I get back to it. “I know you’re a convict on the run from Homeworld.” His eyes narrow and he watches me, mouth flat. I rush on, eager to get my piece out before he decides to run for it. “I don’t care about that. Not really. But a scary reputation helps me. You know about the human situation here on Risda?” Before he can respond, I continue on, as if he doesn’t know. “There were a lot of us rescued from a station that specialized in humans. Your government didn’t know what to do with us and won’t send us home, so they dumped us here on Risda and allotted each woman a farm and some basic equipment. It’s not much, but it’s mine.”

  He grunts.

  “Humans aren’t the only ones hiding out in this system, though, and there’s some that view us humans as easy prey. I know several women that established their farm, only to get murdered and their land claimed by another.”

  His jaw clenches. “How’s that work?”

  “There’s inheritance laws on the land here,” I say to him, crossing my arms over my chest and gazing out at the fields of grains that sway in the gentle breeze. “If I marry someone and I die, my land goes to my spouse. There’s a lot of women being married under duress and showing up murdered. And I’m pretty sure I’m next.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “I watch what goes on,” I tell him. “There’s little in my part of the world that I don’t know about. My neigh
bor Melissa was one of my good friends and she needed a spouse. I did, too. We tossed around the idea of marrying each other just to safeguard our land. Next thing I know, she marries a praxiian and turns up dead.”

  “Maybe she fell in love.”

  “With a praxiian?” I fight back my glare, wanting to reach over and smack him on the head. I’ve met several of the cat-like race and while I’m sure there are some that are kind, I haven’t met them. To a one, they’re violent and murderous. “That same praxiian has been bothering me when I go into port. He shows up on my farm and takes measurements. I know he’s got an eye on my lands, and I’d prefer not to end up in a shallow grave.”

  “So you want me to get you pregnant?” Vordigar looks openly skeptical. “To save your land?”

  “Actually I want us to get married. Then you can have half of everything I have. A baby will just cement things further and prevent both of us from getting killed.”

  “Or they kill you and the kid, too.”

  I swallow hard. “Once everyone knows we’re married and have a child on the way, they’ll stop harassing us. There’s easier prey out there. Plus, your reputation as a convict will make people afraid to mess with you. As an added incentive, I’ve heard that a convict—even an escaped one—that marries one of the human women here can’t get sent back to prison. My need for you will supersede the law on that particular item. Ask your friend Tassar.”

  That’s right, I’ve done all my homework. Now agree to this.

  Vordigar eyes me. Hard. His gaze lands on my tits again. I wore a dress that emphasizes them, because I wanted to make sure the peace officers were distracted, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt things to look decent for Vordigar to try and convince him to take part in my plan. Tits are just another weapon in my arsenal, and if it means looking a little busty, I’ll do it. “I can’t make you pregnant. I’m mesakkah.”

  “And I’m human. I noticed.” Oh, no one ever lets me forget how much humans are scorned and looked down upon out here in the big, vast, dangerous universe. We’re one step up from sentient blow-up dolls and treated worse than some people treat their dogs. “Our species aren’t compatible without outside assistance. I paid a lot to get a fertility shot that adjusts my body to accept your sperm. I have a very small window in which it works, though, and it’ll be closing in about a week.”

  He just stares. “Kef me.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  He doesn’t laugh at my joke. Instead, he rubs his jaw, thinking.

  I remain cool and calm. Getting hysterical won’t help things. I’m past hysterics anyhow. At this point, I’m down to cold, hard practicality. If he doesn’t want to do this, I have to turn around and go right back to that jail and try someone else. It’ll destroy my soul a bit, but I’ll do it if I have to. Vordigar isn’t my only option…he’s just the most pleasant one. He’s mesakkah, which is a race that’s generally well liked and also the ruling race of Risda III. That helps things. He’s not a murderer. He looks dangerous. He’s got friends here…and he’s got a reason to need to take me up on my offer. Those are all useful things, but if he says no, I won’t give up.

  I’m never giving up.

  “What do I get out of this?” Vordigar asks bluntly.

  “Sex.”

  The unscarred side of his mouth twitches. He leans forward toward me. “I’m not sure about you humans, but the way most mesakkah make babies is with sex.”

  For some reason, his confiding, teasing tone makes me blush. Like I don’t know about babies or sex? “I know that’s how it works,” I tell him. “It’s one of the things I’m offering. As your wife, you have free access to my body. I’ll have sex with you anytime and every time you want.”

  He stares at me, maybe a little startled at my business like tone. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  Oh, it bothers me. But not like it did once upon a time. Years of being a captive out in this unforgiving end of the universe has taught me that sex is just another bodily function, and one that doesn’t have to be romantic in the slightest. “It’s just sex,” I tell him. “You think I got captured and dragged from my world because someone wanted a human to do their laundry? I’ve had sex to get by in the past. I can do it when we’re married.”

  He doesn’t look convinced.

  I lick my lips, trying to think. He’s not moved by my offer of freaky human sex? That’s a first. “I’ll be your wife in every sense,” I tell him. “I’ll cook and clean and help run the farm. We’ll be equals. We’ll have land, and meat-stock, and a stipend from the government to help our farm set up. No one can send you back to prison. You’ll have a livelihood. All you have to do is stay with me.”

  “I’m not a farmer,” he says flatly.

  “I’m not either, but I’m learning.”

  Vordigar rubs his jaw. He looks over at me again—and at my tits, which is a good sign—and then sighs. “I have places to be, Little Bit.”

  “My name is Piper. And I know this isn’t ideal, but like I said, I have a very small window to get pregnant and you have a desperate situation. I thought we could mutually benefit each other. If you don’t agree, I can turn this air-sled around and go back to the jail to get another husband.”

  He stares. Then, his mouth curves in a hard smile. “You’re playing a hard game.”

  “There’s a lot on the line.”

  “What happened to that sweet female that was batting her lashes at the guards?”

  I drop my voice to the husky note. “You need me to be sweet? Will that change your mind?” I put my hand on his thigh.

  He pries it right back off.

  I’m surprised…and a little worried. I want to be relieved that he doesn’t want sex. It’s not like I’m dying to jump on his dick. But sex is just about all I have to barter.

  “I want you to be real,” he tells me.

  “All of this is real,” I say to him. “I need your help. You need my help. I thought we could help each other.”

  “By having a baby? And taking up farming?”

  “It’s not the life I would have chosen, either, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be a good one.”

  He leans back and gives me a skeptical look. “Why not sell your land? You said some praxiian is all over you wanting it. Sell to him. Make a tidy bundle.”

  He doesn’t get it. He really doesn’t get it. “And go where?” I lean back, feeling a little defeated. “No one will take me back to Earth. It’s Class D, which means I’m not supposed to be out here anyhow. Humans are contraband. Let’s assume I don’t end up in someone’s zoo—I’ll end up in someone’s brothel instead, all of my money stolen. No one gives a shit about what happens to a human…except here. Here, they gave me land, and supplies, and a chance to have a normal life, and I’m going to take it.” I lean forward, just a bit, because I need him to understand just how much this means to me. “This is my land. No one’s fucking taking it from me, either.”

  Vordigar watches my mouth. His lips curl into a slow, crooked smile. “I didn’t know humans could get so fierce.”

  I lean back again, blowing out a breath in frustration. “This is serious.”

  “Oh, I know.” But he keeps grinning at me. “I’ve just never been approached by a human and had her demand that I make her pregnant.”

  “Only if we marry. I don’t want any of this”—I wave my hand and gesture at his form—“without some sort of benefit on my end.”

  Vordigar throws his head back and laughs. “You mean you’re not dying for my cock? I’m wounded.” He clutches at his chest.

  I start to smile. Just a little. “If we’re being completely honest, I’ve had enough alien cock to last me all my days, thank you very much.”

  He laughs harder.

  It feels good to hear someone laughing. I realize in that moment just how isolated and afraid I’ve been for the last few weeks. No, months, really, because Melissa was always super busy with her farm, and she was my closest neighbor. Since she’s been
gone, I’ve had almost no one to truly count on. There’s Chloe and her mate, but they’re busy and Chloe has a baby to take care of. She can’t drop everything to come visit when I’m bored or lonely…and I’m bored or lonely far more often than I’d like to admit.

  I don’t know this Vordigar guy. But he laughs easily and he pried my hand off his knee when I came on to him, so he might just be the best guy I’ve met in a really, really long time.

  “Please help me,” I whisper, my desperation coming out despite my best efforts to play it cool. The scars on my face itch, and it takes everything I have not to touch them. “I know it’s not ideal, but we can make it work. Please.”

  Vordigar studies me for a long moment. Then, he looks out the window, his laughter dying. “I need to think about it for a while.”

  “Of course.”

  We ride the air-sled in silence all the way back to my farm.

  3

  VORDIGAR

  I don’t know what to do.

  She’s laid all her sticks out in a row, as the game players like to say. She’s confessed her plan and what she needs. She’s offered me sex and a home. It’s dark when we pull up to the farm, but I can see neat rows of crops and a herd of meat-stock in a nearby field. There’s a small, domed homestead and a barn, and it looks like a nice spread. I know a dozen soldiers that would have keffing killed for this opportunity.

  I’m not sure I’m ready to be a father, though. Or a farmer.

  My plans for the future were simple—leave Risda III behind and get back into piracy. I dabbled in it before the war, and kept ties with friends in the business while I was in prison. I ran goods for a few buddies while on Haven, and I know people. I look intimidating as hell. I’m a competent navigator and a very competent mech. I can make some decent credits provided I get on the right ship, and I know just the people. The va Sithai brothers are looking for another to join them on a job, and I’ve promised that I’d go. It’s bound to be incredibly lucrative.