Alien Warlord's Passion

Rosemary:

One million credits.

It was more money than Rosemary had any reason to believe she’d ever have. It was life-changing money. Solve-your-problems money. One million credits awarded as a bonus for her sister marrying an alien. Rosemary just couldn’t believe how fast it vanished.

The ancient handheld phone vibrated with an incoming message. A glance at the cracked screen confirmed it was her sister, Hazel. Ignoring the call, she shoved the phone in her bag. She certainly didn’t spend all the money on fancy gadgets.

One million credits. Gone.

The culprit sat on her front porch in the lumpy form of her ex, Vince. That guy could sniff out money like a bloodhound on the trail of a rabbit.

“Mother fudging honey smacks.” She’d been making an effort to curse less in front of her seven-year-old. Some days were more trying than others.

“Mom?” Michael shifted in the backseat, clutching his backpack. “What’s he doing here?”

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, twisting in the front seat to give him a broad smile.

“I don’t want to go with him. He smells bad.” Michael wrinkled his nose.

“I know, sweetie. You just go inside and I’ll talk to him. Change out of your school clothes and we’ll make pizza for dinner.”

Out of the car, Michael ignored her and stood directly in front of her, as if shielding her from Vince. “Hey, buddy,” Vince said.

Michael flinched but stood his ground. Rosemary pressed a kiss to the top of his head and murmured, “I’m fine.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Michael said.

“You wanna help? Go inside and be ready to call the cops if I shout, okay?” She kept her voice low, just for Michael.

“Okay,” he said, his tone making it clear that he didn’t like it. He swerved wide around Vince and ran into the house.

“Real charmer you got there, Rosemary,” Vince said.

Rosemary grabbed her bag from the car. She folded her arms over her chest and put on her serious face. “You got a lot of nerve showing up here. What do you want, Vince?”

“What makes you think I want something?”

She snorted. He always wanted something, usually money.

“I was just thinking how it’s a shame I don’t know my kid better.” He chewed on a toothpick, hanging in the corner of his mouth.

Yeah, he wanted money.

“The bank is closed,” she said. And broke, too.

Vince’s gaze swept up and down her form before settling on the car behind her. “You sure about that?”

“Do I look like I have any fudging money?” Outside of bar regulars, bartending during the day was not lucrative. The weekends, yes, but she had a seven-year-old kid. If things got tight, she’d ask the neighbor to watch Michael and she’d work the evening shift, but Rosemary tried to avoid that. She didn’t need to give Vince anything that could be twisted into evidence of neglect.

She rented a modest house with a tiny lawn in a decent-enough part of town. She wore holes in her shoes and her clothes until they fell apart. Michael had everything he needed. Maybe not the coolest toys, clothes, gadgets or whatever the kids just had to have, but he had what he needed.

She could wear her coat for one more winter if it kept food on the table and the bills paid.

“Seem to be dressing pretty nice for a bartender and driving a fancy car,” Vince said.

Her hands clenched into fists. “I need a reliable car to drive my son to school and practice.”

“Our son.”

“My son.” She lifted her chin. She’d fight him tooth and nail on that. Michael was her son. Vince might have donated the sperm, but he was not Michael’s father. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

“Funny thing. The law says different.” He tossed the toothpick on the ground.

Rosemary should have saved up some money and gone to a sperm bank like most women who didn’t want to be married off to aliens. There was no question about custody or parental rights when the father was a frozen popsicle. Or she could have had unprotected, anonymous sex until she got pregnant, which is the route ladies took when they didn’t have the cash for the frozen pops. That way was risky and opened up a gal to disease, or worse.

She thought she was being smart. She thought Vince was a good man. She thought that she loved him and even if they never got married, they’d be in each other’s—and their child’s—life.

She had been wrong on all accounts.

They met at the bar where she worked. That should have been her first clue, but she was young and easily impressed by the cash he splashed around. Vince liked to have a good time and spent money like it was water. His family had wealth, old money, and he was used to doing what he wanted, who he wanted and when he decided he wanted her, Rosemary couldn’t believe her luck. A man like that was interested in boring old her.

Now she knew better. Now she knew Vince saw an easy mark when he looked at her. She believed all his half-truths and never questioned anything too closely, which made her gullible beyond belief.

If she could go back in time and shake some sense into twenty-year-old her—

No. Then she wouldn’t have Michael.

Rosemary might have loved Vince at the time, but he didn’t love her, at least not the way she wanted. Vince was cut off from the family trust fund and hustled his way from one party to the next. He also had no problem “renting” out his services to any woman with the cash. Fake fiancée. Temporary husband. Baby daddy. He did it all if he got paid at the end.

The situation Rosemary found herself in, along with every other woman on Earth, was fundamentally wrong. It had been since the aliens invaded. To protect the planet, politicians bargained away the lives of every woman in exchange for protection by the Mahdfel against the Suhlik.

The Mahdfel would save Earth if they agreed that all healthy and single women be screened for genetic compatibility. Those deemed compatible were sent off as brides and the surviving family was given a pile of credits as compensation.

Aliens had literally ruined everything. The Suhlik arrived when she was just barely ten and leveled all the major cities. One day there was no television, and no electricity, and no more school. Then her father didn’t come home a few days later. Her mother did her best to keep Rosemary and Hazel safe. They moved from shelter to shelter after their house had been destroyed. Then she got sick, and Rosemary and Hazel became war orphans.

Aliens took everything.

They took her parents, her home, her safety, and eventually, they took away her choices.

Well, Rosemary Rovelli wasn’t a sucker, and she wasn’t going to sit around and wait for some hulking purple or red alien to haul her off to make babies. Married women and women with children were exempt from the genetic matching, so the Rovelli sisters did what they had to do. She had a baby. Hazel got married.

At the time, the sisters thought they were being smart. Turned out that Hazel married an abusive, controlling jerk and Rosemary got knocked up by the biggest mooch on the East Coast. Life is just funny that way.

“I already gave you all my money,” Rosemary said, truthfully. She gave him the lump sum with the verbal agreement that he would sign over complete custody of Michael. She had a lawyer draw up the papers but Vince never showed. He took the money and skipped town.

She should have known better. She didn’t give him the money until the day of their appointment with the lawyer. She made him wait and didn’t transfer a single credit until he walked into the office. She wasn’t a complete idiot.

She should have made him wait to get the money until he signed the papers. When he said he needed to use the toilet, she should have made him sit there and piss his pants before she let him slip away with all the money.

Instead, she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and waited at the lawyer’s office like a chump; a sucker.

Never again.

Vince had always been a drain on her bank account. He knew all her buttons and just the right threats to make. He just had to mention sharing custody of Michael, and she would give him any amount to make him go away. His threats weren’t empty, either. Even though his family had disowned him, they would spring for the best attorney’s money could buy if they went to court. They’d do anything to protect the family’s good name and avoid the scandal of the black sheep son and the barmaid’s illegitimate child.

“As I recall, you agreed to sign over custody. I paid for it and then you ran off. You ripped me off, Vince.”

“Verbal agreements aren’t binding, sweet cheeks. That was a gift. A very fine gift, by the way, but I think it’s time to collect the rest.”

“And I gave it to you.” Her sister ran off with an alien and gave Rosemary the money, who in turn gave it to Vince to make him go away. Before the windfall from Hazel, he only showed up about once a year. It never took much to make him go away, which was fortunate because she never had much to give. Bartending paid the bills, but it didn’t quite cover the Vince-go-away fund.

“I think you’re not looking hard enough,” he said. “And I think if you don’t look again, I’ll tell my father about this mouthy barmaid who trying to drag the family name through the mud.”

There it was, the classic threat. Give me money or I’ll sic my family on you.

It was a good one. If they ever went to court, a judge would easily see that Rosemary was the better parent. She had a steady job, family support and was in the best position to provide for Michael. Vince had no job, an expensive booze habit and blackmailed women to support that habit. He wouldn’t stand a chance in court if it were just him.

But it wasn’t just him. It was his family, their money and all the prestige of his last name. She wouldn’t stand a chance against that, not with whatever pro-bono lawyer she could find.

“I think the boy needs his father. Family, you know?”

“He doesn’t need a father.” Not a father like him. “We’re fine the way we are.”

Vince shrugged. The afternoon light highlighted the stubble on his face. His whole appearance was scruffy, from the rumpled clothes, the stale beer smell and the circles under his eyes. He looked a lot rougher than he did back when they were a couple but could only wonder in horror that she once found him attractive.

She was never going to be rid of him. Money only kept him away for a little while. Threats didn’t work because he held the biggest threat of all over her head. He would always come round, she would always cave, and it would be for the rest of her life. The idea of that exhausted her. She needed a way to finish their twisted relationship for good.

“How about you sign those papers like you agreed and I won’t call the cops?”

He laughed. “Go right ahead, sweetheart. Let’s get the law involved.”

Vince shoved off the porch and walked around her car. It was new with all the latest auto-navigation systems and safety features. The car was smart: it could drop her off at the curb, park itself, and pick her later.

“The car buys you a month,” he said.

“No deal. I need a car.”

“A car, not that fancy car. Two months.”

Two months wasn’t a lot of time, but it was time. She could make do with public transportation for a bit. She’d need to move. Maybe not a house in such a nice neighborhood but someplace safe enough with a good school. She’d have to find a new job but finding a gig was always easy in bartending if you weren’t particular.

Dang it. She liked her little house and her stupid job. Stupid Vince and her stupid twenty-year-old self for thinking he was a good idea.

She should call his bluff. His parents with their social standing and all their money didn’t care about Vince. Why would they care about a squabble he had with one working-class woman? They thought she was garbage. They told it to her face when she had been pregnant and trying to find a freshly-vanished Vince.

They didn’t care about Vince as long as he didn’t bring his trouble to their door. They might care if the society pages starting reporting about a nasty custody battle, and she really didn’t want to take that chance.

“Six months,” she said, hating herself for caving once again.

A stained, foul grin broke over his face. “Four, but I’d consider adding on a few more days if you wanted to get reacquainted. You are looking fine, Rosemary.” He leaned in, rank breath wafting over her face, and made kissy noises.

She flinched away. So not happening.

This conversation needed to be over. She needed to make dinner, and she knew Michael was listening at the door.

She held out the car keys. “Take it. I don’t want to see you back here for at least six months.”

Vince took the keys with a grin and drove away with the only new car she’d ever own.

Rosemary stayed on the porch long enough to let her anger drain away. She didn’t have a solid plan for what happened in six months. She’d scrape up the money somehow, just like always.

Inside, she found Michael sitting casually on the sofa, cartoons playing on the holoscreen, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His fingers drummed against the arms of the sofa. That little faker.

“How much did you hear?” No use pretending he didn’t hear every word.

“I didn’t,” Michael said, fingers continuing to drum a nervous rhythm.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Rosemary said.

“I didn’t!”

“Michael, honey, it’s okay if you listened. We were talking about you.” She sat next to him on the couch. He flinched away from the arm she put around his shoulder but relaxed into her. Just touching her son drained away the anger and resentment Vince inspired. How such a creep helped make such a wonderful little guy, she’d never understand. She had regrets when it came to her relationship with Vince, but she had no regrets regarding Michael.

“You’re not going to make me go away with him?”

“Sweet baby cheese, no.” Over her dead body. And maybe Vince’s dead body, too. “He’s just looking for money, like always.”

“He doesn’t want me,” Michael said, voice small. His words broke her heart.

“Oh, honey. No. You listen to me. You are my absolutely favorite person in the world.” She kissed the top of his shampoo-scented head. Her baby always smelled so good.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my mom.”

“Maybe even the entire universe. That man is an idiot for not wanting to get to know you. I know the situation with your father is weird. I’m sorry, but even if I could change it, I won’t. Do you know why?”

He shook his head.

“I got you and you’re my favorite person in the universe.”

“Mom,” Michael moaned, stretching out her title.

“You got homework?”

“Some math problems.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Get on it, buster, and I’ll start dinner.”

“Pizza? You said pizza.” His eyes sparkled with anticipation. The little monster was always hungry. She completely expected to go broke feeding him once he became a teenager.

“I also told you to change out of your school clothes. I see you’re real good at listening to your momma.”

He jumped off the sofa, grabbed his backpack and headed to his room. “No green stuff on the pizza!”

“Yes, my little carnivore.”

* * *

“What do you mean fired?”

“The shift starts at ten. Not ten-fifteen.”

“The flipping bus was late.” Again. If the public auto transports ran on time, she’d get to work with plenty of time to spare.

“Not my problem.”

“Can’t we work something out? I’ll make up the time.” Rosemary tilted down her chin and made her eyes wide, willing herself to cry on command. She’d escalate the situation with a wobbly bottom lip if her boss was immune to her weepy eyes.

The manager folded his arms, decision made.

Immune. Damn it.

“Look, finish up your shift, and I’ll figure you into the day’s tips.”

Wow, he’d let her have a portion of the money she helped earn. It wasn’t like the tips were that great to begin with. How generous. The bar was on the fringe of an up -and -coming trendy neighborhood and had a menu to reflect gentrification. Locals who were seriously dedicated to day drinking didn’t have the credit to splurge on their overpriced, locally-sourced organic menu and the types who imbibed on a business lunch didn’t stray out this far. Tips were never great. If he thought Rosemary was going to grovel, he had another thing coming.

“On second thought, I’ll take my pay now,” she said. The stickler-for-time wasn’t exactly thrilled about coughing up her wages, but Rosemary refused to leave without it. Cash was cash. Meager wages in hand, she called a private auto-transport. Yes, public was cheaper, but she didn’t want to break down and cry in front of strangers. If she had to cry, she’d rather do it in private.

Alone, she slumped down in the seat.

Fudge.

Inwardly, she moaned. Today was bad enough to curse like an adult.

“Shit,” she mumbled. Her skin pricked at the illicit word. If Michael were there, he’d point his finger and crow in triumph, demanding that she feed another dollar into the swear jar.

“Shit,” she repeated. “Fuck fuck, fucking damn fuck!”

Her heart fluttered at the naughty words, and she smiled. Six dollars well spent.

She needed that job. Her problems—Vince—weren’t cheap. Back when she still had money, she should have moved far, far away. Started fresh. New phone. New town. New everything, just her and Michael, starting over far away from Vince and his bottomless greed.

Maybe she should call his bluff. Vince didn’t really want to be a dad. He never expressed any interest in Michael, other than what Rosemary could afford to pay him to go away. Vince never called on birthdays or holidays. He never wanted to spend time with Michael and get to know his son. If Rosemary suddenly gave in and shared custody, Vince wouldn’t know what to do. He’d panic. Fear of actual adult responsibility might keep him away for good.

Michael wouldn’t understand all that. His face went pale when he saw Vince waiting for them on the front steps. Even if she explained her plan, that it was all fake, he wouldn’t believe her. He’d think he did something wrong to make her not want him anymore.

No. She couldn’t do that to her little man.

She’d find another job and manage to get by, like always.

An incoming call broke the silence of the cabin. Before she could swipe to ignore on her phone, the vehicle automatically answered.

“Hazel?” Her absent sister’s image appeared on the embedded screen in the cabin wall.

“Oh good, you finally answered.” Hazel leaned into the screen, all smiles. “Is that a private cab?”

“Well, I thought I’d treat myself since I got fired.”

“What! Why?”

“Late. Public transport was late again.”

“What happened to that new car?” The unspoken question hung heavy, What happened to all that money I gave you?

Rosemary scratched her nose, buying time to think of a distraction. “Isn’t this too expensive to waste time worrying about that?”

“Probably. I ask Seeran about credits, and he acts like I’ve insulted his manhood.”

Typical backwards alien attitude. Don’t let the little female worry about money.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Hazel said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

Distraction successful. “Did you really call me from space to argue?”

Hazel’s smile returned. “I have a surprise!”

“You’re pregnant,” Rosemary said. Of course Hazel was knocked up. That was the alien’s prime directive. Acquire female. Make babies. Make more babies.

“I was going to invite you to visit us, sourpuss.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You were thinking it.” Hazel’s voice remained cheerful.

“I can’t exactly afford an off-planet vacation right now.”

“I’ll pay.”

“Really? Wow.”

“There’s this winter holiday that Seeran’s family celebrates. It’s basically Christmas.”

“Alien Christmas.”

“Christmas. And I want to hug my nephew.”

“Michael has school—”

“Sign him out. People do it for vacations all the time.”

Did they? Rosemary never really had a vacation to know. “Will I be able to eat the food? I don’t want to eat that weird alien stuff.”

“We have Earth food, you know. You won’t starve.” Hazel rolled her eyes in an amazing feat of sisterly attitude from the other side of the galaxy.

“I don’t know,” Rosemary said, searching for a reason to decline. The idea of being off Earth seemed wrong. The idea of facing all those aliens, with their alien food and speaking a language she couldn’t understand overwhelmed her. “I should be looking for a job.”

Hazel pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated. “It’s an all-expenses-paid trip to Sangrin. His family owns a vineyard. It’s scenic. How can you pass that up?”

True. Her schedule suddenly had a lot of availability. Plus, getting away from Vince for a time would be good, if only for her peace of mind. If he ever found out that she took an off-planet vacation, he’d hound her mercilessly for cash she didn’t have. Only the ultra-rich—or Mahdfel brides—went off-planet.

She missed Hazel. It had only been the two of them for so long, and her sister was her best friend. After Hazel’s divorce, she had to leave town and Rosemary missed her companion. Phone calls were not enough.

“Please, Rosemary. I miss you—”

Shit. She couldn’t say no now without breaking her pregnant sister’s heart. This could be good. No, this would be good. “When do we leave?” Rosemary asked.

Mene:

Council meetings were insufferable at the best of times, but the Elder refused to stop flapping his mouth, pleased with the sound of his own voice.

Mene sent a brief message to his brother. Father will not stop talking.

Too busy to greet our guests? Lorran responded.

Mene frowned at the screen. The two Terrans were not his guests but Seeran’s, his other brother. Or rather, the sister of his brother’s mate. His mother had insisted that Mene be the one to meet them when they arrived on Sangrin. Tani claimed it was to welcome them after a long journey and make them feel welcome, rather than let an impersonal auto-transport deliver them.

He knew the true reason. Tani played at matchmaking. The sister of Seeran’s mate—Hazel, he recalled her name—would likely have a high degree of compatibility with one of Seeran’s brothers. His unmated brothers.

Tani wanted grandsons more than she respected the autonomy of her sons. Mene was not interested in being matched to a mate, and he was not interested in claiming the passed -over sibling of Seeran’s mate.

Good. Mother already sent me to spaceport, Lorran typed.

Mene growled low in the back of his throat. He did not want his charming and personable younger brother to greet the female.

I will be there. Mene’s fingers stabbed at the screen as he entered the words.

Afraid the female will prefer my company?

No.

He did worry that the Terran female would prefer Lorran to himself. He didn’t want her, but the idea of her wanting Lorran sat uncomfortably with him.

I don’t care, Mene wrote. Just fetch the Terrans.

So gracious. So inspiring. Truly, a leader of warriors.

Mene chuffed at the screen.

“Something amusing you, Warrior Rhew?” The Elder’s dry voice rustled across the expanse of the council chamber.

Mene shifted his stance, standing at his attention behind his father’s chair. “No, sir. I followed up on a previous mission.”

The elder turned to Oran. “Monitoring these sessions is his only mission. Our security’s focus should not be split. We are far too important to leave vulnerable and exposed because this young one is...is flirting.”

Flirting? Mene bit his tongue. Elders demanded respect, even the pompous, self-important windbags.

Oran choked back a laugh. Though his hair was white with age, he remained in peak physical form. If an attack happened, Oran was not so far advanced in his years to be helpless. “The hour grows late. I believe our families are anxious to celebrate Golau.”

The Elders of the Council murmured agreement before breaking for the evening. A mix of Mahdfel warriors and Sangrin politicians populated the council that oversaw Mahdfel activity on Sangrin. The council members fancied that they directed the clan warlords, but Mene saw the truth: the warlords listened to the Council out of respect for experience and wisdom. If they disagreed and defied the Council’s will, there was little recourse.

The little recourse was him, the Council’s enforcer, but Mene rarely had to act in that capacity. The times he had done so had left vivid reminders on his body.

Currently, the Council argued about a power struggle between two warlords. A young, ambitious warlord had designs on a larger clan. Tradition demanded that the warlords resolve it among themselves. The clans self-governed, mostly, and the most powerful and cunning warrior rose to the rank of warlord. The trouble in this situation was the older warlord with the larger clan was deeply unpopular with the Council. The younger warlord was reckless and let the Suhlik, their sworn enemy, gain an advantage.

Mene had the feeling that if the warlords did not resolve this soon, he would have to mediate. His form of mediation did not involve sitting around a large table and flapping his maw. His mediation was violent and direct.

For the most part, the council directed the Mahdfel clans of Sangrin, spent money building stations and equipment, funded research, and oversaw the testing of the Sangrin female population for genetic compatibility, in accordance with the Mahdfel-Sangrin treaty. The Mahdfel had defended Sangrin against invasion for several generations. There remained little for the Council to do at this point but squabble about taxes and perceived insults to their honor.

Mene’s father, Oran, left active duty for this. Worse, Oran expected Mene to follow in a political career.

He hated politics. Almost as much as he hated politicians.

A small female, hair white as the snow on the ground, motioned for Mene. “Elder Deron,” he said, nodding his head.

“I want you to meet my daughter, Charin,” Elder Deron said. He tapped the shoulder of a younger female standing next to him. She turned around, a pleasant smile on her face, and visibly flinched when she saw Mene. Not unattractive, the female was slight in stature, and her small horns curled delicately from her brow. Her color drained away, but her smile remained fixed in place. A true politician’s daughter, hiding her disgust at his scars.

Mene gave a short nod, ignoring her revulsion. He should be used to it, but it still stung. Regardless, it did not matter. Her scent did not appeal to him. Recently invented, the genetic compatibility test replaced the traditional method of hunting a mate via scent. According to mated males, though, the aroma of their female was the most luscious, delectable fragrance they had ever experienced.

Mene wanted that. He wanted to find his female, to detect her unique essence and let it overwhelm his senses. He wanted her taste to explode on his tongue as he licked the salt from her skin and the cream from her quim. He wanted her to genuinely smile when she saw him because he was a vain creature, and he never wanted to see the shadow of fear in her eyes. He wanted to hold her, protect her and make a family with her. It was a deep-seated need, one embedded in his genetic code by the Mahdfel’s former masters, he knew, but that did not diminish the need.

He refused to settle for anything less, and he felt no such pull with this female. Charin was not his.

She murmured a greeting, eyes demurely downcast. Even if her scent had intrigued him, that alone would have been enough to turn him away. Mene had no patience for a shy and tender female.

“She is a Mahdfel widow,” Elder Deron said, as if that revelation would magically make them compatible. She was simply not his.

“I wish you a festive Golau,” Mene said blandly. “My mother has made many promises of my time, and I must deliver my father safely home. Please forgive my departure.”

First, his mother played matchmaker and now Elder Deron. Was there no escape from meddlers?

Rosemary:

Hazel missed her calling as a travel agent. The proof arrived the next day. The small package contained paper tickets, an itinerary, and two in-ear translation devices, which she was glad to see. Rosemary had worried about the language barrier but didn’t have the cash for an implanted translation chip. Michael was too young to have something like that in his still-developing brain. The itinerary had them take a shuttle to the military base on the moon and from there a shuttle to a series of teleportation gates. The entire trip would take twenty hours.

The idea of teleportation didn’t sit well with Rosemary, but the alternative was weeks in a slow-moving shuttle. She could barely imagine being cooped up in a shuttle, let alone Michael trying to stay in his seat and sit quietly for days on end. No thanks. She would take her chances with the teleportation gates.

They left three days later, which was enough time for Rosemary to explain Michael’s prolonged absence from school and pack. She wasn’t sure what to bring for a two-week trip or how to dress for the weather. Hazel said it was a winter holiday, so Rosemary packed for a winter ski trip, not that she ever went on one. She packed coats, hat, gloves, and scarves. That was obvious. Snow boots and heavy socks. Casual clothes and a formal outfit, just in case she needed to attend a fancy party or dinner. Toiletries, of course.

She packed books and activities to keep Michael busy. He insisted on bringing his soccer ball. It wouldn’t fit in the suitcase, so he would have to carry it in his backpack. She didn’t fight him on it. A busy child was a well-behaved child. If Michael found himself bored or restless, he could wear himself out chasing a ball.

She loaded up her tablet computer with books.

Finally, a gift for the host. Rosemary heard on television that the Mahdfel liked coffee. Okay, it was a soap opera but truth in fiction, right? She grabbed a bag of her favorite roast and a box of chocolate. If even the gift was a flop, it was the thought that counted.

That was how Rosemary found herself with two very heavy suitcases and one overly-excited seven-year-old chasing a soccer ball down the airport concourse. “Michael, stop!”

Of course, he didn’t stop. Why would he stop like a sane person?

“Don’t worry; I’ll get it, Mom.”

Every set of eyes in the airport watched her. Judged her.

“Mom of the year,” she mumbled under her breath as security approached her. The tall man had a black and white ball tucked under his arm and Michael’s shirt collar in his other hand. The guard did not look happy.

“Ma’am? You need to come with me.”

“I’m so sorry about that,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. The trip just started, and already she was exhausted. No more off-planet vacations. “He has so much energy. I’ll put the ball away. It won’t happen again.”

“Follow me, ma’am.”

The guard deposited her at a boarding gate, rather than wherever it was troublesome passengers went. True to her word, the ball went into the backpack to stay. Before she knew it, they were on the moon.

The rest of the journey went smoothly. The second shuttle had more legroom than the first commuter shuttle, but it was little more than a glorified bus with aisle seats. Michael played games or watched movies on his tablet and kept quiet, mostly.

The lights dimmed, and the overhead speakers announced in several languages that they were approaching the first gate. Rosemary’s grip tightened on the armrests.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Michael said with a smile. “There’s less nausea on large craft teleportation. If you do get barfy, peppermint or ginger helps.”

“Where did you hear that?”

He pointed to the safety pamphlet in the pocket of the seat in front of him.

The lights flickered, and Rosemary felt a terrible tug on her stomach. She grabbed Michael’s hand and squeezed tight. The sensation of being disassembled on the molecular level wasn’t the worst thing she ever experienced, but it wasn’t awesome either. It felt a bit like eating too much and needing to burp to relieve the pressure.

“Mom? You can let go now. Do you want a mint?” The slot in the seatback dispensed a small red and white mint.

As the candy dissolved, she felt better. “How did you get so good at this?”

Michael shrugged, turning back to his game as space travel and teleportation proved a complete bore.

* * *

Ten hours later, Rosemary found herself on an alien planet. From her vantage point on the concourse, the spaceport was similar enough to the average airport that she understood the basics, like picking up luggage, but different enough that she felt disoriented. The translucent walls glowed softly with light. Designed to move people, the space was efficient but not sparse. The tight weave of the carpet covering the floor reminded her of the jute rug in her dining room. Rows of uncomfortable plastic seats crowded the area surrounding the boarding gate.

Vendors offered services that had no human equivalent, like horn polishing. They passed a stand of very pretty ornaments and delicate chains to decorate horns. The most amazing aromas wafted from the food stalls. Her stomach rumbled. Tiredness and hunger made everything smell so darn appetizing, but when she got a good look at the strange cuts of meat and unknown vegetable, she resisted. She couldn’t risk getting sick from eating something weird.

The pretzels nearly broke her. Well, she assumed they were pretzels. It smells like bread, twisted into complex shapes and covered with what looked like salt. Bread, butter, and salt—all her favorite things.

All in all, it was just a regular airport. Nothing special except everyone was just so… purple.

Aliens rushed about the spaceport, completely ignoring the Earth woman and her child. Their complexions ranged from very pale lilac to lavender to plum, and even a deep, dark aubergine. Every single one of them had horns. The men had horns that curled back dramatically from their brows. The women’s horns seemed smaller and delicate.

Rosemary couldn't help herself staring. Aliens. Everyone here was an alien.

A horrible truth settled on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She was the alien now.

“Mom, you’re crushing my hand,” Michael complained, wiggling his hand free.

“Stay close,” Rosemary said. They collected their luggage and waited. The passengers from the shuttle disappeared into the crowd. She searched for a familiar face. Hazel’s itinerary said someone would meet them, but she had no idea whom to expect or how to spot them.

“Rosemary Rovelli?”

A tall, muscular man with horns that swept back proudly from his forehead, with a complexion the color of wine, smiled at her. White fangs gleamed against his skin. Suddenly, she understood what it was like to be frozen in the sights of a predator. She understood the difference between the ordinary people of Sangrin and the Mahdfel; it was the difference between a housecat and a tiger.

Rosemary pulled Michael against her front, folding her arms protectively over her son’s shoulders.

The Mahdfel man stood a good head taller than anyone else in the crowd. His build was athletic and made for power. The drab gray military uniform hid a toned, sculpted physique. All the public service information—propaganda—came back to her. The Mahdfel looked like their mothers, but they had been genetically modified to be superior soldiers. They healed at an accelerated rate. Their senses were heightened. They possessed amazing strength and endurance. They could survive harsh environments with little food or water. They could only have sons, which compelled them to make treaties with other planets.

They would fight to defend their mates with the last breath in their bodies.

And they were handsome, according to gossip. More handsome than they had a right to be. This Mahdfel male was no exception. Rosemary had heard the giggled whispers about special equipment and how the women forced to marry them were too busy being screwed out of their minds to complain about having their choice and freedom taken away.

Beyond all that super soldier and sex appeal was the raw sense of danger that rolled off him. This alien male was a weapon. No amount of open and friendly smiles would change that fact.

The male leaned forward ever so slightly, and his nostrils flared, as if taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes as if savoring a tasty treat and smiled. Again, Rosemary did not like being on the receiving end of that smile. It made her feel as if she were the tasty treat.

“Rosemary?” he asked again.

“And if I am?”

“Hazel sent me,” he said. “I’m Lorran Rhew, her brother-by-marriage.” He dropped to one knee and gave Michael a nod. “My mission is to deliver you safely to your aunt. Do I have your authorization?”

Rosemary rolled her eyes. She did not appreciate being spoken about like she wasn’t there. “Michael does not make decisions for me. I do,” she stated coolly. She was the parent here, not the other way around. “And why couldn’t Hazel be here? I expected my sister.” Not a stranger, she nearly added but held her tongue. She would be a guest in that stranger’s home for the next two weeks. Playing nice was the prudent thing to do.

“She couldn’t make it,” he said brightly, the hostility in her voice unnoticed. “Come. It is not far, but you have had a long journey already.” He picked up the two heavy suitcases as if they weighed nothing.

“How strong are you?” Michael asked.

Lorran shrugged. “I never tested myself.”

“Can you pick me up?”

“Easily.”

“Can you pick my mom up?”

Lorran glanced at Rosemary and licked his bottom lip. “Yes.” He winked.

Ugh. So gross. Did that ever work? Any interest she might have had completely vanished with that flirty wink.

“What about him? Can you pick him up?” Michael pointed to a portly figure in the crowd.

Rosemary pushed his hand down. “Don’t point. It’s rude.”

Michael continued to pepper Lorran with questions in the vehicle. Exhausted, Rosemary leaned her head against the window, and only half-listened. A new planet’s landscape rolled by and her eyes were too dry and red to appreciate it. Michael, however, found his second wind and vibrated with excitement. What did that sign say? Was this a big city? Was Lorran a soldier? How high could he jump? How long could he hold his breath? Could he see in the dark? Did he have a knife? Could Michael hold it?

“That’s enough,” Rosemary said, squashing any more questions. “I’m sure Mr. Rhew is too busy—”

“Call me Lorran,” he said, smiling again.

She narrowed her eyes at him, not in the mood to get chummy or on a first-name basis.

He winked.

Rosemary frowned.

Unaffected, he smiled. On another day, such relentless cheer and optimism might soften her up, but she was not in the mood today. She turned back to the window and watched the scenery glide by.

They had left the city and were deep into the hilly countryside. Fields rolled by, buried under a blanket of white snow. Trees, branches dark against the afternoon sky, held a scant few bright scarlet leaves. Mountains, blue and misty, crouched on the horizon and the red sun hovered just above the highest peaks. Occasionally a house with steep A-frame roof rolled by.

Everything was familiar yet different. Small details stood out, like the lettering on signs or the vague purplish tint to the vegetation. Even the light was different, cast by the dull red sun in the winter sky. She held up her hand to the window, marveling that her normally olive complexion looked very pale and pink. Everything was different here, even her.

The vehicle turned off the major road to a smaller lane. Tidy rows of grape-looking fruit replaced the fields of grain. They took another turn onto a long drive then passed more vines and a cluster of buildings. An A-frame building sat at the end of the drive. A porch laden with lanterns wrapped around the structure, giving it an inviting air. The vehicle stopped, and a computerized voice chirped about safely disembarking the craft.

Bags at her feet, a cold wind carried a hint of moisture, possibly snow, but the sky seemed too bright for a snowstorm. That was, if Sangrin weather systems behaved like the weather patterns on Earth. It was definitely winter. She rubbed her hands together, wishing that she had thought to dig out her scarf and gloves before leaving the warmth of the vehicle. Michael had already retrieved his soccer ball from his backpack.

“Gloves, buddy,” she said. He groaned but complied, putting on gloves, a scarf, and his wool hat.

“Daughter!” A woman rushed out of the house, arms extended for a non-negotiable hug, stark white hair barely contained in a bun. She wore an ivory robe with a wide scarlet belt. Embroidered scarlet leaves decorated the sleeves. Horns, gray with age curved delicately from her brow. Rosemary couldn’t ignore the horns.

“Oh, okay,” Rosemary said as the woman embraced her with enthusiasm. Though shorter than her, the woman squeezed with surprising strength. A horn butted against Rosemary’s jaw.

“Another daughter. Has any female been so lucky? And you have such a strong son, too.” The woman fussed over Michael, ruffling his hair and proclaiming him a robust, young warrior. Michael tolerated her attention with a grimace.

“I’m Rosemary, by the way.” She stuck out a hand for a shake.

“Tani Rhew,” the woman said and enveloped Rosemary into another hug, this one somehow more intense. “I am Hazel’s mother-by-mating.”

This short, warm woman was Hazel’s mother-in-law? Despite the surface differences, Tani seemed so normal, just a kind-hearted person who invited a stranger into her home for the holidays.

“Rosemary!” Hazel ran up to Rosemary. The cream-colored robe she wore complimented Tani’s outfit and highlighted the swell of her belly. Rosemary felt the firm bump as Hazel threw her arms around her sister. “Oh my God, I missed you so much! I can’t believe you’re here! I have so much to tell you. Can you believe how big I am? It’s only six weeks. I’m going to be huge.” Hazel’s words came tumbling out.

“How many weeks?” She didn’t start to show with her pregnancy until well into her third month.

“Six!” She posed with hands on hips, displaying her stomach. The swell wasn’t dramatic, but it was undeniable. “Apparently Mahdfel grow faster than a human baby.”

“You look amazing.” Rosemary didn’t bother with false compliments. It was the truth. Hazel had that pregnancy glow about her. “I never knew you were the mommy type.”

“I wasn’t, but with Seeran—” A serene smile spread across her face. “Where’s my favorite nephew?” Hazel gave Michael an enthusiastic hug.

“I’m your only nephew, Aunt Hazel.”

“And despite your sass, still my favorite.” She gave the squirming seven-year-old another hug.

“You must be tired,” Tani said. “You look tired.”

“Thanks.” Rosemary raised her eyebrow and looked at Hazel, who giggled. Hazel. Giggling, like a teenager. Serious-business-Hazel giggled.

What did these aliens do to her sister?

“Where is this husband of yours?” Rosemary asked. She had to get a gander at the alien who seduced her sister away from Earth.

Tani answered. “Seeran and my other son, Mene, are hanging lanterns. They will be gone until the evening.”

Lanterns. Right.

“I’ll show Rosemary and Michael to their rooms. The Rhews have a really amazing house,” Hazel said, linking her arm with Rosemary’s.

“You need to rest,” Tani said. “Lorran will help my daughter get settled.”

“I’m pregnant, not an invalid,” Hazel said.

“This is your first pregnancy. We cannot be too careful.”

Hazel shrugged as if acquiescing to a fight she knew would not win. “My room is on the first floor. Apparently, stairs are too dangerous.”

“And if you stumbled and fell? What then? Listen to your mother. I know best,” Tani said. She moved to the house, head high.

“Listen to your smother,” Rosemary whispered to Hazel, eliciting another giggle.

Lorran grabbed the bags and motioned to Michael. “Young warrior, let us prepare the camp.”

“But I’m not tired. I don’t need a nap.”

Rosemary recognized her son’s need-a-nap voice. “Lay down for an hour. Sleep. Don’t sleep. I don’t care,” she said, knowing he’d be asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, like every other night.

“Can I play my game?”

“No, but you can count sheep.”

“That’s a baby’s game.”

“No devices.”

“But you said you didn’t care if I sleep.”

Rosemary gave the interior of the home a quick glance before Michael absorbed all her attention. His protests continued up the stairs, into the room prepared for him, while he brushed his teeth, and as she changed him into pajamas. Finally, finally, he lay down in the bed and slept.

She loved her son, but he could be a fussy brat sometimes.

Her luggage waited in a comfortably appointed bedroom. The walls were covered with a grassy material, woven into a chevron pattern. A plush rug covered the hardwood floors. A wardrobe and desk stood at one end of the room. A massive platform bed occupied the other end, lush with fluffy comforters and pillows, and promised heaven.

Rosemary touched the control on the window and the screens lifted, offering a tranquil view of the vineyard grounds.

“Do you need assistance unpacking?”

She shook her head. Unpacking could wait, wrinkles be damned.

“And the bed is to your liking?” Lorran sat on the edge and patted it, clearly in a move he thought would be inviting. Just like with the wink, he miscalculated. It was the furthest thing from inviting.

“I’m sure it’s fine. I just need to sleep.” She stood at the door, hoping he’d get the message and leave.

Smiling, he stood with a slow stretch designed to show off his lean, athletic body. “Sleeping in a new bed can be disconcerting. Perhaps you’d benefit from having a warrior at your side.”

What was this nonsense? Rosemary crossed her arms and gave him her sternest mom-glare.

With a chuckle, he ambled out the door, brushing against her. Outside the door, he planted a hand on either side of the frame and leaned in. “Just to be clear, I wasn’t talking about sleep.”

Yeah, she picked up on his subtle hints. Rosemary just couldn’t find it in herself to be offended. That could have been the exhaustion talking or the ridiculous expression on Lorran’s face. She just couldn’t take him seriously. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Do you want to find out if what they say about Mahdfel males is true?” Lorran grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “Because it’s all true.”

Rosemary’s stern expression dissolved into laughter, and she shut the door in his face.

Mene:

The Terran female’s scent, a crisp and sweet hint of eirin blossoms, lingered in the entryway and on the stairs. Mene stood at the foot of the stairs, hand gripping the railing. His mouth watered. Nothing could possibly taste as delectable as the female upstairs. Instinct urged him up the steps, to claim his mate.

Mene controlled his base urges. His mother brought the female here, hoping for this reaction. He had no interest in the females his mother threw in his path so far and the one upstairs was no different. He was more than raw instinct and refused to be tricked into claiming an unseen female because she smelled nice. Better than nice, if he were being honest with himself. Her scent awoke a hunger that only she could satiate.

Delaying in going to her only delayed the inevitable. He would seek her out, and he would lose the battle with his instinct and claim her.

His brother’s voice drifted down the steps, followed by light female laughter. His heart sank, knowing he was already too late. Lorran worked his charm and had already won her affection.

Just as well. He would choose his mate when he was ready, not because his mother dangled a tasty morsel in front of him.

He found his mother in the kitchen, preparing dinner. She sat at the counter, peeling the rough skin off a dirt-covered tuber.

“What is that?”

“A potato.” Tani placed the peeled potato on the counter, creating a stack of starchy white blobs.

“Is it edible?” Mene poked at one.

“They are boiled and mashed, so I imagine yes. Hazel favors it.”

Terran food was so strange. Smashed potatoes. “The Terrans should eat Sangrin food while they are guests in your home.” Tani tossed him a sharp look. “It is only polite,” he added.

“Roast cyw is also in the oven since you’re being a picky eater tonight.”

“That is Seeran’s favorite,” Mene muttered. Cyw was acceptable, just bland for his tastes.

“When you give me a grandson, then I will make your favorite meal.” Finished peeling, Tani chopped the potatoes into cubes.

“Is that why you invited the Terran female? To trick me into giving you a grandson?”

Tani snorted. “Listen to the high opinion you have of yourself.”

“It would not be the first time you’ve schemed.”

She set down the knife. “Mene, you are my eldest, and I love you without question. Is it wrong that I want you to find a mate and have someone for yourself?”

He huffed but did not answer. Was it wrong for his mother to want him to find a mate? No. Her constantly inviting single females for dinner or tea aggravated him. He was paired with an unwanted dinner companion and forced to be polite for the evening.

It was unbearable. Tani did not do this to her other sons, Seeran or Lorran. Granted, Seeran now had a mate, but even before that, she never meddled in his affairs. She meddled with Mene because he was the only child who stayed on Sangrin. The others were safely away on a battlecruiser.

“She is here as Hazel’s guest, and I’m inclined to spoil my daughter. Nothing more,” Tani said. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled.

Curiosity got the better of him; he grabbed a cubed potato and tossed it into his mouth. Raw, the tuber crunched but had no strong flavor other than water and starch. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. Terrans had inferior taste buds if that passed as edible.

Lorran whistled as he came into the kitchen. He slapped Mene on the back and scooped up Tani in an exuberant embrace. “What a delightful female, mother. Such fire. We are fortunate to have her in the family.”

Mene frowned, uncomfortable with the jealousy that sat on his chest.