Page 3 of The Marriage Bargain

I didn’t. Zyn had everything I longed for. His own female. Offspring he had fathered. His own home. And, unlike me, freedom from ancient bloodlines and an unwanted heritage. One that could never be his, but that haunted him, even so. And, most of all, a life built with his own hands.

“What is it you people say?” I asked, hanging up my own safety equipment. “The grass is always greener…”

“On the other side of the fence,” he finished with a chuckle. “I guess that’s true. Well, come home with me this evening, then. I can’t offer much, but I can offer a taste of the grass on the other side of the fence. You might decide you don’t like it, though.”

Neither of us had any idea how strangely prophetic his words would turn out to be.

CHAPTER 3

DELLE

Where was Zyn? I was going to be late for work. Either that, or I’d have to leave before he got here, which I hated to do. Sure, my sister would be here with her kids, but Tarra looked so miserable, pale and curled up in a ball on the couch. I really didn’t want to leave before my brother-in-law arrived. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I should leave at all. I was worried about my sister. Tarra had thrown up the entire afternoon, to the extent that I was concerned about dehydration. I’d been offering her sips of water, and of lillet, a rehydrating fluid our Asterion overlords had introduced into our culture, but she still continued to vomit. I fretted that she wasn’t keeping down enough fluids to replace what she was losing.

She was out of her medication, the one that stopped her from vomiting. She’d run out yesterday. Zyn was supposed to pick up more on his way home from work. He was late, so I hoped that meant he’d remembered to do it, because the snow was piling up. It was a much further trip into the town that thrived in the shadow of the Citadel than it was to the little eatery on the outskirts where I worked. Thirty minutes to the Citadel verses about ten to my job. I was fairly confident I could make it there and back in my old truck. I wasn’t so confident, if Zyn forgot the medication, that he could make the trip back into town. After all, snow tires were a true luxury. You had to be pretty high up the human ranks to obtain them. And, let’s face it, most humans were not that high up anymore.

“He’ll be here any minute, Delle,” Tarra whispered from the couch. I glanced over at her. “Go ahead and leave. It’s fine. I can handle the kids for a few minutes.”

I chewed my bottom lip and didn’t reply. She was speaking without opening her eyes. Two-year-old Nerra was running around like a maniac. Her older sister wasn’t much better, throwing plastic building blocks at the wall in cadence to the alphabet song.

“Dereen, do you think you can help Mommy watch your sisters for a few minutes till your dad gets here, if I go ahead and leave?” I asked my oldest niece. She looked up from her book. I swear, that girl could tune out the world while reading, which didn’t exactly bode well for her babysitting abilities.

“Sure, Aunt Delle, I can—”

Again, she didn’t get to finish as Tarralynn bolted up from the couch, making another urgent dash for the bathroom. I sighed as I heard the sound of retching.

Damn it. Damn it, Zyn.

What should I do? I didn’t want to be late. I could phone one of the neighbors to come sit with the kids until their dad arrived, but I hated to get them out in the snow. The nearest house was half-a-mile away, which meant someone else battling this nasty weather.

What to do?

As if my cursing his name had magically summoned my brother-in-law, I heard the growl of a motor outside, saw headlights flash past the window. That was my cue.

“Zyn’s here,” I shouted above the chaos of gagging and pelting blocks as I struggled into my parka and raced for the door. “I’ll be back at the usual time. Call the eatery if you—”

The door opened. Amid the chorus of kid squeals, “Daddy!”, my own shouts and my relief at seeing Zyn enter the house, I saw someone else duck in behind my brother-in-law. I stopped in my tracks.

“Shoot me now,” I mumbled, my voice dropping with horror.

I didn’t know who it was, but I knew instantly what it was.

Golden alien eyes flashed, taking me in. For an instant, I stood there frozen as Zyn stooped to grab his two youngest daughters who had just dive-bombed his knees. My mouth open, I gaped as one of our Overlords stood there in the doorway, framed by darkness and falling snowflakes.

What the hell, Zyn?

I didn’t realize the words had come out of my mouth, until my brother-in-law, in a half-crouch on the floor, shot me a reproving frown.

“Delle! Language!”

Then he seemed to realize why I was cursing in front of the kids. He cast wary glances between the alien and me, rising so quickly the combined weight of the two girls threw him off-balance. He stumbled a step, corrected himself, and waved the Overlord inside.

“Caide, come in,” he said, beckoning for the Asterion to enter and shut the door, which he did.

The whole time, the alien’s golden stare had been fastened on me in a way that made my throat dry. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d seen aliens before. We didn’t mingle much. They tended to congregate down in the city and at the bars in the Citadel. The tiny eatery on the outskirts of town where I worked was beneath them, and we humans liked it that way. Some of us still preferred to at least pretend we lived in a world where our every move was not governed by Overlords from outer space. Still, on occasional visits to the city, I’d certainly seen aliens. I’d grown up seeing them. I’d never had one react like this to me before, and I wasn’t sure why he kept staring, but it was making my stomach flutter and my muscles tense—a strange combination of being annoyed, insulted, scared, and strangely flattered.

Zyn acted as if he didn’t notice. He probably didn’t. The guy could be totally clueless. He was a skilled carpenter who did lovely finish work inside buildings, which was why he’d managed to obtain a fairly high spot on an alien-led work crew. But throw him in the middle of a bunch of real, live people, and he could be a total spaz. My serious, perceptive sister was his perfect counterbalance, whereas he tended to frustrate me. Still, I liked Zyn. Loved him as a brother. And I reminded myself mentally of that, despite my extreme annoyance. I had so much crap to deal with here, and there he came, blithely bringing a stinkin’ Asterion alien into our home.

I love my brother-in-law, I love my brother-in-law, I love my brother-in-law, I repeated like a mantra. Meanwhile, the other half of my brain gaped at the Overlord standing in the doorframe and demanded, What the crap was he thinking? What? The? Crap?

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