Page 6 of The Marriage Bargain

My entire life, my outspokenness had been my biggest failing. It was too much for gentle Zyn. He never responded or argued with me anymore. Only ducked his head and looked uncomfortable. Sweet Tarra might offer gentle reprimands that sometimes reigned me in, but neither Zyn nor Tarra was here now. There was just me. Me and this Asterion Overlord. As I felt my irritation rise at being trapped inside the tiny house with this being from outer space, my guard dropped and the words poured out.

“Why did you offer to stay here? Why didn’t you drive them? You could have driven them.”

“Then I would have been forced to wait at the hospital for them to finish,” the Overlord returned calmly.

“What’s so bad about that?” I folded my arms under my chest. The alien’s golden eyes dipped, following the motion, then immediately flashed back up to my face.

I felt heat singe through my core. Was he checking me out? Surely not. But…had he been?

“Hospitals are quiet and sterile and very dull,” he said, his tonal quality somewhat flat compared to a human’s, but his manner of speech polite and methodical. Like most Asterions, he hadn’t yet picked up on Earthling—their term for us—slang and horrible grammar. “Why would I choose to wait there when I might wait here, instead, and be of assistance to you?”

“Be of assiss—I don’t need your assistance,” I snapped. “I take care of these kids every freaking day. What kind of assistance could you possibly be, anyway? You’re an Asterion Overlord! I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life.”

You’re an alien. I don’t want you here. I don’t like you.

I hadn’t said the words out loud, but I might as well have. The implication hung in the air between us. Caide—that was what Zyn had called him right? Overlord Caide’s eyes narrowed. His jaw tightened. All at once, I felt a wash of fear, knowing I’d gone too far. Not only too far in disrespecting an Overlord—and one who was well-known around the Citadel, the Asterion seat of power—but in disrespecting another person. He might have been an alien and not human, but he was still a person to whom I’d just been horribly rude.

“Wait, I’m…uh—I’m sorry,” I said, forcing the words out, forcing myself to lower my face in repentance. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sure you could be…” I pursed my lips. “I’m sure you could be a great help here, Overlord.”

For a moment, everything was silent except the noise of the kids in the other room. Kids oblivious to the exchange in the kitchen between their aunt and this alien stranger.

I don’t know what I was expecting the alien to reply, but it wasn’t for him to say quietly, almost gently, “Caide. My name is Caide.”

My head jerked up in surprise. I used a knuckle to straighten my glasses. “What?”

“Caide,” he repeated, “not Overlord. You need not address me as Overlord. I am Caide.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t know if I should respond. We humans didn’t address Overlords by their first names, unless given express permission or being on very friendly terms with them. True, he was giving me express permission, but I still wasn’t comfortable with it.

I don’t like him, I fumed, all the more annoyed by how calm and unflappable he remained in the face of my anger. I don’t want to call him by his name.

Rather than gripe aloud and get myself in worse trouble, I ducked my head and said, “I—I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that, Overlord.”

“Whyever not?”

Before I knew what was happening, he reached out an arm towards me. I didn’t have time to shy away or jump back before two long, strong fingers lifted my chin, compelling my gaze to his.

“If I give you permission, what is the harm?”

Trapped by his touch, imprisoned by his golden gaze, I couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t overly tall for an Overlord. Some alien species tended to be larger than others. The Asterions were more average height and build, as compared to humans. I wasn’t overly tall myself, but I wasn’t short. There wasn’t a huge difference in our heights, especially with my head tipped back by his hand and my face upturned to his.

Damn, he was beautiful. To be fair, Asterions in general were elegant. Like fairies or elves from a fantasy story of long ago, predating the Final War. Each alien race had their own distinct features, and the Asterions tended to be lean with healthy, sculpted bodies. Their ears grew into sharp points on the top and the bottom lobe, and broadened in the middle, creating a wedge shape. Many, like this one, wore jeweled studs in the lobes and up the rim of the ear. Their skin was a silvery color, their hair several shades darker. Whereas many Asterion males wore their hair long and pulled back from their faces, this man—Caide’s—was cut short, except for a darker strip down the middle of his head. The lack of long hair centered my focus on planes and angles of his face—the high cheekbones and firm chin.

I didn’t want to admit he was beautiful. I didn’t want to admit there was a part of me that quivered at his nearness, his touch. Beneath his molten stare, I wanted to shy back or shrink away. Instead, I balled my hands into fists and cleared my throat as I responded to his question.

“I…don’t think trying to mix our respective stations in life is a wise idea,” I told him boldly, even though my toes curled inside my winter boots. “You are who you are, and I am who I am. You’re an Asterion Overlord. I’m a lowly human, who’s nothing but a dish washer at a human eatery. There’s nothing equal about us. Why pretend that there is?”

He blinked slowly and dropped his hand, releasing me. His movements were deliberate, as if he wasn’t in any hurry, any rush.

Speaking of rush, when he let me go, I felt the air leave my lungs in a silent rush, like I’d been unconsciously holding my breath the entire time he was touching me. Now that his skin wasn’t against mine in any way, shape, or form, I could breathe again, and I did, gulping in air, feeling like a fish out of water.

“I think there is less dividing us than you would like to assume,” he answered gravely. “However, if it is your wish not to use my name, that is your decision.”

I didn’t know whether to stutter a thank you or to snap, It is my decision and you can’t change it. I didn’t know whether to be snide or to play it safe around an Overlord and try—for once in my life—to keep my frustrations about being a second-class citizen on my own planet in check. Rather than run the risk, I turned away, mumbling, “I have to take care of the kids,” and fled out of the kitchen.

It wasn’t a lie. Lyssa was pulling books off the bookcase at a faster rate than her older sister could replace them. Nerra was sitting on the floor, happily tearing pages from the books. After removing my coat and storing it, I squatted next to my nieces and began trying to assume control of the situation.

“No, Nerra, you can’t eat paper. Stop that. Lyssa, please leave the books alone. Dereen, will you get your sister a coloring book and some crayons? Put them on the kitchen table, please. Lyssa, why don’t you go color while Auntie—”

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