Stolen By the Alien by Ashlyn Hawkes

18

Omur

Hannah comes to me. I have been trying to prepare myself for any number of scenarios.

For Hannah to go to Earth with her mind wiped.

For her to go to Earth with her mind destroyed because of my attempting to wipe her mind.

For her to go to Earth alone without her mind wiped.

For her to go to Earth with me, hiding away from the Earthlings.

For her to stay here with the Rockians and I return to the Garrux. I would have to come up with some explanation for her conversation with the maestro.

For her to go elsewhere without me.

For her to go elsewhere with me.

But how? How can we convince the maestro to leave us be? To let us be in peace?

But the only way for me to know peace is to remain by her side.

She has known me for some time now. She knows my body and my mind and my heart, and still, she has not chosen to accept that we are mates.

She will never pick me.

We will be parted forever.

It is all my fault. I arrived too late. If I had not dithered on other planets when I never felt the pull as I had when I neared Earth, I might have been to her planet before she and Luca became engaged, before he broke her heart and made her as jaded as the maestro. I could have saved her so much pain and have loved her for a year or more already.

It is my own fault that she is unwilling to open herself up to love.

She moves to sit beside me, and I drape my arm across her shoulders. Whenever she is near me, I want to touch her. There’s always a spark, and it just feels right. It’s not about ownership. It’s as much about my being hers as she being mine.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, breaking up the comfortable silence for a discussion that will most likely be decidedly uncomfortable.

“For what? For the maestro? You cannot blame yourself for his thoughts and feelings toward Earthlings.”

"He wants to take you away to use and abuse you," I growl, but I shake my head. "I am apologizing because if I had come to Earth sooner, if I had located you sooner, Luca would not have hurt you. I wish I could have spared you that pain."

“Omur. My sweet Omur.” She cups my face with both of her hands. “You think it is because of Luca that I haven’t melded with you.”

“Isn’t it?”

“It’s because I am afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” I ask. “Let me help you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know who I am,” she whispers. “I know who I pretended to be, and I faked being happy so much that I honestly thought I was for a time, but that’s not the case. I hadn’t been happy for a long while.”

“Who do you want to be?”

“I want to be me,” she whispers.

“And who are you?”

“I am more than one thing. I am so many things. I can be anyone I want.”

“And you want to be…” I dare not get my hopes up.

Hannah kisses me. It’s not an ordinary kiss. Our lips remain shut for once, but I can feel a pull from within me, as if she is a succubus after all, sucking out my soul.

I draw back. “Hannah, if we continue…”

“One of the things I am is your mate,” she whispers, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Tears of happiness?

Hannah gives herself over to me, and, in turn, I do the same to her. It is wondrous and fulfilling to be able to stop fighting the mating bond between us. We meld together as our bodies merge, and we make love as our hearts and souls touch and meld into one.

Afterward, she places a hand to her chest and the other on mine. “Our heartbeats are the same.”

“Of course.”

Her smile is radiant. “You are my mate.”

“Yes.”

Her smile grows. “Will you marry me?”

“If that is what you wish.”

“I want you to be my husband, yes.”

I take her hand and kiss it. “Just tell me what you need from me.”

"Well, maybe Rosina can be our officiant," she says, "and I… Hmm. I should have a dress."

“Come with me.” I hold out my hand, and I bring her to the hallway to stand before a closet. Inside are many gellious shirts and pants and, yes, even a few dresses.

Her eyes widen. “What is this material?” she asks, reaching for the dress but drawing back her hand before she touched it.

“Gellious,” I say. “It comes from the sap of a tree on Garrus. Here, let me help you…”

I place the dress over her head. The material automatically clings to her form, shifting to be her size. The neckline is a bit low, and I tickle the gel to get it to be up higher.

Her lips curl into a confused smile. “You didn’t like it as it was?”

“I don’t want anyone else seeing that much of your skin,” I growl.

"What does it matter if they see some of my boobs?" she asks. "You're the only one to see or touch or lick or pinch my nipples. You're the only one who can have me sexually."

“I know. You’re right. I shouldn’t be jealous.”

"Is it because of the maestro?"

“If he would find his mate…”

“Do all Garrux always have a mate?” she asks.

“It is impossible to know because they might be out there, unfound.”

“I wonder if anyone could love him,” she says with a scowl. “I know I shouldn’t speak ill of your leader, but…”

“He has crossed the line with his plans for you.” I kiss her deeply. “Plans that will never come to fruition.”

“We will figure out a way to get past this,” she declares. “Don’t worry.”

“Do you have an idea?”

“Not yet,” she murmurs. “Let’s take this one step at a time. First, we will marry. Then, your brother will come.”

“That might be too late.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. If your brother is anything like you, then he will not allow any harm to come to his brother’s mate.”

“Hannah.” Her name comes out a sigh. “I love you.”

“And I you.”

* * *

The wedding is a simple affair. Rosina is there, a few other Rockians as well.

“Hannah Porter and Omur wish to be married,” Rosina says. “Their vows will unite them even more deeply than their mated bond.”

Is that possible? I want to ask, but I don’t care.

Hannah turns to me, taking both of my hands in hers. “Omur, I vow to always love you, to always be in love with you. I vow to always fight for us and for our children. I know that nothing can stop us.”

“And you, Omur?” Rosina prompts.

“Hannah, I vow to always stand beside you, to sleep with you at night and watch over your dreams, to help you fulfill all of your goals. I will always cherish and honor you, adore and love you, and I will allow no one to take you from me.”

“You may kiss the bride,” Rosina says.

And I kiss my bride, my mate, and I do feel different, being her husband. It’s subtle, but it’s there, a slight deviation that binds us together even more tightly.

The Rockians have prepared another feast in our honor, but we duck away early, not back to the command module, but a secluded spot in a flowery meadow on Harrock. There, we make love, and all is as it should be.

* * *

I’ll be honest. The first few days of marital bliss are a blur. We just spend as much time together, exploring the planet and each other. Although we talk for hours and hours, we do not discuss our immediate future beyond where we wanted to walk or what names we might consider for our children or what to eat for dinner.

And now, it’s too late for a discussion. My brother’s command module fills the sky, and he lands right next to my module.

Hand in hand, Hannah and I walk over to him. The door opens, and his ramp descends. My brother looks very much like me, only a slightly more yellow shade of green.

“Rumus,” I call.

“Omur.” My brother draws up short. He ignores my outstretched hand to stare from Hannah to me again. “You two are mated.”

“We are.” I see no reason to deny it, although I’m not certain how he can tell just by looking at us. Perhaps it was more a guess, and I confirmed it for him.

“I’m Hannah,” my mate and wife says, holding out her hand.

Rumus takes it and then yanks her forward, causing her to be ripped from my hand. He embraces her and shakes his head. “You are beautiful, and if you’re going to be mated to that loaf, then I supposed you must have ample patience.”

Hannah giggles. “Actually, he has been far more patient with me than I deserved.”

“How so?”

“Earthlings don’t know about mates,” she says.

“Ah, yes. I suppose I can see how that can complicate matters.” He rubs his chin. “Matters are very complicated indeed. I don’t know what I’m to do. The maestro believes Omur here is dead, that you alone survive.”

Hannah glances at me and shrugs. “I panicked.”

“Perhaps we can use this,” Rumus says desperately. “I do not wish to bring you to him, but I also cannot return to him empty-handed. I must have news of some kind, and you two must then disappear if that is what you wish.”

My stomach twists into knots, and I take my brother’s hand and embrace him, clapping him on the back, feeling his horns through the back of his gellious shirt.

“I hate all of this,” I say with a scowl. “If the ovian bastard would leave Garrus and find his mate, but no, he has to be a cruel, dominating, overbearing, oppressive ruler—”

“I have done a great deal of thinking about him on my flight over,” Rumus says.

“You? Thinking?” I tease.

Like always, he ignores me. “Maestro Shule doesn’t understand mates because he doesn’t have one. That is why he wants Hannah for himself. He wants to claim your mate so that he can have a mate of his own, willing or unwilling, mated by the universe or not.”

“I will never go to him,” Hannah says.

“I do not blame you.” Rumus scowls. “I hardly think that anyone would want to be with him willingly. It almost makes me think that he should not be our maestro.”

I blink a few times. “You aren’t considering…”

“I can’t,” Rumus mutters. “Not with a little one on the way, but maybe… I don’t know.”

Hannah has been glancing back and forth between us. “What are you two talking about?”

“Overthrowing Maestro Shule,” I explain.

“Killing him?”

“No.” I shake my head.

Rumus laughs. “No wonder everyone thinks Earthlings are warmongers.”

She scowls. “You just mean to take over as the leader.”

“Yes,” Rumus says, “but I don’t want that responsibility.”

"No one does." I huff a sigh. "When the previous maestro died, no one stepped up to replace him until eventually, Shule did."

“It is not decided based on a vote or by blood?” she asks.

“By blood?” Rumus’s eyes are wide.

“I think she means sons or daughters.”

“Yes, thank you.” My mate and wife glares at Rumus.

He holds up his hands defensively. “Sorry, but no. Not a vote. Not sons and daughters. It’s more of a…”

“We come to understand who will become the next maestro,” I say. “It’s a relatively painless process, actually.”

“Are you really going to see about someone overthrowing him?” Hannah asks. “Because that doesn’t sound painless at all. Is there a precedent for this?”

“No, but there’s a first time for everything,” I say grimly.

“Not you,” Rumus says. “Not you and not me, but I can start to plant the seeds, but even so, that doesn’t help you. Not immediately. What are you two going to do?”

“We don’t know,” I say.

“I don’t know either,” my brother says.

I close my eyes briefly. Being mated finally should solve all of my problems, but it’s only caused so many more.