Chapter 2
2
Somebody once told me that the best lie is the one that sits closest to the truth. That’s why I told the pretty young woman at the reception desk that I was a freelance reporter who has pissed someone off. A dangerous someone and that’s why I was prepared to leave everything behind for love in the stars. She’d seemed slightly taken aback by that, but handed me a pile of reading material and a clipboard all the same.
Now I’m waking up in what feels like a fancy hotel room, grateful that I don’t have to lay out cash for it. They did verify my ID, but never asked for a credit card. I’d probably have walked if they had. I can’t afford to have my bank accounts drained at this point. I have a ten o’clock meeting with someone named Taz and I’m hoping I can get to the bottom of this, grab the story, and be on my way. The place is very high end but seems virtually empty. There was nobody else in the hallway when ‘Liliana’ led me to my room. There’s a nice big window opening to the outside world, so I don’t feel completely trapped. Yet.
I have a nice enough breakfast from the food provided in the small fridge and kitchenette and then promptly at five minutes to ten, there’s a knock on my door. I open it to find a very green man.
Consequently, I blink several times before stating the obvious, “You’re green.”
The man nods, a small smile on his face. “Yes. I’m Taz. We’re still a bit short staffed at the moment, so I came to escort you to my office. If you’re ready?”
I’m still standing there stock still. He’s green, and he’s not fazed by it. “Why are you green?” I try again.
His smile widens to reveal bright white teeth. “Because I’m not from around here. Did you think all the literature about alien cultures was one really big con?”
I nod, and he sighs.
“Not only is it not a con, but you’ve been matched with a very, very high-ranking individual. If you’re not serious about going through with it, then we need to have a talk.”
He gestures down the hallway and my feet decide to follow him. Obviously, I need more information either way.
Taz is silent until he gestures me toward a perfectly ordinary guest chair and situates himself behind a desk. There might be some slightly strange technology mixed in with the bits I recognize, but there’s no doubt this is an office.
“Miss Tanner,” Taz begins slowly. “Miss Tanner, everything you read yesterday when you arrived is true. What isn’t in the literature is how surprisingly hard it is to convince women on Earth of just that. And that there really are hundreds of thousands of men out in the universe eager for life mates, both for mating and often simply companionship.”
“Why can’t they find women of their own kind? Why do we have to put up with them?” I grouse.
“In most cases, there aren’t enough women of their own kind. In others, as is the case with the man you were matched with, there are simply some very stringent requirements that have yet to be met by another female. Not for lack of trying,” he adds under his breath.
“So, who is this stellar individual?” I ask dryly.
“Prince Drakkon will be arriving in approximately five days. I can’t tell you what an honor it is to have him come here. The Royals almost always insist on you coming to them.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m an American. I’m not a big believer in anyone being born superior due to their pedigree.”
Taz nods, his smirk back in place. “And I would agree if he were human. The Royal house of the Zotari Empire, however, is generally regarded as superior in many aspects. Size, strength, wealth, and well, some other talents mean they can both make and keep the peace. In a territory as large as the Empire that requires more than a pedigree.”
I frown at him. I’m intrigued. I can’t help it. “I don’t suppose you have a picture?”
As if he were simply waiting for that question, Taz rotates a monitor to face me. On it is the most striking face I’ve ever seen. He resembles humans pretty closely but… high cheekbones crowned by blazing golden eyes that don’t seem to have any pupils. His hair is a dark gold that’s braided into many small braids hanging down his shoulders. They only serve to heighten his masculinity. Strange swirling pale tattoos cover his skin, almost as if they’re moving under the surface. It’s hard to tell with the still picture, but something I’m not used to is going on there.
“He also stands about seven feet tall,” Taz adds dryly.
My eyes widen at that. This man is a giant. Something in me is dying to get a real look at him. I can’t tell if it’s the journalist or the woman or both.
“And he can’t find anyone he likes?” I find that hard to believe. He looks like he’d have the pick of any female out there. And if what Taz has said is true, that’s umpteen billions of them.
“He’s known to be a bit… impatient with feminine wiles. He was a warrior before he was elevated to the title and all indications were he preferred that life.”
“Well, I think it’s safe to say that I’m not going to be much competition. He’ll take one look at me and jet off again, and I’m okay with that. But I want an interview.”
Taz blinks. “Umm, well, that’s something you’d best discuss with Prince Drakkon. His emissary will be arriving later today by transport. You could ask him, but he may be hesitant to broach such a delicate subject himself.”
“Why is the emissary guy coming by transport but the prince isn’t?”
“The Royal House can physically only travel by ship. One of the many things that make them unique.”
Well, hell. I’d only heard about real transporters yesterday and already I’m liking the idea.
“Well, why is the emissary coming then?”
Taz looks uncomfortable before admitting, “To school you in protocol.”
“Um no. Just no. I’ll meet him and I’ll be polite. I think. Anything more and he can just keep looking. I don’t curtsy and I don’t genuflect to anyone.”
The green guy looks like he’s trying to bite back a smile. “I see. Maybe consider this an opportunity to ask further questions from someone much closer to the prince than I ever have been.”
He makes a valid point. I can get some basic research out of the way, so when I do meet the prince, my questions are direct and to the point. I’m still not sure of my angle yet, so some preliminary discussion might clear that up. Is there still even a Valentine’s aspect to this or is it straight up alien kidnapping as seen in the nearest grocery store check-out aisle?
My female is lovely. Intelligent dark eyes gaze up at me from the digital image I’ve been studying for the last five days. There’s something so captivating about the hint of rebellion in her expression. Like it might actually take some effort to win her over. I try to imagine her pale skin dancing with the tracery of a royal consort. Without them she is beautiful, with them the Empire has never seen her equal.
My cock hardens as I think about what it will take to make them appear. The organic nanobots are transferred via body fluids, but they choose whether to pass or not. The old stories are that in the generations before the Empress who reigns in her own right, that the sooner a royal bride appeared in public after the wedding, the more virile her mate. I’m not sure that really has anything to do with it. I’m positive none of my male ancestors were virgins at the time of their wedding. And yet the royal traceries and other traits have remained absolutely pure to the line.
Sighing, I continue with my calisthenic routine. I may no longer be allowed to enter battle, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be ready for it if it comes to me. My stubborn Ceejay is a different type of conflict altogether, so having a clear mind is of the utmost importance.
A message pings on my communicator indicating the ship has entered Earth’s orbit. It and the shuttle that will transfer me to the surface are both cloaked in technology undetectable by the primitive local surveillance. It will be millennia before this planet can even dream of this level of tech.
I dress in my casual court uniform. It wouldn’t do to show my bride disrespect, but neither do I want to overwhelm her with full court dress. As it is, the three glittering sashes that crisscross my chest have my eyes rolling. It really is time to update the fashions of the court. But honestly, getting them to cede power for a year to live in the hinterlands would be easier.
Looking around my quarters, I spy the small gift I’d selected from the treasure trove in the hold. It’s a delicate orbun flower made of gemstones. A pretty little trinket to sit on a desk or a tabletop. Gathering it up, I slip it deep into the long sleeve of my outer robe and head for the docking bay.
Mykkal briefed me on his meeting when he returned to the ship last night. He was cagey to say the least, but assured me my bride was both as beautiful in person as her image and twice as smart. I have no doubts that his report was completely honest. However, it didn’t require royal senses to know he was holding something back.
The trip to the planet’s surface is swift. Naturally, an entire platoon of armed guards must come along for the ride. I keep insisting it’s not necessary — that my enhanced personal protection courtesy of the nanobots means it’s superfluous — but once again, I’m ignored. “By orders of the Empress, your Eminence,” is the constant refrain.
Arguing will only make things take longer, so I settle into my seat on the shuttle and attempt to guess how my bride will react to our meeting.
Not well, it turns out. When the shuttle lands in what I understand to be a field behind the building where she is housed, there’s a brief scurry of activity as everyone unbuckles and assumes their duty post. Communications with the resident team also in the building are established and messages are exchanged. My bride is unwilling to set foot in an alien vehicle, it seems. She wants me to come to her. There are whispers and gasps before someone finally clues me in as to what has everyone apologizing as they back away from me.
I appear to be the only one unsurprised by her demand. I would expect nothing less of the woman in the photo. Shrugging, I gesture to the guard and tell the nearest ship’s officer, “Well? Lower the gangway then. The sooner we sort this out, the faster we’ll be back in civilized space.”
“Yes, your Eminence,” he murmurs while bowing. I wish everyone would figure out that they’re much harder to hear when they do that. They should speak and then bow, or bow and then speak, or better yet, leave the bowing out altogether.
It takes another five minutes to open the hatch and get the glide in place. Then there’s a small procession from the field to the building. I swear the first individuals have reached our destination before the last have left the shuttle. Finally, it’s my turn and I enter into a rather quaint and charming hall. This must be Earth architecture. I glance around, taking in the small details as well as the three waiting individuals from various races of the Empire.
“Your Eminence, welcome to Earth,” they say, then bow deeply. I’m impressed. Maybe my constant harping on this has reached a few people. The tracery on my arms is swirling faster than usual, dancing almost with glee. She must be nearby.
“My bride?” I inquire, impatient to meet her and overcome her objections.
The green guy who appears to be in charge clears his throat. “Your Eminence… Miss Tanner hasn’t, uh, fully committed to the match. Her distrust of the algorithms is understandable. Similar concepts exist in her culture but are notoriously unreliable.”
I wave my hand. “I understand. But I can hardly convince her if she’s not present.”
“Yes, your Eminence.” He sighs heavily. “She will be here shortly.”
I don’t need the gasps of those nearest the door to know the moment when she arrives in the room.