Her Mate’s Secret Baby(25)

Yes, I had to be pregnant. This wasn’t the stomach flu, because after about an hour, and some saltine crackers, I felt fine. By lunchtime, I was ready to eat anything put in front of me, and this was the third day the vomiting had happened. And my period was late. Only a few days, but I knew. I was never late. My breasts hurt, ached and were painful to touch. They were even more sensitive. The nipple rings kept me constantly aroused—except when I felt like hurling—and the chain only made it all more intense. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d made myself come with my fingers, thinking of Roark’s thick cock.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Roark. I had his rings, his chain that dangled between. I had the small knife he’d pressed into my palm, the golden blade that had saved my life. I had memories. I knew what it felt like to be wanted, to be claimed and caressed and loved until I couldn’t see straight.

It was more than some girls ever got, and I tried not to hate him for making me fall in love with him and then dying.

One night of wild sex. One night and that was all his powerful Trion sperm needed to make me pregnant. To breed me. That was the word he’d used. He’d needed a bride to breed. Well, it worked. I had his gold, my memories, and a baby. His baby, growing inside me.

The tears fell then, plopping onto the cold, white edge of the toilet’s rim. I had my hair tied back in a ponytail so it wouldn’t fall into the water. If he were here, he could hold my hair for me while I puked. He could bring me water and crackers. He could pull me into his arms and tell me everything was going to be okay.

But he wasn’t here. I’d never see him again.

Warden Egara had offered to put me through the bride processing protocol again. I could be matched to another warrior since Roark was presumed dead. I’d decided against it, my wounds too raw. The shock of my experience with Roark too painful. I needed time to process.

And now this.

I placed my palm low, over my abdomen, and wondered who was there. A little girl with my eyes and Roark’s darker skin? A son with dark hair and eyes the color of chocolate? I imagined Roark’s face in miniature from a baby boy and the tears streamed down my face in an uncontrollable flood.

I grabbed a tissue and wiped the wetness from my cheeks. God, hormones were a bitch. I had one night with my perfect man. One night where we’d committed ourselves to each other.

He’d promised. Promised! But no, he was gone. Left me alone. Just like my parents, like Curtis, the asshole. Oh, we might be on the same planet again, but I knew now he really did have a pencil dick.

Warden Egara had been sympathetic when I said I wanted to stay nearby the Miami Transport Center to wait. She’d come to check on me every day and I felt a connection with her. She’d lost two husbands and knew how I felt, for she’d felt it even worse. She’d had more than one day to get to know her mates. And she’d had two Prillon warriors for mates. The sad story had come out of her in her efforts to console me. She’d suffered a double loss. If I felt this horrible after spending just a day with Roark, then I couldn’t imagine how she got out of bed every day. How she breathed in and out. How she got on with her life.

She said I was the only Earth woman, besides herself, to go off-planet and return. Well, another woman who’d been matched to Trion had returned because she had to testify at a trial, but she’d gone back soon after. Warden Egara had said she was the High Councilor’s mate and that they probably knew—no, had known—Roark. It was a small universe, it seemed.

The nausea rolled up again and I leaned over the toilet bowl, dry heaving. When the fit was over, I slumped down on to the floor and curled up in a tight ball on the sparse bath mat. I couldn’t stay in the hotel any longer. I had to face the reality that Roark wasn’t coming, that he was dead and I had to get on with my life. I didn’t have the luxury of lying around feeling sorry for myself any longer. I had a son or daughter to care for, who would need me to keep my shit together.

A baby! Pressing a hand to my flat stomach, the tears welled up again. This was not how I was supposed to become a mother. Alone in a hotel room. No husband. Not on this planet or even this galaxy. I just couldn’t bare the thought of entering the Interstellar Brides Program again. Not a chance. Even if I could find a mate who would want another man’s child, I didn’t want to be matched to someone else. My one perfect match was dead. Roark was dead.

I was alone. My one attempt at finding happiness for myself, for taking charge of my life, failed. Failed miserably. I was even more alone, more heartbroken than before. Before, my loneliness had been abstract, a vague emptiness. Now that empty space was filled with pain. Now, I knew exactly what I’d been missing.