He took a deep breath. “The transport monitors received the activation from your medallion a short time ago. But the signal didn’t come from Trion, sir. It came from Earth.”
I stilled. “Earth?” Natalie.
I looked to my parents who appeared doubtful. My mother scowled. My father kept his features carefully blank. “That’s impossible.”
“I don’t have an explanation, sir,” the commander continued. It was my fault to have interrupted him. “The monitor in Xalia City notified us once the transmission codes were confirmed. There does not appear to be a malfunction. They are confident your medallion is on Earth.”
“Natalie must be alive.” My mother lifted her hand to cover her mouth, shock evident in the slight tremble of her fingers.
“But how would she activate the medallion?” my father asked the obvious question. I had no answers. Turning to Commander Loris, I demanded more information. “Did my mate somehow escape the Drovers’ ambush by transporting to Earth? Why was there no log of the transport when Outpost Two was searched.”
Commander Loris took a deep breath. “The transport station was locked, Councilor. It’s data erased. The only transport code on file was yours. The only reason we have the transport codes for Earth are because High Councilor Tark’s mate is also from the planet and your mates came from the same brides processing center.”
Natalie. Alive. “Why didn’t she return to me? Why didn’t the transport station on Earth contact me?” What the fark was going on?
I knew I was rambling a bunch of questions no one could answer. No one but Natalie. She was mine, and a legal citizen of Trion. She was a matched mate. She belonged to me. If she was alive, I would not stop until I had her back in my arms, and in my bed, where she belonged.
I stalked toward the door and yelled for the nearest guard to contact Seton. I would leave him in charge of the southern continent during my journey. He would offer to accompany me, without doubt. But with the Drover threat looming, I needed him here. He would have to leave at once and return to the south. High Councilor Tark and the Drover patrols would just have to wait until I could bring my mate home.
Confident my orders would be carried out, I returned to the transport room and walked onto the transport pad. “Contact the transport station on Earth. I’m going to get my mate.”
* * *
Natalie, Near Boston, MA, Earth
I answered the doorbell with Noah on my hip. I’d just changed his diaper and had yet to put his pants back on. Instead, he only wore a onesie and I loved looking at the rolls of fat on his chubby little thighs. He held a set of plastic keys in his tight fist and spent equal time shaking them and shoving them in his mouth.
When the door swung open, I sighed. I was so not in the mood for Curtis. Every time I saw the gaunt man I wondered what the hell I had been thinking. What had I ever seen in him? His hair was brown and thin, receding at an alarming rate and looked wet from a recent shower. He was pale and his cheeks were a bit swollen, as if he was retaining water. Medicine? Too much salt in his caviar? He wore a white golf shirt that had tiny pink lobsters embroidered on the sleeves. Khakis hung on his thin frame like a loose paper sack. He wore scuffed loafers without socks and a designer watch on his left arm that cost more than most people made in a month. There was nothing, not one thing, appealing about the man. No wonder I never had an orgasm with him. It would have been a miracle if that had occurred. Not to mention that he wore enough cologne to make me feel lightheaded and nauseous.
My tolerance for smell had not improved since Noah’s birth. I had a new superpower. Since the moment I’d become pregnant, I would swear I could smell a piece of red meat at twenty paces. I had really hoped my sensitivity to smells would go away once the baby was born, but no such luck. I tried not to gag on the scent of cedar and musk and opened the door wider, not to let my visitor in, but hoping for some fresh air.
“Curtis,” I said on a sigh. I’d hoped the doorbell meant the plumber had arrived, for one of the faucets had burst in the kitchen and shot water out like Old Faithful every time the cook tried to use the sink. “This is a surprise.”
Over the past year, Curtis had appeared on various occasions, unannounced and unwanted. He’d made his disinterest clear before I volunteered for the brides program. Upon learning of my return—no, upon my parents deeding me the large house—he’d resumed his interest in me.
“How’s Mandy?” I asked about his sister, because that was truly the only safe topic of conversation open to me. I didn’t want to know why he was here. I was not concerned about his life, his day, or his revived interest in me.
He didn’t look at me, but at Noah. The look most people gave the baby was a soft smile, a gentle sigh, because my son was so damn cute. Who didn’t like a baby? No one, but Curtis. It wasn’t just that Noah was a baby. It was that Noah was a space alien’s baby. At least that was how Curtis, and my parents, referred to Roark. A space alien. Not a respected leader of almost half a planet in the Interstellar Coalition. Not my mate. An alien.
“I came to see if you would attend the Winter Ball with me at the country club.”
He didn’t wait to be invited him in, just barged past me into the foyer. It was two-stories tall with a circular staircase and I knew it held more interest to him than I did. But I let it go and closed the door behind him, not because I welcomed him into my home, but because Noah’s chubby little legs were bare, and it was cold outside.
“No, thank you, Curtis.” I stepped around him and transferred Noah to my opposite hip. He was a big baby, and my biceps felt the strain. He definitely took after his father in size. “If that’s all, I need to put Noah down for a nap.” I needed him to know he was not staying long. Shouting might startle Noah and, at the moment, my son was content with his keys.
“I want you to wear the pink gown you bought for our engagement party.”
Now, I did roll my eyes. That god-awful mass of lace, tulle and sequins? No. No way. Not in a million fucking years. I hated the thing the day my mother brought it home, and I hated it still. “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, I’m not interested. Ask Ashley, or Bambi. Whatever the name of your latest conquest is.”
He turned his gaze from the chandelier that dangled from the ceiling, one thing Noah couldn’t grab hold of and hurt himself with—and then looked at me. “They meant nothing, not when we were together. Not now.”
“Oh?” Sounds like he still had women on the side, the bastard. “I’d think you’d want the woman you’re fucking to mean something,” I countered.
This conversation was getting old.
“What kind of mother are you, spewing foul language in front of a child?”
“Now you are concerned about Noah?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Hoisting Noah up, I snuggled him in closer on my hip, kissed his downy head. “He’s four months old. I don’t think he’ll be cursing for few months yet.” I walked to the door, purposely placed my free palm on the door handle. “You need to leave, Curtis.”