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TASHA

Istared at the blank screen in my office, wiping my damp palms on my pants every time another thirty seconds passed and no call came through.

I was nervous.

Anxious, even.

It had been more than three months since I’d seen the three human women I sent off to marry Zabrian ranchers in the new human-Zabrian interplanetary bridal program. Almost four months, actually, since I’d seen Cherry. She left Elora Station early without telling anyone instead of waiting for the official transport. It was time to find out how the first months of their marriages had gone.

Though I only got to know Cherry, Magnolia, and Darcy very briefly during their orientation here on the station, I still felt largely responsible for them. I was their touchpoint. Their human-Zabrian liaison. The one who’d single-handedly organized huge chunks of this program in the first place.

I needed to know that they were healthy, happy, and thriving in their new lives.

I needed to know that I’d done a good job.

Hence the sweaty palms.

I jiggled my feet, bouncing my knees beneath my hands as I frowned at my screen. We were supposed to be having a check-in call today. Maybe there were tech issues on the other end. Or maybe something was seriously wrong. My heart went sideways in my chest as I imagined all the scenarios that might involve the human brides being unable to contact me when they were supposed to. Illness, injury, a hostage situation –

“Hello?”

I nearly fell out of my chair when the word clattered into my small office. A moment later, two sets of human eyes – one blue, one green – filled my screen.

“Hello!” I squeaked, righting myself and scooting my chair closer. I cleared my throat, trying to maintain a professional tone. “Hello. Cherry? Darcy?”

“Yes!” said Cherry, pulling back a little bit so that more of her face was visible. “We can see you and hear you.”

“Excellent!” I replied, smiling and breathing a small sigh of relief now that I could see that they were obviously alive and not chained up in a basement somewhere. Although… “Where’s Magnolia?”

“Oaken’s property is too far to come all the way to the warden’s office just for the call,” Darcy explained. “But she should be able to use Oaken’s tablet and join in the call that way. Hopefully you’ll be able to get her signal. The warden said that as long as she can connect to our call locally, then his tower can boost the signal from here and you’ll see her, too.”

“The warden. That’s Warden Tenn?” I asked. Good lord, my voice was still all over the place. It didn’t help when I remembered the warden’s stern, hard, and undeniably good-looking face when I’d conversed with him months ago while setting up the first phases of the bride program.

“Yes,” came the rocky rumble of a male, alien voice from somewhere out of sight. A heat crept into my cheeks, but I kept my face poised. A mask of pleasant professionalism.

Darcy and Cherry seemed to be satisfied with the place they’d set up whichever comms tablet they were using for this call. They stepped away, leaving it up on a table or a shelf that allowed me to see them, as well as a sparsely furnished room with wooden floors, bare walls, and big, rectangular windows. The warden’s office. Quite a contrast to my own office here on Elora Station, which was brightly-lit but windowless, all the surfaces shaped with the impersonal polish of metal and plastic.

“Well. It’s lovely to see you both,” I told Cherry and Darcy. “I’m so glad we could have this little chat. As you know, it’s been more than three months since your arrival on Zabria Prinar One, and I wanted to-”

A loud, jovial voice drowned mine out.

“We have given the shuldu water. Ah! Has it already begun?”

Two big Zabrian bodies – one golden, one orange, both shirtless – appeared on the scene. This was the first time I’d ever seen a Zabrian from the shoulders down. Warden Tenn, in previous communications, had been seated at a desk, with only his sternly handsome face, long white hair, and hat in view.

A shirtless Zabrian, it turned out, was quite the sight to behold.

The male with the sunset-orange hide lunged into the centre of the room, taking over most of my screen with all the various curves and bulges of his shoulders, abdomen, and pecs. He stepped closer, and soon the pecs were all I could see.

I was completely blinded by the man’s boobs.

Professional, Tasha! You’re a professional!

“Um, excuse me,” I said with what I hoped was a convincing tone of authority, “I can’t really see-”

“Oh! Of course!” He bent at the waist until his face was level with the tablet’s camera, giving me a clear view of high cheekbones; a sharp jaw; and warm, dark eyes, with paler brown bolts in the centres. “Hello, Tasha! I am Fallon!”