Page 6 of Alien Spare (Cosmic Mates #9)

Falkor marched through the palace, his new wife tagging along at his side.

What had possessed him to kiss her? He couldn’t believe what he’d done. Now, he couldn’t get the feel, taste, and scent of her out of his head. Gods of Kaldor help him, he ached to do it again. Do it again and not stop. Craziness.

Nor had the kiss been one-sided. She’d responded. What did that mean?

He snuck a glance at her. He’d swear she’d gotten prettier overnight, and she’d started out quite comely. Her dress molded her curves and swirled around her shapely calves.

“Where are we going?” A subtle rose, a muted shade of her dress, colored her cheeks. Bejeweled clips pinned her brunette hair in a coil atop her head, leaving a few curls to frame her delicate face. Inquisitive, bright eyes blinked.

His attention drifted to her soft, pink lips. His lower body tightened.

She cleared her throat. “Falkor?”

“My—our suite,” he said. He hadn’t been heading any place in particular, just walking, but his stroll had led him into the family wing.

“Oh,” she said. “I guess I need to move in with you.”

“It’s pretty much expected—if we want the marriage to look real.” He veered toward his apartment.

He had no grand foyer like Jaryk, but entered into the parlor, a fairly generous room with comfortable seating facing a small hologram stage.

Instead of a formal dining room, he had an alcove with a table and seating for four next to a glass door.

He approached, and the panel slid open, allowing him to step onto the balcony. He needed some fresh air.

She followed him out and leaned on the rail. “There’s a pond!” Below, a pool nestled in a private grotto of grasses, leafy bushes, and flowers.

“When I left the nursery, I got to pick my suite. I chose this one because of the grotto.” He pointed to the flowers climbing up a trellis on the wall. “When I was an adolescent, I used to climb down and swim at night. In the nude, of course.” He’d never told anyone this before.

Her gaze shifted to the windows on the other side of the garden.

“Unoccupied rooms,” he said. “Let me give you the tour of the suite.”

They returned inside. “Behold—the parlor, library, and dining room—conveniently all-in-one. Extra bedrooms over here.” He strode toward the guest sleeping area.

She peeked into a bedroom. “There’s no furniture.”

He grinned and punched a code into a wall screen.

Panels slid back, and a huge bed rose from beneath the floor. “I invented and built this system. I tinker with electronics. There were some bugs at first. Once, I got smashed against the ceiling.”

“Oops!” She laughed and tilted her head. “It’s cool, but why put the bed under the floor?”

“To save space. It can be a sleeping room by night and a playroom by day. Or an exercise room until the guests arrive.”

She arched her brows. “Doesn’t the palace have enough rooms to avoid having to double up functions?”

“Yes, but most people live in much smaller homes.”

He stowed the bed under the floor again. “I didn’t need the extra rooms for family or guests, so I practiced on them. They share an adjoining bath.”

“Does the commode pop out of the floor?”

He laughed. “No, it’s stationery.”

“Is the other bedroom the same?”

He paused. Should he show her the rest? Contrary to rumor, he didn’t spend all his free time partying and seducing women. “Come see.”

In the other bedroom, he keyed in a code, and a massive computer system with multiple screens rose from beneath the floor.

“My workshop. I’m the founder and silent partner in a home-modification business.

” A friend served as the public face of Kaldoronics at Home, but Falkor did most of the actual work.

“This is where I tinker and come up with my ideas.” He paused.

“You’re the first person I’ve shared this information with.

” He might not have told her, except since she would live with him, she’d find out anyway.

Her eyes widened. “Why? Is it a big secret?”

He sighed. “Yes. Royals don’t work—not for remuneration, anyway.

” For even the spare to take a workaday job like a commoner would be improper and cause a greater scandal than any love affair.

Ironically, he could work his ass off for free, as Jaryk did with his volunteer work, but to toil for wages?

Over the king’s dead body. The royal mystique would be shattered if people saw them working like ordinary citizens.

Besides, it might cause people to wonder if the monarchs were mismanaging their finances and needed money.

That was the excuse his father had given when he’d broached the subject of hypothetically starting a business.

She pinched her index finger and thumb together and drew them across her mouth, and he remembered the kiss. “My lips are sealed.” She grinned. “I keep a lot of secrets. You wouldn’t believe what people tell me.”

“Like what?”

“I can’t tell you. They’re secrets.”

He laughed and closed up the workshop.

“My mother and I worked together at the Mystical Mage. We both read tarot cards, tea leaves, and runes. People would tell us about their lives, their worries, their problems. They needed somebody to listen to their troubles.”

“Everybody needs that,” he said. He wished he’d been able to share his secret with his brother, but for Jaryk’s sake, it was better to keep him ignorant. “Let me show you the master bedroom.”

“I’m guessing you don’t have a lot of guests staying with you.”

“None.”

“Servants?”

“One. A manservant. Tontu lives in the staff quarters. He’s my butler, valet, secretary—all-in-one. I call on him when I need something. Rarely do I need to summon him. Often, he just appears when I need him.”

“He has a sixth sense.” Made perfect sense to her. “So, I’m your first guest?”

“Still no. You’re not a guest. You’re my wife—and our room is over here.” He led the way to the master on the other side of the parlor.

She eyed the gigantic bed, the thick mattress resting atop a metallic frame. “Oh…uh, it’s nice. Looks…comfy.”

He chuckled. “You were expecting something a little more elaborate?”

“At least a hydraulic lift.” Her lips quirked.

“Something has to be normal to maintain my cover.” He strode to the wall, pressed on it, and doors opened to a cavernous closet, his clothes filling one side, hers, taking up no space at all, on the other.

“My stuff is moved over already!” she exclaimed.

“You need more clothes,” he said. “But I see you have already acquired a couple of Kaldoran things.”

“I kind of stole those from Kismet. We’re the same size obviously, and we can share clothes, although we rarely do because our styles are very different.” She smoothed her hands over her arms. “This dress is hers.”

“It looks lovely on you,” he said. “But you should have your own garments. I’ll have the palace tailors get to work.”

“That’s not necessary. I can make do.”

“For a year?” He shook his head. He’d often felt like an afterthought, compared to Jaryk. But his wife, even his temporary, fake one, would not take second place! Besides, he liked her style—she should have suitable clothing. “It’s the least I can do for getting you into this mess.”

“It’s not your fault,” she surprised him by saying. “You tried to do the right thing. I chose to go up to your suite. I had no idea spending the night in two separate bedrooms would cause such a scandal.”

“Scandal sticks to me,” he admitted. “I’m not saying I’m totally innocent. I’m not, but once you acquire a reputation, you can’t shake it—and everything you do is viewed through that lens.”

“I have a reputation for being weird.” A thread of hurt ran through her matter-of-fact comment.

“You’re not weird!” He didn’t know many humans, but he suspected she was unique among them. He liked how she danced to her own music. She gave no hekkels.

“Thank you, but you’re just being nice.”

His lips quirked. “Have I ever been nice to you?”

“Well, just the one time when you offered the room in your hotel suite—and we know how that worked out.”

He chuckled.

She smiled. “Look at us, being all congenial. We haven’t scowled or snapped at each other in at least ten minutes.”

“Now that’s weird,” he said.

They laughed.

“Truce?” he suggested.

“Truce.”

He pointed out the bathing chamber, and then they retreated to the main room. “That’s all there is,” he said self-consciously. No doubt she’d been expecting something grander. “My apartment is much smaller than Jaryk’s.”

“But it’s warmer and cozier. I like it better.

I don’t have to worry about getting lost. Your living area reminds me of my apartment on Earth.

It’s like a little slice of home. Our dining area was in an alcove, too—only Kismet and I didn’t have the fabulous view.

” She moved to the window overlooking the balcony.

That his humble apartment reminded her of home almost felt like a compliment. “You should feel at home here—it is your home. Would you care for some lunch? I’ll order us something.”

“I would love that. I was too nervous about the wedding to eat breakfast.”

“I was nervous, too,” he said.

“You were, why?”

“Probably for the same reasons you were—I had no control over my fate, I was marrying someone—” I didn’t wish to marry. He shut his mouth before he said the rest. He had no desire to destroy the fledgling peace by insulting her. Besides, he wasn’t sure if his aversion was true anymore.

Her eyes twinkled with humor. “I know what you mean.”

This Karma was pleasant . Not to mention exotically attractive—although she’d always been that.

Even when she’d been nasty to him, he’d still thought she was one of the most striking females he’d ever encountered.

Now he discovered they had things in common and shared some likes and dislikes.

“I’ll order the food. Do you have any preferences? ”

“No, you pick. I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve eaten. I’ve had a few things I especially liked, but without knowing the names, I can’t ask for them.”

“I’ll help you learn. I’ll tell you what stuff is. How about one of my favorite dishes to start?”

“Great.”

From a comm unit, he messaged Tontu. “It won’t take long. Let’s have a seat.”

They retired to the conversation area, making small talk for a few minutes. Then she asked, “You only have the one servant?”

“I don’t need more. Tontu considers himself underutilized as it is,” he replied, and then the realization hit him. “Oh! You need a personal maid. I’ll get you one.”

“Uh, no. I’ve been dressing myself for quite a few years now. I don’t need a maid—but if I did, as Kismet’s former handmaid , I am qualified to serve myself.” Her grin was wry, but he winced with embarrassment.

“I am sorry about the assumptions I made. Please accept my overdue apology.”

“Accepted. I owe you an apology, too. I overreacted.”

“You are very gracious.” He’d never expected to use those words in reference to her.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if we let people think we were still feuding?” She giggled.

It was exactly the sort of prank he might have once played.

“Now that would be a scandal. I can envision the KCN report now. ‘Prince Falkor and his human wife battle it out. Could they be the first divorce in Kaldoran history?’ My father would have a conniption.”

She laughed. “Force us to get married! How’s that working for you?”

His manservant rolled in a cart.

“Tontu, this is my wife Karma. This is Tontu. If you need anything, please let him know.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Tontu said. “I will serve you any way I can.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I don’t expect I’ll be calling on you for very much,” she said.

They seated themselves at the table. Tontu served the meal and then departed. Seated across from his pretty, interesting wife, he thought maybe the coming year wouldn’t be so bad after all.