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.
Chapter Seven
Married.Karma lay beside her sleepinghusband. After a pleasant afternoon, they’d beeninvitedto a post-wedding late-night dinner with the king and queen.Invitationbeing a euphemism for edict. Although she and Falkor had made their peace, she remained a tad resentful over the forced wedding, and tension lingered after they were free to escape to their suite. Fortunately, they retired to bed shortly thereafter, and Falkor had fallen asleep almost immediately.
Wide awake, her brain continued processing the twist of fate resulting in her marrying an alien prince. A shotgun wedding had never been part of her plan. Of course, she didn’t have a plan other than getting her shit together and figuring out why all her relationships ended in disaster.
The skylight emitted a stream of moonlight highlighting Falkor’s face, relaxed and handsome in repose. The man was drop-dead gorgeous. And when he wasn’t being an ass, he was quite charming. And accomplished. The fact he owned a secret business had impressed the hell out of her.
Which meant she needed to be extra careful to guard her heart. She could like him, live with him, but she couldn’t love him. Falling for him would be disastrous. The man had left broken hearts scattered across Kaldor. Before the shotgun marriage, she’d logged onto the HyperSphere with her multipurpose device and read the celebrity gossip about him. Prince of Scandal? The Heartbreak Prince would have been an appropriate moniker, too. No wonder the KCN reporter had assumed she and Falkor were involved.
Probably many reports of his escapades were overblown, but if half of them had some validity, he posed a bad risk. She also had a string of broken relationships in her past, but, more often than not, the men had dumped her. Every woman desired to be with a prince; Karma was the woman men ran from.
Their truce had surprised her, but that’s all it was—a stay of hostility for the sake of peace. They were making nice with each other. He’s the most sought-after bachelor in all of Kaldor—well, not since the wedding—but he’d never be interested in settling down to an ordinary life.Princes didn’t settle for anything—certainly not for a slightly weird woman of an alien race.
Kismet and Jaryk were the exceptions proving the rule. Lightning did not strike the same place twice.
Clichéd much?
I’m a walking cliché.Despite her mystical leanings, she desired an ordinary life—marriage to a man who loved her, a couple of children, a home, family, and friends. A dog. She’d seen no dogs on the planet.
The annulment and departure from Kaldor would be heart-wrenching. She would miss her twin, and she had a horrible feeling she would miss Falkor, too. But she couldn’t stay after the marriage ended.
She studied his handsome face. He had the softest lips. She recalled the incredible wedding kiss with a flush of heat and jealousy.Of course, he’s a good kisser; he’s had lots of practice.The ease with which he’d done it showed how little it meant to him. A kiss was just a kiss.
Not to her. A kiss was personal, intimate. She didn’t kiss on the first date. It was old-fashioned, but that was the way she was. Nor did she sleep with a man unless they seemed to be heading toward a long-term relationship. But when she headed toward monogamy, the man headed for the exit.
Just as Falkor would have done if Cosmic Mates hadn’t locked them in for a year.
Well, we will both be exiting this time.
* * * *
Never cheerful in the morning, she awakened grumpy and headachy. She was both relieved and annoyed to see Falkor’s side of the bed vacant. She rolled to her feet and donned the robe she’d draped across the foot of the bed. After using the bathroom, she shuffled into the main room.
Wearing an electric-blue dressing gown, Falkor was reading his tablet. Aromatic steam wafted up from a pot on a rolling tray next to his chair. He looked up. “Good morning!” he said cheerfully.
“It’s morning,” she muttered.
“Ah, you’re one of those.”
“One of those what?”
“People who wake up grumpy.”
“Pointing that out won’t make me any more cheerful.” She wasn’t a morning person under any circumstances, but lingering emotions that had kept her up half the night contributed to her less-than-cheery outlook.
Unoffended, he grinned. She scowled. His smile widened.
“Just give me the antidote and don’t talk to me,” she barked.
