Chapter Eleven

Krogan broke a promise.

Upon taking office, he'd vowed to never use the power of his position for personal gain.

But when he learned that the officiant was booked up the next day and couldn't marry them, he used his name to secure another 4 p.m. appointment. They could have waited for the next available slot, but he felt an urgency to seal their union before Hope changed her mind. More laughable than tragic, yesterday's mishap had been a comedy of errors, but he'd never forget the punch in the heart he'd experienced thinking she had decided against marrying him.

Determined to do right by her, this time he picked her up.

His staff gaped in surprise when he breezed out of the office at 3 p.m. and told them he wouldn't be returning. Tied up with important work matters, Vorgol couldn't accompany him, but Krogan didn't need a buffer anymore. He rather preferred the intimacy of getting married alone—except for the much-needed officiant, of course. That's what a marriage was anyway—a partnership of two.

He vapped to the penthouse. Seated on the sofa, dressed and ready to leave, Hope sprang to her feet. "You're early."

Against the stark whiteness of his apartment, she stood like a work of art, but no blue sky or sunrise or sunset had ever been as pretty as she was. Attired in a dress that fit, she looked more stunning, elegant. Far too good for him. The stunning blue-green satin-and-lace dress reminded him of the deep, serene lakes in the countryside he rarely got a chance to visit anymore. Lace sleeves graced her slender arms, and the formfitting bodice accentuated delicate curves, while the satiny full skirt caressed her legs. However stunning the dress, it paled in comparison to her natural beauty.

Hints of pink tinted her flawless complexion and soft mouth. Needing no adornment, glossy dark tresses fell below her shoulders. Vulnerable brown eyes, flickering with uncertainty, looked up at him. "Too much? I know this is just a civil ceremony for a pretend marriage, but the clothes you helped me order came today—much faster than I expected—and I got a little carried away. "

She spoke the truth about their arrangement, but the words filled him with guilt. She deserved more than a pretend marriage . She deserved the real thing with a man who loved her.

"Not too much. You're perfect." He remembered her reaction when the floor turned transparent beneath her feet. That was how he felt now—like he could fall and should grab something quick and hang on. "Let me change, and we can leave."

After a quick fresh-up in the bath, he donned a formal tunic, the deep-navy fabric woven with silver strands. Silver braid ran down the outside legs of the accompanying navy slacks.

The gliteri at his hairline and across his chest tingled and sparkled. Fortunately, his clothing covered most of it. He was usually much better at controlling his emotions.

Back in the living room, he offered a suggestion. "We still have plenty of time, and I don't anticipate any mishaps, so, maybe you'd like to stop at the flower market on the way and pick up a bouquet to go with your dress?" The other human brides had carried flowers. He couldn't give her love or a lasting relationship, but he could at least give her flowers.

"I'd like that." Her eyes lit up .

"Let's go, then."

Outside the vaporator, he stopped. "We're going to the Cozi 2 Marketplace. I'm going to let you vap us over for practice. So you'll learn."

"I need the practice," she agreed.

He explained how to release her targeted thoughts at the right moment.

They boarded. He signaled her. Two seconds later, the vaporator opened.

"Is this right? This is where I landed the last time!" She widened her eyes as he nudged her onto the walkway. "The big market around the corner to the right, that's the Cozi 2 Marketplace?"

"Yes. This is the closest location to the flower market."

"I did it! I got us to the right place!"

"You did." He smiled at her delight. He pointed down the street at a sleek, mirrored cloudtopper disappearing into the clouds. The street-level floors were constructed of solid stone, but the rest of the building was reflective glass. "That's our building."

"I could have walked there from here," she said.

"Yes, you were close. When we return, remind me to show you the ascension risers, in case you ever need to foot it to the apartment. But I can't imagine you will." However, better safe than sorry. It hadn't occurred to him she'd have trouble vapping to the officiant.

"I'd hate to have to climb two and a half kilometers of stairs." She had a sweet laugh.

Strolling the walkway toward the market, it seemed natural to take her hand. The workday hadn't closed for everyone yet, but quite a few men already ambled along. Once again, he was struck by the tragic scarcity of women. The only females to be seen were schoolchildren and elderly matrons.

"Stay close. I'd hate to lose you." His heart gave a funny hitch.

"How can you lose the sole human female among all these big blue men?"

"One of these tall blue men might decide to claim you as his bride," he teased.

"They would do that? They'd kidnap me?"

Warmth suffused him as she sought his protection, gripping his hand tighter and moving closer, but he would never deliberately scare her. "No! No. I was joking," he reassured her. "You are safe here. No one will accost you."

"Some of the drifters I saw yesterday on the street looked scary. Aimless. "

"They are…shell-shocked, grieving." The despair etched on so many faces tore at him. That was the price of love. Pain. Fortunately, he'd been spared that experience. "They have lost wives, mothers, sisters, daughters. The others don't know if their ailing loved ones will survive. Every single person alive has been touched by this tragedy." The entire population existed in a state of mourning.

"I didn't think of that." She scrutinized the men they passed. "I see that now. It's tragic."

At the market entrance, a large booth displayed vibrant, showy blooms from all over the planet, from the most common variety to the rarest and most exotic. Hope wouldn't know, of course, but the booth was a fraction of its former size. Many flower vendors had gone out of business altogether. Women were the primary drivers of flower sales, either as purchasers or recipients. With so many women gone or in stasis, flower sales had plummeted.

This one had managed to hang on due, in large part, to the lower overhead of the cozi.

"Good afternoon, Governor-General," the vendor greeted him. Besides his public position, Krogan was a regular customer, buying flowers every week for the penthouse lobby. "What can I help you with today? "

"We would like some flowers in an arrangement small enough that it can be carried by hand."

The vendor nodded. "There's been a small surge in requests for those since yesterday." He sounded perplexed.

"We are getting married this afternoon," he said with a surge of pride.

"It's traditional for human brides to carry flowers when they get married," she explained.

"Congratulations to you! Let me show you what we have," the vendor said.

He pointed out some of the rarer flowers, but she chose three common varieties in pale blue. "You can get those anywhere," Krogan said. "Wouldn't you prefer something more exotic?"

"They're all exotic to me," she replied.

The vendor mixed in some white field flowers and tied a ribbon around the stems.

"Perfect," she exclaimed. "Do we have time to stop at the bakery booth?" she asked after he'd paid the flower vendor. She clutched the bouquet in her left hand.

"You wish to buy baked goods now?"

"Larth would enjoy meeting you. He's the man who brought me home last night. "

They still had thirty minutes before the appointed time, and it would only take seconds to vap. He recalled the uncomfortable burning in his gut when the baker had brought her home. He hadn't realized until later the feeling had been jealousy. Overwhelmed by the slew of emotions—relief, residual fear, jealousy, and anger—he'd snapped at her and made her cry.

He owed the baker a debt of gratitude for his assistance, but animosity lingered. Larth had helped Hope; Krogan had failed her. "All right," he agreed reluctantly.

"Hope Bennett! Governor-General!" The aproned man recognized him at once and bounded out of the bakery booth "It's an honor to meet you."

"I wish to thank you for assisting my wife yesterday," he said in a stilted voice.

"It was my pleasure. Anyone else would have done the same."

Not true. Hope had relayed how others had given her terse, cursory answers. They hadn't done what Larth had—taken the time and effort to personally vap her home.

"I would hope that if my wife needed help, she could rely on any Caradonian for assistance," Larth said .

"I'm sorry about your wife." He recalled Hope had said the baker's wife was in stasis.

"It is better than the alternative. You gave her a fighting chance. If you hadn't secured the pods, she would have died." He swept his arm out to encompass his booth. "If not for the cozi, we wouldn't have the bakery. She wouldn't have the bakery. This was her idea, her dream. We owe you so much, Governor-General. I can't thank you enough."

How could he still dislike someone effusive in his gratitude, who'd gone out of his way to help Hope, whose own wife was ailing, and who was, by word and deed, a genuinely kind man? It didn't make sense.

Fortunately, the schooled politician in him enabled him to formulate a suitable response. "I wish I could do more for everyone. I am trying." He omitted mention of the treatment trials to avoid raising false hopes. The first iteration had failed. "Anyway, thank you again for assisting Hope. I'm afraid we must be off. We can't be late for our own wedding."

"Goodness, no! Congratulations."

Around them, conversation buzzed as vendors and customers recognized him. Normally, he would stop and speak to them all, but not today. They'd never get out on time. Grabbing her arm, he rushed her out of the market.

* * * *

"A marriage is a binding partnership between two consenting parties…" As the officiant launched into the ceremony in an unromantic deadpan, Hope's knees shook. With cold fingers, she clutched her bridal bouquet like a lifeline. This is it. It's finally happening. No backing out now.

Equal parts relief and sadness engulfed her. Gleezer couldn't reach her, and Krogan had turned out to be nicer than the first impression had led her to believe, but this perfunctory, impersonal wedding fell way short of her secret dreams. She told herself this wasn't the end; the situation was temporary. It wasn't like she'd never have a chance to marry for love, but it felt like it. Like most little girls, she'd fantasized about a romantic fairy-tale wedding to a courageous, handsome prince who loved her more than life itself.

Then again, what could be more storybook than marrying an alien from another planet? And he was governor-general. That was close to princelike. He'd proved his mettle by accepting responsibility for fixing the planet's problems. Nor could she imagine anyone more handsome than her tall, commanding groom with his angular, masculine features, piercing eyes, and long dark-blue hair swept off his forehead marked by a silvery sigil.

Fairy-tale wedding, courageous, handsome prince—I guess the only part I'm not getting is love.

She snuck a glance at him. The markings along his hairline were especially noticeable right now, looking like jewelry against his smoke-blue complexion. The band of silvery scales had spread down his temples, nearly to his jaw. She narrowed her eyes. Odd.

"With full knowledge of the mutual obligation to…"

She tried to pay attention to the words coming out of the officiant's mouth. One should listen to the vows, shouldn't she? The wedding might not be what she'd hoped for, but it would be legally binding. For a year anyway. Until he no longer needs me to help promote Cosmic Mates.

At the jab of pain, she corrected her thoughts. We both intend this to be temporary. I wouldn't be marrying him if there wasn't an escape clause.

"Agree to accept limits on personal autonomy to support the needs of the other party…"

She smoothed a cold, shaking hand down the skirt of her new dress. A princess dress. She'd never worn anything so pretty in her entire life. As soon as she'd seen it, she'd envisioned herself wearing it to the wedding. She didn't expect to get it in time, but Don Juan assured her she would. It seemed frivolous to buy an outfit to wear once, but maybe there would be other occasions? The dress had been her sole splurge. The other clothes she'd ordered were multifunctional and utilitarian.

Krogan had given her carte blanche to get what she needed, but she had no intention of taking advantage of his generosity. With Don Juan's help, she'd found some suitable everyday garments in a women's shop on the planet's HyperSphere, and the android had scanned her to determine her size.

"Shared responsibility…mutual interdependence…" The monotone could have put her to sleep, except she was too wired.

Krogan surprised her by reaching out and taking her free hand, engulfing her cold fingers in his warm palm. She clung to his hand, feeling her nervousness ease a tad.

They'd started off on the wrong foot, but he'd gone above and beyond to compensate, demonstrating that when he made a mistake, he didn't double-down; he corrected it. He didn't love her, would never love her, but she couldn't fault his courtesy or kindness. After talking with Larth—and having observed firsthand the effects of the nano-virus—she'd gotten a much better idea of the incredible responsibility Krogan shouldered. But, for their wedding, he'd left the office early, picked her up, and took her to the flower mart to get a bouquet. He'd taught her how to use the vaporator so she wouldn't get lost again. He'd seen she needed clothing and immediately rectified the situation.

If forced to marry someone out of necessity, she could do far worse than him.

"Do you, Hope Bennett, agree to enter into a legal union with Krogan as your husband for the term of one year to be extended indefinitely should you both concur?"

The sound of her name jolted her out of her reverie. "I do," she said.

"Do you, Krogan, agree to enter into a legal union with Hope Bennett as your wife for the term of one year to be extended indefinitely should you both concur?"

"I do." His voice sounded sure and strong.

"As an officiant of Caradonia, I proclaim you legally bound in matrimony in accordance with the aforementioned provisions," he announced in his deadpan.

Several silent seconds passed before reality hit. That's it? We're married? That was…anticlimactic.

She harbored no romantic illusions, and it was a civil ceremony, but considering the critical purpose of Cosmic Mates, the officiant could have put a little heart into the ceremony. For all the animation he'd mustered, he could have been reciting zoning regulations. Or maybe she wasn't being fair. Perhaps he'd done the best he could with the legalistic language.

Krogan squeezed her hand and released it. She held her breath. Is he going to kiss me? She looked up at him nervously. Her heart pounded. He gazed at her, with an expression almost like bemusement. The markings on his forehead sparkled.

The assistant scurried forward. "Sign here." He shoved a tech-tab-like device at Krogan.

Her new husband scrawled his name then passed the device to her. She signed. The officiant added his autograph, and then the assistant stowed the device in a drawer.

The officiant and his assistant stared at them .

"We won't take any more of your time," Krogan said. "Thank you again for keeping the office open for me."

"Of course, Governor-General."

Krogan settled his hand on the small of her back, and they exited the office.

Hope bit her lip. "Are all Caradonian wedding ceremonies so…"

"Boring and pedantic?" His mouth curved.

She blinked in surprise, and then they both burst into laughter. Krogan had a rich, warm masculine laugh.

They'd just sobered when the officials emerged from their office and scurried away as if they couldn't leave fast enough.

There go two people who love their jobs. Not.

She looked at Krogan, and they cracked up all over again.