Chapter 27

Ellax

" G reetings." I halted my human bride before the circle of my peers, dipping my chin in salutation. Although technically I outranked the collective group, due to my position as Lead Advisor in the Interstellar Coalition, it behooved me to remain in the good graces of my fellow Council members.

"Overlord Pendorgrin." That was Sirena, a spokesperson for the collective group. Her golden eyes flashed sharply as she studied first me then my new human bride. "The Council wishes to offer our congratulations on your…marriage."

The last word nearly dripped with disdain. Did Sirena disapprove of the union, despite the Council's decision? Perhaps she'd been against Lorelai and I remaining married, but had been overridden in her vote. I tucked away a mental note, in case it would be handy later.

"I thank you, Sirena," I said. "May I present to the Council my wife…" I withdrew her pale hand from my elbow, tugging her forward to stand on her own. "Lorelai Pendorgrin from the Citadel on Earth."

"Greetings." She faked a smile. I could see the tightness around her eyes. Nevertheless, smile she did, as well as copied our salutation. "Thank you for coming to greet us. I'm pleased to meet all of you."

"Welcome to Asterion." This from Overlord Grignus, one of Council's senior members. The fact that he had come to welcome us—or to inspect us—spoke volumes. "We have a transport awaiting," Grignus went on. "You will please accompany us to the city's meeting hall."

"Of course," I replied, touching my hand to my wife's back to signal she should follow the delegation.

"We will?" she whispered once the other Overlords had moved a few paces away. "You didn't tell me we had to go to your hall and meet all of them."

"I doubt we will meet all of them," I answered quietly. "Some are likely abroad, and some will be caught up in other matters."

"Yeah, that makes me feel so much better," she practically hissed, reminding me of an angry feline. "You could've warned me."

I nearly ground my teeth in frustration. "I did not know either, Lorelai. If I had my way, I would be taking you to my home, having our contract witnessed by a mecha, then laying you down in my bed, where I would most certainly be joining you."

Her eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline at that remark. I had said it to shock her and take her mind off her current predicament. I felt satisfaction when my plan succeeded. Her mouth opened and closed, but then we were at the transport and she was forced to turn from me and climb aboard. Seeing as I was the final one to board, I took the opportunity to offer her backside a subtle—yet very firm—smack.

She gasped, freezing in the doorway of the transport. I leaned over her, over her backside, allowing myself a moment to relish the feel of her body against mine.

"Do you need assistance?" I smirked.

She turned her head to offer me a glare. "Not from you," she muttered through clenched teeth. "Hands off until that pact is legal."

"Ellax, is everything well?" Grignus leaned around his fellow delegation members to inquire.

" Very well," I said, as my human wife finished climbing aboard. I followed, finding a seat beside her. The door shut, the transport hummed to life, and we were off.

***

The ride was a short one. Smooth. Uneventful. My peers cast silent, appraising looks at the human female next to me. I could not determine whether they were measuring her up or questioning why I had married her.

I had no answer for that, except lyven. Possibly loneliness. Or temporary insanity.

Regardless, she maintained her composure, her hands clasped in her lap. She didn't attempt conversation. If a remark was addressed to her, she answered. I hoped she would be able to sustain her calm throughout the impending meeting. I'd a feeling she would need it.

The transport pulled to a gentle, humming stop before the massive meeting hall. Of all the buildings in Korith, this one, although not the tallest, was the grandest, the most austere, the sturdiest and firmest. It carried the weight of our planet's decisions, laws, rules, and regulations. More than that, it carried the weight of our interplanetary decisions, as well. What happened here, in the meeting hall, affected not only our lives, but the lives of our colonies on other planets, such as Earth.

I think my human wife was cognizant of this. I watched her face as she stepped out of the transport. Her features were tight, calm. Her gaze roved over the structure before her. Its pillars of white marble sustained balconies from which Council members could address, via loudspeaker systems, crowds that gathered in the courtyard for important announcements, holidays, or ceremonies. The building's golden top was carved in delicate scrollwork, almost too intricate to be real, reflecting the Asterion love of beauty. At the center, above a round window that allowed light from our twin suns to flood inside and dance in the very heart of the hall itself, were seven great jewels mined from our mountains, representing the jewels we wore in our ears for beauty and status.

I saw my human wife's throat constrict as she swallowed. Her skin was extra pale. Her jaw was set. Her face screamed determination.

Alongside my raw attraction to her body, a fierce attraction to her courage and steadfastness was taking root. I needn't have feared she would run in shock or panic, burst into tears or hysterics, or wilt like a wildflower in the summer heat. No, she was going to face our mistake and its ramifications head on, comporting herself with the dignity of a Council member.

More dignified than some , I thought, briefly recalling several instances where fellow Council members had imbibed too much at parties or gatherings and made fools of themselves.

Those kinds of secrets we kept well away from the common Asterions and to ourselves.

Perhaps our foolishness could not remain a secret, and perhaps we would now face the outcome of our silly decision, but we would face it together. I was prepared to reach for her arm, put it through mine, and walk in with her by my side. Instead, she stopped walking, glanced back at me, and stretched out her hand.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

Instantly, I caught her fingers, enfolding them in mine. They were cold, which gave me the opportunity to warm them.

"I am with you," I promised.

For a split-second, I saw the panic in her eyes. It was hastily chased away by the tremulous smile on her lips. She said nothing, but allowed her hand to be clasped in my fingers as we walked into the meeting hall together. Little did she know how that one act—voluntarily reaching out to me for comfort, for security—had cracked something deep within my chest. It felt like a fissure splitting open, widening. What spilled out was…

I couldn't name it.

But I knew it was something protective and overwhelming that rushed through my body as I walked with her into the Asterion meeting hall to face my peers.