Surrender (2 page)

He loved the soft skin and flowing hair of Earth women, and he’d bedded a few who had visited the Kall homeworld as tourists before the war broke out. Of all the species of known aliens, humans were the most similar to the Kall in both appearance and customs. Betsy Carson’s humanness didn’t bother him. Many Kall took mates from other compatible species, though most unions were for political alliances. As the son of a powerful Kall leader, Merokk was bound by duty and honor to marry the female of his father’s choosing. He’d realized long ago whatever marriage he entered would be a political union. He’d accepted that, but he’d never accepted the possibility he might have to live on a foreign planet.

According to the treaty, the Kall would gradually leave Earth over the next few years, leaving only a small military base and a handful of advisors and ambassadors behind. Merokk was one of those ambassadors. He supposed as the youngest of twelve sons, he should’ve seen this coming. He’d spent the last few years distinguishing himself in battle, but his accomplishments hadn’t earned his father’s favor enough to warrant something grander than an ambassador post on Earth. Swallowing his resentment, he turned at the sound of an opening door. It was about time.

A haggard-looking President Carson guided a young, pretty redhead across the room. He cleared his throat. “Ambassador Merokk, may I present to you my daughter, Betsy Carson.” He urged the woman forward and stepped back.

Merokk stared into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, taking note of the glimmer of fright she tried to hide behind a small, polite smile. The moment stretched on as they stared at one another, and he suddenly became annoyed they weren’t alone.

“Leave us,” he said sharply, glancing at President Carson.

Betsy’s smile vanished as she watched her father leave the room. She squared her shoulders and held Merokk’s gaze. Amusement curled his lips. Despite her brave front, the scent of her fear was a sweet cold sensation that flowed into his nostrils and caused his muscles to tense. Her distress coupled with the knowledge that she belonged to him stirred the darkest desires in the recesses of his mind, and he felt like a predator ready to pounce on his prey. He moved around her in a slow circle, taking in every curve of her body, from her shapely thighs to her firm, inviting breasts. The knee-length blue dress she wore hugged all the right places. As he finished another circle around her, he noticed the rapid rise and fall of her chest. He had to touch her.

Merokk tilted her chin upward with one finger and caught her eyes in his. He smiled and inhaled deeply, breathing in more of her intoxicating human scent. “The only time you need to fear me, Betsy, is if you’ve done wrong. Try to relax.”

Her thin brows knitted together. “I don’t even know you.”

“What do you want to know?”

She shrugged and tried to pull away, but Merokk caught her chin between his fingers, holding her in place. Her eyes darkened a shade. “I’ve been told this marriage will be in name only, that it’s one of many such political alliances formed to heal the hurt between our worlds. Am I to understand I won’t see you often after the wedding ceremony?” The optimism in her voice gnawed on Merokk’s nerves and wounded his pride simultaneously, though he’d never admit it out loud. His teeth clenched, and his hands moved to grip her shoulders.

“I will be your husband and this marriage will be whatever I want it to be. You’ll see me often, Betsy, in and out of the bedroom.”

Shock registered on her face at his last ominous statement. “But surely you prefer the company of your own kind. I would never demand you remain faithful to me. If you have a girlfriend or—”

“Enough!” He released her shoulders and put some space between them. He cursed inwardly in his own tongue. Their first meeting wasn’t going well, and his temper was partly to blame. “Our marriage will be consummated—tomorrow night. Whoever’s been educating you about the Kall obviously doesn’t know a thing. Arranged marriage or not, it’s disgraceful among my people to take another female on the side. We play around plenty before marriage—but never after.” He paused to allow this information to sink in. Some Kall males killed their mates when they became bored or displeased so they were free to pair with another, but he wasn’t about to divulge that information to her. No sense causing her undue worry. He wasn’t that cruel. “I’ve been with Earth women before, Betsy. Trust me. Our species are very compatible.”

Her shoulders sagged and she sighed. “I’m sorry. I was misinformed. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

The raw honesty in her voice tugged at his heartstrings, causing the anger to drain out of him. He gave her a sympathetic smile and moved forward, cupping her pretty face between his large hands. “I know we’re strangers, Betsy, but we will get to know each other.” His voice took on a more serious tone when he added, “I will expect you to obey me and respect my decisions. I know before the war you led a somewhat wild and indulgent life, but your behavior reflects on me. I won’t tolerate mischief or disobedience in any form. Starting now. Do you understand?” He arched an eyebrow, waiting for her response.

Her eyes flashed obstinately, and she said, “Yes, sir,” through clenched teeth. The thick sarcasm in her voice caused his initial anger to resurface and pushed him over the edge. Here he was trying to make things easier by explaining the rules of their marriage, only for her to challenge his authority with a poor attitude. He leaned closer, their noses almost touching.

“You will apologize for that or you’ll feel my hand applied to your bare bottom.”

She gasped and the fire in her eyes dimmed, to be replaced by a mixture of anxiety and confusion. “I’m sorry,” she said, avoiding his gaze as she spoke.

“Not good enough. I want a proper apology.”

“I—I’m not sure what you mean. I said I was sorry.” Her eyes danced desperately around the room, as if she searched for an escape.

“Get on your knees, little one.” He stepped back and watched the disbelief play across her face. She would have to learn, one way or the other, to be a good wife. As her husband, it was his job to guide her with a loving but firm hand.

“Okay,” she finally whispered, sinking to her knees. She lowered her head and was silent for a long moment before her apology took Merokk by surprise. “I’m truly sorry I offended you, and I’m sorry for my bad manners.”

Merokk lifted her chin up, holding her hostage in his intense liquid gaze. “That’s better,” he said in a deep, raspy voice. This interchange between them had caused his pulse to race and his cock to harden painfully against his pants. He observed the uncertainty and fear in her expression, along with an emotion he hadn’t expected—hopefulness.

He lifted her up gently and rested his hands on her shoulders. A tentative smile raised her lips. Merokk couldn’t help but smile back. Not only was she beautiful, but she seemed as honest as the finest bred Kall female. Her expressive eyes revealed all, and he imagined he’d be able to read her thoughts with ease once they became better acquainted. And with their wedding hour fast approaching, that’s exactly what Merokk planned to do.

Chapter Two

Dread, and even a small amount of guilt, ate away at Fiona until her insides felt poisoned. For the past several hours, she’d walked the White House grounds attached to Merokk’s arm. Despite being a Kall warrior, he seemed like a true gentleman. A refined alien. Imagine that. He spent time speaking of his life on the Kall homeworld but glossed over the wars that had torn him away from the planet on occasion. He’d been in charge of training the units of Kall warriors in his district, and his life experience traveling to other worlds overwhelmed Fiona with a sense of inadequacy. She’d barely left New York—well, except she had. As Betsy Carson.

Betsy had led a full, galaxy-trotting life, a life Fiona was forced to pretend was her own. An aide of President Carson’s had spent hours teaching Fiona all about the First Daughter. Her head was still spinning from the history lesson. As Merokk continued to entertain her with a story about his two oldest brothers, a heavy sense of shame settled on her shoulders.

She hadn’t imagined how difficult it would be to pretend she was Betsy Carson, and the wedding was tomorrow at noon.

Marriage.

Before the war, a medicated Janie had teased her about finding a good man and settling down. Fiona’s romantic interludes had been few and far between, and none of them lasted more than a few weeks. She had perpetual cold feet. Each time she realized a relationship was growing serious, she withdrew emotionally and let it fall to ruins. Her parents had seemed blissful, in love, and her childhood had been a happy one. But when Janie’s mental illness reared its ugly head, Fiona’s father couldn’t handle the strain it put on their marriage. The man she’d thought the world of transformed into an abusive drunk. He left the year Fiona graduated from high school, and she’d angrily cut him out of her life. The degenerate asshole.

She still had no room in her heart for forgiveness. While her friends had all gone off to fancy four-year colleges, Fiona had stayed home and attended a community college instead. This allowed her to keep a close eye on her mother. Instead of becoming a doctor like she’d dreamed about her whole life, she’d gotten a medical secretary certificate and a part-time job in a nearby pediatrician’s office. It wasn’t her first job choice, but she’d enjoyed working there for seven years—until the war broke out and civilians scrambled for safety in shelters and, eventually, settlements like the one she’d spent weeks in with Janie.

The fleeting remorse she felt over deceiving Merokk was nothing compared to the grief pressing against her chest. She missed her mother terribly and still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that she’d never see her again. Saying good-bye had ripped her apart. Guilt. Grief. Denial.

Hatred.

She glanced up at Merokk. He was a Kall warrior. His hands were stained with the blood of her fellow humans, and she reminded herself no matter how charming he seemed, he was nothing but a cold-blooded killer. The Kall had technology that disabled human weapons, and they preferred brutal hand-to-hand combat. Was it a sword or a battle-ax that served as his weapon of choice as he slaughtered her people?

Black spots suddenly dotted her vision as her body and mind slipped into a dark void. I’m fainting, she thought, but didn’t feel the impact of her body hitting the ground. The last thing she heard was Merokk calling Betsy’s name, and then there was nothing.

* * *

“Betsy? Betsy, it’s time to wake up now. Betsy? Can you hear me?”

The deep, familiar voice slowly pulled Fiona out of the darkness. Her eyes fluttered open and met with bottomless black ones. Merokk gazed down at her with an intensity that rocked her to her core. He looked concerned—for her!

“W-what happened?” She attempted to rise up, but he shook his head and placed two firm hands against her shoulders, pinning her down effectively.

“You passed out. My doctor says you’ll be fine.”

His hands moved down to rest on her stomach, and his familiarity with her body sent involuntary waves of wet heat through her center. Her pulse raced as she stared up at her soon-to-be husband. He was a stranger—a Kall. How could her body so quickly desire that which her heart despised? She closed her eyes and willed the last six months to be a nightmare, but when she opened them, Merokk was still there, all dark skin and muscle. Why did he have to be so beautiful?

“Where am I?” The bed was soft and large, piled high with silky comforters and pillows. The décor in the bedroom was simple but elegant, and Fiona doubted she was in the White House. It was too modern here…too alien.

“This is my ship, the
Wannok
. I named it after my grandfather.” He leaned closer and smoothed her hair away from her face, his fingers lingering far too long. “How are you feeling, Betsy?”

Taken aback by his tenderness, she simply stared. Her thoughts traveled back hours ago to their first meeting. He’d seemed so imposing, but at the same time…fair.
You will apologize for that or you’ll feel my hand applied to your bare bottom.
His threatening words haunted her suddenly and, to her shock, sent another gush of pleasure surging between her thighs. Her traitorous body craved his touch, rough or gentle, and her throat burned as more shame welled up inside her like rising water pushing against a failing dam. It was all so confusing, so fast.

“Betsy?” He trailed a finger down her cheek, and she found herself leaning into his hand.

“I feel fine. Can I sit up?”

He nodded and helped her rise against the padded headboard. “Here. Drink this.” He pushed a mug of something warm between her hands.

“Thank you.” She took a cautious sip. Tea, sweetened with honey. She closed her eyes and drank more, reveling in the warmth that spread through her body. “I feel silly. I’ve never fainted before.” She placed the mug on a table beside her and gazed around the room. The furniture was sparse and seemed to be bolted to the floors and walls. She observed a sleek silver desk with a chair, a small table, and three doorways that led to who-knows-where. Breathtaking images of Kall homeworld landscapes were scattered throughout. Two tall windows stood on the other side of the room, but no light shined through them. Perhaps it was night already, or the windows were dimmed.

As if sensing her thoughts, Merokk touched a button beside the bed, and the windows blurred for a moment before the sun finally appeared on the horizon of the city, burning orange and pink. “It’s just after five. You weren’t out for long. Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Yes,” Fiona admitted. She was famished. The last real meal she’d enjoyed had been the lunch with her mother two days ago. Since then, she’d been too nervous to eat more than a few bites of anything. No wonder she’d passed out.

“There’s to be a feast in the White House at six, but I prefer dining on my ship. You will join me.”

As much as she wanted to run, Fiona said, “Yes, of course,” without hesitation. It was her duty to please Merokk, whether she wanted to or not. If she drew too much attention to herself, someone outside President Carson’s confidence might realize she was a fraud. And if that happened—well, she hated to imagine what horrible fate would befall her dear mother. Crooked Teeth had evaded the question when pressed. It seemed she was destined to live out her remaining days in this nightmare, losing her identity in gradual pieces. Fiona Lockhart might as well cease to exist.

“I hope you find this room comfortable, Betsy. You’ll stay here tonight. The White House is overrun with guests, and I’m afraid I don’t trust your father’s security. But don’t worry, little one, this isn’t my bedroom. I’ll leave you untouched for one more night.”

Heat seared Fiona’s cheeks, and she glanced away. Their wedding night would seal the great lie that would become her whole life. There would be no going back. Her mother’s face appeared in her mind. No, there was already no going back. Maybe if she somehow tricked herself into believing she was indeed Betsy Carson, the great lie would be an easier pill to swallow.

Merokk grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. Her body began to shake as he leveled a scorching gaze upon her. “I’ll expect you to please me tomorrow night, Betsy. A Kall husband is his wife’s lord and master. You’d do well to remember that.”

The kindness in his voice clashed with the threat behind his words, and Fiona could only nod her assent as a sense of helplessness settled upon her like bricks piled on her chest.

* * *

Merokk studied Betsy from across the table in his private dining room aboard the
Wannok
. Despite her silence and reluctance to make eye contact with him, he found he enjoyed her company. It wasn’t simply her beauty that drew him in, but something more significant he couldn’t place a finger on. Quiet. Mysterious. Honest. Shy. As lovely as a young Kall virgin. Betsy was all of those things, and she would be his alone to enjoy.

“I have a confession, little one.”

Her eyes lifted from the table. “Yes?”

“One of your father’s aides provided me with a detailed biography about you. Over a hundred pages long. I feel like I know everything about you, and yet I feel like I know nothing about you, Betsy. You’re a quiet little thing. Given your lifestyle, I expected you to be more—exuberant.”

“You can read my tongue as well as speak it?” Her eyes lit up with curiosity.

“Of course. It’s no more difficult than any other alien language I’ve had to learn.”

She chuckled, and the sweet noise of laughter rumbling lightly in her throat filled the room for one brief moment. “I barely passed my Spanish classes in high school. I can’t imagine learning another Earth language, let alone an alien tongue.”

“Spanish? I thought you took French in high school and in college—according to your biography, anyway.”

Her eyes widened and she fumbled for words. “Oh, yes, French. I did take several years of French. But before that I tried Spanish and I didn’t do so well.” She took a long sip of her tea with unsteady hands.

Shaking, again. Merokk suddenly ached to calm her fears. “You’re afraid of me.” It was a statement, not a question.

Betsy stiffened in her chair. “I’m not afraid of you,” she insisted, her tone haughty. “I’m just uncomfortable in this situation. It doesn’t seem fair. No Earth men have to marry a Kall. Only the women. It’s very one-sided.”

“A Kall female only marries the enemy if we lose the war and the enemy decrees it. It’s a sign of dishonor, but one that can be redeemed over proceeding years of peace and service.”

She smirked. “I wasn’t one of the illegal miners who killed your people. I had nothing to do with this war, yet I’m branded an enemy and forced to marry a Kall who no doubt killed thousands of my people. I suppose you’re right, it is a dishonor. The dishonor will be mine on our wedding night and on all the subsequent nights when I share your bed.”

An ominous silence descended, and Merokk, rooted to his chair, directed a murderous look at Betsy. Damn her. Was she trying to provoke him? It took all his self-control not to drag her to the bedroom for a much-deserved beating. He chose his next words carefully.

“You’re right. I’ve killed thousands of your people, and I’ve trained thousands of Kall who’ve killed thousands of your people. I should be returning home to glory and riches to take a seat on the High Council, but instead I’ll be marrying you and spending the rest of my days on Earth. Despite my dissatisfaction with the situation, I’ve resolved to make the best of it. You’d do well to do the same, Betsy, or your life will soon be miserable.”

The fire in her eyes didn’t dim. “It’s not my life anymore.” She pushed back from the table. “I’m not hungry.”

The servants chose that moment to enter the dining room with trays of food, which they quickly placed in the center of the table. When Betsy made to follow them out into the corridor, Merokk rose to his feet in an instant.

“If you leave this room, you’ll regret it.” His threat had the desired effect, and she froze with her back to him as she stood in the doorway. “Come to me, Betsy. Now.”

She spun around and stormed over to him. Unshed tears brimmed in her eyes, but she replied with malice. “I won’t bend the knee and apologize to you, Merokk. I’m not sorry for speaking the truth, and any apology you tear from my lips will be a false one. Consider that before you strike me.”

His expression softened. “I’m not going to hurt you or demand an apology from you.” He moved closer, towering over her small form like a giant. “But I do expect you to dine with me.”

The prospect of spending more time in his company must have frightened her more than physical punishment. She paled visibly and took a step back. “Very well,” she said, turning to find her seat.

Merokk caught her arm and spun her around to face him. “No. Kneel on the floor beside my chair.” When she hesitated, he breathed against her ear, “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Betsy obeyed, resting on her knees in the location he pointed to, directly beside his chair. She bowed her head, refusing to acknowledge him entirely. He smiled to himself. What he was about to do would humiliate her more than any beating, and he decided it would teach her a lesson all the same.

He filled his plate from the platters of authentic Kall cuisine, keeping one eye trained on her the whole time. Her wavy auburn hair covered most of her face, and he longed to reach out and brush the silky tendrils away. Pretending to ignore Betsy, he spooned about a dozen bites of meat, marinated vegetables, and jellied fruit into his mouth. Then he scooped up a small serving of the vegetables with the utensil and pressed it against her lips. She kept her mouth in a firm line, refusing the food. “Open,” he commanded. When she didn’t immediately comply, he drew her chin upward and pressed the spoon harder against her lips. Their eyes locked, and she succumbed to his demands, opening her mouth to receive the spoonful of food. He repeated the process until his stomach was satisfied and he judged she’d eaten her fill as well. Occasionally, he’d reach out and stroke her cheek or rub her soft, silky hair between his fingers. Her face remained an open manifestation of her conflicted emotions, with wide eyes betraying her anxiety, gratitude, and reluctant surrender.