"Then let us marry," he murmurs against my fingers.
11
LUCY
I'm in a daze as the registrar finishes the rest of the bastardized ceremony. Rektar holds my hands and we sign off on official paperwork, where he adds my name to his assets and designates me as his spouse in every record possible. I know from my experience that most mesakkah are very loose with mating unless someone's at the head of an important house and has to produce an heir, so this is a high compliment. Rektar could have just declared himself as my mate and that would have been it. Instead, he's ensuring that everyone knows he's mine and I'm his.
It feels like a dream.
It feels even more like a dream when we return to the custodial office so he can speak with Khex. There, I learn that the guy that was showing up on my property? He's already in custody and about to be shipped off to a prison planet. There was no need for Rektar to marry me. He just…wanted to. Maybe I should be upset that he didn't tell me that my stalker was taken care of before we got married, but all I can think about is that he wanted to be with me enough that he went ahead with things even when he didn't have to.
And when Khex mentions that Rektar basically told Khex that he couldn't have me? I'm practically beside myself with pleasure.
Rektar swaps schedules with Khex, and now he's going to be off of work for two days to celebrate our marriage. Khex waves goodbye with a smirk on his face as we get back into my air-sled and drive to my farm. I glance over at my new husband as I drive, and he's staring at me with such a hungry, avid gaze that I nearly lose control of the sled.
He's quiet as we make it back to my place, and I park the sled in front of the house. It looks just as I left it a few hours ago and yet…everything feels different. I head inside, and…then I'm at a loss of what to do with myself. A quick glance out the window shows that it's still early, the bots moving through the field, watering and weeding. There's plenty of day left, and it feels strange to throw myself into chores or clean house.
It's my damn wedding day and I don't know what to do with myself.
I turn and look at Rektar. He's just inside, standing near the door and looking equally as flummoxed as me. I glance around, and when I look at my kitchen, I get an idea. "I'm going to bake a wedding cake for us," I tell Rektar. "Why don't you sit down and make yourself comfortable?"
He heads for the table and seats himself at one of my tiny chairs. "Humans have a cake on their wedding day?"
"Oh yeah." I smile at the thought. "Most of the time they're big, white frosted cakes with lots of layers. I don't think I can do that, but I can put together a little something for us."
"What other human traditions are there for a marriage?"
I dig under the counter and pull out my single round pan that will serve as my cake pan. "Oh, well, there's carrying the bride over the threshold of the house. Jumping a broom. A bouquet—" I let out a squeak of terror as I'm hauled into the air. "Rektar?"
"You should have mentioned the threshold tradition earlier. I would like to honor your views." With his arms locked around my waist, Rektar carries me back out to the front of the house and down the step and then sets me down. "Do I carry you any particular way?"
I pause. I know I'm heavier than a lot of women, but he didn't seem to have trouble carrying me, and I might as well go for the fairy tale. "It's actually called a bridal carry," I say, a little breathless with excitement. "You put one arm behind my knees and the other behind my back and carry me in like that."
He nods and in the next moment, I'm swept off my feet and into his arms. He straightens, looking over at me. "Like so?"
I put my arms around his neck. "Exactly like so." And I beam at him, because this has always been a fantasy of mine. Every girl dreams of being carried over her threshold, even us curvy girls.
Rektar carries me up the step and back into the house. Our gazes meet again, and he gives me another hungry, possessive look. "What next?"
"I'm afraid that's all there is to it." Though now that I've gotten to experience it, I wish there was a hell of a lot more. And when he sets me down gently on the floor again, as if I'm made of fragile glass, I curse myself for not making something up on the fly. That he has to carry me right to bed and make love to me in that moment.