Married to Krampus - Marina Simcoe Page 0,6

expectant silence hanging over us. “I’ll be fine,” I repeated the same thing I’d been telling myself since last night.

“Your first follow-up interview with the Committee is a week from now,” Alcus Hecear reminded.

I nodded silently.

“Call me tomorrow morning.” Nancy lowered her head, casting a warning glance the Colonel’s way. “Or any other time you need to talk.”

I nodded again before the Colonel whisked me away, dragging me to the exit.

Surely, it would be safe to spend a night in the house of my potential husband? Or future employer?

When did it all get so confusing again? It seemed so much clearer just this morning.

Anyway, what was the worst that could happen?

“VORAN IS A BEAUTIFUL city,” I said tentatively, sitting next to the Colonel in the two-person aircraft.

He grunted something in response, indistinct to my ear or my translator implant.

I clasped my hands tighter around the handles of the purse in my lap and stared straight ahead.

My mind wasn’t really processing the sights of the cityscape that floated past the glass of the aircraft. As we flew above the tallest buildings, the view of the city wasn’t much different from what I’d seen in the pictures and videos of Voran—a sprawling cluster of tall buildings topped with rounded glass contraptions. From this distance, the city looked like rows and circles of block towers covered in soap bubbles.

I stared at the view. However, my thoughts remained on my companion. An entire new world lay ahead of me, yet the Colonel had taken over my awareness.

He’d masterfully maneuvered the aircraft out of the parking hangar at the spaceport facility and now was steering it toward his house. At least, I assumed that was where we were going. The Colonel had said nothing about our destination. In fact, ever since he’d dragged me out of the glass dome at the spaceport, he hadn’t said a word, replying to all my questions with monosyllables, grunts or nothing at all.

Giving up on small talk for the time being, I slid my gaze sideways, to study the man whose home would be mine, at least for the next year.

One hand on the control panel, the other placed casually on his thigh, his posture seemed relaxed. Obviously, the Colonel wasn’t sharing my feelings of awkward tension.

I stared at his hand for a moment. Charcoal-gray fur covered his dark skin. Black claws tipped his fingers. The image of him tearing apart the living thing in the video flashed through my mind again. Thankfully, his claws were shorter and appeared blunt, as if they’d been filed down.

Compared to the flamboyant clothes of the civilian Voranians I’d met at the spaceport, the Colonel’s gray uniform looked dull and modest. Its only embellishment was the ornate epaulettes on his wide shoulders and the red-and-gold trim on the sleeves and collar.

After a few moments of the long, unnerving silence between us, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“You must have talented artisans in Voran,” I said the first thing that entered my mind. “I love the exquisite clothes of Voranians.”

I admired the elaborate needlework of the trim edging his sleeve. He followed my gaze, staring at his sleeve for a moment as if seeing it for the first time.

“I guess so.” He shrugged.

Well, that was finally a proper reply from him—three whole words.

“Do you know if this was done by hand?” I continued, encouraged by his talking. “Or do you have machines that do this?”

“The clothes?” He tossed an incredulous glance my way, looking genuinely shocked that I would ask him anything about textiles.

“Well, the clothes and the trim...” I wished I could just shut up, but he made me nervous. The more out of balance I felt, the stronger my urge to blabber grew. “All of this. Who embroidered this?” I waved my hand over his arm.

“I have no idea.” He frowned, raking his fingers through his beard. “Is it something you absolutely need to know?”

“Oh no.” I shook my head. “It’s not important. I’m just curious.”

“Why?” He stared at me.

“Um...” Being put on the spot like that, I couldn’t come up with anything other than the truth. “You see, I’m just trying to make small talk here.”

He grimaced as if I’d just fed him something sour.

“Small talk?”

“Right.” I exhaled a shuddered breath, feeling sweat gather in my armpits. Would he be able to smell it? Did Voranians have a sense of smell superior to humans? I couldn’t remember.

“‘Small talk’ translates as ‘useless blather’,” he said, flatly. “Why would you waste any time on