Wrage (Galaxy Gladiators #11) - Alana Khan Page 0,29

No touching. No tears. No words. Not even his name.

I try to account for cultural differences. Even if the Wryth’N are the most repressed people in the galaxy, they’d be happier than this bitch is.

I look at Wrage, whose full attention is on her, as if he’s waiting for the same things.

“This is your mate?” Her nostrils flare on the last word as she tips her chin up. “I thought you’d find a nice Wryth’N female.”

This is the first thing she says after, “Come in”? Hate surges through me, lodging in my throat hot and warm like a piece of food that’s stuck. Only it’s not food that’s stuck, it’s the vile words I want to spit at her.

“This is my beautiful mate, Elyse,” he dips his head toward me as if he’s introducing his beloved queen. I like him more this instant than I ever have. “Elyse, my mother.”

“She can call me Madame,” she says formally as if this shriveled, horrid shrew is the Queen of Sheba.

“Madame,” I say pleasantly as I ignore my urge to glance at my comm, note the time, and do complicated mental mathematics to figure out how many more seconds I need to stay here before I can leave and never come back.

“You’re legally mated?” she asks as if perhaps there’s a loophole she can manipulate to get it annulled.

“Yes. On planet Paragon.”

“I thought you were on planet Trent,” she says.

His head cocks slightly, almost imperceptibly. I doubt she even noticed, but I did. There's something about her question that caught his attention.

“You knew where I was?”

“I followed the vids,” she snips with a toss of her head as if she was a beautiful young ingénue.

“And father? Is he . . .”

“Died shortly after you were taken.”

“Did you . . . did you ever try to buy me back?” he asks, his head tipped slightly as he watches her take a breath, her eyes sliding from his.

“Right after you were . . . taken and your father died, I was offered an important position in the government. I sold the house, moved to town and was consumed with my new duties. It just never seemed like the right time to conduct the search.” She spears him with a piercing look, as if daring him to confront her about the pack of lies she just told.

Search? She just said she knew where he was. And money? She lives in the fucking penthouse of the tallest building in the capital city of the planet. Something is off here. Way off.

He looks around, and I follow his gaze. This male is smart. The inconsistencies of her story have not been lost on him.

“You must be tired from your long journey,” she says flatly. “I’ll show you to your room.”

“Actually,” I say. Both heads swivel in my direction. “I’m starved. Do you have any . . . snacks?” The truth is I am hungry, famished really. But mostly I want to see more of this witch’s character. Certainly she’ll warm to him after a few more minutes.

She leads us into the kitchen. The only thing helping me maintain my sanity is Wrage’s warm hand on the small of my back. His mother opens the fridge, they call them cold boxes in space, and rummages. Although it looks full to overflowing from my vantage point, she shakes her head, closes the door, and paces to the pantry.

I can’t help but imagine what it would be like if places were reversed. If my family had a day’s notice that I was coming home after my four-year absence, there would be a stovetop full of food cooking, an oven full of baked goods baking, and various casseroles covering every flat surface. Plus balloons and flowers and possibly a ‘Welcome Home’ banner or two. Yeah, definitely at least one banner.

Wrage sits in a kitchen chair, but doesn’t pull one out for me. Instead, he tugs me onto his lap. I like the gesture. So there, mother dearest.

Madame tosses a box of crackers on the table in front of us. Not even the good kind. They’re kind of like Saltines, and look old. Like they were purchased before Wrage left.

I restrain my urge to ask if there’s any cheese in the full, spacious fridge, choosing instead to nibble on the tasteless cracker.

Every muscle in Wrage’s body is tight. The muscle in his cheek is leaping and I can hear his teeth grinding.

Her lack of interest in her son’s life, his new wife, how