A Desconian Marriage of Convenience (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

A Desconian Marriage of Convenience

Jenelle loves her life on Descon. For the first time in her life she has friends, a job she loves, and people she cares for and who care for her. Everything should be perfect.

But the unexpected arrival of thousands of refugees not only overwhelms the services set up to deal with women banished from Earth, but prompts changes in the laws as well. Unexpectedly, Jenelle finds herself needing to get married or face being expelled from yet another planet. Her married friends Jax, Tosh, and Baylen step in to protect her.

She insists their joining is a short-term marriage of convenience—she has her reasons—but the traditional mubella claiming ceremony is a chance for Jax, Tosh, and Baylen to convince Jenelle they want more than just a pretend marriage. It’s a very public, very naked, very intimate sexual performance.

But first they’re going to need lots of practice…

Genre:
Futuristic, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Science Fiction
Length:
30,661 words
 

Rachel Clark

MENAGE AMOUR

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

A DESCONIAN MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE

E-book ISBN:
978-1-62241-784-1

First E-book Publication: November 2012

Cover design by Harris Channing

All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

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Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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A Desconian Marriage of Convenience
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A DESCONIAN MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE

RACHEL CLARK

Copyright © 2012

“Jen, wake up.”

Jenelle moaned in her sleep. Somehow she understood she was dreaming, but it didn’t stop the nightmare from happening. Again and again, over and over, her mind replayed the images of that night so long ago, sometimes even worsening and expanding on what had actually happened.

“Jen, honey, wake up.”

She gripped her stomach, the remembered agony finally throwing her into wakefulness.

Gasping for air, she sat up and shuffled her bottom so that she leaned against the headboard. She rubbed her face tiredly, trying desperately to dispel the images from her head.

“Here,” a deep voice said as a glass of water was pressed into her hand. “Drink.”

She lifted it to her mouth, her hands shaking so badly that she almost wore more of the cool liquid than made it into her mouth. She spluttered slightly, her raw throat and desperate thirst making it hard to swallow.

Finally, she took a deep breath, running her free hand down her face in an effort to come back to the present. She was safe here. She was on Descon. She was surrounded by people who would protect her. She had friends, real friends, and she didn’t need to be frightened.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper to the man beside her as he took the empty glass.

“Jen,” he said as he moved to sit on the chair on the other side of the room. It was obvious that he was giving her plenty of space, making certain she didn’t feel trapped. “Please, tell me how I can help you.”

She smiled slightly and opened her eyes to look at the man who’d rescued her from her nightmares every night this week. “You are helping,” she said softly. “I just wish I could explain why the dreams are getting worse instead of better. I’ve been off Earth for nearly a year now.”

“Yet you’re still living in the compound.”

She gave him a small, halfhearted smile but didn’t elaborate. There was a very good reason she was still here. Explaining it wasn’t going to change anything.

* * * *

Tosh sat back in the chair and tried very hard to ignore his natural Desconian instinct to take the woman in his arms. He’d dealt with many traumatized human women since beginning his work at the compound, so he knew that physical touching, even the nonsexual variety, made most human women very uncomfortable. Instead, he took a deep breath and tried to think of something to say.

As a doctor he was trained to deal with things like this, but somehow he found it especially difficult to keep a professional distance from Jenelle. They’d been friends for months before he’d known of her nightmares, and his inability to help her was frustrating.

“Should I call Deanna?”

“No!” Jenelle said more vehemently than he’d expected. She looked a little surprised herself by the outburst. “I just…” She took a deep breath. “Sorry, I just don’t want to worry her. With the babies on the way she doesn’t need to be dealing with my silly nightmares. They’ll stop soon. I’m sure of it.”

Tosh gave her a look that probably conveyed his disbelief but tried to give Jenelle his support.

“Okay, but you know there’s help available if you want it.” He moved closer and knelt down beside the bed. He desperately wanted to touch her, to comfort her, but he settled for lifting her small hand into his own and holding it lightly. “Jen, you’re not the only human having nightmares like these. Many of the others have found peace simply by talking to someone they trust. If you don’t want to talk to me or worry your friends, I can get Katarnia to organize a female counselor for you.”

He already knew Katarnia had offered, but he’d hoped that Jenelle might reconsider. It didn’t take a genius to know if the woman had suffered at the hands of men, that she might be more comfortable talking to a woman instead. Occasionally, the opposite was true, and Tosh worked especially hard to appear nonthreatening to the women he treated, but with Jenelle things seemed different again. He got the feeling she simply wanted to ignore whatever had happened, rather than deal with it. Perhaps she felt that there was no solution to the problem.

“Thanks, but I don’t need counseling.” She gave him a sad smile but shook her head. “I’ll be all right,” she said again, this time a little less shakily.

Tosh knew her well enough to know the lady had a stubborn streak a mile wide. If anyone could get through these nightmares on their own, he was certain it was the woman in front of him. He just wished she’d trust someone—well, preferably
him
—enough to talk the problem through.

“Can you do me a favor?” he asked impulsively. It was probably the worst thing he could ask of her, but maybe, even if it backfired, it might help them both. Watching her go through this night after night and being helpless to stop it was hurting him more than he thought possible. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t commit one way or the other. “Will you let me hold you? Just for a moment,” he added quickly, worried that she might flat-out refuse.

Her soft reply was actually a surprise. “I’d like that,” she said with a shy smile.

Awkwardly he leaned forward, not quite sure where to put his arms or how to touch her. His lack of decisiveness was irritating, but he truly wanted to help, not make things worse. Fortunately, Jenelle took the initiative instead, slid off the bed, and curled into his embrace. He turned slightly, resting his back against the side of her bed, and held her in his lap. He forced himself to stay relaxed, to not make her feel like she was trapped, but after a moment of her snuggling close to his chest it finally occurred to him that whatever the nightmares were about it didn’t seem to be the same as many of the other human women he’d treated.

He ran his hands gently through her hair, sliding down lower to caress her back, as she sighed a contented sound. For a long while they both just sat there quietly, her ear pressed against his chest, his hands caressing her softly. What his fingers seemed to find hiding under her clothes was disconcerting. His hypothesis on what might be causing her nightmares needed a whole lot more information. He didn’t want to ruin the peace they were both feeling, but as a doctor he felt an obligation to try and help. Maybe she’d be able to talk things through more easily like this.

“When did the nightmares start up again?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but he regretted the question instantly when she stiffened in his embrace.

* * * *

Jenelle knew the exact trigger that had set off the current round of nightmares, but she really, really didn’t want to share. What she should do was climb off the man’s lap and go back to bed. Hell, she wasn’t even certain what had possessed her to accept his cuddle in the first place.