The Visitor: Alien Hunger Special Edition (24 page)

Or maybe it was the damned pills, he
thought vaguely, nearly comatose with relief when his body finally
stopped expelling his seed?

“
Get off!” Chelsey growled
through gritted teeth.

It was the latent instinct for
self-preservation that propelled Garryk off of her. He didn’t think
he could’ve consciously gathered enough strength to lift himself if
his life had depended on it. He’d barely hit the mattress beside
her when Chelsey leapt off the bed and raced into the bathroom, in
too much of a rush to even slam the door behind her.

Brought abruptly down to
earth by the painful sound of vomiting, Garryk’s eyes popped open
in alarm. To go or not to go, he wondered uneasily? A sense of
guilt and remorse, belated but perhaps stronger because of that,
compelled him to rush to her rescue. A stronger sense of
self-preservation urged him to vacate the apartment until she’d had
time to overcome the wrath that was bound to follow her bout of
worshipping at the porcelain altar. Resentment chased the
uneasiness for, despite the fact that he
knew
she couldn’t help her
predicament, it was still a blow to have her dash off to puke the
minute he finished making love to her.

He was still wrestling with his
conflicting instincts when Chelsey dragged herself back to bed
weakly. “You ok, baby?” he asked warily.

She sat up, grabbed her pillow, and
beat him over the head with it several times. He glared at her back
for several moments when she’d lain down again and put her back to
him. After staring sullenly at the ceiling for several minutes, he
got up and headed into the bathroom for a shower.

He had time in the shower to begin to
feel like a total asshole.

She must have stopped taking the pills
he’d gotten her for the nausea, he decided after a
moment.

And he was supposed
to
know
that, he
thought, feeling some of his previous resentment surge forward the
moment he thought of an excuse for himself!

He didn’t enjoy the
self-righteous indignation that spawned long before it occurred to
him that she’d probably quit taking them because she knew she was
pregnant and she didn’t know the pills he’d given her were
for
pregnant women
suffering from nausea.

His lies—those he’d told and those of
omission—began to feel like a noose he’d placed around his
neck.

Everything had seemed to be going
smoothly to plan, though, damn it!

Had it all gone horribly wrong? Was it
spinning out of his control? Or did it just feel that way because
he’d begun to feel just a hint of doubt that he could actually pull
it off?

He hadn’t planned
not
to tell her he was a
doctor. He just hadn’t wanted her to think he was bragging or
trying to entice her with the possibility of being a doctor’s
wife,
Jods
damn
it! Alright! So it
had
occurred to him that he was never going to know if she
actually cared about him if he used it to convince her and
he’d
needed
to
know, but the only reason he still hadn’t gotten around to telling
her was because it had finally occurred to him that he probably
should have mentioned it a little earlier in their
relationship.

She might not be exactly thrilled to
learn it now—especially since it was bound to make her feel a lack
of trust on his part.

And it really hadn’t been a lack of
trust. He knew she wasn’t like that. It was his background that
bothered him—the one the government had thought up for him when
they’d sent him to scout Earth as a potential colony. She knew all
the sordid details—most of them anyway—enough that she should’ve
been leery of having anything at all to do with him. All he’d
wanted was some assurance that it wasn’t his fancy new title that
made him acceptable, that altered her perception of him so she
could pretend he was good enough for her—when his own damned people
had made him completely unacceptable as a mate to any Earth woman
that might discover his cover story.

Because he was still what he’d always
been—or at least what he’d convinced her he was.

He studied Chelsey’s face when he got
out. She was lying with her eyes closed, but he didn’t think she’d
gone back to sleep. Heading in to the kitchen, he grabbed a pack of
crackers and a glass of ginger ale and took them to her as a peace
offering, setting them on the nightstand beside her. She cracked an
eyelid and peered at him. “Thank you, Garryk.”

Guilt smote him. He stared at her for
a long moment, trying to think of something to say and finally
moved around to the other side of the bed and climbed in, careful
not to jar her. “I’m sorry as hell, baby,” he muttered against her
temple.

She sighed, tilting her head to lean
into his kiss. “I’m sorry for growling at you.”

“
It was way better than
puking on me.”

Chelsey reddened but uttered a snort
of a laugh. “I was alright until near the last,” she
murmured.

“
Well, that’s a relief,
anyway,” he said wryly, but he settled more comfortably. “I was
beginning to think you didn’t enjoy any of it.”

“
I guess I ate something
that made me sick,” she said after a prolonged moment of
silence.

Disappointment flickered through him,
but, all things considered, he didn’t suppose he had any room to
complain. “Eat your crackers. I have a couple of hours before I
have to go. I’ll cook you something that’ll make you feel
better.”

Leaving her with the crackers and
ginger ale, he dressed and went to search the kitchen for something
that would tempt her that wouldn’t be too hard on her digestion. It
occurred to him as he was scanning the shelves that her kid was
supposed to have come over the day before and he sent a sharp look
down the hall toward the spare bedroom. Hesitating briefly, he
headed that way to see if the kid was up and discovered the room
was empty. He was mildly relieved since he’d been more than a
little uneasy about how the kid was going to feel about him, but he
doubted Chelsey was.

Maybe that accounted for her behavior
the day before? He’d thought she was pissed off with him about the
baby, but maybe he’d read her all wrong?

He moved back to their bedroom,
wondering whether to bring it up or not. If he didn’t he was going
to look like an insensitive asshole when she’d told him the kid was
coming. He probably would if he did, for that matter, since she
hadn’t said anything to him.

Should he go there or not?

“
I thought your kid was
supposed to spend the weekend with you?” he finally asked when he
saw Chelsey was propped on the pillows and had noticed
him.

She stared at the cracker in her hand.
“I thought so, too,” she said neutrally. “I guess they went
somewhere for the weekend.”

Garryk frowned, studying her
expression. The very fact that she was so carefully expressionless
was enough to make him certain she was anything but unmoved by it
and it dawned on him abruptly that she hadn’t had the kid a single
weekend since he’d moved in with her—damned near a
month.

He supposed it should have occurred to
him before and he should’ve realized that that had something to do
with her occasional, but radical, mood swings, but he’d been too
focused on his game plan—and working his ass off to pay for it—to
think much about the broader picture. Turning on his heel, he
headed back into the kitchen, but he was so furious by the time he
got there he found it hard to focus on what he’d gone to
do.

Her ex was grandstanding for attention
and he resented the hell out of it. It was killing the bastard’s
soul that she’d slipped through his fingers and if tormenting her
was the only way he could retain any kind control and keep her
attention, he was perfectly willing to do it.

It was hard to say what made him
angrier—the fact that he was fucking with Chelsey or the fact that
he seemed to be succeeding in keeping her attention firmly focused
on him.

What about
his
baby? That’s what
he’d fucking like to know!

He knew it was
unreasonable, but he didn’t fucking care. They’d just found out she
was carrying his baby. They should be celebrating,
Jods
damn it! At the
very least, they should be working on settling things between them.
She shouldn’t be in bed moping about her son—and she wouldn’t be if
her bastard of an ex wasn’t such an asshole!

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t expected
things to get a little rocky at this point. He had and he’d been
prepared to do whatever it took to convince her that he was fine
with the idea of getting married.

He didn’t want to make trouble for
Chelsey, but it seemed to him that he was just going to have to
have a little heart to heart with her ex.

* * * *

All Chelsey could think
for a while was that it was a hell of a way to end a
relationship—nearly puking on him in the middle of what should’ve
been a ‘moment’. She sighed a little resentfully. She’d not only
made every attempt to convince him morning sex didn’t especially
appeal to her, but she’d been sick enough in the mornings he
should’ve
known
it wasn’t a great idea to bounce on her so early!

Well! He couldn’t complain
that he hadn’t gotten
his
cookie!

Not that it hadn’t been really nice to
start with, but just about the time she was really getting wound up
toward blast off, he’d changed his rhythm and that was all it took
to shift from imminent climax to an impending explosion of the most
horrible kind.

As he’d pointed out, it could’ve been
worse, but not much!

She was surprised, actually, that he’d
taken it as well he had.

Actually, she thought, she was
surprised he hadn’t really questioned it.

Hadn’t it occurred to him that her
persistent early morning distress pointed to pregnancy? Or was he
just too unfamiliar with such things for it to set off warning
bells?

And should she be relieved that he
didn’t seem worried about it or distressed?

He’d been just as sweet and thoughtful
as he could possibly be about the situation. She didn’t see how he
could be that way and still be too callous to worry about her, but
maybe it just didn’t seem like anything he needed to worry
about?

She supposed he figured it was stomach
flu since that was what she’d thought it was to start
with.

Dismissing it after a few minutes, she
nibbled her crackers and considered what to do about Lawrence. Wait
until he made the next move? Or try to beat him to the
punch?

She thought, even though she couldn’t
really afford it, she needed to see if she could borrow the money
from Marla and contact her lawyer. Maybe it would be better all the
way around if she was the one complaining for a change instead of
the one trying to defend herself?

It really sucked, though, that she was
going to have to crawl back to Marla and apologize and then try to
borrow money from her after she’d vented her righteous indignation
over Garryk!

She toyed, briefly, with the idea of
asking Garryk for a loan, but dismissed it almost immediately. She
thought it would be much better all the way around if Garryk didn’t
know anything about it. She didn’t think he would do anything that
might get in him trouble, but she didn’t want to risk it when he
might feel duty bound to beat the crap out of Lawrence for her just
to establish squatter’s rights. He was a man, after all, and,
considering the violence he’d known as a child, she couldn’t rule
out the possibility that he’d figure that was the way to handle the
situation.

Not
that she would’ve been totally against it if there was no way
Garryk could get hurt or end up in jail! There’d been a few times
when she’d wanted to take a hammer to Lawrence herself.

* * * *

The pilgrimage to Marla
for money wasn’t quite as bad as she’d thought it would be, but it
sure as hell wasn’t fun and not the way she would’ve chosen to
spend her afternoon. Marla had looked as if she was more inclined
to slam the door in her face when she’d arrived unannounced than
let her in—because she hadn’t wanted to risk pissing Marla off
before she had the chance to explain—but she
had
let her in.

She actually didn’t
want
to apologize for
defending Garryk and that was the big problem. Marla had made
judgments about him that were not only not true but unforgivable—if
she hadn’t been a beggar. Instead of launching into an apology she
hadn’t felt the least sincere about, therefore, she’d gone straight
for the jugular. “I wouldn’t bother you, but I need
help.”

Speculation immediately flickered in
Marla’s eyes—and then she looked complacent enough Chelsey wanted
to slap her. “I told you!”

Chelsey bit her lip. “It’s Lawrence,”
she said tightly. “I wanted to see if I could borrow enough money
to hire the lawyer again. I paid you back the last loan. I’ll pay
it back.”