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She grunts in agreement.
Finally, a car door slams. Desdemona Wilson walks back up to us. “Sorry to have met you under these unusual circumstances,” she says to me. “I hope we’ll have lots more chances in the future to get to know each other properly. I promise my husband is normally a nice man. We’re going to go home now and talk this out.” Her graceful features harden. “Don’t worry, my little stingray, I’ll take care of it from here on out. Your accounts and credit cards will reactivate immediately. You stay and get to know your new husband. Maybe figure out a way to still graduate from that ridiculously expensive university you went to.”
They give each other stiff hugs and then Posey’s mother returns to her vehicle and it pulls out of the driveway.
We turn and walk hand in hand back into the lodge. “Is your school of higher learning important to you?” I question. “You explained that it begins again in two months but that is all I know.”
Posey shrugs. “I’m at Oxford, in Merton College as a Rhodes Scholar, getting my Master’s in English Lit. It used to mean everything to me. And then I was distracted, trying to get rid of the man who I thought killed my father.” She places a hand over her stomach. “But now…maybe now I have a new focus.”
“How much longer until you to finish your education?”
“One more semester. Which means about four or five months.”
“We will go together to this Oxford you speak of and live there together. I will tend to your needs so you can focus and finish this project you feel is important. Then we will return here to our home in the wilderness, and you will give birth to our offspring. Any work you do in the future will be mostly remote.”
“This is acceptable.” Her lips curve into a full, brilliant smile. Those facial muscles probably stiff and sore from disuse. “As long as I have my MacBook and a good internet connection, I can write and publish my books from anywhere.”
I smile too. “It’s you and me against the universe.”
“You and me,” she confirms. “…and Demon, and the baby.”
I chuckle and give her the tenderest of kisses.
“Waylen Tusk, will you marry me in the human legal tradition and be my husband and the father of our children?” she softly questions while we stand on the front steps of our domicile.
I swallow against the lump in my throat. “Yes,” I answer. “Yes, I will marry you, Posey Tusk. I would be honored to make you mine on Earth as well as on Voltare.”
Epilogue
Posey
Three months later we wed in a dark, little Gothic church in Oxford.
“I love you, Waylen Tusk,” I boldly proclaim for the first and only time in my life, in front of the small crowd of well-wishers—Waylen’s cousin and sister-in-law, his uncle and the uncle’s wife. My parents are there too, along with Wendy, who holds Demon in her arms.
I wear a sheer black gown that has short puffy sleeves and a long skirt that swipes the ground. I’m only barely showing so I can still wear it without having the waist expanded for the pregnancy. The bottom is sheer and allows a peek through of my legs up to my thighs. The top is also sheer, only the large patterns of lace cover my breasts. A heavy necklace with the silver emblem of his tribe sits against my neck. And of course, I’m wearing my black, lace up platform boots.
My husband is shirtless, with his alien tattoos proudly on display and his tusks elongated. His belt buckle has a matching tribal emblem. He also wears heavy, studded lace-up black boots. He’s so very handsome with those blazing red eyes, I’m blinded by the display of manly potency. And I’m proud that he’s all mine.
I’ve decided to take the leap of faith and give him all of me. All my heart and my loyalty, for the rest of my days. I need to hold on tight to him while he’s here and squeeze out every moment we have together for all it’s worth.
We exchange our vows. “I love you Posey Tuck,” my husband says with a rough voice as he places a simple platinum ring on my finger. I slip a matching ring onto his finger too and take great satisfaction that the women who will glance at him longingly will know he’s taken.
Then we kiss and there’s a spatter of claps from our tiny group of well-wishers.
Waylen kept his promise. He puts up with city life on Earth, amongst “so many humans” with little complaint. We live in a nice three-bedroom flat near the college. Wendy, my former roommate, lives next door. It’s an acceptable arrangement. And she doesn’t seem to mind all the groups of brawny men who enter our flat, looking to meet with and train alongside my famed warrior husband, who really does hold the title of Most Feared Warrior on Voltare.
Waylen Tusk accompanied me to the first day of classes this semester, walking around the campus and going with me to functions, making sure everyone knew I was now Posey Tusk, his wife and his pregnant mate, and that I was his. And I didn’t even mind a bit. In fact I found it adorable.
And Demon is thrilled to return to England and sleep on the end of our bed, as well as having the ability to slip through the cat door to Wendy’s flat too.
Waylen trains and teaches combat while I finish my classes. He does look overly relieved though during my graduation ceremony.
By the time we return to winter in Idaho, I am heavily pregnant. And the two of us spend most of our time getting the nursery ready. One dark snowy night I go into labor. But I don’t have to be rushed to the nearest hospital, instead Waylen sweeps me into his arms and he carries me across the snow into the med lab on the hovercraft, and I have the baby there. Completely painless.
Waylen names our beautiful, healthy son Gavin Bamburgh Tusk.
And I cry all over again.
