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That makes me smile. “Then why hide it?”
“There’s nothing to be done right now,” he sighs, watching my face carefully. “Why burden you with something that can’t be fixed?”
“Who said it can’t be fixed?”
The space between us on the couch feels like a mile as we stare at one another, him in disbelief and me, determined. I told him I would serve as queen to the best of my abilities. I’m not about to back out now.
“I’ve agreed to your terms that specifically forbid intimacy and our physical contact has been minimal,” he says. “How do you expect us to fix this?”
“It’s an exceptional situation.” My back stiffens as if to prove I’m strong enough to handle it. “So, we can solve it with an exception to my rules. Remember what I said about heirs? We can work around it, achieve our goal, and then move on.”
“Do you even realize what that work-around will entail? Frankie, do you see how difficult it is for me to imagine this when you’re still having nightmares that leave you paralyzed?”
“Forget that for now,” I tell him. “I’ll decide what I’m capable of doing and not doing. Tell me specifically what’s required.”
“I had a brief conversation with one of the Deadhead scientists about their understanding of how the planet recognizes humans that have matebonded to a Kar’Kali,” he explains. “I’d like to learn more, but here’s the crux of what I know. Contrary to the initial assumption that it requires insemination, it more specifically requires the exchange of sexual fluids during a time when at least one partner is in the amma’ka state, in spirit fever.”
The solution won’t be as simple as a turkey baster full of sperm. I’d have done that without thinking much of it. After all, that’s what will end up happening when he starts thinking of heirs and gives up on waiting for love to get them.
“It could be quick,” I say. “You could even get warmed up before hand, and neither of us needs to take our clothes off. You could make a signal to let me know you’re ready and then I’ll come in for a super quick, you know, insertion… It’ll be over before we know it. It might sound clinical, but we do have to be practical—”
Stone-faced, he holds up his hand, the same way he often does to his advisors when he wants them to stop. On instinct, I obey the signal, but it surprises me. I’ve grown to appreciate that he doesn’t treat me with the same emotional distance that he cultivates between himself and most other people. But this conversation is different. The room is silent aside from Nisi’s claws tapping the floor as she makes a sniffing circuit in the background.
“May I come closer?”
I think about that for a moment, judging his body language for signs he might be angry with me. But as usual, he’s entirely in control from the tip of his head to his firmly planted feet. So I nod, willing to see what he wants.
I’m expecting him to scoot down the couch, but instead he rises and stands before me.
“Francesca,” he says, getting down on one knee at my feet. “No.”
I blink.
“I appreciate that you want to help. But I will do no such thing.”
“I don’t want to make your plans more difficult,” I try, knowing he’s always jumping through hoops to please me and make me feel at ease wherever I am. Can’t I do this one thing for him? “Not when you’ve worked so hard.”
The serious crinkle that was settled between his brows dissipates.
“You have the best intentions. I know this. But it doesn’t change my answer.”
“Okay,” I say, my mouth suddenly dry. If I were a bolder person, I’d simply seduce him and solve the matter in a few heated minutes of discomfort and play-acting. But that’s not why I came here and made this deal. The reason things between Mak and I were going so well up until now was because we were being honest with one another. I’m not willing to throw that away.
“Now, you did come here for another reason, I assume?” He’s leaning on the frame of the furniture, those long elegant fingers gripping the armrest, so close to me but never touching.
“I was going to ask whether you’ve had a meal yet this evening, and suggest we take it together.”
“I can’t,” he says, genuinely disappointed. “I have a few schedule calls lined up. I won’t be back to m—our rooms until later.”
“Understood,” I reply. “Next time then.”
“Tomorrow. I promise.”
We should be settling in, learning how to work as a team. Instead, the distance grows, and my chest feels tighter every time I fail him. Maybe this is the reality check I needed, a reminder of why I can’t allow myself to fall for his charms.
Try as he might to accept me as I am, the person I am is not quite enough to be everything he needs.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
