Married to the Alien Cowboy (Cowboy Colony Mail-Order Brides, #1)

by Ursa Dax

“Why didn’t you bring your covered wagon? You’re two claws deep in dust. And where’s your shirt? You didn’t think you needed a shirt to get married this morning?” I couldn’t make out the words in the answer, but I heard the low rumble of a response. The fine hairs on my arms and the back of my neck rose. That was the voice of the alien male I was about to marry. “She’s going to take one look at you and run the other way, boy,” Warden Tenn growled. “Go get your idiotic tail under the hose.”

Cowboy. I was about to marry an honest-to-goodness alien fucking cowboy.

That was the kind of cock that would either make a girl fall to her knees and thank her lucky stars… Or say her fucking prayers.

Even with the shadow cast by the brim of his hat, I could easily see his eyes. They were such a bright white that they actually glowed. Which made it painfully, terribly obvious that they were now laser-focused on the window. Or, to be specific, the annoying Peeping Tom of a human with her nose pressed to the glass like a greedy kid at a shop’s display. Was there a female version of a Peeping Tom? Peeping Tina? Peeping Tory? Peeping Too-Bad-Your-Alien-Fiance-Is-About-To-Send-Your-Human-Ass-Straight-Back-Because-He-Just-Discovered-What-An-Idiot-You-Are?

“If you tell me what it is, I can try to do it,” he said, uncertainty and grim determination warring on his face. It was as if he expected a kiss to be something extremely difficult or unpleasant. Like loading haybales or mucking stalls or something. Guess I gotta give him credit for being willing to try… “I also have a wagon,” he added in a sudden rush. “Just… So you know.” “Oh! Well… Good! I love wagons!” I’d never been on a wagon in my entire fucking life.

“Upset him? Silar? Empire, no,” the warden said, looking both surprised and amused. “You just knocked that boy’s boots off, is all. He’s likely gone to sort himself out before the ride home.”

I wasn’t exactly a prize, here. I was a boring, average human with a “halfway-decent” face, debt to my name, and a target on my back. Silar was a big, strong, golden-skinned cowboy with livestock and a house and a career. And a wagon! Couldn’t forget the wagon. He could probably do a hell of a lot better than me.

“Oh! Thank you!” She tried it on, then gave me a smile that for some terrifying reason made my heart feel as if it had stopped.

“If I’m talking too much, you just let me know, Silar. They used to call me Chatty Cherry at school. It won’t hurt my feelings if you tell me to shut my trap, I promise.” It was good she knew how to set traps for vermin, though I pondered what this might have to do with her propensity to fill near-every moment of quiet with chatter. All this talk in that high, pretty voice was loud and strange and not exactly comforting, but… I could not ever see myself telling her to stop. At my lack of reply, she sent me a questioning look. I cast about for an appropriate response. “They call me Silent Silar,” I told her at length. A smile unfurled, slow as sunrise, as she took that in. “Sounds like we could be a perfect fit, then,” she said. “Just like this hat!”

“Is this where you wash?” I asked, my voice oddly high and croaky, unwilling to let him go again. Surely asking about the water situation wouldn’t get me ignored for another twenty minutes the way asking about his parents had. “Yes,” he grunted. He walked over to the hose, which was looped around a hook on the house’s outer wall. It reminded me of the way his golden tail looped around its belt hook. His tail unwound, the end slithering over to a metal tap on the wall which, once turned, sent water spewing out the hose. He turned it off once more. “You wash out here even in the winter?” “Yes.” “Don’t you get cold?” “Not really.” “I’d probably get cold,” I said, not wanting to cause trouble but also not wanting to freeze my fucking ass off out here come winter. “Oh.” He hesitated, as if that thought had never occurred to him before, then said, “There’s a tub for laundry. You’re small. You’d fit in it.” He jutted his tail towards the house. “You can fill it inside and wash there if needed.”

“Next time,” I told him with a soft smile, “We’ll get some real bandages.” I had a funny feeling that this big, quiet, alien dope was going to need them. I had a feeling he’d needed them for a long, long time.

I wondered if humans only ever did the kiss ritual at weddings. I did not see how we could have another wedding so that I could repeat the experience. But maybe they also did the kiss thing at other important ceremonies, like funerals. I found myself rather foolishly hoping that someone might die soon so that I could find out. Maybe Zohro. No one would miss him. It would be worth it.

I remembered the way she’d pressed her mouth to mine. How entirely stunned I’d been in response. How aroused. How I’d had to turn right from the room and douse myself in cold water just to feel halfway myself again. It was very likely a sign of impending insanity that I wanted to repeat such a disconcerting experience. I wanted to do it anyway.

I also wanted, very suddenly and very badly, to shove my ton...

“Yes,” I growled, squeezing her softness harder, trying to get the tips nearer to the heat. She gave a throaty sort of gasp at that, her back arching oddly against my front. I tried to gentle my touch, terrified I’d hurt her. “If we don’t act quickly,” I explained, thinking perhaps she did not know very much about this frostbite phenomenon, “then the tips of your udders will die and fall off.” Cherry paused, and then, in a shockingly careless denial of the severity of the situation, she actually laughed.

“I do not have frostbite,” she corrected. “Though I may end up with third degree burns to the titties the way you seem to be intent on roasting me over this fire.” Empire, no. I snatched her away from the oven. “Get back in the water,” I hissed.

He said, “Goodnight,” – a hushed pause – “wife

“Don’t say sorry,” Silar said, the words sounding like they were ripped from somewhere deep in his throat. “Not to me, Cherry. Never to me.”

“Are you telling me that you almost strangled another man because… because he indirectly almost harmed me?” “Yes.” Holy shit.

“That’s my wife’s.”

“That man came for my wife,” Silar answered, not even a hint of regret or guilt in his voice. “I killed him.” I sighed, briefly closing my eyes. This was going to be a very long night. I could already feel it. “You could have incapacitated him until I got here, Silar.” I opened my eyes and fixed my gaze on him. “You know that is what you should have done.” “He touched her.” Curse it all, Silar.

The image of Silar bending, then crouching, silently gazing upon his new little sapling of a cherry tree.

“I do not care why you came here. I do not care if you lied, cheated, or stole your way into this world. I do not care what you were running from.” His eyes grew white slowly, brightening from the aqua veins outward. “All I care about is that, if you are running, I’m the one you run to.”

“Run your way down any road you wish to, Cherry. But I’ll always be the one standing there at the end of it.”

“I love you,” he replied without hesitation. “I believe that I have loved you from the very first moment that I saw you through the window at the warden’s. I am sorry I did not say so before. I am sorry I did not say so many things.” He breathed out, a hot rush over my face. I revelled in the feel of it on my lips, my skin. “But I will do better,” he promised. “I will haul my heart up into my mouth for you, Cherry. Let you hear it. See it. Hold it in your hand. You’re the one who taught me I still have one.”

“Every credit to my name,” he said gruffly, “every piece of this property, every store of my strength, every beat of my heart… It’s all for you, Cherry. Everything’s for you.”