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baby in Shelley’s arms and the tiny baby girl asleep in the bassinet.
    “Thank you.” Shelley stroked her son’s head again. “It’s a miracle they’re so healthy. If it weren’t for the treatments Dr. Tiber gave me, their lungs might not be so well developed.”
    “What did you name them?”
    “Nothing yet. I’d planned to name him after his—” She swallowed hard and focused her gaze on the iridescent blue wall. She hadn’t cried over him yet and she didn’t intend to start now. Mark Bonham wasn’t worth a single one of her tears.
    “I’m so sorry, Shelley.”
    “I was married to an alien,” she choked out. “How could I not know that?”
    “There was no way you could have.”
    Yeah, that’s what everyone kept telling her. Mark’s father was Terran, which explained why he hadn’t had a mating spur, the secondary sexual organ common to Garathani and Narthani males. But there’d been other signs—oh yes, plenty of them. She’d just misread them. God, no wonder he’d rolled his eyes when she accused him of cheating on her and said the last thing he needed was another woman. He’d been too busy fucking up the Garathani to sleep with his own wife, much less anyone else. The bastard.
    She sniffled once and then there was no holding back the pain and fear.
    “What am I going to do?” she sobbed. “How can I go back to Earth now? My babies are aliens, Jasmine. They’re part Narthani, and now everyone knows it was Narthani who blew up those bases. My God, Mark probably helped.”
    “Oh, honey!” Jasmine leaned over and rubbed her back.
    Without warning, the infirmary door opened again and an imposing figure in a long scarlet robe stepped inside.
    Shelley’s sobs caught in her throat as her heartbeat stuttered. It was Minister Cecine, the man whose beautiful, scarred face had dominated most of her nightmares since Monica’s kidnapping. If she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget the way he’d handed Jasmine over to Shauss for that cruel and violent interrogation. Shauss’s rage had terrified her, but it was Minister Cecine’s bored detachment while he stood there watching with cold, soulless eyes that had frozen her solid. Even if she’d known then that Monica was his daughter, she still would have been scared stupid.
    Jasmine stood up at the sight of him and Shelley grabbed her wrist.
    “Stay,” she pleaded, ducking self-consciously to wipe her face on the baby blanket. She bit back a sigh of relief when Jasmine settled back on the bed beside her.
    The minister hesitated before taking several slow, measured steps forward until he stood near the foot of her bed. His long flame-red hair clashed with his scarlet robe, but the jarring contrast only added to the overall drama of his appearance. The robe hung open enough to reveal his dark-gray Garathani uniform, and the longest freaking legs she’d ever seen. Right after Monica’s transition, Jasmine had likened her to a greyhound and it was easy to see which side of the family she’d inherited that trait from.
    He inclined his head briefly. “Please allow me to express my deepest sympathies, as well as those of the council.”
    “Thank you,” she whispered, looking away.
    “If you require anything at all, you have but to ask.” After a moment of silence, he asked, “May I?”
    Shelley glanced back up to find him gazing down at her daughter. She tensed but nodded warily. After all, what was he going to do—eat her?
    Without hesitation, the minister reached into the bassinet and picked up her tiny, swaddled baby. Tucking her into the cradle of his arm with surprising ease, he held her against his chest and rocked her. His wintry gray eyes didn’t blink as he looked down at her.
    “So very beautiful,” he said. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to the baby’s sparse hair.
    Something about the way he did that scared the living crap out of Shelley. “Could you put her down, please?”
    When he pinned her with that