Her Chosen Mate: A Quarantine Romance (Venus Quarantine Initiative Book 1) Read online

  I’ve been afforded demure shades of makeup. Nothing fancy, just some lipstick and a bit of rouge for my cheeks. They told my I should strive to make myself attractive and desirable, without giving away the mystery.

  My blonde hair cascades in waves down my back, catching the light of the sconces on the wall. My hair has always been a source of pride for me, though it was a bane to my mother, who cut it off when it drew me too much attention.

  Attention is dangerous in the world I’m from.

  Looking in the mirror, I appear so innocent. So new to this world. Not at all the girl that gave herself over to a common burglar when she found out her mom had passed.

  What I’m selling my intended is a lie, but it’s one he’ll happily eat up.

  Along with that damn stew I need to get started on.

  I go to the kitchen and set out everything I need to make what will be my greatest culinary accomplishment.

  Cooking was not a skill I was taught when the world ended, unless you count heating up a can of beans cooking.

  Venus spent months at their lab running tests on me, and while doing so, taught me what they considered essential skills for the life they had set up for me.

  I learned how to cook, how to capture yeast, how to ferment. Things that didn’t matter to me up until now. Then, three days ago, they brought me here for hands-on training with Venus’s homemaking aids. Three days may sound like a lot of time to learn, but if it weren’t for the index cards I have to go off of, I would have put egg in it to thicken the broth instead of flour.

  Finally, the table is set, and I light some candles as instructed. I try to remember everything Venus taught me about courtship, not that we’d have much of one. They said it’s important that we have some semblance of a normal relationship, so it’s basically a fake it till you make it kind of thing.

  I try to envision my intended in my head. I wonder if he’s taller than my small five-foot-two frame, though there aren’t many men that are shorter. I hope he’s older, but not too old. Someone serious, but kind. Someone with a mild temper and an easy smile.

  Someone that knows how to appreciate a woman.

  I’m not naive enough to think he’ll be attractive, but I certainly hope he’s not ugly. Not that it would matter. I’d fuck damn near anyone to keep warm and full.

  Almost anyone in their right mind would.

  Tonight, we meet for the first time. Later in life, when we’ve done our duty and produced children, we’ll get to pass our story onto them, and it won’t be some horrible tale of a turkey baster in a lab. It will be a ‘blind date’ set up by our friend named Venus.

  A knock sounds on the door, just as I was told it would.

  This is the man I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with. The father to my future children. The one worldly companion I’m allowed, lest I get thrown out into the poisoned world.

  He’s going to see through you to the men you’ve had before. He’ll never truly want you. You’ll have duty from him, but no warmth.

  At least I’ll have a full belly.

  I straighten my dress and pull a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

  There’s no putting this off. It’s happening right now.

  All I need to do is let him in.

  Chapter Three

  Eva

  I open the door and force myself to look at the man waiting on the other side.

  This can’t be real…

  Impossibly tall, wide chest, arms thick with chords of muscle bulging under his shirt from a lifetime of…god, I don’t even know what makes a man like him.

  He’s wearing blue jeans and a red flannel shirt open at the neck, revealing a plain white shirt underneath.

  Wholesome. Just like myself.

  I turn and enter back into the cottage. Wrapping my arms around myself.

  This isn’t what I was trained to do. This isn’t what a proper hostess does. Fuck, I couldn’t even bring myself to look him in the eyes.

  Footsteps sound on the floorboards, followed by a light thud on the table.

  I look over to see flowers. They remind me of old cards I found in my mother’s drawer. They were from my father and often had flowers on the front of them.

  I guess it’s some old-school thing Venus thinks is proper.

  Introduce yourself. Get this over with. Venus is watching, and if this goes south because of you, you’re out. This is the best shot you’re ever gonna get.

  I spin on the heels of my feet and produce my best smile.

  “Hi, my name’s Eva.”

  He’s staring at me, and for the first time, I see his eyes. They’re intense, stormy, and dangerous. Everything about this man feels extreme, from his dark, shaggy hair, to the thick chords of muscle his clothes do little to hide.

  He doesn’t look like the kind man that would treat his lady with respect as Venus had promised me. He looks hard and unyielding, like someone who doesn’t take no for an answer.

  “I hope you have a taste for stew,” I finally say.

  His eyes shift to the food I have set out, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

  Most of the world’s population would sell a kidney to get a bowl of stew made with real meat and fresh vegetables, though my intended isn’t in any kind of a hurry. He gazes around the room, taking in the simple decor.

  “Would you like some water?” I ask.

  He looks at me, his eyes scanning up and down my body but never uttering a word.

  I decide not to wait and grab the pitcher to pour him a glass. If this falls through, which it seems that it might with how he’s acting, I don’t want the fault to be pinned on me.

  As I set the pitcher down, I’m treated to the raspy voice of my intended.

  “The food looks delicious,” he says, and I wonder if that’s coming from him or if it’s something Venus told him to say.

  “Better hurry, before it gets cold,” I reply, taking my place at the table.

  He seats himself, looking at the setting I have out for him as though it were foreign. If I had to guess, he’s at least thirty, meaning he would know a heck of a lot more about dining and proper table settings than I would. Still, everything should be perfect for him.

  But then, why does he look so…out of place? Like he’s foreign and doesn’t understand how to use utensils.

  He grabs his fork and spears a chunk of meat, smelling it before taking it into his mouth. He moans in satisfaction, and my heart lightens a touch.

  He’s not ugly like I worried he would be. Not at all. He’s rugged, rough around every edge, yet, for some reason, I don’t shun the thought of his calloused fingers on my flesh.

  And who knows, maybe around his rough edges, he’s kind.

  Though somehow, I doubt that.

  I eat a bite of potato, careful to watch my manners as Venus instructed.

  Their words come to me. “Men want a bit of mystery. I should do my best to keep myself looking nice for him and leave him blissfully unaware of my grooming. Let him believe it’s all natural.”

  “I hope the trip up here was nice,” I say, trying to make small talk.

  It’s my job to entertain him. Keep his mind light.

  “I’m sure it was much the same as yours,” he replies back.

  That couldn’t have gone any worse.

  Since he doesn’t seem to enjoy conversation, I go back to my stew, running through my many duties in my head.

  Shit!

  I jump up from the table, remembering that I was supposed to pour a glass of wine. It’s reserved for special occasions, and what could be more special than our meeting?

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, bewildered.

  “It’s nothing.”

  I grab the bottle, then remember that I’m supposed to ask him to remove the cork. The feeling he’ll get from ‘rescuing’ me in a time of need will go far. Or at least that’s what Venus said.

  “Do you think you could remove the cork for me?” I hand the bottle out for h
im to take.

  He exhales, shaking his head, but accepts the bottle and the corkscrew, removing it more cleanly than I’d ever be able to. I pour two glasses, offering one to him.

  He takes it, but his expression remains grim. “Is this why you were upset? Because you forgot the damn bottle of wine?”

  My eyes glance around, hoping that Venus forgives the exchange.

  “Look, I get what Venus is trying to do. I just don’t see how it can be done,” the man says. “We both have the same goal, so why don’t we sit down and enjoy the meal. Things won’t go nearly as well if you’re tense and afraid.”

  I blink back at him, wondering if he knows any fear. This cabin is the closest thing to heaven we’ll ever see in today’s world, dead or alive. He’d be stupid to throw it all away.

  “Sit down, Eva.”

  I obey, hoping it will shut him up. Venus Initiative was very clear: if humanity is going to have one last chance, everything has to be done in a way that produces the greatest chance of success, and that includes cheesy lines and aw-shucks moments.

  He eats his stew and gulps his wine without ever glancing back up at me.

  How could this have gone so wrong?

  I quickly eat the rest of my food, knowing that if I’m kicked out of the initiative, I’ll never get another meal like this again, then I take our plates and bring them to the sink as I had been instructed to do after each meal.

  Hot tears burn my eyes, but I manage to hold them at bay, not wanting to anger the asshole I’ve been paired with.

  Fuck, I don’t even know his name.

  A hand settles on my hip, causing me to jump. I hadn’t even heard him approach; that’s how distracted I was.

  “This is all they care about,” he whispers into my ear as his hand travels up my stomach to the neckline of the dress. He pulls down the cinched fabric over my breasts, taking a nipple between his thumb and forefinger and giving it a tug.

  A low moan escapes my lips as a strong pulse grips my core. My heart thuds in my chest, but it’s impossible to say whether it’s from fear or desire. Maybe it’s both.

  His other hand grips my thigh roughly, forcing it apart from the other.

  Without any input from my brain, my hips push back, pressing my rear into the bulge in his pants, which causes him to grip me harder.

  I feel myself grow wet with desire at the thought of him invading me. Of course, I want him to be kind and gentle, but there’s a small part of me that craves something a little more…urgent.

  His fingers trace up my thigh, under my dress, peeling my soaked panties away from my mound.

  “See, Eva.” He touches the seam of my sex gently, slipping a finger between the slick folds. “It’s you that wants me, not Venus.”

  At the mention of the initiative, I stiffen.

  “It’s not supposed to happen this way,” I blurt out.

  I hear him mutter ‘fuck’ under his breath, then he gives my breast a quick squeeze before releasing it and pulling up the bust of my dress. At the same time, he untangles his other hand from my panties.

  My body instantly craves his touch again.

  This whole experience couldn’t have gone worse.

  “Here, let me help with the dishes,” he offers.

  The dishes? I look down to see the sink full of dishes I had forgotten.

  He takes a position beside me, leaning down to whisper, “You got your training, I got mine, and I’m supposed to offer to take care of the dishes while you freshen up.”

  My eyes light in surprise. “Oh!”

  He takes the sponge and begins cleaning a bowl.

  It’s the most mundane thing in the world, doing dishes, yet this strange man has me mesmerized. His hands are impossibly large, and my blood quickens at the thought of him caressing me again.

  As fucked up as this whole ordeal is, there is no denying my want for this man. It’s greater than I thought possible.

  “Eh-hem—I’ll finish up. Why don’t you freshen up?” he says, casting me a wink.

  I give him a smile. “I won’t be long.”

  Eva

  I slip into the stark white gown given to me for this occasion and reapply my makeup.

  Nothing is going as it should, but I’m not entirely sure that’s bad. Over the last few weeks, I’ve mulled over how this moment would play out in my head at least a thousand times, and each time there was one important element missing: desire.

  I focused on the food, the clean water, the safety. I figured I’d be able to tolerate whoever they paired me with because they surely must be better than the brutes I’m used to.

  He doesn’t like this charade, though. Which means he’s going to hate the sight of me in this white dress because I’m far from the ‘pure’ virgin Venus is trying to make me out to be.

  My first time was out of grief. I was sixteen, and my mother had just passed. I happened upon a burglar, which wasn’t all that unusual. Any other day, I would have clubbed him, but I didn’t have it in me. Instead, I sat down on the stairs of our once nice, suburban home and cried. He comforted me. I wanted more. Anything to take the pain away.

  It was the first time in my life I was completely alone. Without my mother, I didn’t know how I was going to get by. I was only sixteen. In some ways, I never grew past that day.

  Now, if I play my cards right, I never have to be alone again.

  But is he going to want someone that’s been used?

  I’ve only ever been with four men. Each of them meant nothing to me, but they were in the right place at the right time, when I was in the wrong frame of mind.

  I had thought one would be more, but he was a showman. A snake oil salesman of love. He was gone before I blinked.

  Whoever this man is, who wouldn’t even tell me his name, it’s clear he cares little for the rules Venus set, so why should he care if I’m a virgin or otherwise? By his touch, it certainly seemed like he knew what he was doing.

  That kind of thing may have mattered fifty years ago, but in today’s world, food security ranks higher than an untouched lover, and if he thinks otherwise, he’s an idiot.

  Despite being white, the gown is hardly innocent. My nipples are clearly visible through the sheer fabric, and when I do a small twirl, I can clearly see the details of my backside.

  It’s meant to be a symbol of cleanliness, they had told me when I had snickered at it. Of someone untouched by the taint of this world.

  Deep inside, I hope he accepts me. All I can think about is whether or not he’s going to approve of me, not just because I’m afraid to go back to the poverty Venus took me from, but also because, for the first time in my adult life, I understand that sex can be more than a tool used to numb the pain of a miserable existence.

  It could be pleasurable.

  I don’t even know his name. But I know his touch.

  How could his hands be so adept, so precise? They’re calloused and scarred, yet the way he touched me, with such care despite his greed, tells me that what he knows of sex is far different than my knowledge.

  I bring my own hand down to touch myself as he had, though my body’s reaction is far different.

  You need to go out there and play the part of hostess, as Venus told you to. Hold on to the illusion, even if he doesn’t. If this falls apart, it can’t be your fault.

  I reapply my lipstick once again, more to buy myself time than out of need.

  Time to turn this shit show around.

  Chapter Four

  Eva

  I exit the washroom to see my intended seated in an overstuffed chair, his legs stretched out in front of him.

  His eyes fix on my body, his mouth turning down into a frown.

  Why does this have to be so goddamn hard?

  He’s not one to bend, and if he doesn’t budge at all, we’ll both break. I have to find common ground with him, or else I risk losing everything.

  Even if it means going outside the script.

  I exhale audibly in fru
stration. “Look, I get it. I’m not your type. But this is the best we’re ever going to do in this god-forsaken world.”

  His chest rises and falls, and after mulling over my words, he says, “You know nothing of my type.”

  “Yeah, well, your eyes say everything.”

  “You’re too young,” he says.

  “Too young? I’m twenty-two. You’re probably in your thirties. It’s not the worst age gap.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” he says gruffly. “I meant, you’re too young to understand what it’s like to meet someone and truly want them, not for food and security, but because they catch your soul on fire. The world went to shit when you were half a kid. You never got to experience carefree teenage years, sneaking behind the bleachers, making out in the movie theaters. If you did, you’d understand my hesitation.”

  “I remember what the movies were like. Kind of. I went with my mom…” I start. “It was a long time ago.”

  He shakes his head as though disgusted. “The twelve years between us is a lifetime of experiences.”

  “I guess I’ll never get to have what you did.”

  “And that’s a shame,” he says with a sneer.

  I walk over to him, kneeling before the big chair and looking up at his hardened face. “But I can still have something good. If you’ll allow it.”

  He drinks me in, his rough, masculine hand reaching out and cupping my cheek.

  “I’ll play the role Venus asks of me, but you don’t realize the tradeoff, and that’s tragic.”

  “It’s a clean, decent life with you, or a disgusting, filthy existence on the outside. I’m well aware of the trade.”

  “Not that. Out there, despite the poisons of the land, there’s still love. Even today, people may die young, but they aren’t dying alone. They’re being cared for by their families, their loved ones, their spouses. You look at me, and you want me because you know too much of hunger, and it scares you to go back. But I’m sitting here remembering what it’s like for a woman to truly crave me, to want me with every fiber of their being.”