Bound by Her Promise

Chapter One

Blake ceased pacing the floor and leant against a wall. He stared at the display screen willing it to change the status from DOCKING to ARRIVED. He’d forgotten how long it took a shuttle to dock in the spaceport. Would she be worth the wait? He damn well hoped so. Since he’d put in his request weeks had passed and with the wait came the uncertainty about his choice. Picking a wife out of a catalogue was never going to be ideal, but how else did you find a mate when you lived on a mining colony on the Outer Rim?

“Blake, man, big day arrived, heh?” The punch landed on Blake’s arm, jerking him out of his thoughts.

“Yuri,” he greeted the other man with a curt nod. Yuri joined him and they both stood with their backs to the wall facing the secured port door. “Newcomers?” asked Blake.

“Yep. Next batch of newbies sent by the Corp. Seven eager men ready to drill holes in this God forsaken place. Do you remember arriving here?”

He did. It had been only four months ago and like many other miners, he’d arrived from Earth keen to start his three-year contract having earned the privilege of working on an Outer Rim colony. Hard work, long hours and lack of decent companionship had quickly dampened his enthusiasm. When he wasn’t sleeping, eating and lifting weights, he’d lay on his bed, dreaming of what life would be like once he returned to Earth, how much better everything would be. He also thought about sex a great deal.

He’d been determined not to bother with a wife, believing work and the comradeship of his fellow miners would see him through to the end of his contract. He hadn’t expected to be lonely or crave the company of women. He’d listened to his co-workers with increasing envy as they picked their brides, eagerly awaited their arrival and promptly married them. It was simple, they had told him, the Corporation vetted them first, picked the sexiest ones and shipped them out on demand.

Blake hated the idea. Picking a wife based on a few images and videos seemed ludicrous. Each time a new one arrived, he saw the excitement in her eyes and the swagger in her hips. Back on Earth women lined up for the opportunity to be a miner’s wife. If an off world miner was a privileged position, so too was the status of being his wife.

“What’s her name?” asked Yuri.

“Lysa.”

“You won’t regret it. My girl is amazing. Marrying a Corporate wife, what can go wrong? If you don’t want to stick with her after the contract finishes, you divorce, she gets her bonus and you have no penalty to pay.”

“I know,” growled Blake. He’d read the regulations. She, the bride, could back out too, except if she did, no fantastic bonus and she’d have to endure the humiliation back on Earth of being a failed wife. If he quit before the three years ended, he could pack her off home, but he had to pay a hefty fine, not a great incentive for divorce.

Yuri slapped Blake’s arm again. “You know you’re the last of the previous shipment to get married. We’d all given up hope on you. Of course, the offer is still—”

“No,” snapped Blake. Weeks earlier Yuri had suggested Blake might share his wife, Jen, in a threesome and solve Blake’s sexual frustrations. For Blake, a woman was not for sharing. Lysa, if he married her, would be his and nobody else’s. He lowered his voice. “Thank you, Yuri, but that isn’t for me.”

“Okay, man.” Yuri held up his hands and backed away.

The display flickered and changed. ARRIVED.

The round airlock door began to rotate, sliding slowly sideways and with it came a loud hiss of pressurised air being released. Blake straightened up and took a few steps forward. In a few seconds, he’d meet his bride and find out if he’d made the right choice. She was a gamble not just because of the limited information he’d been given on her but the way she appeared on the comms screen had caught his attention. The other candidates smiled and beamed at him. They shoved their naked breasts out and ran their fingers around their nipples, their tongues licking about their open mouths as they happily strutted their nudity before the lens. Lysa had sat on a stool with her legs crossed hiding her sex and her eyes stared past the camera into the distance. She’d spoken slowly, expressing her desire to meet the right man and enjoy her time on the colony. It all sound scripted and lacked spontaneity. Why had he kept coming back to her profile? Several times a day he reviewed her short resume and her defiant expression lured him back to gaze upon her.

He recollected the moment he fancied she would be the kind of wife he’d prefer. He’d heard the boldness when he listened to her speak, the sharp tone of voice when asked if she would please her husband. “Of course, I shall be good company,” she’d snapped without looking at the camera. Blake didn’t want a dormouse, somebody who would bore him to death with droning chatter about inconsequential matters. He desired spunk from his wife, and yes, maybe it would land her in trouble from time to time, but he could deal with that as and when necessary.

The typical Corporate wives were like super-models, destined to please and be the perfect wives. He should have picked one like that, but he didn’t. Blake saw past her rigid pose and stilted speech. Lysa possessed natural beauty, the kind he preferred. Sharp hazel eyes, light brown hair, highlighted by golden tresses, which framed her unblemished face and a slender, but athletic build. Although she had tried hard to keep her other features hidden, Blake judged her straight back and curvaceous form to be perfect. He couldn’t resist her and he prayed she would be just as tantalising in the flesh as she had been on the digital display screen. She’d lit some kind of fire in his loins. The sensation returned as he held his breath.

The air lock slid back and a rush of cool air shot out of the dock. A wall of men greeted Blake. Broad shouldered, bag wielding and boot stomping young men. The next batch of new miners. Blake peered between them, trying to catch sight of Lysa. As the men spread out, calling out their names to Yuri, he saw a pair of slender legs. He lifted his sight and stared straight into the face of the woman he’d selected to be his new bride.

* * *

The moment the shuttle launched into space, heading for the Outer Rim, nervous energy had filled Lysa. She was either about to make the biggest mistake of her life or enter an exciting stage of her long term plan. The journey had been tedious with nothing to do but wait for the interplanetary slipstream to catapult the shuttle across the solar system. It cut down travel time enormously but still meant two weeks stuck on the shuttle in cramped quarters with a group of miners and the crew.

She’d plenty of time to think, hidden in her bunk. At the top of her rambling thoughts—Blake. The man who’d requested her. She’d received the notification and presented herself at the Corporation’s spaceport on Earth, completed the final preliminaries, then set off for the mining colony and a new life married to a man she’d never met.

It wasn’t her goal

—being a miner’s wife, but it was the short-term objective. Less than three years—that was all she needed to survive—then she would be free of him and able to pursue her dream with more dollars in her pocket and the credentials she required. There was no going back, no quitting, she was committed even if she had nightmares and woke up swathed in sweat.

The shuttle docked, a long process of regulating atmospheric pressure with the enclosed sanctuary of the mining colony. The outside air unbreathable and the terrain perilous. Nobody stepped foot outside the colony without wearing protective clothing and an air tank.

After one swift peek out of the window as they came into land, she’d ignored the bleak terrain. Now, her attention focussed on the rotating air lock. The miners charged out of the chamber and huddled around a tall man who waved his hand above his head. Next to him stood another man. She swallowed hard. This had to be Blake.

He didn’t look like his images. No, in real-life he was bigger. A powerhouse of a man and dressed in a short sleeved work suit, she could see his bulging biceps and what must be tattoos. She plucked up the courage to examine his face. Walking forward, she stepped over the rim of the air lock and edged closer. His hair was shaven to a crew cut, nearly clean shaven at the sides with short tufts at the top of his head. He possessed dark hair with matching eyes and thin lips, firmly set together.

Lysa froze to the spot and dropped her heavy bag on the ground. “Blake?”

He nodded and still his features didn’t shift. She held out a hand and it hovered in mid-air between them. He reached out and grasped her hand, squeezing her knuckles until they hurt. “Welcome, Lysa.” He smiled. At last, some kind of recognition. He let go of her and scooped up her bag as if it weighed nothing. “This way.”

They walked side by side, out of the docking area and into the dimly lit corridor. Lysa started. The floor moved beneath them, a travelator. In the distance, a bright light and what she guessed was the main complex. Colony 14 was one of twenty-six mining colonies scattered about the surface of the moon.

Blake cleared his throat. “Good journey?”

“Yes, I suppose. Long,” she replied. The ground rumbled underneath her feet. “Do you mind if we walked. I’ve been cooped up…”

“Sure, no problem.” He strode along next to her.

The light grew closer and she shaded her eyes with a hand. The awkward silence continued. Should she be throwing herself into his arms, expecting a hug and kisses? Apparently not, he’d not touched her. Her belly fizzed with nerves and with it came a wave of nausea.

“I’m glad you arrived safely,” said Blake. “I hope we can get to know each other over the coming days.”

The travelator came to an abrupt end and she stepped off, stumbling forward. Blake grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “Careful. Your legs have been under used for a few weeks. The strength will come back gradually.”

His fingers pinched, not painfully, but the man had a strong grip. “I’m fine,” she mumbled and he let go, they’d arrived at a junction of tunnels.

“Down here. I’ll take you to my habitat pod.” He pointed down another corridor.

“And then?” Lysa knew she had no more than two weeks to accept his proposal—if he intended to continue with the wedding. However, the coordinator of marriages had told her that the number of potential brides who returned unwed had been zero.

They passed several doors and other corridors branching off, forming a network of tunnels. Blake directed her down one. “There are some formalities to complete, then you can rest.”

“Formalities?” She expected some, but the word made her edgy, fearful of the unknown, the strange environment she’d entered, so different to Earth. Even the air had a humid heaviness to it, a reminder how everything was recycled or shipped in on cargo vessels, including herself—a requested bride.

“Best to get it over with.” Blake stopped at a doorway. “Don’t worry.”

She opened her mouth to enquire what he meant, but before she could speak the door of his pod unlocked. He nudged the door with his foot and pressed a hand to her back.

“This is what I call home, not much, but it’s comfortable.” He propelled Lysa across the threshold.

Small. It was to be expected, she’d come prepared for the lack of space. But privacy? One room with no partitions, nowhere to hide or seek sanctuary. The door slammed shut behind her and Blake drew across the bolt. Everything was rudimentary and lacked finesse or decoration. Having doors with hinges instead of automatic sliding ones seemed bizarre and archaic.