“Of what? Did she tell you that?” Jealousy flared in his chest that his mate would share her fears with Charl and not himself.
“Hold your stones. She didn’t have to tell me. It’s obvious.”
“Is telepathy a common ability for the Gyer?”
“No. Why would you ask such a dumb question? Did you hit your head again?”
“Because unless she told you how she felt, you don’t know shit. You’re not some magic four-armed guru, doling out wisdom,” Talen said.
“You don’t know what she’s feeling either, but you’re happy to ruminate in your ignorance over there.”
Talen grumbled, because Charl was correct.
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”
“I said she’s been avoiding me,” Talen answered reluctantly.
“So, make yourself unavoidable.” Charl waved a hand dismissively at Talen.
“And how do I do that, exactly? She leaves the moment the conversation becomes…” He searched for the word. Not serious. The other day in the attic was playful and far from serious. Perhaps meaningful.
With that as context, their encounters took on new significance.
“You’re a clever male. Figure it out.”
* * *
Georgia
* * *
Busy week. Georgia authorized work on the ballroom and music room once she received estimates. The contractor didn’t want to provide an estimate, as he was the only operation in town and felt the business was guaranteed. After a few casual comments about how the next town over wasn’t too far to commute for a new project, a reasonable and competitively priced estimate arrived.
With the rooms prepped for renovation, she set about finding tables and chairs. If she planned to sell Achaval House as an event venue, they needed to provide the basic accommodations, like having somewhere to put your butt.
The attic had a matched set of backless loungers and an incomplete set of chairs with broken seats. Those went out to the makeshift workshop in the stable. She combed the local markets for more furniture, deciding to go with an eclectic decor. Honestly, tablecloths would cover old and battered tables and slipcovers would hide mismatched chairs. Appearances didn’t matter as much as the chair just needed to not collapse the moment someone parked their butt on it.
Super boring, right? She hadn’t gone off the deep end of event hosting, but it was easier than thinking about the way Talen looked at her.
The crazy thing was that she couldn’t describe the way he looked at her, only the way it made her feel like she was at the apex of the first drop on a rollercoaster. Anticipation coiled through her, ready for the fall, clinging to the safety harness but brave enough to let go for a moment and scream with delight.
Yeah. It was bad, already half in love with him and terrified. She thought she had loved Kevin, but she never felt half the eagerness and excitement she felt for Talen. Was that love? Or just lust?
She wanted to claim that hooking up had been a mistake, but they had the most explosive sex. What she had before didn’t compare. Nothing compared. Talen consumed her, drove all thoughts and worries from her mind, and made her feel at peace. He felt like home.
It terrified her.
Home never lasted for her. The people she needed always left. Even Freema, her best friend, planned to leave her for a colony. Everyone left, even sexy feline-esque aliens who liked books and made her laugh. Especially those.
She was tired of being left behind, tired of opening her heart and being disappointed. She could only rely on herself.
“Can you explain to me why we have no bookings for the next month when I know we did?” Talen’s voice pierced her musings. He stood opposite the table, every inch of him dripping with pheromones or whatever witchcraft that made her lose her damn mind and start her mouth watering. Opened at the collar, he had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to the elbows.
Witchcraft.
She looked down quickly, wanting to avoid torturing herself with his sexy arms.
Too late.
“I canceled them.” She focused on assembling the cleaning bot. “Before you get all huffy about the lost income, we’re starting renovations in the ballroom tomorrow. It’s better to take the loss than deal with noise and dust complaints.”
“You really think so?” His tone sounded like a challenge.
She looked up, meeting his glare. “Yes, otherwise we’d lose money on refunds and get a slew of negative reviews.”
“That is acceptable,” he said at length. “What is that?”
“Cleaning bot. I want to see how this little guy works in the drawing room.” When they were ready to host events in the summer, they’d need to either hire to increase the cleaning staff or kit out the rooms with bots. Either way would be an expense. Retrofitting cleaning bots to an older house without a centralized computer was difficult, so she’d start small. One room at a time.
“They are expensive,” he said.
“Cheaper than hiring new staff,” she replied.
“You didn’t ask my approval.”
“Do I have to run everything by you? You hired me as the manager, not your assistant.”
His tail swayed behind him and he leaned forward, planting his hands on the table. “Georgia, I—”
“I’m really busy. Can it wait?” She looked back down at the bot, its internal workings exposed, and compared it to the setup guide.
He stood by the table for several minutes before eventually leaving. She swallowed the feeling of disappointment.
She wasn’t staying, she reminded herself. She was leaving him before he had the chance to leave her. It was better that way.
The bed shifted. A familiar presence crawled under the blankets and snuggled next to her.
“Talen, I’m not in the mood,” she said, voice thick and groggy.
“I can’t sleep.” He pulled her into him, her back against his bare chest.
“So, you thought you’d wake me up?”
“I sleep better with you.” His hand rested where her hip blended to her thigh, fitting like it belonged. A brush against her ankle had to be the tail.
“You’ve slept without me your entire life.” Too heavy to open, her eyelids fluttered.
“Yes, and now that I know a perfect night’s rest, I can’t go back to that. It’s uncivilized.”
Sleep must have impaired her judgment because she giggled at the scandalized indignation in his voice. “All right, but keep your paws to yourself, mister. Now let me sleep.”
He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck.
Yup, her judgment was totally impaired because she smiled.
* * *
Talen
* * *
He held his mate in his arms, but she might as well have been a thousand lightyears away.
Chapter 12
Georgia
Freema,
I am so sick of snow.
-G
* * *
“Explain to me why we’re doing this again,” Georgia said. She couldn’t feel her nose or her fingers. Any heat from the thermal warmer in her pockets was long gone.
“It’s MidWinter. We need to decorate the house,” Bright said. Using a pair of pruning shears, she cut clippings from an evergreen. The wide leaves were a waxy green with violet berries that reminded Georgia of the juniper bushes outside her childhood home. The prickly bushes provided the perfect hiding spot for a young Georgia. Despite being allergic to the bush, she loved wiggling her way in under the branches.
“Is there a holiday?” she asked.
“Everyone has a MidWinter holiday,” the older woman replied.
“I’m not comfortable with broad generalizations.” Georgia shifted the basket to the other arm. Bright added more clippings, increasing the weight.
“You do say the most interesting things. Earth must be the only planet in known civilization that never felt the need to lighten their spirits when the days grew short. That seems fairly remarkable
.” Bright’s tail swayed behind her as she moved to another evergreen. She had a way of speaking that made Georgia feel like she had been scolded for naughty behavior and given a piece of candy for good behavior simultaneously.
“It’s called Christmas and falls on December 25th, which I guess is around the winter solstice. Well, Earth actually has a few, but that’s the one I celebrated.” Planets in the Interstellar Union followed the same standard IU calendar. Christmas Day was Christmas Day, whether on Earth or one of the colonies. Corra followed its own calendar, which did not neatly align with the IU standard. It messed with her sense of time. None of the pamphlets the agency sent mentioned that.
“How do you celebrate human Christmas?”
“We decorate a tree. Sing holiday songs. Exchange gifts. Santa Claus brings presents for good boys and girls.”
“Claws?” Bright chuckled. “How does Claws determine who is good and who is bad?”
“Oh, parents totally snitch on their kids. They have to be good all year long, or Santa will find out, and then they’ll get nothing but a lump of coal.”
“Seems like a bribe for good behavior.”
“It totally is,” Georgia agreed. Her last Christmas had been spent with Freema, lasagna, a bottle of wine, and a Christmas movie marathon. “But waking up on Christmas morning and racing to the tree to see what Santa brought you? It’s the best. What do you do on Talmar?”
“Light candles to drive back the dark. Decorate with greenery to represent life in the middle of the barren winter. We bake small cakes. Each has a charm that will signify your luck for the coming year.”
“That sounds nice.”
Once Bright was satisfied that they collected enough greenery, they moved into the formal dining room. A cloth of rough canvas covered the table and Bright showed her how to create a simple swag of ribbon and the evergreen boughs. Once satisfied with her skill, Bright instructed her how to weave a wreath. The sharp edges of the leaves pricked her fingers, but Georgia grinned in triumph at her first wreath, complete with golden ribbon and jingling bells. All the while, she babbled about making popcorn garlands to decorate the tree with her mother. She stuck her fingers a lot then, too.
Soon, they had festooned the foyer and the drawing room. Each room had a small centerpiece of a candle surrounded by greenery. A fresh smell of crushed leaves filled the house, accompanied with beeswax candles and spices.
Quil wandered in, fascinated by the idea of humans decorating a tree. “Do you want a tree? What size does it have to be? Can it be any tree or is it a ritual with a sacred tree?”
In the end, he dragged a potted palm—not really a palm, but it had fronds—from the conservatory and arranged it in the corner of the drawing room. They decorated it with the leftover golden ribbon and bells.
“We need a star or an angel for the top.”
“The tree needs a hat?” Quil scratched behind an ear in thought.
Once the word hat came out of his mouth, all she pictured was a red and white Santa hat on top. It’d be perfect. She raced to her basement office, found the appropriate sheet of paper, and raided her bathroom for cotton balls. Carefully, she glued cotton balls around the base and finished with one on top. With a flourish, she balanced her creation on the highest fronds of the tree.
“This is the best Christmas alien palm tree ever,” Georgia declared, quite proud of herself.
The next morning, Georgia couldn’t open her eyes. Seriously, not being dramatic. Her face felt puffy and sore. No matter how she squinted and blinked, her eyes were swollen shut. Careful prodding at her nose and cheekbones convinced her it was like the time she had been stung by a bee when she was seven.
The rest of her body itched and burned. Running her fingers over the back of her hands and arms revealed bumps. It felt like poison ivy—her mind flashed back to the fragrant evergreens she gathered with Bright—and touching the inflamed spots would only make it worse.
Wonderful. She was in the middle of an allergic reaction to an alien plant.
She scratched at the base of her throat.
Maybe Bright had a home remedy, calamine lotion or something.
Georgia reached for her robe and faced the general direction of the door. Her sense of direction was strong enough that she could stumble her way around, but Charl had been working in the hallway yesterday. The corridor would be a minefield of trip hazards. She’d be lucky to find the stairs without breaking her neck.
What then? Shout down the hall for help? The closest person was Talen—
Georgia sighed, knowing what she had to do. Their connecting door lay directly opposite the foot of her bed. She took careful steps, hand outstretched, until she felt the wall. Fumbling, she found the doorframe.
Was he still asleep? He was an early riser but she didn’t know the time. Carefully, she listened. The birds were silent, so it had to be before dawn. He’d still be in bed.
She knocked lightly. “Talen? I need your help.”
The door opened. She couldn’t see him, but she felt his presence, still warm from sleep. She bet his hair was rumpled too.
“What happened to you?” he said, hands landed on her shoulders. He tugged at the robe, exposing her rash-covered skin.
“That bad, huh?”
“Were you bitten? Do you have a fever?” He pushed the robe away and lifted the hem of her tank top.
Georgia batted his hand away. He didn’t need to inspect her. “It’s an allergic reaction.”
“You need a medic.”
“Yes, I do. Can you take me?”
“Can you breathe? Your throat?” She felt the heat of his hand as if he reached out to stroke her throat but held back.
“Yeah, that’s fine. I think it’s just on my skin and my eyes,” she said, forcing herself to keep a sunny attitude. The day had started off on the wrong foot; being grumpy would only make it worse. Talen made no reply. “I look that bad, huh?”
“Alarming, yes, but not bad. You never look bad,” he answered.
She wanted to know what his ears were doing and if he told the truth. “You don’t have to fib to make me feel better.”
He huffed. She scratched at her forearm. “I have a lotion, if you are itching, but does not smell pleasant,” he said.
“Yes, please. Anything.”
With his hand on her elbow, he guided her back to her bed. “Remove your clothes,” he said, before leaving to fetch the lotion.
She stripped, eager to discard her pajamas as they were probably contaminated with whatever pollen or oil that caused the reaction. Anything she touched yesterday—doorknobs, furniture, her toothbrush—would have to be cleaned thoroughly. She had no idea how extensively her skin had been damaged; she only knew she felt like she was on fire everywhere.
“Here,” he said, placing a bottle in her hands.
“Umm.” She fumbled until she opened the cap. “Can you?”
Starting at her hands, the cool lotion instantly soothed the itch. He worked his way up her arm, dabbing at her shoulders and collarbone.
“That feels amazing,” she said. Then she sniffed. And sniffed again. The unmistakable odor of fish tickled her nose. “What is it?”
“It is derived from algae. It is good for your skin.”
“It smells like fish.” And dank ponds.
“It is also good for enforced solitude,” he said.
“Leave-me-alone stink goo?”
He huffed, amused. He lifted her hair and worked the lotion onto her shoulders. His touches were soft but clinical, no lingering brushes or appreciative squeezes. Which was fine. She did not feel sexy, and seduction wasn’t high on her list of priorities.
With a tap, he indicated for her to stand. Her lower half had been clothed—yay for layers—so the only patch he found was on the top of her feet. How she got it on the top of her feet, she had no idea. Maybe when she kicked off her shoes.
“I’m going to have to clean everything, aren’t I?” If the reaction was to pollen or oil
from the evergreens she collected yesterday, then everything she touched needed to be wiped down. All her clothes and bedsheets washed.
“Bright will see to it,” Talen said. “Done. Now let’s get you dressed.”
He dressed her carefully in a loose-fitting tunic and leggings. The fabric pressed against the drying lotion.
“Thank you,” she said, as he slipped shoes onto her feet, “for helping me. You didn’t have to.” He could have fetched Bright.
He huffed again. She wished she could see his ears and have some idea of his mood. Was he annoyed? Irritated? Or tolerating her for the moment? His thoughtfulness was unnerving her.
“The hour is still early,” he said. “You will eat before we go to the clinic. The journey is not long, but you need your strength.”
And just like that, everyday Bossy Talen replaced Thoughtful Talen.
“I really appreciate the way you ask me what I want to do and then immediately tell me what to do. It’s cute,” she said with a grin. Another huff, no doubt offended at being called cute. “I’m not particularly hungry, anyway.”
“You must keep your strength up. Your body will need the energy to heal.”
She sensed from his tone that there was no winning the argument. “Fine, but don’t laugh at me if I spill my porridge on myself. Actually, I think toast is all I want.” She considered the logistics of buttering and adding jam to her toast. “Just dry toast today.”
With no warning, Talen scooped her up like she weighed nothing.
“What? Put me down,” she said.
“Your vision is impaired. I assume you do not want to stumble down the stairs, which is why you knocked on my door.”
“You could hold my hand and guide me.”
“This way is faster.”
“I wouldn’t brag about that. Faster isn’t always the way to win over the ladies,” she said automatically. Gah. Was that flirting? She was covered in a rash and stink-lotion, with her eyes swollen shut, and she had the gall to flirt? Get your priorities straight, girl. “What did you dress me in? My ass isn’t hanging out, is it?”
Pulled by the Tail: Celestial Mates Page 15
