by Tina Gayle
Cyd hit the controls to flip between screens from women’s casual wear to women’s formal attire. Most of the dresses were fluffy and modest with a leg-lengths’ worth of skin-covering fabric. They reminded Stihl of the one she’d worn to the Mating Ball. Not the style for her luscious curves. With this being his first chance to show her off, he envisioned his friends and acquaintances envious of his choice.
A dress caught his attention. “Zoom in on that one.”
Cyd shifted the pointer. “This one?”
“Wouldn’t Marohka look phenomenal in it?”
“She’ll get arrested in a dress like that. Every man in town will be drooling over her.” Cyd placed his hand on Stihl’s shoulder. “Are you dimcoco? Why ask her to wear such a dress?”
“Buy it.” Stihl chuckled. “I want Marohka to enjoy her gorgeous body and discover the joy of wearing beautiful clothes. Most women love dressing up. Why shouldn’t she experience the same thrill?”
“Yes, but a skimpy dress like that could be dangerous to your mental health.”
Stihl’s mouth widened into a large grin.
Cyd shrugged and clicked the buy button. “They recommend you buy the shoes too.” Cyd changed the screen to show him the picture.
“Sure, why not.” Stihl eyed the spiked heels.
“Buddy, you have issues.” Cyd continued the process of buying the items.
Stihl stood and walked to the couch. His thoughts turned to the pending contract. “Yes, and the first one is to try to sell our investment plan to Lord Kaleva.”
Cyd closed out the sale on Marohka’s gown and shoes.
Stihl drew in a deep breath, and his tone turned serious. “Hopefully, after our meeting this afternoon and dinner tonight, he’ll want in on the deal. Then you can work out the details, and we’ll be ready to hit Giulio with the best agreement ever.”
“What should I do with Marohka while you’re off at your meeting?” Cyd turned off the computer.
“I’ve made a hair appointment for her at a shop downstairs at eighteen twenty-two. They’ll cut off her braid, box it up, and send it to a buyer. Make sure you get a receipt.”
“What did she say when you asked her to cut her hair?” Cyd ran his hands through his own shoulder-length blue hair.
“I didn’t give her a choice. As my mate, I don’t want her looking like an old woman.”
Cyd stood and walked to the couch across from Stihl.
“Also, if she starts searching for the silly thing she wore on her head.” Stihl waved his hands above his hair.
“The wimple?”
“Yes, tell her she doesn’t need the ugly thing.” Stihl had no qualms about trashing the thing after finding it on the bed.
“But isn’t she required to wear it?” Cyd said with a confused frown on his face.
“Only until she has a mate, and I, my friend, am her mate.” Stihl smiled. She might fight him, but soon or later he’d win. Already, she was responding to him.
“She won’t like me escorting her around.” Cyd shook his head. “Why don’t I do this meeting with Lord Kaleva? Then you can spend more time with Marohka, and I’ll be out of your way.”
“Nice try, but I’ve already established a relationship with Lord Kaleva. If we change the arrangement now, we could blow the plan.” Nervous, Stihl ran his sweaty palms along his thighs.
“We need the sale to finance our mining operation. If we don’t gather more money together . . .” Stihl stroked his hands back down his jeans, letting the sentence trail off. “Dad is already pushing for the Morrison brothers to start strip mining. I won’t let them do that.”
“All right, you have a point, but I’m still stuck with dealing with Marohka.”
“You can handle her,” Stihl said, reassuring his friend.
“Yeah, right, remember I saw the two of you fight. If you hadn’t been prepared for her attack, she would’ve beaten your butt,” Cyd reminded him, “and you know it.”
“Don’t worry. You’re not the enemy. I am. She’ll be gentle with you.”
Cyd checked his time-marker. “How soon are you leaving?”
“Soon. I want to arrive early. Then maybe I can determine if Kaleva is in a good mood. I’m hoping to determine how much pressure to apply.” Stihl stood. “I guess I’d better say good-bye to Marohka.”
“What has she been doing for the last two zitons?”
“I don’t know, probably plotting my demise. She’s still not come out of the lily.”
“Any ideas about her trying to escape?”
“No, I think I can only read her thoughts if she’s under stress or upset.” Stihl left the room, walked through the closet and knocked on the lily door.
He waited. “Marohka, will you open the door?”
He jiggled the handle. “I need to leave, and I want to see you before I go.”
“I’m fine.” Her muffled voice drifted through the divider. “I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Open up.” Not asking this time, he demanded she obey.
Stihl waited and listened. No sound. She couldn’t have disappeared.
After a few moments, he tried again. “Marohka, come out. I want to tell you about the clothes I’ve bought you.”
This time the lock clicked. The doorknob turned. He stepped slightly forward. The next iton, a bare foot landed on his solar plexus. He flew through the air and landed in a heap on the floor.
Marohka stood above him, wrapped in a white towel-sheet that displayed gleaming shoulders and long, sexy legs. Out of breath, he gazed up at the yards of smooth silky skin. He lifted his hand and grabbed for her leg.
She stepped back. “I don’t need anything from you.”
The door to the lily slammed shut, and the lock snapped home. Stihl spread out on the floor and staring at the door wondered what to do. The lady fought him at every turn. Her aggressive attitude should irritate.
And it probably would, if he viewed her uncooperative behavior as credible. But he didn’t believe it. A clever front usually hid much deeper feelings. She had to be really squirming inside, or she wouldn’t fight so hard. Instead, she’d be enjoying herself.
He smiled at the idea of her explosive energy centered on him. Her enthusiasm would more than make up for the few bruises he’d endured in the meantime. A delicacy for his senses, she tempted him with her soft luscious curves and then fought him with her strong unyielding will. Fire and ice, sweet and spicy, she’d be a delectable feast.
The best part, he decided, would be feeding her insatiable appetite. Her hunger to bond would eventually work in his favor by forcing her over to his camp. He could see no other reason for fighting the mating process.
Smiling, he struggled up off the floor and knocked again. “You can’t hide behind a door forever. Sooner or later, you’ll have to face me.”
“Drop dead,” echoed through the portal.
Stihl’s patience evaporated. “I’m not the coward. It’s you who won’t open the door.”
Not waiting for an answer, he turned on his heels, grabbed his coat, and stormed into the living room. “Remind me to get a keycard for that lock.” Stihl fumed and slammed his way out of the house.
* * * *
Marohka entered the room.
“I guess he left,” she said and bit her lips.
“Yes, he’s gone.”
She nodded and returned to the bedroom.
Cyd wondered if he should clear out too.
* * * *
“Hey, Dad.” Tankton stepped into room. “Mom said Stihl has found his mate.”
The silent solitude of his sanctuary broken, King Zarro Fermesium groaned to himself, then scanned the warm leather-bound books lining his study. His oldest son walked to his grandmother’s hand-carved oak cabinet. The window above displayed one of Lustralia’s bright spring days. The music of birds drifted into the room.
“Yes, they’re probably in Central City by now. Is that your reason for interrupting me?”
T
he tinkling of crystal sounded when the lid of one of the decanters left its mooring. A generous splash of spirits fell into Tankton’s glass. A few drops landed on the fine finish of the wood. A dark dank smell hit Zarro’s senses. He frowned.
“Oh, were you working?” Tankton took a long swallow and set down his glass. “I thought you were just hiding in here as usual.”
Tankton refilled his glass. More spots landed on the pristine cabinet. Zarro waited for his son to clean up the mess. Instead, he turned. Zarro stared at the drops, and then glared at an almost exact copy of himself. The same brown eyes, square jaw, wide mouth, but in his son’s face, Zarro read a lack of drive and ambition.
“Why is he taking her out there?” Tankton lifted his glass and walked across the room to settle in a high-back chair.
“Aren’t you going to clean up your mess?” Zarro used a stern tone to convey his dislike at being disturbed.
“Sure, don’t want to leave a mess.” Tankton turned, muttering loudly under his breath. “What would the help say?”
Zarro set his pen down with controlled precision. “Stihl has business he needs to attend to. Unlike your writing, he can’t set his own hours. He’s required to meet with people when they’re available.”
“Oh, yes, Stihl’s important meeting.” Tankton sank heavily into the leather wingback chair across from Zarro’s desk. “Trying to raise money for the Trisar deal, right?”
“He needs the money to help finance the mining operation on our property.”
Tankton swirled the liquid in his glass. A few drops found their way onto the arm of the chair. Zarro felt the burn of the liquid on his skin and in his mind. His son cared for nothing but himself.
“Which if you think about it, doesn’t make a whole lot of sense,” Tankton stated. “We can make more money going the strip mining route.”
“We’ve been over this. Stihl is responsible for deciding what we do, and he refuses to have the property strip mined.” Zarro didn’t care to argue the point, like mocking the wind—pointless.
“Not if you don’t relinquish the property.” Tankton tipped back his glass then continued. “With Gran dead, you’re left with the decision as to when Stihl should receive the land. Why not wait until all the qualtrilium ore is out of it?”
Tankton’s old resentment at not being named heir of the land resonated from the heart of the discussion.
“That wasn’t the agreement.”
“Oh, yes, your strings.” Tankton spoke into his glass. “The way you control us all.”
“Wait, your grandfather was the one who required Stihl to take a mate before he’d gain control.”
“Right.” Tankton marked his mistake with a toast of his glass. “That’s why you’ve waited until now to enforce the rule, so you could choose his mate. A more unwilling bride couldn’t be found.”
Slurred words continued to come from Tankton’s mouth. “You even pumped bonding serum into the match.”
“Who says?” Bonding serum, a chemical mist used in extreme cases, helped couples to mate. The council had decided that with Marohka’s age, she’d need the extra help. But Zarro wanted to stifle any rumors about the event to protect the council’s position in the matter.
“Come on, Dad, why would Marohka faint otherwise?” Tankton said with a smug grin. “It was added insurance, wasn’t it?”
“You’re drunk.” Zarro resented his son’s accusations. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, well, not everyone can be perfect like you.” Tankton stood, refilled his glass, and returned to his seat. “Stihl should have the right to do whatever he wants without you interfering.”
Zarro raised an eyebrow. “What’s this, brotherly love?”
Tankton raised his glass in a mock toast. “Maybe.”
“Well, it won’t wash. The only reason you’re sitting in that chair drinking my liquor is because you want something. You don’t care about Stihl.” Zarro stared at his son, anger blooming in his chest. “More money is your primary objective, the faster, the better. You don’t care about the environmental impact. That, by the way, is the reason my father left the land to Stihl.”
Zarro controlled his temper. “You know Stihl is required to blend with Marohka. Otherwise, he doesn’t receive the right to make the final decision about the strip mine proposal.” Glaring at Tankton, Zarro stressed his next words. His tolerance on the subject finished. “I will.”
“Right, but we still have to wait a month.” Tankton stood and finished his drink. “Like you can’t make a decision before then.”
“Stihl deserves a chance.” Zarro ended the conversation. He waved his hand in dismissal to keep his son moving and picked up his pen.
“Never mind that the rest of us have to put our lives on hold. We don’t matter.”
Zarro ignored Tankton’s muttering. His son stumbled from the room.
Chapter Five
“Cyd, look at this.” Marohka held up the dress. “You can see right through it.”
“I don’t know anything about women’s clothing.” Cyd’s muscles bunched with the weight of the packages in his arms. “But Stihl really liked it.”
“I can see why.” She examined the emerald gown closer. No sleeves, not even thin straps on the shoulders, and long strips of gauzy material created the skimpy skirt. Only the main part of the dress provided any substance, which made it more like an elaborate bodysuit than a formal gown.
“It’s a nice shade of green. Kinda matches your eyes.” Cyd deposited the bags on the bed. “Somewhere in all this mess, there’s matching shoes.”
“Cyd, I’ll freeze to death if I wear this.” Marohka couldn’t imagine herself in such a revealing item.
“With your coat on over it, you’ll be fine.” Cyd sorted through the boxes. “Just go slip it on. Your hair took a little longer than it should have so you’re running a little late. Stihl will be here any iton.”
Marohka laid the dress over her arm, took the shoes he handed her and walked toward the lily. She’d try on the skimpy garment, but she’d never leave wearing it.
Before slipping off her clothes, she ran her hands through her short curls. Without the weight of the heavy braid, her hair fell into a natural wave. The stylist applied a follicle treatment. And now, her hair was permanently curly. Stihl, of course, might not like it short, but she didn’t care. Cute and sassy, her hair displayed the style she’d always wanted.
Unzipping the dress, she stepped into the leg holes. With its design, she’d have to undress every time she used the lily.
After zipping up the gown, she glanced at the full-length mirror. The dress fit like a second skin. Lightweight and airy, the shimmering green colors of the skirt danced around her legs and ankles. The silky breeze against her skin created the picture of her being a fairy in a dreamland.
She placed the matching shoes on the floor and slipped them on. Her extra height added to the illusion of her being a magical creature from a mystical land. With her short curly hair bouncing about her head and the skirt skipping about her feet, she felt young and carefree for the first time in years.
A knock slammed her back to reality. She strode to the door and hesitated for a moment before she opened it. Is Cyd standing on the other side?
“Glad to see you can open the door without a military maneuver.” Stihl walked through the door.
She stepped back. “I . . .”
His eyes widened in shock. The stunned expression on Stihl’s face surprised her, and she paused.
“Your hair is not exactly like I wanted it.” He toyed with a few curls. “But the dress is gorgeous.”
His fingers ran down her arm. He captured her hand and led her into a turn. The material of her skirt again flew out in a wide arch. He stared at her like a piece of priceless art. “You look beautiful. Your hair is perfect.”
After she finished the turn, his other hand caught her around her waist and drew her close.
Marohka placed he
r hand on his chest to hold him off. “I should warn you. I’ve had it with you touching me whenever you like. Whether you think I’m yours or not is irrelevant. If I don’t like something, I take corrective action. Because if it doesn’t fall into—”
“An acceptable behavior category then you won’t do it,” he finished.
She disliked him knowing her words or her thoughts.
“So I’m not allowed to touch you?” Stihl laid his other hand on her waist.
“Let’s just say you need to limit yourself.”
