by Nalini Singh
Love does that. Ivy was about to ask after a young empath in Jaya’s family when another female form appeared in the doorway. “Zaira!” Of all the people she’d invited, the Venetian commander was the one she’d least expected to show. “Come in!”
Walking inside, the hard-eyed commander held up a small box wrapped in silver paper and tied with a ribbon of the same color. It had a professional touch, as if done in a store. “My research tells me that as a guest to a housewarming, I am expected to bring a gift.”
Ivy’s eyes widened. Never would she have thought Zaira would do this. Then again, the commander had been living in Venice for years…and though she pretended not to understand the concept of “domestic companion animals,” Ivy had seen Zaira petting Rabbit during the rebuild, though only when the Arrow thought no one was watching.
“Thank you.” She accepted the gift with a smile. “I’m so glad you came.”
Zaira gave a curt nod just as Rabbit got up from his seated position and made a beeline for the Venetian commander. Tail wagging, he woofed excitedly at her.
Zaira’s response was a cool, “I don’t speak canine.”
Ivy bit the inside of her cheek.
Jaya telepathed her at the same time. Is she making a joke? I’m sure she is.
It’s highly possible. Arrows weren’t always predictable. “Would you like a drink?” Ivy placed Zaira’s gift carefully on the counter. “I made fruit water—basically water with a little fresh fruit juice.” Pure fruit juice was far too rich a taste for Psy raised on nutrient drinks.
Zaira paused.
Aden walked over while his fellow Arrow was still thinking over Ivy’s offer. “How is Venice?”
“Stable.” The commander glanced at Aden. “Ivy is offering fruit flavored water.”
“We should try it.”
Ivy had the feeling Aden was telepathing Zaira at the same time as he spoke the words aloud. Whatever their silent discussion, they turned as one to her and nodded in acceptance of her offer.
Behind her, Jaya was already ladling out the water into the glasses Ivy had set out. Taking them from her friend, Ivy handed the drinks out not just to Aden and Zaira, but also to Abbot.
Vasic shook his head at her silent question when she raised a glass toward him. He’d been her guinea pig, had already drunk two glasses while she tested out different combinations. Now, her Arrow touched his hand to her lower back. Enough guests for a satisfactory housewarming?
Oh yes. Ivy was thrilled to have so many people here when she’d truly expected only Aden. Shall we—
She paused mid-sentence after becoming aware of another new presence…more than one. Vasic glanced at the door at the same time.
Axl and Amin appeared with Nerida.
Ivy had barely welcomed in the senior Arrows when four other members of the squad arrived.
Then five more.
I didn’t invite this many people! Ivy telepathed Vasic, delight bubbling in her bloodstream. Did you?
No. But I did ask Aden to let it be known that we were having a housewarming event and all Arrows were welcome. No one was ordered to come—Aden was very careful to couch it as an open invitation our squadmates were free to accept or decline.
Ivy looked up at him. You didn’t tell me that.
His expression didn’t change but she felt a ripple along their bond and that ripple, it tasted of Vasic, of winter, of home. I didn’t want you to be disappointed if no one took up the invitation.
Her heart swelled again. Rising on tiptoe, she cupped his clean-shaven jaw in her hands, kissed him. I love you.
Vasic’s response was to touch his fingers to her own cheek.
As Ivy soaked in the caress, she was aware of the other Arrows watching. That was all right. They needed to see love, needed to see affection, needed to know this future could be theirs, too.
We have more guests.
Turning, she found a group of ten young Arrows who told her they’d come in via a light plane they’d landed at a strip on the other side of the closest township. After that, they’d jumped into the back of a truck driven by one of the locals who’d been happy to bring them to the orchard. He’d asked them to “chip in” just enough to cover the charge his old vehicle would need for the return trip.
“The negotiation was simple once we made it clear we had no Arrow business in their town,” one of the Arrows told Abbot. “I offered a larger fee but the farmer refused it on the justification that it was a ‘neighborly’ thing to do. He requested that if we had the opportunity, he’d appreciate it if we could pick up a difficult-to-find part for a farm vehicle, bring it along the next time we were in the area.”
Ivy bit back a smile. She wondered what the locals were making of this influx of black-clad soldiers. A little fear wasn’t unexpected, but the townsfolk were also rural men and women used to adapting to what life threw at them—including it seemed, Arrows needing a lift.
The influx didn’t stop.
Her table overflowed. Arrows sat on the couches, gathered in small groups in the open spaces. Someone had brought in Tamar, a civilian specialist who worked with the squad, and she hit it off with Jaya, Tamar’s Silence having always been questionable at best.
The Arrows were watchful and quiet for the most part, but they tasted her drink, her food. It was too much sensation for many of them and they reverted to nutrition drinks and bars, but they didn’t leave. The conversation, when she caught pockets of it, was mostly about missions and tactics. However now and then, she’d discover something different.
Jaya was talking about her family, about a child empath she was helping to train. “It turns out the reason so many of my cousins were depressed and not particularly successful at holding down jobs,” she said, “was because they’d been stifling their empathic skills.” Her tone turned dry. “Or that’s what they’re telling their parents.”
The other empath leaned companionably into Ivy as Ivy came up beside her. “I have to admit all of them are excelling in their E studies—I’ve never seen them so excited.”
“I can understand.” Ivy would never forget the agony that had been her shields coming apart as her brain fought the conditioning that told it to strangle an integral aspect of her nature.
A small, furry body wiggled between her and Jaya at that instant, Rabbit looking up with his eyes shining. Tamar immediately went down to her knees. “Hello, Rabbit.”
Bouncing over to her, Rabbit wallowed in her enthusiastic petting. “He keeps me company when Vasic brings him to the compound,” Tamar shared. “I had Vasic buy special treats that I keep for him.”
“He’s got you right where he wants you.” Ivy shook her head at her shameless pet, her lips tugging up at the corners.
Leaving Tamar and Jaya to talk, she walked around, ensuring all her guests were happy—or at least comfortable. But for Vasic, the Arrows hadn’t truly embraced emotion yet.
However they were here and they were staying despite the fact the house was full and arms were brushing, shoulders bumping. At some point, she realized they were swapping in and out, some going on shift or on assignment while others came off.
Vasic disappeared every so often as he was asked for a teleport, the majority of those who needed a ’port in or out going to him because they knew the ’porting didn’t sap his strength.
It was one a.m. before the last of the Arrows who were leaving, departed. Three had come in at midnight, after completing missions. Those three had decided to accept Ivy and Vasic’s offer of a late meal and a bed, would be leaving after breakfast.
They helped Ivy and Vasic clean up—not that there was much to do. Arrows were compulsively neat and sometime during the party, any used dishes had been put into the washer, the cycle run. There was no debris. All the five of them really had to do was tidy up any chairs or sofas that were out of position.
Afterward, Ivy told the others to take a seat at the dining table while she mixed up hot nutrient drinks. Instead, they chose the relaxed
seating arrangement next to the kitchen area. She kept an ear open to their conversation while she made the drinks, heard Vasic’s deep tones asking about the completed missions, listened to the responses.
By the time she sat down next to Vasic, curling up her legs on the sofa and fitting herself against his side, the discussion had moved on to the training of child Arrows when it came to their dangerous abilities. Vasic, Ivy knew, would make sure to give Aden a breakdown of all the different suggestions. The Arrow leader was currently weighing up options for the long-term. Short-term plans were already in place, with pain and torture no longer on the discipline and training menu.
No more Arrow children would grow up as Vasic had, as Aden had, as these three sitting here had. They’d be given choices, would grow up in a world where they were connected to empaths through the Honeycomb, a world were love and friendship weren’t outlawed. A world where gatherings such as this one would be an ordinary part of their life.
Content and hopeful, Ivy sat in happy silence against Vasic’s muscled warmth, a sleepy Rabbit having jumped up to doze on her other side. This new part of the house no longer felt too new, too full of space. It carried the echo of many voices now, the imprint of many lives. It had become a home.
Copyright © 2015 by Nalini Singh
Christmas in the Kitchen
Author’s Note: This story slots in before Bonds of Justice, and is part of my informal series that explores the everyday lives of the characters.
“Christmas in the Kitchen” features several members of the DarkRiver leopard pack, including two sentinels (the most senior members of the pack aside from the alpha).
Christmas in the Kitchen
By Nalini Singh
Dorian was a highly trained architect with a magical ability on computers, and a license to fly. He was also a sniper who could shoot with cold-blooded accuracy, had a former Psy assassin as his sparring partner, and had been called an overachiever by more than one person.
None of those people had ever seen him trying to deal with the plumbing.
“Crap,” he muttered for the third time in a row as the pipe dripped onto his face.
“I think that still counts as a bad word,” his son said from where he crouched in front of the sink, shining a torch into the dark space beneath.
Wiping away the water and shoving the white-blond of his hair out of his eyes at the same time, Dorian twisted the wrench again. “Are you going to nark on me?” It was a whisper.
“Nu-huh.” Keenan shook his head as he whispered back. “Men stick together.”
Dorian’s leopard grinned at the boy who was his in every way but for genetics, and the latter mattered nothing to his cat. It knew only that this cub was its own to protect and to nurture. “That’s right.” Lowering the wrench, he waited for another drip.
Nothing.
“Quick, let’s make our getaway before it decides to stop behaving.” Scooting out of the space, he stood up and in spite of his words, double-checked everything was functioning as it should. “Excellent work partner,” he said, rubbing his hand over Keenan’s head, the silky dark of his son’s hair sliding through his fingers. “I think we deserve cookies.”
Ashaya looked up from where she was icing said cookies at the counter opposite the sink, the lush brown of her skin luminous in the early afternoon light. “I think Keenan deserves one but I don’t know about you, Boy Genius.”
He bared his teeth at his mate in a playful growl. “Don’t make me bite you, Shaya.”
“My terror knows no bounds.” Striking eyes of pale blue-gray bright with laughter, she bent down to cuddle a grinning Keenan.
“Traitor.” Grabbing the boy up into a hug when Ashaya rose back up, Dorian deposited him on the counter beside the tray of cookies.
“Dirty hands,” Ashaya said, and cleaned Keenan up with a wet wipe before allowing him to choose a cookie.
Dorian, having washed up at the sink he’d just fixed, came over to wrap his arms around Ashaya from behind, nuzzling at her curls until they started to escape the bun she’d put them in earlier that morning. He’d watched her do so as he lay sprawled in their bed, watching cartoons with a pajama-clad Keenan. And even then, he’d plotted to unravel the neat creation.
Now she cried, “Dorian!” in laughing rebuke.
Unrepentant, he used one hand to pull the entire mass free, wild curls going every which way. “Pretty,” he said, pressing his jaw to her temple, his leopard endlessly fascinated by the vibrant life of her hair. Sometimes when he was in leopard form and she was lying beside him in front of the laz fire, he batted at it, just to see it bounce.
“Now give me my cookie.” He squeezed her to show her he meant business, nipping at her neck at the same time.
“Sugar fiend.” Handing over a heavily iced chocolate cookie, she said, “It’s the perfect balance of nutrients and junk. I made sure to use vitamin enriched flour and vegetable protein.” Catching his dubious look, she laughed. “Don’t worry—you can’t taste anything but the chocolate, sugar, and fat.”
Taking a bite, he verified that was true. “I won’t take away your baking license,” he said with mock solemnity, surprised his scientist mate had taken to the domestic activity with such enthusiasm. “Why do you enjoy cooking so much?” he asked, tugging gently on a curl as Keenan kicked his legs and licked the icing off his cookie.
“It’s a creative pursuit,” Ashaya said, “and it’s good for me to stretch myself in that way.” An unconscious reminder that she’d been permitted no such play while in the icy trap of the PsyNet. “But,” she continued, “this is a creative endeavor with order—recipes have set ingredients, and while experimentation is permitted and encouraged, results are easy to judge. It calms me, makes me happy.”
“Lucky for me and Keenan.” And the occasional packmate who sniffed out the menu. Funny how often that happened.
Taking a second cookie, he kissed her cheek and stepped away to lean on the counter beside Keenan’s seated form. “Your cookies are even better than Tamsyn’s,” he said, naming the pack’s healer.
“Charmer.” A delighted smile. “Wait until you see what I made while you two were watching cartoons.”
Both he and Keenan waited curiously as she slid up the cover of the storage space on one end of the counter, and pulled out a tray holding a multi-hued array of cupcakes. Picking up two, she gave them one each, along with a kiss on the cheek for Keenan and the same for Dorian. “For my strong, capable men.”
Dorian was about to tug her into a much more adult kiss when a familiar face appeared in the rectangle of light that was the open back door. “Do I smell cookies?” Kit sauntered in, eyes fixed on the baking.
Ashaya pointed a finger at the muscled young male, halting him in his tracks. “One cookie, one cupcake.”
“I’ll take it.” Grabbing the items, he reached over to ruffle Keenan’s hair, his own dark auburn strands wind-tousled. “Hey, little man. Why’s your mama hoarding the cookies?”
“They’re for the pack’s Christmas party tomorrow,” Ashaya told him, her stern expression belied by the affection in her eyes. “I’m starting to understand why Tammy told me to bake twice what I intended to bring along.”
Hitching himself up on the counter attached to the sink, Kit finished off the cupcake in two bites. Not that long ago, Dorian had literally thrown the novice soldier out of a bar, Kit had been so drunk. Before that, Dorian and another sentinel had busted up a fight in which Kit had bloodied a packmate. But the youth had grown in many ways in the intervening time and was now one of the steadiest young soldiers in the pack, his strength not just in his body, but in his will and his loyalty.
“I like your hobby,” Kit said to Ashaya now, biting into the cookie and trying out a slow smile Dorian knew full well had coaxed more than one girl to follow him into the trees. “This cookie is amazing.”
“Forget it,” Ashaya said with a laugh. “I live with a cat, remember? I know all about sneaky charm.”
/> Looking disgruntled, Kit scowled at Dorian. “Way to ruin it for the rest of us.”
“Find your own woman, kitten.”
Keenan laughed, sweet and mischievous at Kit’s growl, a drop of icing stuck on his nose. Wrapping his arm around the boy’s neck, Dorian was about to pretend to steal Keenan’s half-eaten cupcake when he caught several familiar scents, followed by the sound of little feet running on the fallen pine-needles outside.
Releasing Keenan to grab Noor in his arms as she raced into the house, her pigtails bound up with bright orange ribbons, he smacked a kiss on the little girl’s cheek before perching her next to Keenan on the counter. His son’s best friend beamed, her beautiful dark eyes open and without guile.
“You want some?” Keenan asked, offering Noor a bite of his cupcake.
Nodding, she bit in, getting crumbs on the denim overalls she wore over a pretty blue sweater. “Yummy.” When Shaya passed her a purple frosted cupcake, she said a happy, “Thank you,” and turning immediately to Keenan, offered it to him for a bite. “Your one was green. This one will taste different.”
“Do you think so?” Keenan asked, and at Noor’s nod, took a bite. “It’s like grapes!”
Dorian met Ashaya’s gaze over the two little heads, and he knew she was thinking the same thing he was: That it was good to see the children, extraordinary and unique, act exactly like the babies they were. It was the pack’s honor and their privilege to make sure Keenan and Noor had the chance to grow up loved and cared for, their incredible gift allowed to develop at its natural pace.
“Hey,” came another male voice from the doorway, “how come short stuff get cake?” Jon’s intense violet eyes, a startling contrast to the white-gold of his hair, held a scowl. “Did you get cake?” the teenager asked Kit.
Kit gave him a smug smile, just as Talin and Clay appeared behind the boy. Dorian's fellow sentinel and his mate followed Jon into the kitchen, the two of them going around the counter to grab the stools on the other side, while Jon leaned up against the sink next to Kit.
