by Tasha Black
“We Terrans scavenge, scrimp and often just do without, so we can share what little we have to survive,” she went on. “We treasure one another, and we cherish our freedom and our pride.”
He nodded. This was noble, a humble but worthy background for the mother of this whelp. Lyra was a lucky girl.
“But the Cerulean soldiers on our planet take that from us,” she said, jaw clenched.
Suddenly there was another fire in those azure eyes of hers.
“They jail us for any offense, or sometime for none at all. They humiliate us for sport,” she said. “And now that Ambassador Scott has announced the planned removal of troops from the outer Terran planets, it’s only gotten worse.”
Kade had heard about this. The intergalactic Ambassador Selena Scott had been on a luxury space cruise where her life had been saved by a member of the Terran military. Ambassador Scott had listened to the woman’s story and vowed to help.
Of course this was a politically dangerous move, one that had nearly gotten her assassinated.
Ironically, the ambassador had been saved by a member of the very Cerulean forces she had vowed to recall.
It had dominated the newsfeeds for a time.
“They abuse us at every chance,” Aurora was saying. “And we’re used to that. But sometimes we fight back.”
“How?” Kade asked.
He knew the Ceruleans were well armed, and impeccably trained. There prowess was nearly as well-known as his own Invicta warriors. It seemed unlikely a scruffy band of Terrans could do much to avenge themselves on a professional force.
“Different things,” Aurora said, shrugging. “Stealing their food stores and weapons when we can. Setting fires near their barracks to wake them in the night when we can’t.”
Kade nodded.
“Some of the rebels have even learned to make bombs with the ingredients we can scavenge or steal,” she said carefully.
Something about this was starting to sound familiar.
Aurora paused for a long time, as if considering her next words. He was almost sure she had decided not to continue, when she spoke again.
“I did something I can never undo,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But what they were trying to do was too much. There is nothing I wouldn’t have sacrificed to stop it.”
She paused her pacing and gazed into the lamplight, as if she were watching some faraway scene play out.
“They knew Ambassador Scott was coming,” she said. “She planned to visit Terra-4 to dismiss the Cerulean Guard with a ceremony. It was supposed to make them feel better about the whole thing. They would all get medals, and we would finally be rid of them. Everyone would be happy.”
Kade nodded. He understood the politics of the thing. Ambassador Scott was trying her best to end the occupation on a high note. Or at least to let both parties save face.
“My friend Electra was on recon duty the day before,” Aurora said. “She came back looking like she’d seen a ghost.”
Aurora swallowed and looked him right in the eye.
“She told me the Ceruleans were planning to blow up the airfield where Ambassador Scott’s ship was going to land,” she said. “And they were going to do it with a bomb made to look like one of ours. They were going to kill the Ambassador, and put the blame on us Terrans. It would have disintegrated any chance we had at ending the occupation, and given them all the justification they needed to continue treating us however they saw fit.”
The whole story was coming back to him now, though he wasn’t sure what she could possibly have to do with it.
“I was one of the rebels who knew how to make those bombs,” Aurora told him. “I worked in the kitchens, so I knew a bit about chemistry and compounds. And I had a steady hand.”
He nodded, trying not to show the amazement he felt.
“I couldn’t let that happen,” she told him simply.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“I went to the airfield the night before,” she told him. “I was going to defuse the bomb.”
He gazed at her in wonder. Everything about what she had intended to do was incredibly brave.
“But those stupid soldiers didn’t bother to add a failsafe,” she said softly. “Even when we had no materials, no resources, nothing, we never built a bomb without a failsafe. There was only one thing to do.”
“Set it off early,” Kade said.
“Set it off early,” she agreed.
So the rebels hadn’t set off a bomb to try to kill the ambassador.
They had set off a bomb to save her.
He watched as Aurora lifted her hand to the scarf around her head and tugged, releasing a waterfall of fiery curls. And the full weight of the realization dawned on him.
“You’re the Fox,” he murmured.
“I’m the Fox,” she agreed.
7
Aurora
Aurora gazed into Kade’s green eyes.
She wasn’t sure why she had told him the truth.
It would have been just as easy to claim she was escaping abusive parents or an unwanted engagement. Such things were common on the outer Terras - hungry young runaways could be found throughout the galaxy. The lucky ones got work sweeping up restaurants. The less fortunate wound up on the pleasure ships if they were attractive, or in the mineral mines if they weren’t.
A likely cover story should have rolled out of her mouth with the same ease with which she had lied to the Cerulean soldiers on Terra-4 on a regular basis.
If only she had managed not to be spotted right before the big explosion, she might be home with her friends right now, dreaming of an unoccupied Terra-4.
But as she looked at the big golden man on the sofa, with the tiny baby in the sling around his muscular chest, she began to realize that where she was might not be all that bad.
It looked like Kade might actually believe her.
He wasn’t trying to capture her, at least. And that was something.
The golden dragon warrior might just have her back. She couldn’t explain it, but she’d felt some kind of connection with him from the moment she’d met him. She only hoped she hadn’t been imagining it, because she’d just bet her future on it.
“Say something,” the words dragged themselves out of her mouth.
“I think it’s time to feed the baby,” he said with a smile, tilting his chin at the little bundle in his arms, who was now stirring.
They went to the kitchen together, pulled milk from the ice box and brought it out to the fireplace, where Kade set three logs and a bit of kindling in place and then took a deep breath.
Aurora gasped when a lick of flames shot out of his mouth, igniting the kindling instantly.
“Fun little trick, right?” He glanced up at her and winked.
“I-I didn’t really think about the fact that you could use that for practical stuff,” she admitted.
“Yes, we’re known as warriors, but it comes in even more handy for camping,” he said with a smile.
They sat on the floor beside the fire as the milk warmed.
Lyra was fully awake now. She kicked and fussed.
But as soon as Kade lifted her out of the sling, she looked decidedly happier.
“Bah,” she cried out imperiously, waving her arms at Aurora.
“Oh, you want your mama,” Kade said knowingly.
“Me?” Aurora said.
But Kade was handing the baby over already, and there was nothing for Aurora to do but take her.
Lyra’s little limbs wrapped around her almost instinctively. But she quickly let go with one chubby fist to take a hank of Aurora’s hair and make a squeaky sound, followed by a growly one, gazing with almost cross-eyed intensity at the curls in her hand.
“Oh, she likes your hair,” Kade laughed. “You surprised her with it.”
Aurora laughed.
“So you were only hiding it because of your… situation?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Yes, it seems to be about the only thing people recognize about me. Except for Ethel next door, what am I going to do about that?”
“I’m not sure,” Kade admitted. “We’ll get to know them a little better, then decide. For now, maybe it’s safest to keep covering your hair when we go out.”
“I dyed it before,” she said. “But the dye washed out when they sent me through the sterilization process to enter Clotho. Maybe I can get some more dye.”
Kade’s expression was suddenly serious.
“What?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing,” he said. “I was just thinking I don’t like you having to pretend to be someone else. And…”
“And?”
“And I like the fire-colored hair,” he said, reaching out slowly to touch her hair, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to.
But Aurora didn’t want to. She craved his gentle touch more than she could have described.
It seemed impossible that they could only have known each other for such a short time. She was already lost to the big alien’s gravitational pull.
Lyra squeaked again and tugged Aurora’s hair, rousing her from the trance Kade had her in.
He pulled his hand away, as if her hair were actual fire.
It was all for the best. He would likely be leaving in the morning. He’d seen them safely to the cottage, and gotten them settled in. His job was done.
“Why don’t I feed her while you open that package from the neighbors,” Kade suggested.
“Sure,” Aurora said, handing over the baby and scrambling up.
Back in the kitchen, she leaned against the cabinet and willed herself to get it together.
You’re starting a new life, she told herself. You can’t start getting mushy over the guy who brought you here. Make use of his knowledge while he’s here, and don’t get attached.
She had given herself some damn good advice.
But she was obviously not going to take it.
Back on Terra-4, this level of privacy was unheard-of. Had she found herself in possession of it with literally anyone, she wouldn’t have been able to keep herself from fantasizing about sex.
And with that gigantic hunk of golden muscles out there?
Easy, tiger, she warned herself again.
The problem was, she wasn’t sure she could just enjoy the night with him.
Something about the dragon warrior made her feel like home.
She turned her attention to the sack of dry ingredients from Ethel and Franc.
They had managed to save the milk and half a dozen eggs out of their original haul from the store. But she felt she’d better save the lion’s share for tomorrow. It sounded like the neighbors planned to put Kade to work in the morning and they might not make it to the shops.
She unpacked a large portion of what looked like corn meal, some brighter white powder that was probably a leavener, and a tiny bundle of salt crystals.
A small wet cloth at the bottom of the sack was wrapped around something cold.
She opened it and smiled when she saw it was a fist sized globe of fresh churned butter.
She had precious few ingredients on hand, but now she knew just what she was going to make.
A few minutes later, she headed back to the living room with a steaming platter.
Kade was just lowering Lyra into a cradle beside the fire.
“That smells amazing,” he said, straightening.
She tried to rip her eyes away from his golden hair, which gleamed so brightly in the firelight that she wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t giving off some kind of light of its own.
“It’s just johnnycakes,” she told him, placing the platter on the small table at the far end of the room.
“What are they?” Kade asked with great interest.
She smiled at the big man’s big appetite.
“Don’t get too excited,” she said. “It’s a simple Terran meal. I think they were originally called ‘journey cakes’ because they keep well on long journeys. But leave it to Terrans to give everything a nickname. Everyone I know calls them johnnycakes.”
Kade jogged into the kitchen and came back with plates, silverware and two glasses.
He went to the mantle and grabbed the small bottle that was their housewarming gift from the neighbors.
“I can’t speak to whether or not this will be any good,” he warned her. “The stuff they call brogg is just moonshine, but stronger in taste and effect. It’ll take the paint off a space cruiser, so be careful.”
“That’s why you shook your head,” Aurora said.
“Yeah, I didn’t want you taking a sip and then spitting it out all over the floor, or choking to death,” he laughed. “We want to earn their respect.”
We…
“So what do you think is in the bottle?” she asked.
“Maybe just more moonshine, but with sugar added,” he said. “In which case, we can’t even use it for cleaning.”
“Or?” she asked.
“Or it’s some kind of wildflower wine,” he said, shrugging. “I hear there are pioneers here who have a gift for it.”
“Is there anything people won’t turn into alcohol, if given the chance?” Aurora pondered.
“Probably not,” Kade said seriously.
She watched as he cracked the wax seal and popped the cork.
“Want to take a guess?” he offered, handing her the cork.
She took it, feeling that lightning bolt of sensation when the tip of his finger touched hers.
She put the cork to her nose.
It smelled like heaven - sweet and almost citrusy with a hint of something lower and muskier.
“Must be flowers,” she said, handing it back.
He took it and inhaled. “Roses,” he said with a smile. “And honeysuckle.”
“We don’t have a lot of flowers on Terra-4,” she said. “It’s an arid planet. Not many beautiful things grow there.”
“You grew there,” he replied, his eyes serious in the firelight.
She swallowed back her response.
Aurora Day always knew what she wanted. But she was finding herself uncertain.
Love is a precipice, her mother had often told her. Don’t fall off unless you’re sure of your wings.
Her mother hadn’t exactly taken her own advice. As far as Aurora knew, Dolly Day was still out there on Terra-4, distracting herself from hunger and hopelessness by flinging herself heedlessly off one precipice after another.
Aurora had never minded the hypocrisy. It only meant her mother wanted better for her than she wanted for herself. Which Aurora thought was pretty much the whole job of a parent.
“Why don’t you pour, while I fix the plates?” she asked, looking down at their meal.”
“Of course,” he replied.
They prepared their meal, then he lifted his glass and she mirrored him.
“To a new life, on a new moon,” Kade said. “With the best baby in the galaxy.”
“Cheers,” Aurora agreed.
Their glasses clinked and then she put hers to her lips.
The contents were sweet and almost thick. They warmed her mouth and belly on the way down, and filled her with an image from the storybooks from Old Earth at the museum back home - a picture of an overgrown cottage with wildflowers in every color bursting from the ground.
“Do you like it?” Kade asked.
“It’s wonderful,” Aurora said dreamily.
He smiled and took a bite of the johnnycakes. She had painted them with fresh melted butter until they glistened.
“Moons of Osa-8,” he moaned around his mouthful.
She smiled, surprised at how proud she was to please him.
“What is in this, woman?” he demanded.
“Just cornmeal, water, and salt,” she told him. “Cooked in real butter.”
“Impossible,” he said.
“We didn’t have anything else,” she told him. “And I wanted to save the eggs.”
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He took another big bite and closed his eyes in ecstasy.
She felt a sudden wave of need.
Aurora wanted to see him close his eyes like that again, she wanted to make him do it with her body instead of her cooking.
She could picture it, his jaw tight with restrained desire, her hair falling over his bare chest as she sank onto him, taking him in.
He opened his eyes again.
Instead of their usual hypnotic green, they flashed gold, almost like they had back in town, before he’d taken care of those men shaking down the shop keep.
But this look was different, less violent, but somehow even more dangerous.
She could feel the pulsing heat of him, as if he were already touching her.
The flowery wine was settling into her, making her feel boneless, washing away the voice in her head that told her never to be vulnerable.
Or maybe it was the golden gaze of the dragon that filled her with warmth.
All the good advice in the galaxy would be wasted on her now.
She was helpless in his thrall.
8
Kade
Kade willed himself to stay calm as the dragon clawed its way to the surface of his conscious mind.
He could feel the fire of its eyes peering through his, the furnace of its lust filling his belly with fire.
Claim her.
The command was uncompromising. It filled his cells and it took all he had to hold his man-form together.
I will not claim her without her desire, he told his other self.
Can you not see that she desires you, boy? Use your feeble senses.
He was using his senses, that was the trouble. He could see Aurora’s lips parting slightly, her pink tongue darting out to wet them, as if readying for his kiss.
He could hear the pounding of her heart, scent the musky-sweet wanting of her whole body preparing for claiming.
But in his heart, he knew she was not expecting any of this, even as her body anticipated it.
Claim her, the dragon repeated.
She will never forgive me.
The only thing she won’t forgive is if you don’t claim her. Even now she mourns the thing she lacks, an absence she cannot explain. You can’t explain it either. Make her understand with your body. Make her understand, or I will.
