by Amelia Jade
Garath
The city scrolled by underneath him like a picture, but Garath didn’t notice. Lost in his own mind during the helicopter ride, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Chestnut hair tied back in a messy bun. Short body with curves like waves of the ocean that just beckoned him to go exploring. Cobalt eyes that screamed her emotions for any and all to see. A voice like the first caress of a breeze after a stifling hot day. Her face, heart-shaped and lovely, with a little cleft at the center of her jaw that matched his own, a surefire sign that she was indeed his mate.
And Garath didn’t even know her name. Throughout it all, he’d forgotten to introduce himself. Nobody had said her name, not while he was in earshot at least. All he had to go on was that she was the manager of the officers’ club on the base. It should have been easy for him to work out another meeting with her.
Unfortunately, after his disastrous driving lesson, Colonel Mara had come down on him much like the bricks had rained down upon the Jeep. Her wrath had been swift, and Garath had paid for it with next to no downtime. He was given time to eat, sleep, shower, and that was about it. Otherwise he was out finishing up his driving lessons.
To his complete surprise, the colonel had forbade him from assisting in rebuilding the wall, yet another way he had been sure would have given him the opportunity to run into his mate a second time. With that denied to him, however, he’d struggled, and two days later he’d been sent to Barton City.
He climbed out of the helicopter as it set down, ducking low until he was out from under the whirling blades. The pilot didn’t wait long, lifting the craft back into the air before he’d even reached the stairs down to the roof.
Raising a middle-finger salute to the pilot, who just grinned and waved cheerily, Garath shrugged the duffel backpack onto his shoulder. The entire contents of his new life were contained within that bag. Several changes of clothes. An ID card and a few other odds and ends.
Compared to the castle he’d called home before, the tower he was in didn’t appear to be much. It was taller, sure, but other than that it had no appeal. Made from fragile glass, it lacked the sturdy appeal of solid rock hewn straight from the earth. Though he knew the accommodations were considered opulent by the times, it was nothing compared to what he’d had.
His treasury overflowing with coins and cups, chalices and plates of gold and silver. The finest tapestries depicting his various victories covered every wall, the floors and anywhere else there was room to store them. Everything was made from gold. Tables, candleholders, doorknobs, and more. Gold everything. It had been perfect.
Until it had been taken from him.
Staring warily at the elevator doors that would take him to his apartment, Garath contemplated what was expected of him now. There were other dragons in the tower—an apartment building, he was told it was now called—other dragons he was supposed to live with. Other dragons he was expected to befriend and treat with respect and politeness. Other dragons who would steal everything he had in a second if given the chance.
Garath was about to walk into a pit of snakes. And he had precisely no other option.
The world was too foreign for him to survive on his own. He was more than aware of that fact, nor was he too arrogant to believe he could simply walk out and learn how to make it on his own. No, if the military was willing to give him plush quarters and time to learn how to manipulate the system to his advantage, then he would certainly take them up on their hospitality.
Even if that meant dealing with more dragons than he’d seen in centuries.
Keying in the code he was given, the elevator closed and whisked him down to his apartment. The doors opened and he glanced around. The elevator tube was near the center of the building. A wall with doors to his left ran out from the elevator, and he could see a bathroom and bedroom through the openings. Following it around, he came to what he was truly looking for. The kitchen.
Dropping his bag, he made a beeline for the fridge, pulling it and the freezer open. He’d had no need to use them during his stay at the base, but the idea of cold storage was nothing new, not even to him. This was just a more advanced way of doing it. A stove was an indoor hearth of sorts, but that was all. He had no idea what the boxy rectangular thing mounted above the stove was, or any of the other steel contraptions in the kitchen. But the fridge and freezer contained food he knew, and Garath was starved. Yanking on the handle he opened the door, eyes greedily looking at the contents within.
It was empty.
“Cheap bastards,” he snarled to nobody in particular. A similar check of the freezer revealed the same thing. He had no food.
Storming back into the elevator, he eyed the buttons beside the keypad. There weren’t many, but one labeled “G” stood out. He punched it, and less than a dozen seconds later the doors opened to the ground floor of the building.
“You,” he said to the man behind the counter. “I require food.”
The younger male, mid-twenties with short-cut hair and a tight-fitting suit, stared at him with undisguised irritation at the way he’d been addressed. Garath was forced to lift his eyebrows a fraction of an inch to get a response.
“Uh, okay? Do you want to eat out, or make your own?”
He had no idea what the phrase eating out meant. It sounded fun, but he wasn’t ready to admit how out of date he was. “Make my own.”
“There’s a grocery store two blocks down,” the male said, pointing to the doors and then to the right. “It should have whatever you need, unless it’s something hard to find.”
“That’ll do,” Garath pronounced.
Marching away from the counter, he pushed open the glass doors and followed the man’s directions. He was going to the grocery store! There was only one question remaining.
What the hell was a grocery store?
***
There was So. Much. Food.
Garath stared in amazement at the aisles upon aisles of food in front of him. It was unbelievable.
“How…”
The first sight that greeted him was bins upon bins of fruits and vegetables, fresh produce that he’d tasted before on the base, but had never believed in his wildest dreams was available in such vast quantities. The smell of the sweet and succulent delicacies filled his nose.
But there was more!
He could see chickens turning on spits by the dozens in a big metal contraption to his right. Others were visible inside plastic containers. As he watched humans walked up and just grabbed one or two of them, as if it were nothing.
They had already been killed, defeathered, and gutted. Everything was done. Even the cooking; they just had to take them and go! Sides of various wheat-based products, and cheese, glorious cheese! It was more than he could take. Garath began to wander the store, lost in a smorgasbord of food the likes of which would have beggared any king when last he was awake.
It was too much, he realized, sucking back some saliva that threatened to become drool. He stood in front of a butcher’s section, fresh slabs of meat displayed in tantalizing rows, covered in spices and flavors. Just the smell was driving him insane.
Overwhelmed by the options, he lost track of time until a soft singsong voice speared through the fog surrounding him.
“It looks a little different when it’s not all scattered across the floor, doesn’t it?”
He knew that voice! His brain conjured up images of a stunning woman covered in tomato sauce and mashed potatoes. Then it wiped that clear, so he could see the heart-shaped face below it. Thick cheeks that he wanted little more than to caress were bunched up beneath a pair of blue eyes that he hoped were full of life more than anger this time around.
“Maybe just a little,” he admitted, turning to see the woman who had haunted his dreams and every minute of his waking time since he’d done as she’d asked and left her alone.
She was there, dressed in a dark red shirt showing the barest hint of cleavage, hanging loose and baggy from bot
h shoulders but cinched around her waist with a small piece of leather. Black pants completed the outfit, as far as he noticed at least. Garath’s attention was constantly pulled upward, to her small but animated mouth and the rest of her face. The curves of her body were a dangerous distraction, but just then he was able to put his focus where it was needed.
Not one minute had gone by that he hadn’t regretted that decision. More than once Garath had replayed the scenario, trying to figure out what he could have said or done to change the outcome, and every time he came up blank. She had requested he leave, and despite how much his dragon wanted her, despite him knowing they were fated to be together, Garath simply could not go against her. Not when the request had been reasonable for the situation.
He respected her, and wanted her to know that. To know that, if she asked, he could be counted on to do as she needed or wanted. She was his mate, after all, and she deserved the very best of everything that he had to offer.
Even if that wasn’t treasure. That, hopefully, was something she could overlook until he could rectify the situation.
“What are you doing here?” he asked before she could make another reference to their first meeting. That was before. This was now, and he was going to demonstrate it.
The woman looked at the wire metal cart she and so many others were pushing around, and shrugged. “Getting a filling.”
Garath frowned. “What?”
She smiled up at him. “Never mind. I’m getting some food, obviously.”
“But I thought you lived on the base.”
Trying to keep his brain intact was getting more challenging the longer she talked to him without the anger and frustration that had been there the last time. Every time she opened her mouth it made him want to just float away on the notes of her voice as it carried him into the clouds and what he envisioned heaven was like. Could she just talk to him for hours on end? He would be perfectly okay with that.
“What? Me? No, I’m not a soldier. I just work on the base, that’s all.”
“That’s a thing? I didn’t know that. I thought you were all soldiers.”
“It’s very much a thing.” She smiled, her small mouth stretching wide as they continued to stare at each other. “You look a little lost. What are you trying to do?”
Garath’s first reaction was to just boast somehow, to pretend about how he was trying to decide just which pieces of meat he liked the most,and whether he should buy some for the next few days as well, or come back to get the freshest cuts tomorrow. Anything to make himself appear more confident in her eyes.
But this was food. He didn’t have the foggiest clue what he was doing, and she knew it like a professional. There would be no fooling her. Honesty was going to be the best policy today.
“Honestly,” he confessed, trying not to let his face go red. “I have no idea.”
“Like, at all?”
“At all,” he confirmed.”
“Have you ever cooked for yourself?”
“No.” He shook his head slowly, admitting defeat. “It’s a long, long story,” he added when her forehead wrinkled in surprise.
“What do you like then?” She reached up to tuck some of the wayward strands of chestnut hair that had fallen from the messy bun back behind her ear and out of her face.
“Meat,” he said slowly. “Potatoes. Bread? Cheese as well.”
“A real savant with your palate, aren’t you?”
Garath stared at her blankly, having no idea what she’d just said. The woman giggled and looked skyward for a moment. Then, after a moment of thought, likely about whether to help the man who had driven a Jeep through her kitchen wall or not, she tugged on the basket he held.
“Okay, well this is just a waste of your money then,” she told him, pointing at the butcher’s counter. “Come on, let’s start with the really easy stuff.”
Garath followed after her, feeling like a blind dog, completely unaware of where he was going and needing to be hand-guided the entire way. Eventually they stopped in front of a big bank of what were quite obviously freezers.
“These are TV dinners. The easiest thing in the world. Not as tasty as anything you may have had on the base if it came from my kitchen, but they’ll keep you going at least.” She looked him up and down. “Yeah, go with the larger ones. There’s a huge variety. I’m sure you can find some that you like.”
“Thank you…” he faltered. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name, and I refuse to keep thinking of you as ‘the lady whose kitchen I destroyed’ in my head.”
Truthfully, he’d almost never thought of her like that, but he also wasn’t about to tell her that he wanted to have a name to put alongside his mate’s face. Things like that would just have to wait a little bit longer before he confessed them to her. A name was a start though. Maybe a phone number too. Maybe.
“Marie,” she said, sticking out a hand.
He shook it. “Garath.”
“That’s an unusual name,” she remarked. “Gahrr-Ath?”
“Suits the owner,” he joked, drawing a soft twitter of laughter from Marie.
Marie. What a beautiful name.
“I’m sure it does.” There was an awkward pause. “But listen, I’m hungry, and I need to get home before either my dog or my best friend destroys the place. I’ve been gone all day, and they’re both waiting on me for food. Just follow the directions and you’ll be fine.” She pointed at the boxed meals in the freezer.
“I will. Thank you Marie. I…don’t know what I would have done. Probably starved,” he admitted.
“Don’t mention it.”
He looked down, summoning up any courage he might have. “Is there any way that maybe, I don’t know, I could get your phone number? In case I need more help.”
The request quite obviously took her by surprise. There was no immediate response, and her pupils dilated as shock ran through her. That was nothing though, compared to the reaction when she agreed a few seconds later.
It was clear she would never make a good politician or gambler. Her face betrayed every emotion running through her mind, even before it had made its way to the rest of her body.
He pulled out his phone, counting his blessings and hoping his good luck would continue until he’d put the number into it. Food preparation had not been among the courses the military had put him through after awakening him from his sleep, but how to use a cell phone had been.
“I really need to be getting going though,” Marie said after he confirmed the number. “My friend is going to get frustrated with me if I’m much later.”
“Of course, don’t let me keep you any longer.” He gestured for her to go. It didn’t matter anymore. He had her number. She’d given it to him. Marie. His mate. Of her own free will she’d decided he was worthy of her number!
“Yes!” he hissed, pumping his fist.
An elderly couple coming down the aisle looked at him with concern, slowing to a halt.
Garath smiled at them. “She gave me her phone number. Me! She gave it to me. Can you believe that?”
The pair started smiling, and the old man lifted a hand to his mouth, putting it between his oblivious wife and him. “She gave me hers at the corner store sixty-two years ago. Worst mistake I’ve ever made.”
“Harold!” the woman scolded gently, though a smile teased at her lips.
The white-haired gentleman began to laugh heartily, and the love for the woman at his side shone through in his eyes as he looked over at her.
Garath nodded, appreciative of their interaction. It would be far more than sixty years before he and Marie looked like that, but he couldn’t wait to be in the old man’s shoes one day. It was the love, he realized. The way he looked at his wife, how his hand even now rested on hers as they pushed the cart together. They were a team. He wanted to be a team with Marie.
Now all he had to do was convince her his was the winning one.
Chapter Five
Marie
“Ch
ip!” she called. “Come clean this up, will you?”
Paws clattered over the hardwood floor as her half-and-half springer spaniel and Dalmatian mix raced into the kitchen at his name. Superhuman senses zoomed in on the spilled food on the floor, and before she could point to it the organic vacuum cleaner had erased her mess.
“Good boy,” she purred at him, scratching under his chin while he looked up at her proudly, waving his little doggy tail. “Good boy. Now go give Aunty Jo some kisses.”
Her best friend Joanna looked up as Chip came charging toward her. “What? No!” she yelped, going down under nearly fifty pounds of dog as Chip leapt into her lap and started trying to slobber all over the other woman. “Go get Mom! Mom wants all the kisses! Not me!”
“He loves you too much,” Marie said calmly as Jo ducked left and right, trying to avoid the affections of the dog.
“No, you’ve just trained him to be a monster! Yech!” Chip landed a particularly good one. “Imagine if this is how I told all the boys to kiss you!”
Marie snorted, tapping a hand on her thigh to summon Chip. Joanna loved the dog, but sometimes Chip could be a bit much for anyone to handle. The white and gray furred bundle of energy bounced off the couch and trotted over to her again.
“Boys don’t kiss like that,” she said.
Garath wouldn’t kiss like that.
It wasn’t the first time her brain had come up with a harebrained thought like that. Ever since she’d fled from him at the store using the excuse of having to get home to her friend, Marie had been unable to get the gorgeous and oddly clueless man out of her mind. Never mind the fact that he hadn’t been invited into her head in the first place, but now her brain was doing things like comparing him to every topic that came up. Like kissing.
Daydreams of sharing a kiss with him played through her mind. The touch of his hand to her cheek, the gentle scrape of his beard against her skin. Curiosity over what he might taste like—it all filled her mind any time she gave it a chance to.
“How would you know what boys kiss like?” Jo teased. “When was the last time one of them kissed you?”
