by Cara Bristol
Of course they would accept her—that had never been in doubt, but it was gratifying to see how well she meshed with his surrogate brothers and their genmates. Because he loved seeing her so happy, he tamped down his impatience to hustle her up to his room and reseal their bond in a physical way. She’d longed to belong to a big family, and he wouldn’t rob her of one second of it. But the instant they were alone…
Wingman, of all people, caught on to his impatience. After the bombardment of their planet, the Avian hadn’t been the easiest person to get along with. He’d been distrustful, easily irritated, just plain angry. And then he met Delia and her young daughter Izzy. It was amazing how a genmate could change a man. In Wingman’s case, it had mellowed him into a likable fellow.
The Avian fixed a hawkeyed stare on him and Cassie and then said to Delia, “We should pick up Izzy from the sitter. Ramona probably needs a break.”
“There’s no rush. Ramona loves having her, and Izzy loves being with Molly and the horses.”
He arched his feathery brows dramatically and jerked his head at him and Cassie.
“Oooh…yeah.” Delia finally picked up on the hint. “We’d better be going. Kevanne—didn’t you and Chameleon have errands?”
“No.” Chameleon leaned back into his chair.
“Yes, we do,” Kevanne said.
“We do?”
She jutted her head at them.
“Oh! Yes we do.”
Cassie giggled.
The others got the message then, and, after delivering some final, quick congratulations, back slaps, and hugs, they made themselves scarce.
I like your friends, but I thought they’d never leave, Cassie said.
Why didn’t you say something sooner?
Because I do like your friends, and I’m so very happy to be here. She wound her arms around his neck. One kiss led to several, and then he grabbed her hand, and they charged upstairs.
As soon as he kicked the door shut, roaming hands sent clothing tumbling to the floor. Flesh met flesh as their minds linked tighter, drawing them into a web of intimacy. All barriers had crumbled, leaving only naked need and an eternal spring of love. He’d found his genmate, his one, his only, and there could never be another.
Kissing passionately, they tumbled onto the bed. Limbs entwined, mouths fused. Desire burned white-hot, but his need for her went far deeper than the physical. You are everything to me, he said. You have turned my existence into a life.
You gave voice to my dreams and made them come true. My genmate, she said, her love washing over him.
With fingertips and lips he caressed every smooth, enticing inch of her body. He traced the whorls of her ear, followed the slope of her neck, nestled his lips in the indentation of her throat. He lingered at her breasts, cupping the small mounds and anointing each hardening tip with his mouth.
His breath against her ticklish tummy caused her to giggle and squirm, but when he slipped lower, she moaned with desire and arched her hips. “Yasss, oh yass!” Guttural words had never sounded more beautiful to his ears.
When they were both aching and needful, he slid into her, the physical merging with the mental, sound blending with sight, taste and smell entwining, thought and feeling fusing, two beings merging into a singular wave of devotion.
Ecstasy consumed them in a transcendent fire, burning away past hurts and disappointments, leaving the joyful present and the promising future.
Afterward, Cassie curled up next to him, her head pillowed against his heart. “Wow!” she panted.
Wow, indeed.
She lifted her head. Her lips twitched as she said, “Was it g-g-good for you, too? I always wanted to s-s-say that.” She giggled but then sobered. “Now, I can s-say any-anything I want.” She outlined his lips with a fingertip. “Our mental connection is the most intimate sensation I’ve ever ex-ex-perienced, and I love that I h-have that with you. But I intend to speak as much as I can. I need to voice my thoughts.”
“Absolutely.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “You have a lifetime of talking to catch up on.”
“Yes!”
“And the more you speak, the easier it will become.”
“It’s getting easier al-already.”
“I noticed. I’m amazed at how quickly you’re picking it up since this morning.” Prior to being stricken mute, she must have been an exceptionally verbal child.
“I’ve always spoken in my dreams.”
“You have?”
“I’d have wonderful…dreams, in which I’d talk and t-t-talk. Then I’d w-wake up, find out none of it was real.” She bit her lip. “I’m n-n-not dreaming now, am I? I’m not going to wake up and discover none of this happened…will I?”
“It’s all real.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “I promise. It’s all real. Trust me.”
“If you say it, then it’s true.” She rose on an elbow and smoothed her palm over his chest. A slight crease formed between her brows. “I think sometimes…I talked in my sleep. Out loud, I mean. The sound of my voice woke me. Could that be?”
“That would help account for why you’re able to speak so well so quickly,” he agreed.
She nestled against him again, her sweet-scented soft form filling him with peace and contentment, but he needed to be sure she was happy. “Are you sure you’ll be okay living here? We can get our own place if you prefer.” Both Chameleon and Wingman had moved out when they found their genmates. He rather liked living with his surrogate family, but it would be her choice. Whatever would please her would make him happy.
“I want to stay here. With you,” she said.
“It’s settled, then.”
She peered up at him and grinned. “That was our first decision as a genmated couple!”
He kissed her to mark the milestone. “We weren’t able to bring many of your possessions over. Is there anything else you want from the house?” The hover scooter had limited storage capacity. They’d only been able to bring a suitcase of her clothing, the cookie jar, and Mentira’s computer. He hoped for her sake Shadow could extract the information Cassie needed to find her mother.
“What more do I need than you? You’re everything I ever dreamed of.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The hover scooter touched down in a small park of an established neighborhood of brick homes and tall leafy trees, and Cassie’s stomach fluttered like crazy. She dismounted and caught herself before wiping her sweaty palms on her white slacks. She adjusted her sleeveless floral top and centered her pendant over the neckline. “Is my hair okay?”
“Perfect. You’re beautiful. It’s going to be okay.” Psy squeezed her hand, and quirked his lips. “Trust me. I know things.”
She gave a little laugh. She did trust him. Fixating on inconsequential matters like appearance helped to distract her from the terrifying, momentous event about to occur.
She would meet her mother.
Rachel lived in Spokane, Washington, a mere fifty miles from Argent! Cassie had been less than an hour’s drive from her real mother and hadn’t known it.
“Everything happened so fast,” she said.
“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied.
From the computer, Shadow had been able to extract her real mother’s name, but not her current address, since Mentira hadn’t known it because Rachel had moved soon after her son graduated high school and joined the military.
Thankfully, the authorities had managed to locate Rachel, and, after contacting her this morning with the news her abducted daughter was alive, had gotten permission to give Cassie her address and phone number. Cassie had tried numerous times to call, only to hang up. Too many emotions clogged her throat for words to form. After a month of speech therapy, she could talk almost normally, but this, this, was momentous, nerve-wracking.
“Let’s go see her,” Psy had suggested. “In person.”
“Maybe she won’t want to be surprised,” she had said.
“There couldn’t be a better surprise than this one.”
“What if she doesn’t like me? What if I didn’t turn out the way she expected? What if I’m a disappointment?”
“You could never be a disappointment.”
What would she say? What would she call the woman who’d given birth to her? Mom? Mother? Rachel? How would she introduce herself? Rachel had named her Meadow, but she’d spent her life answering to Cassie, a name chosen by her kidnapper, a name she wished to disown. But she didn’t feel like a Meadow, either. Maybe she needed to choose a new name reflecting her new life and freedom.
She recognized she was allowing herself to get bogged down with minutia to avoid the stress over the monumental matter. In moments, she would meet her real mother.
What if she’d forgotten her? Of course, she’d remember she’d once had a daughter, but what if she’d gotten over the loss? Like that childhood best friend who’d become a distant memory? Or the forgotten, once-loved departed pet?
After Cassie had vanished, her mother had given birth to another child. All Rachel’s attention and love probably went to him now. “I’m not her only child. She has a son.” Cassie had a brother.
“A mother never forgets her child.”
“I should have called first. I shouldn’t just drop in on her.”
“Well, we’re here now. “He clasped her shoulders. His gaze was encouraging, gentle, but firm. He wasn’t going to let cold feet send her running or let fear get in the way of her dreams. “It’s going to be okay. Better than okay.” I’m here with you. Always.
If not for him—this incredible opportunity would never have happened. The truth would never have been revealed. She took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”
“That’s my girl.” After a kiss for luck, he clasped her hand, and they strode up the sidewalk to the house. Potted flowers added bursts of color, and a two-seater swing facing the street evoked images of breezy, relaxing summer evenings. The red door contrasting the gray brick of the house painted a cheerful welcome, echoed by the mat on the porch.
“What if she’s not home?”
Psy twisted his mouth. “Ring the bell.”
She pressed the button.
A bell pealed inside the house. Nerves grated with every chime.
Footsteps approached. She was going to be sick. She would throw up all over the welcome mat.
It’s going to be okay. Wonderful. Trust me, he said.
The door opened.
It was her.
Years had softened and lined her skin, and silver threaded a shorter hairstyle, but her mother’s face was unforgettable. She would know her anywhere. More memories roared to the forefront—her mother tucking her in at night, pushing her in the stroller, baking cookies, laughing, smiling…
Cassie’s bottom lip quivered. “I’m uh… I’m…”
Rachel reeled, her eyes widening with immediate recognition. “Meadow? Oh god, oh god—”
And suddenly Meadow sounded so right. Felt so right. “It’s me, Mommy.” She started to cry.
Rachel burst into tears. “My baby. The police said—they didn’t tell me—I didn’t expect—I hoped—oh god, my baby.” She hugged Meadow then pulled back to gaze at her then embraced her even tighter. “You look just like I imagined you would.” She laughed through her tears. “You look like me—and your father.”
“What’s going on out here? Who is it?” A tall man, his features as familiar as Meadow’s own appeared in the foyer.
“It’s our daughter, Dan. She’s come home.”
She was enveloped in another embrace, this one masculine and strong. “We never gave up hope,” her father said, his voice thick with tears.
Meadow linked her arm through Psy’s to pull him forward. “This is Psy. He helped me find you.” She could explain about genmates later.
“Why are we standing outside? Come in! Come in.” Her mother ushered them into a large foyer, the walls decorated with family photos. With shock, Meadow recognized her baby face staring at her from dozens of them. “Let’s go into the living room.”
“Are you my daughter’s husband?” she heard her father ask.
They hadn’t planned to marry, marriage seeming unimportant because no legal arrangement could be stronger than a genmate bond, but visions of her parents walking her down the aisle at her wedding to the man who had made everything possible filled her head. Suddenly she desired that more than anything. To share at least one big moment after losing so many would be a dream come true.
“Meadow and I just got engaged,” her genmate replied to her father. Don’t you know I want to make all your dreams come true?
* * * *
Thank you for reading Psy: Alien Castaways 3. I hope you’ll tell other readers about the book by leaving a review. In 2021, Shadow, Tigre, and Inferno’s stories will be published. Shadow will be next! To get notified of those releases, sign up to receive my newsletter AND get a free book (Cyborg Husband) to read now: http://carabristol.com/get-your-free-book/. From time to time, I have free and 99-cent BookBub deals, so if you follow me on BookBub, you’ll find out about those: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/cara-bristol.
The Alien Castaways series is an Intergalactic Dating Agency (IDA) romance, a multi-author project in which alien heroes come to Earth and meet their mates. My Dakonian Alien Mail Order Brides series is part of the IDA collection. Read on for an excerpt from DARAK: Dakonian Alien Mail Order Brides 1 (Intergalactic Dating Agency).
* * * *
Revenge is best served sweet with a hot, horned alien.
Free-spirited pastry chef Lexi Sutterman has discovered that true love is pie in the sky. The only thing more difficult than finding an Earth man willing to commit is pleasing her wealthy, hypercritical family who view her as a failure. So she’s given up on both, focusing her energy on her new bakery. When her uber-successful little sister manages to nab a well-heeled fiancé, Lexi fights back by joining the Intergalactic Dating Agency. She plans to bring a huge, purple, tentacled alien as her plus-one to the wedding.
Darak of planet Dakon isn’t purple or tentacled—he’s just seven feet of horned alien hotness. To get a woman on his world, a guy has to literally win the lottery. Tired of waiting for the Fates to send him a female, he joins the dating service to meet a nice Earth girl to call his own. He recognizes Lexi as his true mate, but realizes convincing her they’re meant to be together forever and not just for a weekend will be no cakewalk.
When a sweet-tart pastry chef and a horned alien hottie fall in love, everyone gets their just desserts…
DARAK
Lexi
The hand-addressed, gold-embossed, perfumed envelope I’d brought in with the junk mail sat on my kitchen counter and tugged at my attention, despite my best efforts to ignore it. Anything that fancy and expensive couldn’t be good news. I sighed, licked black-cherry frosting off my fingers, and tore open the envelope.
Dr. Blake and Mrs. Caroline Gates Sutterman request the honor of your presence at the marriage ceremony of Miss Antoinette Leigh Gates Sutterman to Phillip Edward Markham IV…
Told ya. Bad news. My baby sister was getting married. It wasn’t enough she’d fast-tracked her way to partner of her law firm at the young age of twenty-five, she was sealing the deal by marrying the firm’s founding member, Phillip Edward Markham IV. The possibility she might have slept her way to the top didn’t detract from her accomplishment. In our family, how you achieved success didn’t matter, as long as you did.
Two years ago, my brother had finished his plastic surgery residency and joined Dad’s practice, last year my sister had made partner, and me? I was officially…a failure. I had no titles before my name, no letters after my name, and no prospects of marrying up.
I tossed the envelope aside, and a whole bunch of other stuff fell onto the floor: an RSVP card for the wedding, a separate invitation for the rehearsal dinner, an RSVP card for that, and tissue paper.
I tasted the frosting ag
ain, letting the flavors settle on my tongue. Perfect. My client would be pleased. I wiped the residual stickiness from my fingers with the tissue paper before jotting down the recipe measurements in my tablet, just as the picto-phone app began to play Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries.”
With a grimace, I propped the computer on a bowl and pressed accept.
“Hello, Mother,” I said when her image appeared on the screen.
She would have grimaced, if her Botoxed forehead would have allowed it, but she had to settle for transmitting disapproval through a glint in her hazel eyes. Checking an ingrained reaction to make myself more presentable by straightening my posture and ponytail, I slouched against the counter and waited for her to speak.
“Am I interrupting anything important?” Her tone indicated she was sure she wasn’t.
“I was testing frosting recipes.” I brushed powdered sugar from my shirt. Dammit! Old habits died hard. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
“I wanted to let you know you’ll be receiving an invitation—”
“I got it. Toni’s getting married. Congratulations.” No doubt Mother considered the engagement her accomplishment. Back when my sister was seeking a law clerk position prior to passing the bar, my mother had arranged for her to meet Phillip through a sorority sister who served on the same charity board as she. Of course, Toni hadn’t let an opportunity slide by.
Unlike me.
“It’s customary to RSVP.”
“I only received the invitation this afternoon!” Opened it like sixty seconds ago.
“I just wanted to ensure you’ll be there.”
“I won’t miss Toni’s wedding.”
“You weren’t at her party at the country club when she made partner.”
Yeah, I’d skipped that. I hadn’t attended a family gathering yet where by the end of the evening my failings as a daughter and human being weren’t dissected and analyzed. I wasn’t a “professional,” I hadn’t married well—or at all—and I had no college degree, not one from a real school anyway. My associate’s in culinary arts from the community college counted for squat.
