Kyan's Housewarming Party

by Starla Night

  “Can we turn these off?” she asked.

  He waved his hand over the screen panel. The screens melted into ordinary hallway. From it branched the family room, exercise space, offices, Olympic swimming pool, and the bedroom.

  He set their luggage inside the bedroom door.

  She looked in on the swimming pool. “You’ve done a lot since I saw it.”

  Construction had begun before leaving and then he had approved the final touches recently. Most of the work had been done by his security team working with contractors.

  She traced her fingers along the Egyptian tile lining the master bathroom. “It’s all exactly how we planned.”

  “Of course.”

  “You’ve done an amazing job. I can’t wait to show everyone!”

  That was a primary difference between them. He wanted to barricade himself in with her. She wanted to share her happiness with the world.

  Someday, would she realize his scars weren’t the only reason darkness drew around him? Would his gloominess swallow her sunshine? Suck away all of her joy?

  He clamped his jaw on his protests.

  “Come on! We’re running out of time. Let’s start on the food.” Laura headed up the steps.

  Her crocs caught on the edge of a stair.

  She stumbled.

  His stomach dropped.

  He flew to her in an instant and swept her into his arms.

  “I’m okay,” she said, hugging him nonetheless. “I had a hold of the railing.”

  He floated up and rested her on the warm main floor stone. A gentle ocean blue smoothly polished, it complimented the creamy marble walls and stylish amethyst accents.

  She slid down his hard body until coming to rest at her natural height. “You don’t have to worry.”

  He nuzzled her blonde curls. “I like to hold you.”

  She softened and rested her head against his shoulder. “I like to be held.”

  His heart swelled.

  The tender prickling, which he had once shied away from, now felt almost natural. She had upheld her promise to make him feel valued and loved every day. This prickling was the sensation of being filled too full. His heart had to grow and make room for the new feelings.

  So, perhaps she was right about this housewarming party also. He would never deny her something that meant so much. He had faced far more difficult security challenges in the Colony Wars.

  This was easy.

  Her hands strayed over his belt and lower to cup his buttocks. “Too bad we don’t have time to do more.”

  His cock pulsed with awareness. “I will revoke the invitations.”

  She snorted and tried to smother her smile as she pulled away. “No, no. Later. Food now.”

  They chopped vegetables, stirred dips, and set out appetizers. She handed him sherbet cartons and bottles of sparkling juice. “Put this in the largest bowl in the house.”

  “The largest liquid-holding receptacle in this house is the bathtub.”

  Her eyes popped. “We are not serving drinks to our guests out of a bathtub! Get your largest punch bowl and put it on the table.”

  He pivoted for the glassware cabinet.

  She tsked, talking to herself as she drizzled lavender-infused honey over fruit slices and crackers. “…can’t tell if you’re making fun of me…”

  “It is a joke,” he said.

  She looked up. “That’s not a joke. I have to know you’re not serious!”

  He flexed his nails to dragon claws, sliced the sherbet cartons in half, and upended their contents into the glass punch bowl.

  They finished preparing food as Kyan’s security team checked in. They would man the doors. The first guests arrived: Laura’s old housemates, her family, and a few curious neighbors.

  She welcomed everyone, thrilled to offer food and accept their gifts of new tablecloths, place mats, decorative hand towels, and framed photos.

  Whitney gave her a kombucha start. “It’s a mother for a soon-to-be mother. Add the tea and the sugar, and then age it in the fridge until it’s fizzy and delicious.”

  “Thank you so much.” Laura put the disk-shaped fermentation thing into a bowl. “I’ll enjoy it after the baby arrives. And thanks for not following through on your threat to give me a puppy.”

  “It was a close one.” Whitney’s boyfriend Tyler pushed his square glasses up his nose and added pink boxes of donuts to their spread. “You have to feed and care for the kombucha, too, but it’s less mess on the carpet.”

  Kyan stood silently on the fringes.

  Their neighbors avoided eye contact and skirted far around him.

  Laura strolled up and clasped Kyan’s hands. “Where are your guests? Don’t tell me you actually did go out after me and collect the invitations before they could be seen.”

  “You suggested it is socially expected to be ‘fashionably late,’” he said.

  She checked her clock. “By ten minutes. It’s been nearly an hour.”

  “Fashion varies.”

  “Kyan!”

  “I did not collect the invitations,” he promised. “Despite a strong desire to do so. My security team is interviewing the guests.”

  “Tell me your security team hasn’t sequestered your guests for an hour.”

  He remained silent.

  Her eyes widened. “Tell me it’s a joke!”

  “It’s a joke.” He indicated the elevator doors. “My siblings have just arrived.”

  “Gah! Your jokes aren’t funny.”

  His oldest brother, Malachite, led his eight-months-pregnant wife from the elevator. She looked a little queasy and headed straight for the lemonade.

  Mal handed Laura a small wrapped package. “She hopes you like this. If you don’t like it, she’ll cry. Do you like it?”

  Laura clutched the package. “Yes! Thanks so much.”

  His wife flushed a darker shade. She tugged Mal down to whisper furiously. “You’re not supposed to say the last part.”

  “But I do not want you to cry.”

  “Shh! I won’t actually cry. Don’t say that.”

  Laura unwrapped the tissue paper. An illustration of a small dragon wearing a black trench coat, steel-toed boots, and an eye-patch put a scaly blue arm around a beaming nurse. Behind them was a medieval castle.

  “It’s our lair.” Laura stroked the intricate frame. “I love it.”

  Mal’s wife blushed darker.

  “That structure bears no resemblance to our home,” Kyan said.

  Mal’s wife stared at him.

  Laura covered her eyes. “Excuse me while I strangle him.”

  Mal’s wife smiled shyly.

  The rest of Kyan’s siblings and their wives arrived, along with the captain of the Gnashing Teeth and his security officer. Before everyone could be properly introduced, Laura gave the tour.

  She’d warned Kyan that was a normal part of the party, along with eating food and accepting gifts. But it was still a little unsettling to see former enemies along with strangers walk through his halls.

  “It is much warmer than I imagined,” Jasper mentioned to Kyan, easing his tension. “This is no ice fortress of bare stone. Look, toxic plants.”

  “Those are houseplants,” his wife said flatly. “Spider plants, to be exact.”

  “She has had them since college,” Kyan explained. “They are sentimental.”

  “And toxic.”

  The dragons stared at Kyan.

  The aristocrat captain’s disdain burned him like a radiation wave. “You allow such items in your lair when you are expecting a dragonlet?”

  He returned the captain’s disdain with icy dismissal. “Laura’ sentimental plants will go into the greenhouse I have prepared long before there is any risk of exposure.”

  “Greenhouse?” Laura broke off her private conversation with her mother and spoke to Kyan. “I didn’t realize we had a greenhouse.”

  The “greenhouse” in this case was an impenetrable force field prison all
owing in light and an automated system for water and plant care. Visible but untouchable.

  “I have installed it.” He indicated the familiar force field markers, although she didn’t look as though she recognized them. “You will see.”

  His siblings relaxed.

  The aristocratic captain sniffed. “If you believe that is adequate.”

  His siblings — all low caste — collectively growled.

  The humans shuffled nervously.

  “Um, let’s get everyone’s drinks refreshed before we tour the lower areas!” Laura hurried to the main area, calling everyone with her.

  Kyan hung back. He was still expecting a few guests and did not want to be in the wrong area when they arrived.

  “You’re holding it together well,” Darcy said cheerfully, standing next to him. “Amber said this must be like getting stabbed with an electric cattle prod a hundred million times in the eyeballs for a security-conscious guy like you. A normal dragon would only feel it about half that much.”

  He nodded.

  Darcy waited.

  He remained silent. There was nothing else to say.

  The group gathered around Pyro’s delivery of spirits to stock the newly installed bar.

  From the upper floor, natural light rained in the cathedral windows. Compromising on the all-underground bunker he had wanted, Laura had talked him into building the above-ground section with real, unsecured windows instead of projection screens.

  “We can see that in the bunker,” she’d said firmly. “And I’m tired of looking at those wavy corners. It reminds me too much of being in space. On my home planet, I want to feel like I’m on my home planet.”

  He had been unconvinced.

  She’d leaned into him and rested his hand on her growing belly. “I’m sure natural lighting is better for our baby, too.”

  They had the biggest and most windows in the neighborhood. Kyan had checked.

  Now his eyes were drawn from the front entrance by a new calamity. Laura hurried up to Amber and pulled the newly poured whiskey out of her hand. “You can’t. Not in your condition.”

  “Dragons aren’t affected by alcohol,” Kyan’s sister said.

  “But your dragonlet is half human.”

  “Dragon genes are dominant.”

  Laura bit her lip. “I don’t think the effects of alcohol have been analyzed…”

  Amber rubbed her baby belly. Her normally meek orange hair was swept up in a diamond-studded clip and she wore green eyeliner with tiny jewels dotting her lids. “Perhaps I should shift.”

  “Would that be okay?” one of the braver new neighbors asked in curiosity. “I mean, for your baby?”

  “Yes, because of the mind link. When I shift, my baby shifts as well.”

  Amber was a huge female when she shifted. Much larger than this area. Kyan analyzed the space and braced.

  “What’s this?” Darcy swept to Amber with a champagne flute full of fizzy yellow liquid. “One drink can’t hurt. That said, I’m drinking sparkling cider.”

  “You are not pregnant,” Amber told him.

  “It’s in solidarity with all you pregnant ladies. So here.” He handed her the glass. “Make my solidarity count.”

  She sighed and accepted the non-alcoholic drink.

  “You don’t even like whiskey,” Darcy murmured, a little too close to her ear.

  “I wanted to show solidarity with my brothers,” Amber replied quietly. She still struggled to find her place.

  The other soon-to-be mothers began quizzing each other. “Have you had any Braxton-Hicks? Anyone else still feeling morning sickness? Have you chosen names or are you waiting until you know for sure the mineral color? What have you done with the nursery? Am I the only one who keeps accidentally eating brimstone candy and throwing up fire?”

  “It’s lucky unborn dragonlets stay the same form as their mother,” Pyro’s wife said, one hand on her pink and white maternity dress belly. She was two weeks farther along than Laura.

  “It would otherwise be dangerous,” Amber said. “There is also a psychic connection for the first two years. It ends after the dragonlet starts communicating in words.”

  Another neighbor with three young children and two types of drinks leaned in. “That would be useful for parents — if you could force them to listen and do what you want.”

  “We’ll let you know how it goes,” Pyro’s wife said. “Actually, you’ve had three children? I’m researching parenthood and I have a few questions…”

  Laura listened intently.

  Some of Kyan’s fears melted away. If Laura could learn something useful and reassuring about their first dragonlet, then it made everything worth it. He was glad that she had encouraged him to break his own rules—

  “Sir.” His security team gave him a tight warning. “We have a record of at least one intruder.”

  He evaluated the guests. “Current location?”

  “Next to the food.”

  Of course.

  He flew around the corner to the table and found not one intruder but three: the second-in-command of his unit camouflaged in a corner of the ceiling, their old comm tech in a shielded triangulating position, and their generalist “Crazy Ed” stuffing pink box donuts into his mouth.

  Which meant his old squad leader was—

  “Mmph! Scarface.” Crazy Ed spoke around his full mouth, frosting and cream bursting from his unevenly-shaved cheeks. “What are these delectable, froofy cakes?”

  “Donuts.”

  “What? Nah. These are creamy. Delicious. Amazing.”

  He cleared his throat. “I see you skipped the—”

  Someone brushed against Kyan’s back.

  He whirled — toward the sharp point of a knife. He froze.

  The other team members, including Crazy Ed, grinned at him.

  “Losing your touch, Onyx,” his squad leader’s rough voice growled near his ear.

  “I was going to say you skipped the name badge station.” He reached into his pocket, the squad leader allowing him to do so in total control, and produced six badges. Still immobilized by the knife, he passed them out.

  They deactivated their camouflage and took their badges, materializing out of the ether to the startled noises of his security team over his ear buds. He lifted the final badge into empty space where, if he were in charge of the operation, he would have placed their final old team member — silent Schist.

  “You only have triple-point entry protection.” Crazy Ed washed down his donut with a swig of punch. “Very insecure in your line of work. Very insecure.”

  “Going soft,” the old comm tech said.

  “No need to reveal all my secrets,” he replied.

  The others raised brows, skeptical. Crazy Ed just laughed.

  He continued to hold out the final name badge. His squad leader released him to stick his name badge onto his bulky, tactical breastplate.

  Two invisible fingers closed over the final badge in Kyan’s hand and tugged. He let go. The badge disappeared.

  “So this is Earth post-contact.” His squad leader stepped into his line of vision. Long shatter-marks of fire sprayed out from his jaw where he had taken shots to the face. Like Kyan, he was cold and deadly. “You’re working as a clothier.”

  “You actually happy with a needle and thread?” his old comm tech asked.

  “Why? Looking for a new job?”

  He pshawed. “I’ve got a family fortune and fifty females waiting for their chance to mate with me.”

  He grunted. The others laughed and helped themselves to food.

  His comm tech lowered his voice. “You really satisfied here?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not bored? Wishing for the old life?”

  “No.”

  “Really?”

  The others glanced over with the same silent question. They were really asking whether he’d finally found a place to rest. Where the nightmares could be buried or forgotten. Where he could
let go and be a civilian. Normal, unlike any of them.

  But his nightmares had never matched theirs. Their worst times had been in the war. His worse time had been in civilian times, long before a single shot had been fired.

  He had never dreamed of getting out and finding peace. He knew peace would never be waiting for him.

  For a long time, he’d felt their differences acutely. But recently — since Laura — his feelings had changed.

  “I have everything I need here,” he said.

  They still looked unconvinced.

  “Kyan?” Laura stepped into the main room, one hand on her belly. She regarded his rugged, deadly company uncertainly. “Are you okay?”

  He flew to her. Pulling her into his protective embrace, he gestured at the damaged warriors. “They served with me.”

  Her expression lit. “Your old team members!”

  Once, he would have denied he’d ever had a team. But now, he acknowledged what he couldn’t before. His team had relied on him and he had relied on them. He had denied it, but they were his old team.

  “Welcome.” She rubbed his possessive forearms and leaned against Kyan, her natural sunshine radiating. “You’re just in time for a tour of the lower level.”

  They all, even the squad leader, looked stunned. And he didn’t think it was only because giving a tour was anathema to their closely-held security secretes. Even though it made him want to curl up and squirm to freedom, outside of their evaluating gazes.

  The captain of the Gnashing Teeth strode into the room. “Black Shadows!”

  Kyan’s old team tensed. “Military.”

  A tense silence underscored the standoff.

  “Um, everyone is welcome,” Laura said.

  The aristocrat drew himself up. “Well. I assume you’ve brought a gift. It is traditional. You’ll see ours.” He gestured. An electric blanket, an electric kettle, and a warming tray. “Small household goods. Proper gifts.”

  Kyan’s squad leader nodded to Laura. “You have spider plants?”

  “Huh? Oh, yes.” She frowned with bemusement. “Why’s that?”

  “Spider plants are toxic to humans and dragons. The infestation must be contained before your dragonlet arrives. Therefore, we brought you the spider catcher plant.”

  Hellfire.

  The team unveiled the spider catcher and rested its barrel-shaped pot on the food table. A force field sealed the top of a terra cotta cup. Inside, a green object wriggled.