by Tasha Black
But now they were relaxing in a warm bathtub, both of them clean again, and the baby contentedly downing his milk, which she had brought to the right temperature by putting it in the bath tub with them.
She was very sure she hadn’t done things exactly the right way, but they were figuring it out.
And he seemed pretty happy now. Which made her feel much happier than she expected it to.
He smacked her cheek with a chubby fist as if to tell her she was on the right track.
“You really are going to be a full-time job,” she told him.
He let the cell out of his mouth long enough to burp loudly and then latch on again.
By the time the milk was gone, she could tell he was very sleepy. She didn’t blame him. Their ordeal had been exhausting.
She got them both out of the tub, then dried him off and diapered him as quickly as possible, so as not to have to start all over again.
Then she dried herself off and put on a sleeping gown.
The baby whimpered the first few times she tried to put him down.
But when she hummed a song to him, he calmed a bit and his tiny eyelids began to droop. He was awfully cute, even though he was excessively green.
At last, he allowed her to place him in his cradle without a fuss.
Phoebe sighed in relief, looking around to try to decide what to do first. The trouble was, she was just as tired as he was.
After a few minutes of trying to convince herself she could stay up, she gave up on getting anything else done, turned off all the lanterns, and crawled into her own bed.
Tomorrow, she would take inventory of the house, as well as the farm and its equipment.
Maybe they could even go back into town and rent a droid, ideally a nice big one. They had passed a machine workshop that surely would have droids to rent.
Labor was an important component to a well-run farm, second only to flawless planning.
She wondered if she could find a good text to help her learn more about these berries and what she needed to do to tend to them.
Though she expected to be up all night worrying and planning, she felt herself drifting off almost immediately after pulling up the covers.
In her dream, Phoebe was warm, so warm.
Sunlight bathed her naked limbs and the scent of coconut butter soothed her sense.
The ocean lapped against the sands of the Ordish coastline and the breeze gently rustled the fronds of the palm trees.
She opened her eyes to see the water, such an intense teal-blue that it almost hurt to look at it. A frothy wave crashed against the shore and from it rose a god.
No, not a god.
It was Tyro, emerging from the blue-green depths, droplets clinging to his long, dark hair, and sliding down his naked, muscular form, exactly the way she wanted to run her hands down it.
His dark eyes fixed on hers.
Phoebe was normally shy about her voluptuous figure. But instead of wanting to cover herself, she found herself wishing she could bare herself further, show him the inside of her heart, peel off the layers of her very soul.
He drew closer until he blocked the sun and she was completely embraced by his shade.
He regarded her for just a moment, then lowered himself to the sand at her feet.
Otherworldly music filled her ears.
His dark eyes flashed emerald, and he pressed his lips to her thighs without breaking eye contact.
She felt herself lifting, ready to combust or levitate - something, anything to ease the ache his warm mouth had awoken.
He pressed kisses to her belly, her clavicle, her cheeks.
Her body wept and sang for him.
You are my mate, he told her again without speaking. But I will not claim you. Not until you beg.
She opened her mouth, ready to plead.
But no sound would come.
A lazy smile appeared on his handsome face.
I’ll ask again another day.
She closed her eyes as he trailed kisses down to her breasts, until she was sure she wouldn’t survive this torture.
“Phoebe,” he said aloud, nuzzling around her pebbled nipple without touching it.
She sank her fingers into the sand in frustration.
But the sand behaved oddly, swirling around her hands instead of breaking away under them.
“Phoebe,” he said, again, sounding worried.
There was an odd knocking sound.
She opened her eyes to find she was in her bed beside the cradle.
Pink sunrise bled in through the walls of the yurt.
The front door opened before she could pull it together enough to answer.
“Are you okay?” Tyro asked, bursting in.
“Yes, I was just sleeping,” she murmured, trying to cover herself in the sheets before remembering that she wasn’t actually naked. Her sleeping gown covered more of her than that purple number she had been wearing when she met him. “What do you want?”
“Sorry,” he said, his voice rough. “I had a dream that you needed me.”
You don’t know the half of it, buddy.
“I won’t be sleeping out there anymore,” he said decidedly. “I’ll sleep on the floor in here.”
She stifled a groan.
If she was having sex dreams about him when he was outside, how was she supposed to sleep with him right next to her?
“Go back to sleep,” he told her. “I’ll get up with Atlas when he wakes.”
Before she could get her brain moving fast enough to argue, he was stretched out on the fur rug beside the cradle.
She had no choice but to close her eyes and beg her body to stop pounding with need long enough for her to get some sleep.
7
Phoebe
Phoebe awoke feeling cranky.
She opened her eyes and looked around, but Tyro and Atlas were nowhere to be found.
Her body was still humming with need and she wondered briefly if she dared take care of that herself while they were gone.
But all she could think of was Tyro bursting in again and catching her in the act.
I’m in control of my hormones, they’re not in control of me, she told herself proudly.
She washed up quickly and dressed.
The boys still weren’t back when she emerged from the bathroom, so she headed out the front door, hoping they hadn’t gone to town without her.
The sun was brilliant overhead, and its reflection on the water made the lake look as if it were filled with diamonds.
She spotted Tyro right away, standing out on the far end of the dock with Atlas in his arms.
With the sun coming up behind him and the water sparkling all around, he reminded her of the godlike version of him that had been in her dream.
She shivered once and then shook her head.
Get ahold of yourself, Phoebe. It was just a dream.
She strode purposefully down the dock, willing herself to fix her mind on business.
“Good morning,” Tyro called to her.
She gave him a little wave.
As she got closer, she realized he had spread out the parts of some sort of machine across the dock. The metal shimmered in the sunlight like fish scales.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Something’s missing,” he told her. “I tried to start the pump, but it didn’t work.”
“What’s missing?” she asked.
“The pump impeller,” he replied, crouching over the parts again. “Did you notice if it was here last night?”
“Oh, sure, I remember checking on that specifically,” she said. “First, I wanted to figure out where I was going to sleep, since there didn’t seem to be a house on my farm, or a farm, for that matter. But as soon as I got that sorted, my exact next thought was to make sure the pump impeller was right where it belonged. I checked it first thing.”
“Was it here?” he asked.
She gaped at him, unbelieving.
He leaned in slightly, as if
anticipating her answer.
“Are you insane?” she yelled. “Of course I don’t know if it was here or not. Why would I know that? I don’t even know what it is.”
He laughed heartily.
“That was a very good joke, Phoebe,” he said, after a moment, panting. “My people do not often recognize sarcasm, so at first I was fooled. But now I understand the humor.”
“You don’t recognize sarcasm?” she echoed.
“The Invicta are very much opposed to sarcasm in all its forms,” he explained solemnly. “They say that its use indicates dishonor. But they have not experienced the humor of it as I have, just now.”
“Is it a problem that this part is missing?” she asked, eager to change the subject. Her daddy didn’t like sarcasm either, and this conversation made her miss him.
“Without the impeller, the pump won’t work,” Tyro said. “And without a working pump, we can’t harvest the berries. So it’s a terrible problem, but one with a solution. We’ll just have to buy another pump impeller.”
“Will they have it in town?” she asked.
“They should,” he told her. “Sometimes on these frontier moons, you have to order parts and wait for them. But there are enough other farmers on this lake that I would guess they keep them in stock.”
“Good,” she said, nodding. “Let’s go now. I was hoping we could rent a droid too.”
“A droid?” he asked.
“Yes, to help with the farming,” she said. “Labor is one of the most important components on a farm.”
“We can probably look at droids, sure,” he said.
Atlas squeaked and waved his fingers at her.
“Someone wants his mama,” Tyro said delightedly. “Did you two have a nice night?”
“We did,” she said, surprised to find herself extremely eager to take the green baby into her arms again.
He was heavy, but it was a good heavy.
He grabbed a fistful of her hair and leaned his little green head forward to bump hers.
“Hi, Atlas,” she murmured, feeling like her heart might actually melt.
“Bah,” he squeaked.
“Ready to go for a walk to town?” she asked him.
He didn’t answer, mostly because he was a baby, but partly because he was too busy trying to fit his fist in his mouth. Luckily, it was the fist that didn’t have a hank of her hair in it.
Together, they set off down the dock toward the path back to the village. They had walked for a minute or two when something hit her.
“Do you think the part was just missing from our pump, or do you think someone took it?” she asked Tyro.
“It was a used pump,” he said. “So I’m guessing it was taken.”
Her mind went to her trunk, still sitting in the yurt and her heart pounded with fear.
It would be so easy to break into that yurt - anyone with a knife and a few minutes to spare could walk right in and help themselves to whatever they wanted.
“I’m going to need some other things when we get to town,” she said, her mind working a mile a minute.
Was it safe to leave the trunk long enough for a quick walk to town?
She glanced around, but saw no sign of anyone else.
Instinct told her not to make a big deal out of it. If she asked Tyro to carry it along with them, he would know there was more in there than she was letting on.
As long as they were quick, everything would be fine.
“Everything okay?” he asked her.
She nodded, buttoning her lips and vowing to make this the quickest trip to town ever.
8
Tyro
Tyro tried to concentrate on his task.
The sunlight was warm, the day was new, and all was well. He only had to keep the baby safe.
And now the mother, too, since he was sure she was his mate.
Keeping an eye out for danger was all he had to accomplish.
But it was so hard to stay alert with the scent of her arousal still mesmerizing his senses.
He had awoken at dawn from a dream in which she screamed his name, begging and pleading for something. Terrified, he had leapt to his feet and pounded down the dock to the yurt. He’d burst in the door to find her tossing in her sheets, frantic with lust.
And while he stood there frozen, begging his dragon not to take her while she slept, she had awoken and asked what he wanted.
What do you want?
Like she was taking his order in a damned diner.
You, I want you, he had wanted to scream back.
But if she was determined to ignore her own need, he would have to ignore his, though the flames licked at him cruelly.
So he had stretched out on her floor and stared at the ceiling until the babe awoke.
“Will they have chain here?” she asked, indicating the general store.
“Sure,” he said. “How much do you need?”
“I want two meters of it, plus something we can use to anchor it to the dock,” she explained. “I want to secure my trunk, in case there are thieves around.”
“Most likely they only took something they needed,” Tyro said quietly. “Probably while they thought the farm was abandoned.”
“Nonetheless,” she said. “I want to secure my belongings.”
“Of course,” he told her as they stepped inside.
He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior, using his other senses to keep tabs on Phoebe and Atlas while he did.
The store had its usual smells of oil, metal, wood chips, dried meat, and the almost-sweet body odor of its owner, a Fibbian by the name of Cronx. Tyro had befriended the gregarious shop keeper on his initial trip to scout the farm location for security purposes.
He expected Phoebe to have her eyes fixed on the spools of metal chain behind the counter. Instead, she was carefully examining a set of plastic wrenches.
That was odd. They had a real titanium wrench set back at the dock, and she had seen it, because Tyro had used it to disassemble the pump, it had been sitting out beside the parts. But a lot of the farmers probably used the plastic sets. They were cheaper, and when you inevitably dropped one in the lake, they floated. His titanium wrenches did not, a fact he’d discovered for himself this morning.
Maybe Phoebe already knew this. She was the one that was supposed to be knowledgeable in the ways of farming.
“Tyro,” Cronx cried, waving all four of his arms.
“Hello, Cronx,” Tyro said politely. “How is your family?”
Cronx waved his arms to indicate two small Fibbians playing jax cubes in the corner of the store, their mother watching over them with a novel in her hands.
“Wonderful, sir,” Cronx said. “And I see your family is growing.”
“This is Phoebe, and that’s Atlas she’s holding,” Tyro said, not wanting to highlight his relationship, or lack of a relationship, with Phoebe. “We need some sturdy chain.”
Phoebe shot him an angry look. He probably should have specified that she wasn’t in his family.
But he knew she would be soon, if their bodies had any say in the matter.
“Of course,” Cronx boomed, moving to the spools. “What is it for?”
Tyro opened his mouth to answer, but Phoebe beat him to it.
“Chaining farming equipment,” she said. “It needs to be strong enough that it can’t be cut through with common tools.”
“Ah,” Cronx said. “This should do. How many meters would you like?”
Phoebe narrowed her eyes at the spool Cronx was pointing to.
“Two, please,” Tyro said, glad he remembered how much she wanted.
“And we’ll need an implement to cut it with,” Phoebe said quickly. “Bolt cutters, maybe?”
“Sure, we have those,” Cronx said in a cheerful way.
“Then that’s the wrong chain,” Phoebe said in a loud, clear voice.
Cronx blinked at her.
“We need chain that can’t be cut,” Phoebe
said sweetly. “Did I mention that?”
“Trouble is, that kind of chain is very expensive,” Cronx said.
“We don’t care,” Tyro said quickly. “She wants what she wants.”
Cronx smiled and turned back to the spools.
Phoebe turned to Tyro with a furious look.
He shrugged. The owner had only been trying to save them credits.
“Here you go,” Cronx said, pointing to a spool in the corner with dust hanging from it. “This is thick alloy with flattened links that distribute pressure. It’s not impossible to cut if you have industrial tools. But it’s the best thing on this moon.”
Tyro glanced at Phoebe, who was nodding.
“Only trouble is, it’s probably more valuable than whatever you’re trying to chain up,” Cronx chuckled.
“Looks like you’ve got quite a bit of it,” Phoebe said. “I guess it doesn’t sell as well as you’d hoped.”
“When people need it, they really need it,” Cronx replied. He pointed at the price tag.
Tyro’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
He was glad he had ample savings.
“We don’t really need it,” Phoebe said, turning on her heel.
“We’ll take two meters,” Tyro said, glad he could provide for her, even if the chain was more than she could afford herself.
“Tyro,” she said, sounding more irritated than grateful.
“It’s my pleasure,” he told her.
She nodded and waited while he paid.
They both watched as Cronx measured out the length of chain and then used industrial cutters to remove it. Even with the superior equipment, it took time. Not many people on all of Clotho would be able to manage that.
Phoebe stayed quiet as Tyro and Cronx chose an anchor and lock that could withstand the same level of punishment.
“Thank you for your patronage,” Cronx called to them as they left.
Tyro waved to him and to his family.
When he turned back to Phoebe, he realized she had marched on ahead.
“Phoebe, what’s wrong?” he asked, jogging to catch up.
“Don’t they haggle on these frontier moons,” she muttered to herself.
“Of course,” he told her. “But we don’t need to do that. I have savings.”