by Cara Bristol
Delia exited the house a few minutes later. She transferred the sleeping child into his arms, and they strolled toward her house. He marveled at the solidness of Izzy’s sleep, unbroken by worries or concerns—the way it should be. A pretty little girl, she would be a beauty like her mother. “She takes after you,” he whispered.
“Mini me.” She smiled. “She is more imaginative and adventurous than I ever was. She’s fearless. She’ll have fun at camp. It came at the right time, too. I don’t know what I would have done for child care.”
“The son is staying for a week, right?”
She raised her crossed fingers. “So far. I haven’t heard otherwise.”
“Tell me again why Mrs. Beckman can’t watch her while he’s visiting?” How alien to refer to being with one’s parents as visiting. Avian adult children lived in close proximity to their parents their entire lives.
“There’s no place for Izzy to sleep. Her house is a two bedroom—well, three, but the third is her sewing room, and it’s so crammed with junk, you couldn’t squeeze in a sleeping bag. She’s a nice lady, but she’s a bit of a pack rat.” She lifted her shoulder. “But also, after not having seen him for five years, she wants to spend some uninterrupted time with him. I can’t blame her.”
“Why hasn’t she seen him in so long?”
“I got the impression they’d been estranged, and his visit is a reunion. Trudy feels bad about cancelling on me, but I assured her I had child care covered.”
She led the way up the walk. After opening the door, she stood aside so he could enter. A barking Charlie jumped around.
“Shh!” she admonished and picked up the animal. “You’ll wake Izzy.”
“You think so?” The corner of his mouth quirked as he eyed the slumbering child.
“Maybe not.” She gave a little laugh, hugged the dog, and set him down. “Luckily this house has a doggie door. I couldn’t keep him locked up in the house, and he’s too little to stay outside all night. Did you have pets on your planet?”
“No,” he replied, choosing to omit the humiliating truth his people had been the pets. The Xenos had created the ’Topians for their amusement. Careful not to step on Charlie, he made his way into Izzy’s lavender-and-pink room and tucked her into bed. He set Bubbles the bear next to her so she wouldn’t be alone and then kissed her forehead. Delia did the same, they shooed the dog, crept out, and shut the door.
Delia slid into his arms. “Now for my good-night kiss.”
Her mouth was soft under his, her lips parted. He kissed her with pent-up need, roving his hands down her back to grip her ass and haul her tighter against his aching hard-on. The area beneath his jaw throbbed. Let it be…let it be…
Her moan of desire reverberated clear down to his groin. He trailed his lips from her mouth, to her ear, and over her neck. Her head lolled, and he tugged her shirt collar aside to nip her shoulder.
Their lips met again in a flash of heat. She dug the pads of her fingers into his chest muscles. He cupped her breast, finding the hardened nipple with his thumb. His wings cocooned her, and, wrapped together, they were one.
She rubbed her face against his chin, kissed his mouth, his throat, grazing the tender, swollen mating glands under his jaw. Temperature, arousal, and hope spiked. It had to be…it had to be—what else could it be?
“We talked about waiting until Monday—” she murmured.
Waiting until Monday to surrender to the ever-present raging desire. Waiting for a private moment so they could be sure of uninterrupted time. Waiting…he understood, but it was hard. He was hard. He needed her in a way he’d never needed anyone. Not even Lissa.
She nibbled his bottom lip while toying with his shirt buttons. “I’ve never brought a man home with Izzy here.”
“I understand. We’ll wait.”
“Never brought a man home period… Josh was the last.”
He widened his eyes. “Oh…”
“It’s a big step, but I’d like that step to be with you.” She glanced at the closed bedroom door. “We don’t need to wait until Monday.” She slid her palms up his chest.
His entire body went still—except for the vibrating parts. Every nerve lit up. He caught her hands and caressed her skin. “I don’t want to cause you to violate your principles.” He meant it, but if she took him up on his offer, he’d kick himself all the way home.
“You wouldn’t be. As long as we’re discreet…”
“I can be so discreet, you won’t even know I’m here,” he joked.
She laughed. “That might be too discreet… Let me get the lights in the living room.”
He remained in the shadowy hall while she dashed into the front room. Seconds later, the house plunged into darkness. He felt a touch on his elbow. “My bedroom is this way…”
He knew which room was hers, but he’d never entered that space. He lifted her into his arms. Unable to wait, he kissed her, pressing his mouth to her velvet lips as he shuffled to the bedroom.
With his foot, he nudged open the door. As he shouldered in, Charlie rushed under his feet, and he stumbled. Unbalanced, with Delia in his arms, he felt himself falling. Quickly he wrapped his wings around her and twisted his body so he would cushion the fall for her. Pop went his ankle.
Down they went. His head smacked the carpeted floor, but Delia landed safely on top of him. Pain stabbed through his ankle.
“All you all right?” She peered at his face. “What happened?”
“I tripped over the dog. Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine—Charlie, stop!” She pushed at the puppy who’d rushed to lick their faces.
“I think I broke my ankle,” he said.
“Let me see.”
She scrambled to her feet and hit the light switch. He eased up his pants leg. The ankle was already swelling. Kneeling beside him, she winced. “I think it is broken. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“You tripped over my dog. We need to get you to a doctor.”
He tried to stand but couldn’t get up on one leg. When he put pressure on the injured foot, the agony nearly had him passing out. Humiliated, he crawled to the bed, and, with Delia’s support, hoisted himself onto his good leg. This is a sure way to impress a woman…
“I’ll have to wake Izzy—” She turned toward the door.
“No, don’t.” He grabbed her hand. “I can mend my ankle at home.”
“It’s broken! You need to go to the hospital. It’s already turning colors. You need an X-ray. It has to be immobilized. You can’t just wrap a bandage around it at home.”
“Not a bandage. We have a med pod.”
“A med pod?”
“An anatomy and physiology repair unit. We removed it from the spacecraft.” Thankfully, they’d had the foresight to transfer the unit from the Castaway to their house before flying the ship to Seattle for repairs. As they no longer needed to leave Earth, the ship could be used as a prototype for future spaceships Mysk Technologies planned to build.
“It will fix your ankle?”
“It will be good as new.”
She eyed him doubtfully. “I’ll drive you home.”
“No. Let Izzy sleep. You get some sleep. You had a long night at work.”
“You can’t walk home on your ankle.”
“Who said I was going to walk?”
* * * *
Wingman landed on his good leg on the veranda. Unable to maintain his balance, he toppled over with a thud. The porch light came on, the door flew open, and Inferno poked his head out. “What the herian is going on out here?”
Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the porch railing and hauled himself to his feet.
“You’re hurt! What happened?” Inferno was at his side in an instant.
He bent his knee to avoid stepping with the leg. “I broke my ankle.” Even flying had been painful, the wind drag sending excruciating spikes radiating up his leg.
“Let’s get you inside.�
� A barefoot Inferno half turned toward the open door. “Tigre! I need help out here!”
Tigre, hair and whiskers sticking out at all angles, appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”
“He broke his ankle. Help me get him to the med pod,” Inferno said.
Tigre took one arm, Inferno the other, and they half dragged, half carried him into the house. They’d placed the med pod in the open space off the kitchen, which, after having seen Delia’s house, Wingman realized was the dining room.
The capsule took up as much space as a large table. Tigre opened the hatch.
Wingman eyed the pod with apprehension. The broken ankle needed repairing, but he didn’t need bad news. Since meeting Delia, he’d been having some symptoms, mild at first then more…insistent. The med pod would conduct a full exam and fix everything. If he’d guessed wrong, and he’d merely contracted an infection or parasite, the pod would eliminate the problem and the symptoms. He’d been wrong about Lissa. What if he was wrong about Delia, too?
“What are you waiting for? Get in,” Inferno said.
Careful not to jostle his throbbing ankle, he eased into the bed and stretched out his legs. The hatch shut.
Whirring, the machine swept a bright diagnostic beam over him from head to toe. Moments later, a robotic arm shot out and delivered a sharp jab to his ankle. Within seconds, his leg from the knee down numbed. Robotic hands guided the bones into place and then held the foot still as an osseo-repair injection was delivered to the affected area.
The med pod scanned him again to verify the foot had healed, and then the robotic arms receded, and the hatch peeled back. He sat up.
“All good?” Tigre asked.
He probed the area under his jaw. Still tender. He stifled a grin of excitement. “It’s good. Great!”
“Your ankle,” Tigre said. “Can you stand on that leg?”
He wiggled his foot then leaped out, putting weight on both feet. “Perfect.” The area under his jaw throbbed. “Yes, perfect.” His other problem hadn’t been “cured.”
He moved into the kitchen and filled a glass of water from the tap. “I tripped over a dog and twisted my ankle.” He downed the entire glass. Inferno straddled a chair, and Tigre leaned against the wall. “Where is everybody?” Wingman asked.
“Asleep,” Tigre said drily. “Although I imagine they’ll be up soon seeing how it’s almost morning.”
“Sorry—I guess I woke you,” he said sheepishly, belatedly noticing a barefoot Inferno wore only a pair of jeans and Tigre a bathrobe.
“The thump on the porch woke me up, and the motion sensor light came on,” Inferno said.
Tigre and Inferno slept downstairs. He, Shadow, and Psy had bedrooms on the second floor. Chameleon lived with his mate, Kevanne Girardi, at the lavender farm.
As Tigre yawned, his canines extended past his lower lip then retracted. “If you’re all right, I’m going to grab a few more hours sleep.”
“Of course. Thanks for the help. I’m sorry for the commotion.”
“Happy to help. We’re all family now.”
They were. And he had big news to share.
“Good night,” Inferno said. “Or good morning. Whatever. I’m going back to bed, too.”
Say it. Just say it. Once he made the announcement, nobody would get any sleep.
Both men turned to leave.
The words burst out of him. “Delia is my genmate.”
Inferno and Tigre whipped around. “Are you sure?” Inferno asked.
“Yeah.” He’d been drawn to her at the start, had been unable to stay away. With her, he felt whole. Apart from her, the yearning burrowed deep into his soul. Desire throbbed in his veins unrelentingly. But the real clue? “My mating glands have activated.” He fingered his swollen throat. He grinned.
The area had begun growing tender soon after meeting Delia, normally a conclusive indication one had encountered a genmate. However, because Earth carried so many bacterial and viral parasites, he couldn’t be sure the swelling wasn’t due to an infection. If that had been the case, the med pod would have eliminated it. That it hadn’t was great news! Swollen mating glands had no cure, except consummation.
Tigre bared his fangs in a toothy grin, and Inferno slapped Wingman’s back. They shared a group hug. His good fortune boded well for all of them. When a ’Topian met a human genmate, it increased the odds the others could, too. Thus far, only Chameleon had found a genmate, and they’d all worried it could have been a fluke.
“Chameleon’s hypothesis is that we carry some human DNA,” Tigre commented.
“Or that humans carry some of our DNA,” Inferno added.
’Topia had been a Xeno Consortium genetic project to create life by splicing DNA collected from various planets in the Milky Way. Eons ago, Earth had been a donor world, but Chameleon, himself a Xeno, had postulated that perhaps the consortium had done a little tinkering with the humans while collecting genetic material from the planet.
“Does she know she’s your genmate?” Tigre asked.
“She feels the attraction between us, but genetic mating is a new idea. The closest concept is a soul mate, which is like a person’s perfect match, except there’s no biological component.”
“When do we get to meet her?” Inferno asked.
“You already did. You made her daughter a balloon crown at the lavender festival.”
“I don’t remember. I met so many kids and parents.”
To Wingman, Delia and Izzy were unforgettable, but Delia was his genmate. “I’ll bring her around.” Later. He refused to squander their limited alone time at this juncture.
Speaking of which… He dug out his phone and shot her a text. Ankle is all better. See you tomorrow night.
“When did you get that?” Inferno eyed his phone.
“The other day.”
“They must come in different colors,” Inferno commented. “Chameleon’s phone is silver.”
“There’s a huge array of colors, styles, and features. Too many choices.” He slipped his pink phone into his pocket. Overwhelmed by the options, he’d chosen a device like Izzy’s, which he’d remembered because of its bright-pink color. That decision had turned out to be a wise one because she had been able to input Delia’s phone number into his address book and download Bunny Parade, Dolly Doll, and Little Princess Tangia game apps she’d recommended.
“We should all get phones so we can reach each other and Mysk,” Tigre suggested. “I’ve been relying on Chameleon to relay messages.” He yawned. “Sorry. I’m happy for you. We can talk in the morning. I’m going to try to get a little more sleep.” He sauntered off.
“We all want mates,” Inferno said. “If it couldn’t be me, then I’m glad it’s you.” He grinned and slugged Wingman’s arm. Then he sobered. “But I’d delay my turn for Shadow.”
“How is he doing? Has he had any more sublimation episodes?” He’d been spending so much time with Delia, he hadn’t been around much to observe.
“One or two, but he’s doing…all right. He keeps to himself a lot, so it’s hard to tell. I do know he would prefer to stay on Earth.”
Vaporians could sublimate, change from solid to vapor. Upon reaching adulthood, if males didn’t mate, involuntary episodes of sublimation occurred with greater frequency until they dissipated completely and ceased to exist.
“Hopefully, my good fortune bodes well for all of us,” Wingman said.
Chapter Eleven
“There’s Molly!” Izzy slammed the car door and started to rush off to join the group of girls outside the school gym.
“Whoa, whoa. Don’t I get a goodbye kiss?”
She hunched her shoulders and glanced around. “Mom, please. Not here.”
“My bad.” Delia flashed an apologetic grin to cover her dismay. Izzy had entered the stage in which PDAs became an embarrassment. I thought I had more time before this happened. “You have your phone, right?”
“In my bag.” She twisted to show her back
pack.
“If you need me, call.”
Her gaze darted to the campers. “I won’t need you.”
Ouch. “I’ll pick you up right in this spot at 5 o’clock.”
“I know.”
“Your supplies are in the backpack. The camp will give you lunch.”
“I know.” She shifted from foot to foot.
“All right. Go!” She waved her off.
Izzy shot away like she’d been catapulted. Delia had raised her to become capable and independent, but watching it happen, well, it hurt. My baby doesn’t need me anymore.
Halfway across the quad, she stopped dead, turned, ran back, and threw her arms around Delia. “I love you, Mom.”
Her eyes smarted. “I love you, too, sweetie. Have bunches of fun!”
“I will.” She waved at Wingman seated in the car. “Bye, Angel!” She dashed to join the girls.
Delia waited until the kids filed into the school gym before getting into the car. “She’s growing up.”
“Are you okay?” Wingman had stayed in the vehicle to avoid creating a spectacle.
“I will be.”
“She’s asserting her independence.”
“Yes. And that’s the goal, but I don’t like it.” She gave a little laugh. “It’s day camp, for goodness’ sake. She’ll be home in the evening. She attended kindergarten, and I was fine.” After crying every day for the first week. “I’ll be fine now, too.”
She would be fine! She’d wished for alone time. Now she had it. She glanced at him, and the backburner attraction heated to a sizzle. “What do you want to do today?”
He took her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “You decide.”
His husky voice caused her body to throb in all the right places. She knew what she wanted. “My place or yours?”
“Well, four other men live at my place…”
She started the ignition. “That answers that.”
One minute later, she pulled into her driveway. Two houses down at Trudy Beckman’s, a wiry guy marched behind a lawn mower. The prodigal son, she presumed. She caught a glimpse of his sweat-stained back and a ponytail dangling beneath a ball cap. Any other time, she’d hop over and introduce herself but not today.