by Amanda Milo
I inhale sharply, so taken with the memory of yesterday’s love-session against the bedroom wall that I wander into the bedroom in search of Aurora, wondering if she’s awake yet and amenable to having my crozier stroke her insides until she’s squeezing down hard enough on it to make my eyes cross.
I’m addicted to her and the way she makes my body respond to her charms.
But Aurora is still in bed, which… I realize with a frown, is not like her. I thought I’d been noticing that she’s been sleeping for longer, and now I’m certain of it. I rush over to her—silently—and crouch down, peering at her face, searching for signs of illness.
Aurora’s lids crack open like she can sense me. “Simmi. You’re staring, and not in a sexy way. That means you’re being creepy.”
Her voice is a little rougher than normal—but yet, it is normal for the vocal cords to swell with fluids that naturally collect over the darkcycle’s sleeping hours, so perhaps it’s only in response to that. “You need citrus,” I inform her.
Aurora smiles, eyes almost closing entirely. “Yeah? Want to get me some, handsome?” Almost carefully, her hand reaches up to cup me by my jaw.
I narrow my eyes, studying her harder. Are her lips turning pale?
“Simmi,” Aurora says lightly—but under it, I hear strain. I definitely hear strain. “Why don’t you grab me some orange juice? I’d love you for it if you would, please.”
“You’d love me anyway,” I tell her, confident of this and growing more and more worried for her.
Aurora tries to laugh—and then her eyes open wide and she bolts upright, and races for the facilities.
I’m right behind her—until I stop dead, because she’s dropped to her knees in front of the elimination bowl. “Aurora! There isn’t a sanitizer strong enough in the world to make me comfortable with you on the facility room floor—”
My words cut off abruptly when she projectile vomits into the bowl.
Germs aren’t even a consideration in the moment it takes for me to rush to her, to pull her hair back from her face, to pat my claws helplessly along her shoulder, her back, the top of her head.
She vomits again.
“Aurora, I’m scared,” I admit. “And I’m afraid your kiss right now would not help me.”
Against all reason, this makes Aurora snort—and she braces her hands on the elimination seat! Before she shakily tries to rise.
I lift her, I lift her right into my arms, and I walk us into the mizzling stall. Aurora hunches and looks miserable and neither of us talk while I adjust the water temperature, and thoroughly scrub my hands—
Don’t. Don’t look at me like that for washing myself first. It makes sense to clean her with clean hands, doesn’t it?
—and then I turn to scrubbing her. My focus is particularly on her knees and hands. It’s a delicate balance with human skin; scrub too much or too hard or use soap that is too harsh for the skin and it will swell or tear, and I would never want this to happen to my Aurora. But at the same time…
SHE TOUCHED THE ELIMINATION BOWL AND PUT HER KNEES ON THE FACILITY FLOOR.
I force myself to set the soap down before I feel she’s truly been rendered germ-free but also before her skin becomes damaged. The brisk scrubbing has at least put a rosy hue into her too-pale skin.
I adjust the water an increment hotter, and rinse her thoroughly. Then I nudge her to the side and scald myself and use the rough rock-like brick of soap she made me for my chitin.
When I’m finished, I reach for a towel and pat her dry, very gently, and I ask the questions that have been swirling in my neurocranium. “Was it something you ate? Did food poison you? Is it an influenza, do you think? I’ve been reading the material you provided me about humans and there are several extremely contagious viral infections that—”
“Simmi,” Aurora says sweetly, taking my face in both of her scrubbed and lovely-scented hands. Butter pecan, she calls this soap. It’s so good that customers tell her they want to eat it.
“—occur in epidemics—”
Aurora presses her lips together, and I take note that they are regaining their usual color. Her eyes are also starting to sparkle. “I’m pregnant.”
“—perhaps you’ve contracted a contagion and…” I swallow. My third eyelids nictate. “What did you say was wrong?”
Aurora flicks the chitin of my arm. “Nothing’s wrong! I’m pregnant!”
My third eyelids are working faster than the windshield wipers on Aurora’s land terrain transporter. “You’re pregnant… and you are vomiting. As I said, Aurora, you might have a contagion.”
Aurora presses her lips together again, a move I’ve noticed she makes when she’s attempting to be patient but also finds me amusing and doesn’t want to laugh in my face. By now, she may as well. I’m onto her. “Morning sickness is a common symptom of pregnancy. This is totally normal.”
“Morning… sickness…” I repeat, feeling suddenly ill myself. I place a hand on my stomach. “What are the symptoms? Does it begin with a pitching stomach? Aurora, I think I might—”
“Simmi!” Aurora gives up and guffaws into my chest, throwing her arms around my waist.
“I wouldn’t hold me too tightly,” I warn. “I may need to make my own race for the elimination bowl…”
“Stop it!” she snickers. “You’re not sick. You’re freaking out, but you’re fine. You cannot catch morning sickness from me.”
I gaze down at her dubiously.
She must sense it, because she clutches against me tighter, and snickers harder. “I’m serious!”
I cross my arms over my sternum, which means they just brush the top of her hair. “I’ll be researching this.”
Her body spasms against me with her quiet laughter. “You do that.” Next, she tries to poke my side, but my chitin makes her touch no more effective than a tap. “This is the part where you’ve calmed down enough to assess the situation rationally, and now you get excited about us having a baby.”
I give her a disgruntled look that she can’t see because she’s still hugging me. To correct this, I gently sweep my knuckle under her face, and she rests into my touch for a beat. It’s ultra pleasant to connect like this after something as stressful as our vomiting scare. And her chin fits so perfectly in the center of my hand. I like it there. I tug her face up until our eyes meet. “I’m aware you’re pregnant. I knew you were pregnant the same daycycle my emission was successful.”
Tiny wrinkles form on Aurora’s nose. “Your ‘emission?’ Really?”
I nod and draw her up on her toes and lean down far enough to kiss her. “Yes. Your scent changed.”
When I pull back, it’s to see her eyes very round. “You’ve known the whole time?”
I fix her towel before it falls off of her. It won’t do to have her get too cold, especially in her condition. Infective agents will be relentless on a body whose immune response is reduced due to a chill. “I thought you knew why I asked to test your blood for genetic defects that would be catastrophic with mine. You celebrated with me when tests showed we are genetically compatible.”
“Well, that was really good news. I know with your planet’s big motor-disorder scare that you were worried about doubling up on mutated genes or whatever. But I didn’t know that you knew.” She clutches my arms as I catch her behind the back and knees, lifting her in my arms, “This whole time I’ve been dropping hints and trying to work up to a way to tell you that wouldn’t have you freaking out. Why didn’t you put me out of my misery and say something?”
“As I indicated, I was under the impression we both knew that we knew—and why were you stressed to reveal such good news to me? Did you expect me to worry that you were harboring a contagion?” I consider this. “I would still like to inquire as to how you feel about a full-body disinfectant being spritzed—lightly, of course—on your skin, no more than once or twice a daycycle if you’d agree—”
She pats my sternum. “That’s a never gonna happen
.”
Carrying her into our room, I scowl down at the bed, and opt to set her instead on the floor in front of the closet of her garments. “I assumed I’d made my knowledge of and tender feelings towards your gravid condition clear when I tried to impress upon you the need for soaps to kill surface microbes. It’s imperative that we eradicate immune system threats for you and for our progeny.” I select a dress I particularly am quite fond of on her, and she takes it from me, a knowing smirk flirting about her mouth before she slips it on.
My eyes widen.
Aurora gives me a strange look. “What?”
I stare at her mouth. “I initiated a kiss with you after you vomited, but we didn’t disinfect your—”
Aurora performs a slow nictation, and we’ve been married long enough for me to recognize the real but subtle warning in the gesture.
Immediately, I consider what I’ve just said. “And I’m fine.” I look into her eyes. “And I love you.”
Clearly against her will, Aurora smiles. She’s shaking her head when she reaches up, and tugs me down to her face’s level. I don’t tense. I’ll take her kiss if she gives it; I already have, and as always with Aurora, what would usually frighten or disgust me… often doesn’t. Because it’s her.
Rather than kiss me, Aurora—who is ever-mindful of my myriad of issues—chooses to affectionately touch her nose to mine instead. “I love you too, Simmi. Want to go brush our teeth together?”
I bend down, and take her in my arms again, enjoying her surprised chuckle. “Why yes, I would like this very much.”
“You’re lucky my stomach is settled, buddy, or you’d be so sorry,” she mutters to me, but she’s still smiling.
“I have to enjoy this now, because I read that pregnant human females may not be keen on being carried.”
“You read that right,” Aurora confirms as I set her in front of the sink and we both reach for toothbrushes and tooth soap flakes. “It probably won’t be comfortable.”
“That’s a shame,” I say sadly as I measure out the proper amount of flakes.
Aurora dumps her box’s spout right over her mouth, not bothering to measure it at all. Her grin as she straightens tells me she’s aware of how disturbing I still find her propensity to imprecisely, inexactly handle or ingest amounts of things.
When our mouths are clean and our hands are washed, Aurora takes my cheekbones in her hands and drags me down for a passionate kiss.
“I should feed you,” I growl against her lips.
“Later,” she pants, her tongue dancing against mine.
“I love you,” I tell her.
“I love you too, Simmi,” she says, her hands finding my shoulders and trying to knead my hardness.
“But even so,” I continue, warning (and a little panic) coloring my tone, “I will not be able to properly concentrate on our pleasure if we couple in the facilities room.”
At least not until it’s been thoroughly cleansed after she became so ill in it.
“The bed?” she suggests, nipping at my mouth. “I mean, we haven’t changed the sheets and blanket and comforter and pillowcases, and secondary pillowcases yet, and that would take a while…” She’s smiling now, amused and too playful for her own good.
I growl. “Fine,” I agree. “This one time.” I catch her up fast and stride to our bed. “But it will be you who braves the germs and takes the bottom position.”
She’s snickering against my throat, but she manages, “For you, I can live with that.”
In answer, I set her on the bed, and climb over her, my face in hers as I steal another drugging, clean-tasting kiss. “Thank you.”
She slaps me on the unforgiving plating of my posterior, her eyes sparkling up at me. “Anytime, handsome!”
THE END ♥
You Survived CONTAGION! =D
Thank you, thank you, Thank You for reading CONTAGION! I am so happy you came along for the ride with Simmi. :) I hope you laughed! =D I hope you were transported to a place far away from the breakroom or your car or your chair in the corner or wherever you’re sitting right now. (Even if it’s a good place and you’re going to be glad to rejoin real life, it’s wonderful to take mini-vacations from reality!)
I am using this spot right here to drag a blanket of assurance up over your feet: with the last two stories not being directly involved with the Stolen universe, I’m hearing that you might be growing concerned that the Stolen by an Alien series has halted. Rest easy, because it hasn’t! :D The interconnected stories just take me a little longer to write. I cannot tell you how much I feel cheered on whenever I see that you want more. I’m humbled. I’m thrilled. I’m touched down to my inner bookworm who loves secondary characters hard and always has. (I’m looking at you, Jude Deveraux, with your family trees of Montgomerys and Taggerts. Oh and Patricia Briggs, because Ben the werewolf. I’ve enjoyed Mercy’s adventures for years, and Ben needs a lady. I don’t know who in the world can match him, but I sure as heck know I want to be there to see it happen.)
Back to the point: there may be *one* more stray release before the next installment in the main Stolen series arrives, but more is on its way to your reading device.
Whew. You’re just… you’re awesome. I feel like the luckiest person in the world that you want more. Thank you.
If you get a chance to leave a review of this book:
YOU.
HAVE.
MY.
THANKS. <3
But if you don’t get to review, know that by grabbing this book—renting or buying, either option is magnificent—you’re already supporting me. And my friend, my friend, oh how I thank you for it.
If you want to read on for some book trivia, keep swiping. There’s some Cures for Book Hangovers too. ENJOY!!! :D
LOVE,
Amanda ♥
BITS AND BOBS BEHIND THE BOOK
Want some book trivia? :D
This story started as a Sleeping Beauty retelling but broke loose and did its own thing. I wasn’t too broken up about it. I felt like I was watching this super fearsome predator (who doesn’t know he’s fearsome—let alone a predator—and sadly, he doesn’t have a clue that he’s super) after he’s been dropped in the woods where absolutely everything scares him.
I was entertained as all get out.
For Simmi’s personality, I was inspired by some delightful T.V. and movie characters. Like Monk from the show Monk. Like Lem & Phil, the sheltered, strange scientists from Better Off Ted. Niles from Frasier. Robert Downey Jr. and Benedict Cumberpatch’s portrayals of Sherlock Holmes. Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory, and Cameron from Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Slightly neurotic but endearing men are so fun. <3 (Women who are slightly neurotic are members of my tribe. Hail thee, friend! ;D)
Aurora trivia: Aurora’s last name, Perrault, is a nod to Charles Perrault, who penned an early adaption of fairy tales including Sleeping Beauty, Little Red Riding Hood, Puss in Boots, and Cinderella.
Penny from The Big Bang Theory sort of somewhat served as inspiry for Aurora. (Shhhh. I don’t care that on the show she’s never looked at Sheldon in a romantic light, shhh!)
I adored the old-time look of The Grand Palace Hotel and Saloon in Tucson, AZ when I came across photos of said establishment. This place became the inspiration for Simmi and Aurora’s accommodations at The Thirsty Tapir.
And lastly, let’s talk about leeches. No, actually—let’s talk about spiders, because like Simmi said, they really can transmit tetanus. (Yeah, YEAH—for those of you who thought they didn’t have enough to worry about, bet you didn’t want to learn that today, I know. *shudder*) Ironically, WebMD (ha ha, punny…) is a top source for this factoid. ;)
Cures for Book Hangovers
What to read next? That’s almost always the question, isn’t it? No matter how many books you have in your pile, it’s not easy matching the next book to the mood you’re in the moment you end your last one.
Maybe these ideas can help.
T
he Boss Who Stole Christmas (Reindeer Falls Book 1) by Jana Aston. I haven’t read it yet, but it popped up on my radar, and I snapped up the audio (YES, THERE’S ALREADY AUDIO!!! Bless Jana and Erin! =D) Ebook: https://amzn.to/2qKXULG Audiobook: https://amzn.to/2q0A2U0
I’m going to say this right up front: I’m here for Jason Clarke’s voice. Oh, and the eye-candy cover. Purrrrr. Audiobook: https://amzn.to/2ND1Dnf. Ebook: https://amzn.to/2p7Ai3b Story? Master Baker by Pippa Grant. This is a new author for me. I literally crashed on it because my ears have a crush for Jason Clarke saying the word ‘suck.’ ...Among other words. Hoooray, Pippa, nice to meet your story!
My ears make good choices, I think. Erin Mallon and Teddy Hamilton team up to read Sparking Sara (The Men on Fire Series) by Samantha Christy—another completely new-to-me, and I came here for the cover. And the narrators, because I love the narrators. But you could lick this cover. Ebook: https://amzn.to/2qEgKUG Audiobook: https://amzn.to/2qFkeGm
This one came highly recommended, and friends, you were absolutely right! I loved it. The Winter King by C. L. Wilson. Ebook: https://amzn.to/2CypPkD Audiobook: https://amzn.to/36TQVjZ
WARNING ON THIS ONE: Brittainy C. Cherry stories have, thus far, left me a sobbing mess, like the snot-down-your-face, can’t-breathe-for-crying kind of ugly sobs. You have to be in a happy place when you go in, and honestly, you aren’t always in a happy place when you stumble out. I mean, most of the time, but some of these I just tremble in the corner, wide-eyed at the replay. It’s all very confusing for the man and furry-children/pets in your life. So why do this to yourself? Because if you want emotion, Brittany can make you feel. This one is the next one up for when I want to explain why I destroyed a Kleenex box: Eleanor & Grey, Ebook: https://amzn.to/2O176Dr Audiobook: https://amzn.to/32E4RuW