She hesitated to answer, and Talen suspected the source.
“It’s a big house. You can go days and days without seeing anyone you don’t wish to see,” he said.
“I’ll see him at meals.”
“He spends more of his time in the conservatory and often eats in the kitchen.” Then he said, “I can put a bell on him.”
She smirked and shredded the piece of bread, considering the offer. “I’m not completely broke, you know. I can afford a hotel while I’m job hunting.”
He spread his hands wide, turning them palm up to demonstrate his sincerity. “Understood, but I do need a house manager and I’ve already seen your skills.”
“Fine,” she said. Then, her green eyes narrowed. “But this is temporary, just until the contract is annulled, or I can afford a ticket off-world.”
“A reasonable position,” he agreed.
“And I’m leaving if things get weird.”
“Define weird.”
She huffed out a breath. “We,” she said, gesturing between them, “are not married. That door between our rooms stays locked. And if fuckface tries anything, I’m out.”
He assumed fuckface’s identity to be Quil. “Agreed.”
They returned to their meals. Eventually, Georgia broke the silence. “Did Quil inherit the estate?”
“He won it in a card game,” he said without hesitation. It never occurred to him to dodge the question or offer a vague answer.
She said nothing but popped another piece of bread in her mouth, studying him with her keen gaze. “You’re not pulling my leg, are you?”
Pulling her—
He gulped down his drink, trying to finish the thought. Did humans do that? Was it a sign of sexual attraction, like pulling a tail? His tail had been neatly wrapped around his leg but now it beat an intrigued rhythm against his leg. He was a brazen flirt and Quil would tease him mercilessly if he found out, but Talen realized he did not care. This female stirred curiosity in him, reaffirming his earlier notion that had they met under different circumstances, he would pursue her.
Perhaps Quil had not been wrong to force them together.
“No, I am not. Do you want me to? I know what you said about the door between our rooms remaining shut, but we are two adults with healthy appetites—”
She blinked at him, her gaze a verdant green and clueless as to his meaning.
“Do you not want me to pull your leg?”
Her eyes went wide. “Holy shit, no. No. Do you think I’m flirting? Because that just means ‘joking around.’”
His tail stilled and he kept his posture relaxed. “As you say, but I like the idea of flirting with a pretty female who is technically my wife.”
“I am not your wife. I don’t care what that contract says, and I was not flirting,” she said. Her voice took on a harder tone, almost angry but firm, and her eyes seemed to grow brighter. He liked this new passion in her as much as he liked her laughter.
“In my culture, it is traditional for a male to keep a harem and to gift a bride from the harem to another male,” he said, waiting to draw out more of that passion.
“No offense, but some aspects of your culture suck.”
“That idea is old-fashioned, and you only find it lurking in the strictly traditional families,” he said.
He hadn’t taken offense but now he had to know what she believed about his people. The negative stereotypes surrounding the Tal outnumbered the positive by a fair margin. In the Navy, he heard enough slurs to last a lifetime, “fleabag” and “kitty cat” being the mildest. While he acknowledged that the position his brother placed her in was unfair, he would rather give her the money for a ticket off the planet than constantly be listening for muttered insults. “Do you have a problem with the Tal?”
“As a whole, no. In particular, yes,” she said.
Talen leaned forward. “Yesterday, surely you thought we were nothing but flea-bitten criminals and con artists. It must have crossed your mind.”
Her nose scrunched up again. “You mean on the worst day of my life, did I think that? No. Sorry to disappoint you. I was far too busy wallowing in my own misery to think poorly of your culture or people.”
He grinned and his tail waved playfully. This irritated, sharp-tongued mood was so much more interesting than the sad and tired mood of yesterday.
“I can guess the Tal you think poorly of in particular,” he said. Quil. It was always Quil between them.
“Obviously.” She sipped at the glass of water. “Look, I don’t have a problem with the Tal in general, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to put aside my feelings about you-know-who. I’ll keep my head down and work. When I have enough for a ticket, I’ll leave. But if that’s not good enough, tell me now and I’ll find something in town.”
He had no doubt she could find work in Drac or a neighboring town. Corra had a surplus of vacant job postings. “No, I want you.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“To stay. I want you to stay,” he amended. “As I said earlier, the house is large enough that you can easily avoid sources of irritation. But I think I’d like to see you use that sharp tongue of yours on him.”
She snorted, then covered her mouth and laughed. Color rose in hers, a soft pink that flushed against her pale skin. “I’m sorry. You’re being all serious and really nice, but that phrase doesn’t mean what you think it means.”
He turned over the words in his head. No. They were innocent.
“I think I’m going to like you,” she said.
“Agreed.”
“But you should totally put a bell on him, though.”
* * *
Georgia
* * *
Celestial Mates
To Whom it May Concern,
Suck a bag of dicks. The entire bag.
Sincerely, Georgia Phillips
* * *
They stopped at an all-purpose general store. While Talen picked up an order, he told her to grab what she needed. She chose a pair of gloves that looked like they would fit her and a scarf. Those would tide her over until she could get better boots for the cold and a coat with her first paycheck. Besides, she wasn’t going tromping through the fields. She worked in a hotel.
Talen took one look at her modest purchase and shook his head. He had her try on coats, raising and lowering her arms to check the fit. He kept adding socks, shoes, and personal care items to the purchase until Georgia had to protest.
“It’s fine,” he said, putting the whole pile on his tab.
“Another human,” the clerk, a Tal woman, muttered as she rang up the purchase.
“No, it’s not fine. I can’t afford all this,” Georgia said.
He shrugged, like money meant nothing to him. “I know where you work. I’ll take it out of your salary if you like.”
“But I don’t need all this stuff.” Shoes with extra-traction soles for the snow and ice? Sure. A heated blanket? That sounded amazing but she’d double up on blankets if it got that cold.
“Listen, you don’t know how tenacious Bright can be, but she told me to get you outfitted, so that’s what I’m going to do,” he said. She opened her mouth to protest but he continued, “Whether you like it or not. It’ll be easier, for both of us, to let Bright have her way. I don’t want a week’s worth of burnt meals or, even worse, porridge.”
“It’s that bad?”
The recollection made his tail jerk. “I was a stubborn kit and she fed me nothing but porridge for a month, morning, noon and night. She won. Bright always wins. So, right now? Let me spend money on you, Georgia. Bright will be pleased, you’ll be warm, and I’ll eat proper food. Yes?”
“This is not a gift,” she said, not asking a question. “You will take this out of my pay.” Again, not a question.
“You’re bossy. I like it.”
“It’s the pants. They’re bossy.” She put a hand on her hip and cocked it dramatically to the side.
Where did the f
lirting come from? Probably not the best idea but, honestly, she was so out of practice that this heavy-handed flirtation was as good as it got.
He looked at her, as if waiting for the punchline of a joke.
Oh no, he wasn’t flirting. He was serious. Embarrassment flooded her. “Yeah, umm. Bossypants? It’s a joke. Maybe it doesn’t translate.”
“That’s a shame, because those look amazing on you. I like them.”
She shouldn’t be blushing at the way his fangs peeked out when he said he liked her bossypants.
What was this? Her emotions were all over the place. Hooking up with Talen would be trouble. So much trouble. The agency warned her about this. Well, not this specific situation, but the giddy, flirty feeling now that she was at the end of a long trip. She was excited and hopeful.
New gravity, solar radiation, and even oxygen levels affected her body and that body wanted to jump into bed immediately. The agency cautioned against that. She needed time to get to know her match. Even though messaging was encouraged, they were strangers. Familiar strangers. The agency recommended dating and discussing expectations and desire around sex.
The agency could suck a bag of dicks. They knew nothing. They matched her with a guy who ditched her before she even arrived. So much for her perfect match.
Georgia kept stealing glances at Talen as he drove back to the house. He had been patient and understanding, even generous.
Easy on the eyes too.
Frankly, he was everything she hoped to find when she got off that ship. Too bad what she found was the other brother and heartburn-inducing chaos.
“You want the grand tour when we get back?” he asked. Despite never taking his eyes off the road, she got the feeling he was very aware of her and her less-than-polite staring.
“It’s dark. Will that be a problem?” The sun had set. Before she left the shuttle yesterday—had it only been yesterday?—she’d been informed that the season was late autumn and to dress according to the weather. Too bad her Southern California wardrobe didn’t have a cold setting.
But when had doing the responsible thing ever worked out for her? She dated one guy in college, moved in with him, and planned her life around him, and he ditched her the moment she became less than perfect.
Maybe rebound sex was what she needed. No strings. No feelings. Just fucking. That’s what Freema tried to talk her into. Do something wild. Enjoy herself. Get over this dry spell. It’d been a year since the last time she had sex, so the dry spell was more significant than she wanted to admit.
“You don’t happen to have any tattoos, do you?” Georgia asked.
“I do. I got it in the Navy.”
Oh, he was a deliciously bad idea that she wanted to lick.
Sex now was a bad idea. Sex with her boss was a very bad idea.
Then again, she wasn’t staying. Just long enough to afford a ticket back to civilization or wherever. Six months at the most. She could have casual sex with no commitment. Probably. She’d never done that before because it hadn’t been part of the plan. The only thing she’d ever done that wasn’t part of the plan was sign the Celestial Mates contract.
She shivered, like she had been doused with cold water. Okay, that was a terrible example. Her one spontaneous leap of faith didn’t turn out the way she wanted, but neither had any of her careful designs.
“Are you cold?” Talen reached over and adjusted the scarf, covering the back of her neck.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” she grumbled, totally not rubbing the back of her neck where his fingers brushed against her. The lights from the vehicle illuminated fluffy snowflakes that fell in a flurry, coating the pavement.
Sex only complicated things. She had enough complications to last a lifetime.
Chapter 7
Georgia
Freema,
There is no coffee in space. Stay on Earth! It’s not worth it. Also, send coffee.
-G
* * *
The day started way too early. No guests were staying in the house, so construction started a split second after dawn, and Georgia needed caffeine to deal with the racket. Unfortunately, whatever was in her mug might have been brown and hot, but it was not coffee. The tea Bright favored tasted of grass and berries. Not the worst thing but also not coffee. Had she known the dire extent of the caffeine situation, she’d have picked up coffee, or the Corravian equivalent, at the general store.
Georgia frowned at the cup and added another spoonful of sugar, hoping the muck wasn’t the Corravian equivalent. Earth coffee was a fairly unique crop and early colonizers brought the bean with them, planting, harvesting, and creating a lucrative industry. Getting good coffee shouldn’t have been difficult. Even with Corra on the fringes of charted space, it should be available, just expensive.
“Glaring at it won’t make it taste better,” Talen said. “Did you sleep poorly?”
“The opposite, actually.” She covered a yawn with the back of her hand. Yesterday had been emotionally draining and she went straight to bed after dinner. Curled up under the self-heating blanket, she slept solidly until hammering and banging woke her. “I’m just missing coffee. My brain doesn’t wake up until my second cup.”
“That is an addictive beverage for humans, yes? Will you have withdrawal symptoms? Do you need a medic?”
“Are you even serious?”
He waited, hands pressed flat on the table, ready to spring into action.
Totally serious, then.
“I might get a headache from the lack of caffeine, but I’ll be fine. No medical intervention needed.” She pulled out her tablet and jotted down a note. She had a feeling that she’d be taking a lot of notes today. “But I’ll figure out how to source a decent brew.”
“Fremmian kava is often available in town. I believe it has levels of caffeine you would find acceptable.”
“Noted.” She wrote down the item. “I’m ready for my first day of work, boss.”
“Let’s start with a tour. As you can see, the kitchen is classically appointed and maintains the historic character of the home,” Talen said loftily.
“More like we don’t have the budget to modernize. Don’t look at the refrigeration unit funny. It’s temperamental.” Bright entered the room, carrying a basket of laundry. Talen sprang to his feet and took the burden.
“Temper-mental. Funny,” Georgia said. Her brain hadn’t warmed up enough for wordplay, but she recognized a good game when she saw it. Heard it. Whatever. She needed coffee, dammit.
“Lack of funds. Historic preservation. It’s all how you look at it,” Talen said. He vanished through a door, presumably to the laundry room.
Thirty minutes into the tour and it became obvious that the historic character of the house was due entirely to the budget, or the lack thereof.
The public-facing rooms were gorgeous and freshly painted. The native wood flooring, a pale cream, had been polished to a luminous sheen. It looked stunning but Georgia suspected it was a bitch to keep clean. Every little speck of dirt would show. The furniture was sparse. What was present was heavy in an older fashion but in good condition.
The drawing room, the dining room, parlor, and the study blended together. The library was noteworthy because it had no actual books. Talen said the collection was out for restoration. He glowed with the obvious pride he took in the house as he explained the original state and what work had been done. Georgia couldn’t help but catch that same pride and excitement.
The ceiling was a deep shade of twilight blue. Gold painted stars scattered across the surface, forming alien constellations.
“Is that real? I mean, are those actual constellations?” she asked.
“The constellations are real but it’s also a story. I researched the design while it was being restored.” He pointed to the center design. “That is the princess. Her father set three impossible tasks to win her hand.” The golden stars formed a cluster, but Georgia could not see a princess in the abstract shape. Talen con
tinued, “Two males initially competed against each other, then worked together to win the princess and became friends in the process. Their quest is in the corners of the room.”
“And those are in the night sky?”
“Yes, but not at the same time. Some are seasonal,” he said.
Other than the princess being a prize to be handed out—Georgia still felt some kind of way about that—it was a charming story that unfolded across the stars in real time.
The conservatory was a lush explosion of greenery and rich, earthy scents. Plate glass formed a dome, opening directly under a vivid blue sky. Snow collected at the seams in the glass, drifting in the wind.
“This has to be stunning in warmer weather, but I’d worry the glass will break,” she said. She could imagine the cacophony of a hard rain pounding against the glass. Or dense fog slithering by. Or the shake and sway of the glass dome in a windstorm.
Standing next to her, Talen tilted his head back, sharing what she imagined. His tail swayed, lightly brushing against her. Heat radiated off him like a furnace. She wore her new thermal undershirt, a sweater, thick woolen socks, and her new boots, but she still felt the cold. She wanted to curl up next to him and soak up his warmth.
“It’s beautiful and terrifying,” she said.
“That sums up Corra.” He stepped away, suddenly aware of how close they stood. “The glass is rated for space travel, so you need not fear. It’ll hold.”
“Sounds expensive.”
“Better than replacing broken glass every other storm.”
Four guestrooms had been refurbished but remained sparsely furnished and not terribly luxurious. Georgia made notes to combine some furnishing into a luxury suite and leave the other rooms as economy options.
The private rooms, however, were less impressive. They were clean and structurally sound. As they ventured further into the house, it became apparent that the estate was falling down around their ears. Talen and Quil had no doubt poured a fortune into saving the house, but they needed another fortune and a small army of laborers to finish the job.
Pulled by the Tail: Celestial Mates Page 9