by Amanda Milo
Brax jerks back in shock. And then…
He throws back his head, and laughs.
CHAPTER 45
TAC’MOT
Lem and I stand here, gaping. Lem sprouts two more eyes in shock.
“I can’t believe it,” I breath. “Can you imagine if she’d been here this spring?”
Lem chokes a little. “This spring? Don’t you mean every spring?”
We both groan.
“Insufferable. He’s insufferable. But look at him now…” Lem looks contemplative. “If I’d known all Brax needed was a female to leash him and order him around, I’d have agreed to forfeit my stipend solars ago.”
I round on him. “Does this mean you hold no grudge?”
Lem socks me in the ribs. “Did you miss the part where I stated ‘if I’d known’ and ‘I’d have agreed’? You failed on both fronts when you stole my credits to purchase a being without my consent!”
“So…still a grudge?”
Lem glares at me.
I shake his aggression off like it’s no more than greenhouse-mister droplets and face the scene again.
“Stohhhp!” Tara shakes her wrist as close to his face as she can reach. “Yoo pull: eye fahll. So Noh. Noh! Eye pull—yoo fallow. Eye’m za bozz! Goht eet?”
Smoke billows from Brax’s nostrils, but he tips his horns in concession.
“They’re getting along like peivish in pods!” Lem sounds quite happy. I can see why; a rational Brax means we don’t die.
I should be thrilled that they are doing so well together, that she is forming a bond with him just as he’s already bonded to her.
Absently, I rub at the ache under my breastbone.
I should be.
CHAPTER 46
TAC’MOT
When I see what binds them, shocked spots appear and implode rapidly along my skin.
Brax is leashed to Tara by our wedded tethers.
I’m struggling to repress my slightly horrified reaction—as soon as I realized he’d bonded to her, I knew Brax and I would be sharing. Yet...
Grake eases beside us, and we silently watch the pair interacting: he wrings the water out of the mop, and she wields it. He lifts appliances and she cleans under them. She reaches for something, overbalances, and he gently steadies her.
“You look shocked,” Grake comments to me.
I manage to close my mouth. “Essentially… I am.”
I see him give me a sidelong glance. “Well… you were aware she would eventually attract others. She will continue to rebuild her service. You realize this, don’t you?”
“I do… I did. I knew this, it’s only… those are our wedded tethers. They’re sacrosanct. They’re symbolic: they are supposed to be for a pair of mates to share, to—
Grake slowly turns so that he can face me fully. His movement goes unnoticed by Tara, but Brax spots us. No doubt he scented us long before this, but while her attention is distracted, he turns and—looking right at me—silently displays his fangs.
Grake’s hand comes down on my shoulder in quiet congratulations. “This is perfectly symbolic of what you now are to each other—you’re a trio!”
***
I’m exhausted when I step out of the service room at the end of the rotation. Not to mention discouraged.
So I’m shocked to see Brax waiting for me—until from the side, Tara rushes me.
Under Brax’s pained gaze, she leaps into my arms. I anchor her by planting my hands on her hips, and—without missing any beats—she trusts my hold on her is secure and leans back to study me. To do this, she gently takes my face in her hands.
Brax yanks forward.
How completely uncomfortable, having him this close as I bond with my mate.
My mate who… smells like another male. Who is wearing another male’s shirt.
Eyes apologetic, she talks fast. I’m trying to concentrate, but it’s an exercise we aren’t going to make large gains with until we can get translation capability taken care of. Unrelated but worth ruminating on; Brax’s reek isn’t as offensive to me as it was. Why is this? Am I adjusting to his bonding stench?
“I am going to take her to our den,” Brax suddenly declares.
I nod. “I’ll join you.”
“Tevek. No.”
Tara’s fallen silent, and did so the moment Brax and I began to civilly (ha) converse. Now, she reaches out for Brax’s wrist, the one she’s tied to. And with her other hand, she slides it around the back of my neck, and her meaning is clear.
I claim you both.
CHAPTER 47
TARA
My meaning is clear—Boys: play nice.
CHAPTER 48
BRAX
Without words, she’s just issued the clear command: “Don’t kill him.”
Blowing out a breath, I dip my horns.
Her small hand lands softly on my jaw, making me go still. Slowly, I meet her eyes, and ignore that Tac is watching our interplay in bewildered fascination. Tara sees that I’m focused on her now, and for this, she gifts me with an approving smile.
It’s beautiful. It feels like rays of sunshine lighting on my body. I don’t ever want to lose her approval.
Don’t kill Tac.
I want to carry her to my quarters, and though Tac looks prepared to defend his hold on her; Tara has other plans.
She pushes against his chest, my arm jerked along with her movement even though her touch on Tac was lightly applied. Once she’s standing on her own feet, she grasps the tether that links us and guides me so that I’m positioned facing away from her. Then her hand is on my back and she’s encouraging me to move forward.
I’m to lead us along the corridor. I’m to lead Tac to our den.
I’m about to balk when a gentle stroke running along my flattened dorsal spines somehow encourages me to do exactly as she’s persuading. I’m still dazed by her touch, listening to Tac’s soft hopping steps keeping a rhythm at our backs, as my tail resecures a physical connection between Tara and I. And all of me heats when she lightly brushes a touch over its coils.
When we reach the doorway to our quarters, I stall, unable to permit Tac’s entry.
Tara exhales in exasperation, and puts both her hands on my back to push me forward. “Moov eet, yoo unreesonubble beest.”
Gritting my fangs, I mutely follow her nudging and prodding until I find myself on our bed, with Tac about to join me. Tevek NO. I lung—
“Stohp!”
Instantly, I’m immobile.
Tara shrieks.
In happiness. “Brax YOO DEED EET!”
She has moved close enough that I can pull her against me, and she’s immediately stroking my jaw, and smiling at me, and I’m not sure how I feel about this but my tail, the idiot, is wagging at her effusive praise.
Begrudgingly, I can admit her technique is effective. But after I drag my tongue up her neck, past her cheek, and get a myriad of her mane hairs stuck in my mouth, much to her dismay—I still turn a glare on Tac. “Move one click and I’ll—”
Her finger glides along the length of my ear, making my whole frame shiver. Then I feel a tap on one of my still-bared fangs. “Stohp.”
CHAPTER 49
TAC’MOT
I shift on the bed. Again.
Brax growls—again—and Tara makes a soft sound in her sleep, her expression growing troubled.
When Brax sees this, he stops growling.
I have to take this as a solid sign that he probably won’t kill me. At least not while she’s sleeping and he is trying to avoid disturbing her. I simply lay it out. “You can’t unbond from her and I don’t want to: We’re sharing her.”
Brax’s jaw nearly hits the mattress. “You itdrek, I CAN KILL YOU—”
“Trust me, Brax, trust me: I know. But I miss her already, I miss everything about her. Truth is, I’ve had feelings for her for some time and now that she has shown me how deeply she returns them…” I run my fingers over our tether—the one on my wrist. N
ot hers. I’m on the far, far, far side of the bed—the edge, really. I couldn’t reach Tara unless a team of Gladiators pried one crazed Rakhii off of her first. I let my tail flop, and this time, Brax doesn’t try to stab it with the barbs and blades on the end of his. Again: progress. I’m just glad I have a tail to test this with. I’d have been more reluctant to test fate if I’d had intentions to point any other body part in her direction. “I don’t want to go back to my life the way it was before she landed in it.”
“Stop scratching,” Brax orders, and I look down to see it I was absently going at myself with my dulled clawtips. I spare a moment to study this. A behavior that develops in males of my kind once they find a female? I have so many questions now that I’m grown.
I meet his eyes. “We can do this. You know what to watch for! Technically, you’ve got this managed.”
He gapes at me, and the very end of his tail—yes, the section with all the glinty, pointy, sharp parts attached to it—is silently snapping in warning. “You ‘vekwit—I knew not to bond to her and look what happened!” With care, he lifts the wrist that bears one third of my wedded tether.
I peer at him. Hmm. And yet, just look how gently you managed that.
“Tac, I wake up from dreams of petting her teveking mane! That’s not in any of my realms of the definition of ‘managed’—I have NO control.”
I shake my head. “You do. You don’t want to upset her.”
He stills, eyes looking trapped. I push. “It would devastate her if you injured me.”
Brax cringes.
It would devastate you too, machaai. You just won't admit it.
His voice is uncharacteristically quiet when he says, “Tac’Mot. I don’t want to kill you. Understand?”
I study him. I consider the way that miniscule leather binding could snap if he so much as flexes wrong. I consider how he hasn’t let his voice rise to a level that would bother her, despite his vehement protestations from the moment I stepped in here. And I also consider how he hasn’t stopped stroking along her mane. Slow, measured, careful.
He’s only ever patted me on the head. Once. He patted me on the head once. Look at him now! He’s perfectly capable of affection. This would be progress on anyone. On Brax? This is a metarking miracle.
CHAPTER 50
TARA
Things are interesting here. Tac and I just recently re-graduated to holding hands after much Brax-training. I can go full on palm-to-palm with Tac now—with threaded fingers—and Brax barely even fusses. The hand holding has been exciting, and considering the effort we’ve put into getting this far, it feels like this is the most exotic courtship ritual I’ve ever partaken in: very Amish. Tac is allowed all the visiting time he wants with me—just as long as Brax is present. Otherwise: many sad-whale songs. It’s like the Greatest Hits of a sad-whale radio station are played live, right here.
By the way, ‘present’ is code for ‘attached at my wrist.’ I am incredibly uncomfortable putting him into the chains, but that’s what we have to do if I won’t let him be latched to me.
Like the times I want to go to the bathroom. Without his help.
(That would be every time. It’s a weird hangup, I know.)
How many times do you have to step on a guy’s tail before he gets the hint?
I don’t know yet. Someday I’m going to stumble on—har har—the magic number and it’ll quit creeping under the door.
Tac is more busy than ever. I’m not exactly able to follow along with how things go here, but I think he’s having to pick up some of Brax’s work too, on account of our constant Cuff Buddies status.
Poor Tac.
He’s been so exhausted that he’s almost asleep before he hits the bed. Which is gosh-darn convenient when you consider our brand new Supervised Visitation setup. Brax is a conjugal visit downer. Downer? More like dictator.
A tail tugs on my wrist, causing me to glance up. Brax’s stare on me feels as pensive as my thoughts have been all morning. Pensive? That’s too moderate a word for the buildup of ‘worries’ that feel like they’re trying to sink me. Despite the distraction that two aliens in particular are very good at providing, I’m treading water. And I’m terrified I’ll never see land agai—
No! I can’t think like this! I will get back. I have to get back! I blow out a breath, and try to shake it off.
A packet of watergel is pressed into my hand. I pat his tail (which, I’m so used to having wrapped around my wrist now, that it feels like I’m basically patting myself) and I try to make my lips curve up into something resembling a smile.
For now: concentrate on training Brax. Annnd saving Tac from Brax. Try not to think of two other someones.
Don’t think of how long it's been.
Don’t think of where they are. If they’re safe. If—
Stop right there! I can’t do anything but work with what I’ve got right now: don’t go there! Don’t do it!
I blink and focus on the packet I’m holding. And I see that I’m struggling yet can’t quite manage to peel the entire tab of the gel packet off to get to the contents. Gooodness. Seems to be a whole lot I can’t do, geez—
Brax slowly tugs it from me, examines the partially torn tab, and instead of fighting with it—he exposes those big teeth, and nips the bottom corner. Mmm. Interesting teamwork.
I accept it back and squeeze the contents onto my tongue, nodding gratefully. Works for me. The guy covers me in his spit every day. I can handle drinking from his tooth-perforation without missing a beat. I set the broom that I’ve had wedged under my arm aside while I finish my ‘drink’.
Brax and I are team cleaning. For days now, that’s what we’ve been doing to pass the time. We work together. He helps me sweep and mop, doing the heavy lifting; it’s sweet, and funny, and it keeps me from laying around and making myself crazy. We’ve made it all the way back to the bedroom, and he even helped me put clean sheets on the bed, and he was good at it.
This looming alien has a domestic streak. You’d never know it looking at him.
I work to suck the gel packet empty, getting the last mouthful. “Thanks,” I say to him, and I get a smile. He’s still got smirky-eyes, but I figure these are permanent because this alien is irritatingly smug. He can’t help himself.
Speaking of smug: guess who gets to wield the Feather Duster of Obedience Training now?
I can feel my face splitting into an evil grin. Because Brax is letting me train him now.
All it took was some chains and leather.
I snicker and choke.
Brax bends to peer at me better, while I try to recover and cough out, “Watergel. Wrong pipe.”
Brax sees my grin and it startles him for a second, then he’s tugging me so close my hips bump into his thighs and the big dolt smiles at me. And it’s such a… It’s a different smile. It’s a smile with heat. It’s open. It’s affectionate.
Oh damn.
He’s been so nice. I mean, he’s still Brax—so he’s a jerk—but he’s been a nice jerk. To me. (Poor Tac. I’ve heard the growling when Brax thinks I’ve already fallen asleep. I’m starting to think he likes it when I yank on his tail.) He’s been nice to me ever since I freed him from those crazy-heavy chains. And…if I’m being honest, he wasn’t really mean to me before. He was just weird about me. About touching me.
Not so anymore.
With that smile that’s doing strange things to my insides, his big thumb is suddenly brushing behind my ear, and his big fingers are wrapped under my jaw, tipping my face back enough that he can examine me.
Weird about touching me? Gee, golly, whiz, whatever was wrong there is all cured now!
With his other hand, he picks up a tendril of my hair, inspecting it with hooded eyes.
And when those eyes meet mine, I feel a jolt zip from the back of my neck to my tailbone. My thighs are tensing and the backs of my knees feel… tight and fluttery.
What wizardry is this?
The little ring of iris that�
��s visible around his now orb-shaped pupils isn’t a dark russet anymore.
I blink.
His thumb is still teasing the curve of my ear, and just this light touch has me riveted, unable to move and unable to break from the power of his hypnotizing golden stare.
I read once that a blacksmith cranks the fire in his forge to more than two thousand degrees to get that bright yellow glow he needs before he’s ready to pound his sword.
His eyes look just like that.
I gulp and try to look down. To the side. Just—away!
Brax won’t let me. He jostles his hand just enough to let me know he thinks he’s in charge right now.
...Of my face? My spine snaps straight. I don’t think so!
That's when he exhales on my lips. It shouldn’t be good. It shouldn’t be anything. It definitely, definitely shouldn’t be great.
My lids flutter shut. This part of him, this attractive-smelling part? Two words: Human. Lure. Thank God he’s not running around on Earth: women everywhere would be in serious trouble.
Stupid trouble.
This is Brax! He’s mean, he’s bossy, and he doesn’t know how to share! Pull yourself together!
I shouldn't have opened my eyes.
“Brax… we can’t…” I curl my pointer finger towards myself, then weakly flop it back in his direction. “It’s ‘Tac and Tara’.”
He stares at me, unblinking.
It should be creepy.
What it is, is an uncomfortable conversation. And he’s not helping with this hot stare he’s trying to smelt me with. But there will be no smelting. “Not ‘Tara and Brax’.”
His ears very, very slowly fold back.
Uh oh…
He leans in, right into my space—right into my face—and whispers, “Wrrrong.”
“YOU KNOW MORE WORDS?!”
Brax moves in even closer, and to counter, I step back. A soft growl rumbles from his chest.