by Kali Argent
Abruptly, Cord’s laughter ceased, and he looked up with wide eyes and an open mouth. “Wow,” he breathed. “Cool.”
Confused, Knox followed the boy’s gaze, and ducked his head to hide the smile that stretched his lips. Not many people would use the word “cool” to describe their pilot. They’d travelled the stars and met thousands of people, but never once had Knox encountered a Reema hybrid before Kylir.
He had the same long, silvery white hair as his D’Aire father, and the same iridescent eyes, though his were a pale green instead of blue. He stood only a couple of inches shorter than Knox’s own seven-foot-four height, even taller if one measured from the tip of his long, lizard-like tail. Unlike other Reema, he wasn’t completely covered in scales—only his tail and a few patches on his neck, arms, and torso.
The pilot seemed taken aback by Cord’s enthusiasm, but he quickly recovered. “If you think that’s cool, check this out.”
With a grand flourish, he unfurled his wings, lifting them out to the sides, then up over his head. Rather than feathers or the armor like substance of the D’Aire wings, Kylir’s wings looked more like that of a bat’s, only covered in scales the same color as his eyes. He definitely stood out in a crowd, and his peculiar appearance had been one of the main reasons he’d ended up on the Storm Rider in the first place. His parents couldn’t help that they’d fallen in love with each other, that fate had thrown them together, but their unusual pairing hadn’t done their son any favors.
Most people looked at Kylir with a mixture of curiosity and revulsion. He’d been the subject of many jokes and cruel taunts, but he never lost his temper—until someone insulted his mother.
“Wow,” Cord said again, this time with more volume. His hands shot out, and he reached for Kylir, struggling against Bastian’s hold on him. “I wanna fly.” He narrowed his eyes and pointed right at Kylir’s face. “You take me flying.”
Bastian snorted, and Knox burst into laughter at the look of pure panic on Kylir’s face. Not many beyond the crew of the Storm Rider even accepted him, let alone demanded he engage with them in any way, and certainly never anyone so small.
“Absolutely not.” Adjusting her deep blue tunic, Isla marched toward them. “It’s too dangerous. You could get hurt.”
“Nuh-uh. I ride a dragon.”
“You rode a dragon, but that doesn’t mean it was a good idea.” She glared at Knox and then Bastian before softening her expression again. “Now, you get to ride on this ship all the way to a new planet. That’s pretty cool, right?”
Cord’s lower lip protruded, and he sighed heavily. “I guess.”
“I tell you what,” Kylir said, his tone quiet and gentle. “If it’s okay with your mom, you can help me fly this ship to that new planet.”
Naturally, the kid brightened at once. “Please?” he begged, holding his hands together under his chin as he twisted around to stare at Isla with big, beseeching eyes. “Please, please, please, Mommy? I be good, and I won’t get hurt. Promise.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him, ma’am,” Kylir promised. “He’ll be completely safe.”
If Isla heard him, she didn’t respond. The way she looked at Cord, as if he’d hung the stars, she probably would have given into any request, including the flying she’d been so adamantly against. With her lips pressed together and her eyes shining with love, she nodded several times.
“I think that means you’re good,” Bastian translated. He passed Cord off to Kylir and laughed. “Get out of here before she changes her mind.”
If Knox thought the love Isla and Bastian shared was overwhelming, it was nothing compared to the emotions flowing from her as she watched Cord disappear into the ship. It took several heartbeats and a few sniffles before she finally found her voice.
“Did you hear that?”
Wanting to go to her, but feeling awkward about it, Knox shuffled his feet and rubbed the tight muscles at his nape. “Of course you’re his mother. Once we get this mess straightened out on Earth, we’ll even help you make it official.”
“Then no one can take him from you,” Bastian added as he pulled Isla into his arms and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “Congratulations. It’s a bouncing baby boy.”
Isla didn’t know what she’d ever done in her life to deserve such happiness. Cord had called her “mommy.” She’d always heard that children were resilient, but he’d come so far and opened up so much in such a short amount of time, and she was so damn proud of him.
If someone had told her a week ago that she’d be mated with a child, and waiting on two more males to get with the program, she would have laughed in their face. When she’d landed on Xenthian, she’d had nothing except the borrowed clothes on her back. Now, she had everything, and that scared her more than being wanted by the Alliance.
Hitting rock bottom had been easy, and she hadn’t been afraid when she’d had nothing left to lose. If something happened to Cord or her mates—and she considered both Knox and Slade her mates as well, even if they didn’t know it yet—she didn’t think she’d survive it.
“His birthday is tomorrow.” She doubted the little boy had ever celebrated a birthday before, and she wanted this one to be special. “I don’t have anything to give him, but I’d like to make him a cake, if that’s okay?”
“I think that’s a great idea.” Bastian stroked her hair, but leaned away from her with a pointed look. “I need to talk to Slade.” He glanced sideways at Knox, then nodded at her. “Knox is better in the galley than I am anyway. He’ll show you where everything is.”
“I am?” Knox jerked his head up and stared at them, a shallow valley forming between his eyebrows. “I will?”
Isla understood what Bastian was trying to tell her, and she loved the idea. Arching up on her toes, she kissed his lips and muttered a thank you under her breath. She’d been feeling Knox’s warring emotions, the ebb and flow between desire and guilt, and some quality time together was just what they needed.
Bastian preceded them into the ship, and Isla linked her arm with Knox’s while she waited for him to lead the way. “I’ve never cooked a cake before, but it can’t be that hard.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to bake a cake.”
“Cook, bake, whatever.” She waved her hand dismissively as he guided her up the ramp and into the massive ship. “I’ve seen it done in those cooking vids. It looks easy enough.”
“We could just program one into the food console.”
“We could, but that is neither fun nor special. Anyone can program a console. A birthday cake needs to be made with love.”
“First, you’ve never seen Slade around a food console if you think anyone can do it.” Knox laughed, leaning sideways to bump their shoulders together. “Secondly, love is not an ingredient.”
“Of course it is. All mother’s use it.”
“Ah, then maybe that’s why I haven’t heard of it.”
Isla immediately felt contrite. “I’m so sorry. When did you lose her?”
A fresh wave of grief for her own mother hit her squarely in the chest, but she battled back the emotions and focused on the male beside her.
“We were four, but our mother isn’t dead, not that we know of anyway.” He lifted one shoulder when she gaped at him. “Her and our fathers just decided they didn’t want kids. So, they dropped us off on X4, and hauled ass.”
“That’s terrible.” Her fathers had died when she’d been nine, but up until then, they’d been loving, devoted males who lavished her and their chosen with attention. After they’d passed, her mother had worked hard to make up for their absence. “I’m still sorry. You were so young.”
“Hey.” Stopping in the middle of a narrow, curving corridor with rusted piping lining the ceiling, Knox turned to face her, slipping a knuckle under her chin to tilt her face up. “Don’t feel sorry for us. The Indo brothers took us in, gave us a family, and we’ve done okay on our own. Things happen for a reason.”
Stand
ing so close, breathing in his clean, warm scent, Isla wanted to close the remaining distance, to taste his lips, to feel his hard chest against her body. Whether he’d sensed her intentions or interpreted the expression in her eyes, Knox cleared his throat and dropped his hand as if her skin had burned him.
“I, uh, so, would you like a tour of the ship? Or straight to the galley?”
Choking back a sigh, Isla pasted a smile on her face she didn’t feel. While she wanted to see the ship and meet the crew, she wanted to spend some time alone with Knox more.
“Cake first. Then a tour.”
“Deal.”
Seeming more at ease now that the moment had passed, Knox led her through two more hallways, made brief introductions when they passed two Helios females, and finally pushed her ahead of him into a large, gleaming kitchen. The floor and walls were painted a steel gray, while the chrome countertops, tables, and appliances sparkled in the rows of lights that ran in parallel lines near the ceiling.
“Impressive.”
“We spend a lot of time here, so this was the first place on the ship we updated when we had enough credits. Things break down all the time, but at least we have a badass kitchen.”
“Okay, so where do we start?” She knew flour was a main ingredient, and maybe eggs. They’d need bowls, of course, and maybe…water?
“Pip, how do we make a cake?”
“One moment while I search my files,” a robotic male voice answered.
Isla had to laugh. “You named your ship’s AI?”
“Of course. What else were we supposed to call him? ‘Hey, you,’ seems kind of rude.”
“Why Pip?”
“Pip is short for PIPOS,” Knox answered without even a hint of sarcasm. “Painfully inoperative piece of shit.” He shrugged when she swatted at his arm. “What? Pip had a lot of issues when we first acquired the vessel. Trust me, PIPOS was a lot nicer than some of the things Slade called him.”
“I have transferred the recipe for a basic chocolate cake to your wrist unit, sir. Will there be anything else?”
“I’ll let you know. Thank you, Pip.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Okay, let’s see.” Leaning against one of the metal counters, Knox slid his finger across his wrist unit, his eyes scanning left to right as he read off the ingredients. “We have powdered eggs. Do you think that would work?”
Isla didn’t have a clue, but it sounded good in theory. “I suppose we’ll find out. Do you have one of those mixer things?” She extended both pointer fingers and twirled her wrists in rapid circles. “They go like this.”
Knox blinked several times, then fell over into a fit of booming laughter, clinging to the counter with one hand while he wrapped the other around his midsection. “Oh, that was priceless. Show me again. I don’t think I got it the first time.”
Huffing, she fisted her hands on her hips and glared. “Just shut up and help me find the ingredients.”
Once he managed to get himself under control, Knox gave her a sweeping bow and a roguish wink. “Your wish, my command.”
They worked together, moving about the galley as they gathered ingredients and utensils to make Cord his very first birthday cake. She found it easy to talk to Knox, and they bantered back and forth like old friends while they snacked on slices of cheese and stale crackers.
“Would you like to do the honors?” Knox held out the electric hand mixer and tilted his head toward the bowl that now contained all of the ingredients for the cake.
“Uh, were we supposed to put everything in there at once?” It didn’t look very appetizing, nor did it look like anything resembling cake batter.
He held his arm up, elbow bent, and scanned his wrist unit once more. “It just say to put everything into a large mixing bowl and stir for three minutes.”
“Stir? Should we use a spoon?”
Knox sighed. “Quit stalling and just mix the damn cake, Isla.”
“Okay, okay.” Taking the appliance, Isla breathed in deeply through her nose and plunged the beaters into the mixture. “Here goes nothing.”
The motor whirred to life, and the device vibrated in her hand, startling her so badly that she dropped the entire thing into bowl. Batter flew everywhere. It stuck to the ceiling, splattered across the walls, and splashed her in the face.
Knox lunged forward to help, but he only succeeded in knocking the bowl off the countertop. It clattered to the floor, spilling the remaining contents across the gray tiles. The mixer continued to spin, still slinging batter in every direction, and Isla squealed when a glob of sticky flour smacked her right in the cheek.
After a few failed attempts, Knox finally managed to wrangle the appliance and switch it off before dropping it back to the floor as if it had somehow offended him.
Isla laughed. Once she started, she couldn’t stop. She laughed until her cheeks hurt and she couldn’t breathe. Stars, they’d made such a mess, and she needed a long shower to remove all the goop from her hair, but it had also been the most fun she’d had in longer than she could remember. While she might not have a cake to show for her efforts, she did have a new memory to cherish.
“Maybe we should have made cookies instead.” As she spoke, thick, black smoke began to billow from the oven they’d set to preheat, the acrid stench filling the entire kitchen. “Is it supposed to be doing that?”
“Shit,” Knox cursed, hurrying over to the oven and wrenching the door open. On the top wrack, a rainbow of melted plastic dripped down the wires and landed in the bottom of the oven with a wet plop as more smoke rolled into the air. “Who in the hell put plastic fucking cups in here? Where the hell did we even get plastic fucking cups?”
While Knox battled with the oven, the smoke spiraled toward the ceiling, the tendrils coiling together to form thick, dark clouds. An earsplitting screech erupted throughout the room, the alarm blaring in a slow, steady rhythm. Then, before Isla could do more than cover her hears, jets of fluffy, white foam rained down from the fire prevention system in the ceiling, covering the entire kitchen in what looked like soap suds.
“Well, this was a complete disaster.”
Knox slammed the over door closed and turned toward her, but his foot slipped in the foam that coated the floor, and he crashed to the floor with a loud yell.
“Oh, no.” Though worried for him, Isla still couldn’t stop laughing. “Are you okay?”
Brushing suds from her face, she waded through the thick foam, trying to make her way to Knox, but just as he had, she slipped, tumbling into free fall, only to land on the male’s chest.
Knox wheezed as the air rushed out of his lungs, but he caught her around the waist, holding her protectively. “Was that your attempt at a rescue?”
“It wasn’t very good, was it?” Still, she giggled at the sheer absurdity of the situation. “All this because we tried to make a cake.”
Instead of joining in her laughter, or making another quip about her lack of superhero skills, Knox stared up at her, his gaze fixed on her mouth, his nostrils flared. The tips of his fangs peeked out beneath his top lip, and the muscles in his throat constricted as he swallowed audibly.
Without giving herself time to think, Isla lowered her head, letting her damp hair fall around them in fiery curtains, and pressed her lips to Knox’s. Slowly, his mouth softened, and a deep, almost pained groan vibrated through his chest as he tangled his fingers in her hair and deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue between her parted lips. He kissed her desperately, drinking her in like the last sip of cool water in the desert.
Isla moaned as their tongues dueled, and her stomach clenched with desire. Her nipples tingled where they pressed against his chest, and a deep throb started between her legs.
Then, their shared moment of passion ended just as suddenly as it had started. Guilt wafted from Knox, the emotion so intense it bordered on pain. Gently but swiftly, he moved her so that she sat on the floor beside him, and climbed to his feet in stilted, jerky motions.
“Knox, wait!” she called when he retreated toward the exit.
He didn’t stop, and he didn’t look at her.
“Knox!”
The metal doors of the galley whooshed open, and the male hurried out into the corridor with his head bent and his shoulders tense, leaving Isla alone in the middle of the mess she’d made.
Both figuratively and literally.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“What the hell do you mean you didn’t tell him?” Isla roared at Bastian. “Are you kidding me?”
It had been two days since the disastrous kiss in the kitchen, and Knox still wouldn’t speak to her. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to avoid her, only conceding to be in the same room with her for Cord’s birthday party. Once the festivities had wrapped and the cake—which she and the security officer, Rakesh, had made in the food console—had been cut, he’d disappeared, and she hadn’t seen him since.
The one bright note in all of it was that Cord had celebrated his birthday surrounded by people who adored him, and the crew had even scrounged around the ship for presents that they’d wrapped in cheese cloth, old socks, and handkerchiefs. For his fourth birthday, Cord had received an “action figure” made from twine, an old coat hanger, and shaved rocks from Rakesh. Kylir had made the kid his very own set of wings out of the mesh netting that covered the air ducts and wire piping.
Slade, Knox, and Bastian had put their heads together and searched the entire ship to come up with an old journal and a couple of broken pencils so he could start learning how to write his name. Cord hadn’t cared that they weren’t flashy gadgets or colorful toys. He’d been elated to receive his gifts, and he’d been over the moon about his birthday cake.
It had been a good day, and Isla hadn’t wanted to ruin it by chasing down Knox or confronting Bastian. So, she’d put her own feelings aside and focused on her little boy.
Now, though, she had a bone to pick with Bastian, and he wasn’t leaving their so-called War Room until she received satisfactory answers.
“Well?” she demanded.