“Huh,” Marcie said, laughing slightly. “I was expecting it to be something more . . . well, alien.” She laughed again. “We actually call it something similar.”
“Oh?” asked Briar, breathing in the scent of her warm scalp. “And what do you humans call it?”
“A sunrise.”
It was Briar’s turn to laugh then, and he pulled Marcie’s body closer against him as he did so. The moment felt lighthearted, and it was the freest Briar had felt in a long time. Ever, he realized with a start.
He felt his vines slither under his skin with wanting, and he shifted, putting more room between his hips and Marcie’s.
“And planting season?” she asked, scooting forward to close the space between them, as if her body desired to touch Briar’s as much as his longed to touch hers. She gave a small laugh. “Though I imagine its much the same as our planting season, given that a rising and a sunrise are pretty much the same thing.”
Every muscle in Briar’s body tensed. “Why would humans call their mating rituals planting season? Is your kind botanical in nature, as well?”
That would explain it! Briar realized with a start. The sudden attraction he’d felt to Marcie. The longing he’d had to bury his seed within her. They’d been hydrated together and now they were, in a manner of speaking, underground together. By the laws of the Verdant Lands, they’d been planted.
And if the botanical life in her body was craving him the way his was craving hers . . .
“No,” Marcie said into the darkness, surprising him. “That’s not what we call our mating rituals.”
She pulled away from him then. Sitting upright, she pulled her knees against her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
A long moment passed, and then she said, “Let me guess: it’s called planting season because the whole goal is to make little plantings. Right?”
Briar rose to his knees before her, his palms damp. What was it about this topic that made her so upset?
“Yes,” he said. The compulsion that was tugging at his groin tugged at his soul as well, and he told Marcie how he felt. The truth of himself. “I’ve never gone through planting season.”
The Earth woman’s eyes widened. “So, you’ve never . . .?”
“Never,” Briar said, every muscle quivering with anticipation. Whatever it was in Marcie’s body that was calling out to him, his own body yearned to answer the call. But he would wait for her confirmation. Wait for her to choose him back.
That was the way true planting should be done, regardless of the circumstances that had already inadvertently set the stage for he and Marcie to plant themselves.
Marcie’s wide eyes were glistening again, and she bit down on her lip so hard that redness bloomed across the tender flesh. “Look, I feel like such a jackass saying this, but—”
“Jackass?” asked Briar, frowning.
“An idiot,” clarified Marcie as she swiped at her eyes. She took a deep breath. “But I . . . I feel drawn to you, Briar. I feel as if I—”
“Shh,” Briar said, sliding forward to wrap his arms around her. “You needn’t say more. I feel it too.”
Marcie put her hands on his chest and pushed him gently away.
“Whatever it is that we are feeling,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “We can’t succumb to it. It . . . it wouldn’t be fair to you.”
Briar’s chest tightened at the look on her face, and he felt as if his roots were shattering. There was a great sorrow in Marcie, and he could barely stand to look upon it.
“Tell me,” he said, moving a stray curl from her face. The bioluminescence in his fingertips looked like starlight on her dark skin. “Why? Why can’t we lay claim to one another?”
Marcie looked up at him with liquid eyes again, her lip quivering. She went to bite it again, but Briar stopped her with his thumb.
“Tell me,” he said again, this time more softly, his lips brushing against her ear.
“I’m . . .” She stopped, as if she couldn’t breath life to the words.
“What?” he asked, breathing in the scent of her. “You’re what?”
“It wouldn’t be right!” she said hollowly, even as she wrapped her arms around him in return. “I couldn’t do it to. Not if its your first . . . planting. It would be pointless.”
Briar pulled away from her then, his brow creased in confusion.
“The planting call of a Verdan is never pointless, Marcie.” He rubbed her tears away with his thumbs, leaving his hands to rest on her face. Soaking in the sight of her. “What I’m feeling for you . . . It is natural. Right. Whatever it is in you that is calling to me, I must answ—”
“I’m barren,” she said, pushing away from him. She scooted back an arm’s length and doubled over, as though she meant to keep her sorrow in by force. “Mark . . . Tyler . . .,” she said thinly, listing off the names of personage of which Briar had no knowledge. “Even my exes back on Earth . . . They’d all balked when they found out. Sure, some stayed for a while. But when the topic of children would come up . . .”
Her voice broke, and she stopped speaking.
Rising to his feet, Briar crossed the cave and sat beside her again, pulling her into his lap. He did not know the human body, but he knew the soil and all its inner workings. And if that was the only thing keeping Marcie from him . . .
Briar slid his hands under the thin shirt she wore, feeling her warm skin under his palms. She shivered, letting him caress her torso.
“Is that it? Is that the only reason?” he asked as he kissed the peak of her breast through the thin fabric, teasing it with his teeth.
Marcie moaned against him, her hips softly grinding against his. But then, as if remembering herself, she braced her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away.
“If planting season is for . . . well, planting . . .” She ran her fingers through his hair, making him shiver. “Why wouldn’t you want to, you know, plant with someone who would give you what you wanted?”
Briar smiled and pulled Marcie close to him again.
“Don’t you get it?” he asked as he grabbed her firmly by the cradle of her hips. “In all the time I’ve lived, in all the planting seasons I’ve seen come and go, yours is the only body mine has longed to possess.”
They stared at one another then, Marcie’s fingers creeping down the length of Briar’s neck, his rubbing small circles into the ample flesh of her hips. Her thighs. Her buttocks.
“Then have me,” she breathed as she lowered her lips to his.
And he did.
About the Author
Lula Monk is a part-time author and full-time educator. She enjoys winter beaches, road trips, strange science facts, and cuddling up with a good book. Or a good tv series.
Her work is heavily influenced by her dual love of science and history. She is now working on multiple projects in various genres, including Paranormal Romance, Historical Fiction, Sci-Fi, Paranormal Mystery, and more.
She lives in the Deep South, and the flora and fauna of that region often make an appearance in her writing.
Other Works
Galactic Seduction
Dredge: Galactic Seduction Book One
Ignis: Galactic Seduction Book Two
Tonx: Galactic Seduction Book Three
Petra: Galactic Seduction Book 3.5
Cyndar: Galactic Seduction Book Four
Arachne: Galactic Seduction Book Five
A Fortnight to Bloom
Dani Morrison
A Fortnight to Bloom
Dani Morrison
When it rains it pours and Stephanie Renaut has had enough, thank you very much. The collapse of her engagement is the last straw and she takes a gamble on the irrational; a two week spiritual retreat on the far flung world of Elysia VII. Verdant, lively, and soothing, the planet’s facilities are renowned for their ability to help soul-weary seekers.
But she isn’t the only traveler seeking answers and redemption. Pahali’s Festival approaches, a celebra
tion of the early bloom, and Davinth Xan-Curson returns for his ancestral rites without a mate. Again. He’s devoted his life to unlocking the secrets of Elysia’s flora, but finds the opportunity for a new kind of discovery with an impromptu travelling companion.
Paths cross and sparks ignite, but to make way for new life, two strangers must come to know themselves to find each other.
1
Stephanie
Her friends would say this was just another example of her falling into woo-woo, new age bullshit, but from the moment she stepped foot on Elyisia VII, Stephanie Renaut knew there was something different about the planet. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Perhaps it was the tourmaline tranquility of the ocean, a bit too picturesque for her cynical mind.
Maybe it was the verdant landscape that sprawled beneath their shuttle, with rolling, green hills that transformed into lush forests and back again before land rushed to meet the sea and kiss its pristine waters.
Before planning her visit, she had been sure to check the geological reports for the area. It was extremely volcanically active, and while the small village in which she would be staying was out of the way, the beauty of the lands they flew over was undeniably the result of this danger. In the distance, a faint, white plume grazed the atmosphere as one of the planet’s many angry gods spewed creation from its throat.
It was a humbling sight and a reminder of why she was here. Like the fertile soil of Elysia VII, she too needed some form of renewal. After years of busting her ass in corporate marketing catering to fragile egos and cleaning up after mediocre lovers, the thought of a purifying lava flow was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.
If only human lives could work the same way. She’d give just about anything to raze her life to the ground in a fiery conflagration, if only to feel something again. Pain, pleasure, anything besides the dull throb of another day, another keycard swipe, another meeting.
She sighed and leaned back in her seat.
“Greetings passengers,” a gruff voice sounded over the comm system.
Stephanie stretched her legs and wiggled her toes. They must be close to landing.
“This is your captain speaking. We will be arriving at Sutarim Transport Depot within the next fifteen minutes. Please return to your seats.”
Stephanie returned her attention to the view outside the window, where the glittering ocean gave way to another sprawl of fields and exotic architecture. Catching her reflection, she gave a small smile to the woman staring back at her. She was exhausted, and it showed. Her chestnut hair usually fell in gentle waves but was mussed from multiple shuttle transfers, and the dark circles under her eyes were impossible to miss.
She leaned closer to her reflection to fix her hair and check her teeth for any leftover flight food. She wasn’t expecting to meet the love of her life on this sabbatical, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t obligated to make a good first impression.
“You look fine dear,” an older woman said from across the aisle. “Trust me. They’ll rarely put that much effort in for you.”
Her skin was thoroughly sun kissed, and it was obvious this woman knew how to enjoy her retirement years. Even seated, she cast an imposing figure. Her bright blue kaftan was accented with strange feathers Stephanie had never seen before. Brown hair was streaked with grey and bound up in a coif of curls and combs that would seem out of place were it not for the nature of their journey.
Everyone on the shuttle was here to find themselves. That’s what the pamphlets said, anyway. Meditation retreats, sacred drumming, soaking for hours in baths made of ancient recipes handed down from the inhabitants’ ancestors. Elysia was a planet of enlightenment.
Perhaps this was just part of her process. In reality, Stephanie didn’t know how to respond. Being put together was what was always expected of her. She purchased the best skirts to accentuate her rounded hips and thighs. Her blouses were perfectly pressed to portray power and competence. Each pair of shoes told a story for an ever-engaged audience.
They’ll rarely put in that much effort for you.
Like Jonathan, who had barely put in any effort at all. They had met during a multi-department company meeting. They’re introduction could only be described as a disaster but he had been perfect on paper. Tall and devastatingly handsome, he was capable of wooing everyone within a ten-mile radius. Including her mother. Especially her mother, whom he had managed to work his charms on to the point that when Stephanie discovered his eventual infidelity, Minerva Renaut begged her to reconsider leaving him.
It was only then that the rose-tinted glasses were irrevocably shattered, and the illusions of the relationship fell away. The constant needling remarks about her body and career, for example, all under the guise of ensuring she was at her“best.” Despite loving him because of the little imperfections that made him unique, Jonathan made no qualms about pointing out her perceived flaws.
“You’re right,” she said to the older woman. “They won’t.”
It was ironic that their relationship ended not with infidelity itself, but his proposal. Stephanie rapidly blinked, attempting to fight back the fresh wash of tears. She was stronger than this, but the wound was still raw. She deserved better than an apathetic fiance, but she struggled to believe it. She had thought it would work, could work, but as he’d slid that diamond solitaire across her finger, it burned like a brand.
“You’re exactly the kind of woman I need,” Jonathan had said, his eyes filled with resolve and determination but neither desire nor love. She would look good on his arm. She would provide him with children, but most importantly, she would know her place. Silent, accepting, and grateful. She was an acceptable means to an end and a searing pain tore through her chest.
“What is my favorite food?” she’d asked, her voice hollow as the realization sank in. The reservations must have been booked months in advance. Their table was arranged on a small platform in front of a large gallery window that provided a stunning view of the city beyond. Dual privacy screens were set behind them and the champagne chilling in a bucket was older than she was. Jonathan smelled like his lucky cologne, the one he wore for meetings with senior officials within the company.
He frowned and had the audacity to look around the room but there was no audience this time. There were no fawning eyes to offer encouragement in the face of her scrutiny or coconspirators to chide Stephanie for her lack of compliance.
“I—I’m afraid I don’t follow,” he stammered out but his hand suddenly felt damp.
“What’s the one childhood memory that haunts me to this day?” she followed up, removing her hand from his grasp. It was as though the sparkling flash of a diamond had brought the clouded facets of their entanglement into clearer focus.
These were simple questions. Third date material at best, and these facts had come up over their time together as one year morphed into two and then three before he finally decided to “make an honest woman of her.” She knew he favored cornflower blue, the color of his mother’s eyes and that a serving of bad fish at a family dinner when he was eleven made him deathly afraid of seafood for seven years. Stephanie packed away these nuggets of vulnerability and tucked them in her heart for safekeeping.
She was used to Jonathan changing the subject when confronted with a topic he was unfamiliar with, but his eyes narrowed, and the sensuous lips capable of seducing with a single smile turned down into a petulant frown.
“Is that your answer?” he huffed, pulling the cloth napkin out of his lap and tossing it onto the dining table.
“I hardly know...” Stephanie replied.
He reached across the table, trapping her shaking hands in an impatient grip. “Look Steph, you need to focus on what’s important. Get out of your head and get real.” He stretched out his arms to draw attention to their surroundings. “Many women would kill to be where you are right now and you aren’t getting any younger.”
Their end was a tragedy, even more so in that it cost her a glass o
f champagne. She’d hardly made the mental connection between her brain and hand before it was wrapped around the fragile glass stem. The sparkling golden liquid formed a perfect arc when it raced across the table to meet his face, and she shouldn’t have felt good about it, but she did.
That was weeks ago, before her mother’s frantic phone calls and before the whispers around the office water bot became too much to bear. When her late-night web browsing brought her to Elysia’s tourism board, it didn’t take much convincing.
“Have courage,” the woman followed up, and Stephanie looked back at her, intent on offering thanks, only to be struck by the depth of her gaze. “Renewal cannot come without destruction.”
The communications system triggered again, and the shuttle lurched as they neared the landing dock.
The woman’s words were temporarily forgotten as Stephanie rushed off of the shuttle and through the terminal, intent on finding her bags and a shower as soon as possible. This was her second to last transfer and the thought of sinking into a soft pile of bedsheets, propelled her forward. She was so caught up in reaching her final destination, she almost missed how the atrium was awash in a swirl of blues and purples, the result of the stained glass in the ceiling.
Stephanie slowed, immediately enamored with the play of light and sights around her. She could have kicked herself from almost losing out on the kind of scenery that used to fill her with wonder. The tourism board’s website didn’t do the location, or people, justice. Aside from humans, a plethora of alien species surrounded her as they engaged in the every day machinations of transport hub life.
Blooming Desire: An Extraordinary Spring Romance Collection Page 6