Tail, Dark and Handsome: Celestial Mates

Chapter 3-2

Thunder rumbled. Mari jumped, suddenly realizing that she was completely alone as the oncoming storm drove everyone away.

A cold wind swept in, and the rain poured down. This wasn’t the gentle sprinkle from earlier but drenching and cold.

Mari ran towards a reconstructed building with a thatched roof.

In the darkness, rain pounded on the roof and came in through the narrow window slits and the open door. She huddled in a far corner, as far away from the rain as possible.

The building appeared to be used for storage, at least according to the computer whispering in her ear. Pottery fragments with traces of oil, grain, and wine were found within the hut.

A bot rolled in, all-terrain wheels digging into the packed ground. A red light flashed and a garbled voice said something, but Mari couldn’t catch it over the narration in her ear.

She tapped her ear to turn off the sound and peered down at the bot. Mud caked the undercarriage. She didn’t think she had wandered into a restricted area, but maybe it closed due to the weather. The steps were tricky enough to navigate in the sunshine. She’d hate to try in a downpour.

“Hello? Can you repeat that?” She tapped the black dome at the top of the bot. The light flashed and a panel slid open. Gears whirred, and the bot gave a full body shudder, then went dark.

Well, that wasn’t good.

“Don’t touch that,” a sharp voice said.

A Tal man loomed in the door, completely soaked from the rain. Shadows hid his face until he stepped inside. Dark hair plastered against his forehead made his triangular ears more pronounced. He appeared disheveled like he just rolled off a very long transport ride with no sleep, his eyes were a sleepless red, and dark circles hung under them. The man looked worn and tired.

And very, very pissed.

Without thinking, Mari stepped between the bot and the threatening Tal man.

“That’s a very sensitive instrument,” he said, pushing past her and falling to his knees in front of the bot. A tool appeared in his hand, and he removed the front panel. “This is completely ruined.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t let it roam through the mud,” she said.

The man’s ears flicked back as she spoke, the only indication that he heard her. Focused on the bot, he pushed back wet hair and muttered. His tail swept along the packed dirt floor, picking up a coating of mud. He reached for the internal circuitry, then drew back his hand. He slammed the panel shut and rose to his feet.

“It has water damage. You did something to it,” he accused.

“I did nothing.” She barely touched the bot.

“Lies. You removed the front panel. Are you a spy? Did I interrupt your attempt to steal my prototype?” His tail lashed out behind him, angry like a whip. Rain pounded the roof, nearly drowning out his words, but she got the general gist.

“A spy?” Nervous laughter bubbled out of her, which only seemed to make the man anger.

The man clenched his fists, and his nostrils flared. Mari unconsciously mimicked his stance. If the first thing out of his mouth had been anything other than an accusation, she might think him attractive. You know, for a grouchy grumpypants.

Taller than her, he had a lean runner’s build, slim but strong. The dark amber striation stood out against his pale amber complexion. Dark hair had outgrown a haircut ages ago and looked permanently tousled. Those eyes, dark and flat, were nearly human but the pupil was a touch more oval than round, gave her pause.

So what if he was attractive? She wasn’t in the market, and he had no social skills.

She held his gaze. His ears pressed forward and it struck her as remarkably arrogant. Even the way his tail lashed behind him seemed arrogant. He got her blood up and made her want to fight in a way that rude and screaming clients never did.

Or Tomas, for that matter.

Her eyes flicked down the open collar of his shirt and the striation that seemed to trace the column of his throat. She wondered how far down that particular stripe went, if it could map a journey all the way down his chest and abdomen.

He cleared his throat. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she tore her gaze back to his eyes. Cold eyes. Frozen. Devoid of all except for contempt.

Thankfully, whatever fleeting attraction she felt vanished.

“Was it waterproof?” she asked, breaking the tension.

He looked down at the bot, as if considering that for the first time. “Water resistant. The field tech would know.” He ran a hand through his hair, somehow making it more appealing rather than a wet, sopping mess. “This will set my research back. I don’t have time to wait for another tech.”

“Maybe it needs to be cleaned and dried out.”

His ears pulled back, and the glare he sent her way was cold enough to freeze the blood in her veins. His gaze swept over her, and Mari became very aware of her own bedraggled appearance in a wet summer dress that clung to all her round parts, the strappy sandals that were the very worst thing to wear in a downpour, and the sad, droopy hat. She had to be a sorry sight because the tension left his shoulders, and certainly she imagined that his gaze lingered a touch longer than polite.

“You are a tourist,” he said.

“One who can’t read the weather forecast.” She gave a self-deprecating grin. “Take a walk, I thought. Try to relax, I thought.” She waved a dismissive hand.

“You’ll never get down the stairs in this weather.”

“I’ll wait.”

“If you had bothered to check the weather, you’d know this storm will last all day.” His brusque tone pricked at her pride. She was on vacation. She wasn’t expected to check the weather.

“I’ll call the resort. They’ll send a flyer,” she said, confident that she was not the only shortsighted person to ever be stuck up the mountain in a storm.

“In this wind?”

“It’s just a storm.”

“Not just a storm. This is a major tropical storm.”

“Oh.” She really should have paid attention to the weather announcement that morning. Had her mother tried to warn her when she said enjoy the sun while you can? That was vague enough to be Valerian’s idea of helpful.

He huffed, and Mari somehow knew that it wasn’t an amused huff but a long suffering, put upon huff. The huff of a man whose conscience made him do something he did not want to do. Super flattering. Nothing like a total stranger treating you like a burden.

“No, you better come with me,” he said. He reached into a pocket and withdrew a coin-sized orb.

“It’s not that windy.” She’d flown and landed in worse conditions.

And because the universe was determined to spite her, a strong gust roared through and knocked down thatch from the roof.

The sky flickered with lightning. The man flinched. Thunder clapped, this time reverberating right through her body. She may have jumped.

And screamed.

A little.

Mari clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She knew of lightning and thunder. Obviously. She’d been places with atmospheres and weather systems, but that had always been when she was working. Piloting through a thunderstorm was a heck of a lot different standing in a stone hut with a leaky roof and a floor determined to turn into a mud pit. In a ship, she had control and insulation to ground any lightning strikes. Here, she was exposed and wet, with mud squelching between her toes.

“Make your decision quickly or you’ll be here all day,” he said.

“Fine. Fine,” she said to no one in particular. “What I’m doing, I don’t even know. I’m taking your photo and sending it to my mother.” Before he could growl or complain, she held up her comm unit and grabbed his photo. “Caught in storm. Sheltering with this guy. He probably won’t murder me,” she spoke aloud as the typed the message.

“I’m not going to… Why would you think that?” He ran a hand through his hair again and tugged on an ear.

“Safety first and… sent. Now, you wanted me to follow a stranger to a secondary location? I hope there’s candy.” She batted her eyes sweetly, which earned her another ear tug. He was sort of cute, for a cranky guy.

“My house is near. We need to go now before the path is washed out. Here.” He handed her the orb.

She stared at her hand, confused.

“It’s a shield.” He pressed the orb and it unfurled into a thin, nearly transparent piece of fabric. “This is the hood. Fasten it here,” he said as he adjusted it on her shoulders. In that moment, when he was caretaking and not snarling, she felt the air spark with electricity.

Thunder crashed again. She jumped.

Right, those sparks were actual electricity and not attraction. She needed to get her head on straight. Lusting after the first guy she saw after Tomas was such a bad idea.

The muddy floor squished under her feet. She didn’t love the idea of running out in the downpour, but she didn’t want to stay in the hut any longer. Her foot slipped and her arms flapped as she fought against gravity, but it was no use. She closed her eyes, prepared to land on her back.

The man caught her before she hit the ground. His strong arms wrapped around her waist, holding her above the muddy floor.

“Oh,” she breathed. Those sparks? Not her imagination.

“Ready?” he asked, helping her to her feet.

Flustered, she adjusted the raincoat—poncho?—on her shoulders. “I’m Mari. You got a name?”

“Winter.”

WinterMerry. Human names were strange.

He led the female to the old farmhouse. Water covered the path, rushing over the ground as it traveled downhill. He had planned to return before the storm. The bright flashes of lightning in the relative darkness of the storm promised a headache. He only wore the protective contact lenses, but they were not enough to shield against the bright flare of a lightning strike.

The female stumbled on an unseen stone. Reaching out, he caught her elbow and steadied her. Her uneven gait suggested an injury, requiring her to be mindful of each step.

Frustrated at her slow pace, he dropped the malfunctioning bot to scoop up the female. Cradled in his arms, she wiggled and squirmed. “Put me down!”

“You are too slow,” he said, because that decided the matter.

It was almost pleasant to carry the female, to feel her softness and her heat. He could do without the flailing of her feet and her voice wailing like a high-pitched alarm. Fortunately, the storm drowned out her pointless howls.

The winds increased as they reached the building.

Once they were inside the entry, she said, “You left your bot.”

Odd how she managed to sound angry about the sacrifice he made to carry her. He appreciated how she was upset on his behalf; it showed compassion. She had a caring heart. His appreciation had nothing to do with the way the wet garment clung to her curves.

“Yes. I am displeased,” he said, tearing his eyes away.

He had wanted to capture as much data as possible before the storm. He issued a command for the bot to return to its dock but it continued on, scanning and mapping as the rain increased, working mud into the treads and, no doubt, the inner circuitry. The machine should not have malfunctioned as it did from a little rain. He would have words with Chase.

“Sorry. You didn’t have to leave it behind to carry me.”

He wanted to say that it was no great sacrifice to leave behind the malfunctioning machine. Most likely, it could not be repaired. Instead, what came out was a growled, “You were too slow.”