Tail, Dark and Handsome: Celestial Mates

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Booze and drugs. The secret pain of Rebel Cayne, as told by those who knew her before pop stardom.

-Tal Tattler

MarigoldNight stretched along the beach. With the lights of the resort behind her, Mari picked a careful path down from her cabin to the sand. The breeze from the water kept the humidity at tolerable levels. Stars reflected on the shifting and broken surface of the water.

Mari found an abandoned lounger and settled in. Tomorrow, she would board a shuttle and return to her ordinary life. For the moment, she wanted to sit in the moonlight and enjoy the sound of the waves. Her honeymoon started horribly, but it could end peacefully.

She sipped the fruity iced tea, perspiration clinging to the sweating glass.

Noise from the buildings behind prompted her to turn, her heart pounding. So what if part of her kept hoping that Tomas would arrive, desperate to find her, and explain the last week away? A lapse in judgment or—fudge, she didn’t know—a brain tumor that affected the decision-making parts of his brains and resulted in him running off with Sandria. A brain tumor seemed adequate to balance karma’s scales.

Not that she’d wish a brain tumor on him, because she was too much of a dang softie. Despite that they had been growing apart, it wasn’t wrong to still harbor some sentiment for him, and a week wasn’t enough time to unravel her emotions. She thought she loved him, or at least the idea of him, and believed that he loved her.

Anger and disbelief kept her numb, but as the ice thawed, she had to wade her way out of the flood. Relief had been her first response the day of her almost-wedding, so she knew on some instinctive level. This was for the best, even if it sucked. She’d get through this. She didn’t want him back, not really. She simply wanted to see him for closure and all that.

Everything about the situation was a tangled mess. She wanted equally to hug him tight and make him promise to never leave, and to punch him. Mostly punch, even though she strived to be a peaceful person, some people needed to be punched hard enough to cleanse their aura.

It wasn’t wrong to want to be loved.

It wasn’t wrong to want forever with a person.

Joseph seemed content with brief but intense flings. Mari needed more. She always had. Tomas recognized that and used it against her. He whispered sweet promises, exactly what she wanted to believe, and she wasn’t crying about it.

Mari wiped away the moisture in her eyes.

Not crying. Shut up.

Tomas so needed a punch, right in his root chakra, which happened to be in the vicinity of his balls.

The rhythmic roar of the ocean lulled her into a meditative state. Tomorrow, she’d leave behind those ugly thoughts of vengeful brain tumors and focus on a fresh start. She’d swallow her pride and move back to her mother’s. Valerian had plenty of room, having a hangar at Olympus Station. Half have been converted to living space, and they ran the family business out of the other half. There was no shame in going home. Joseph still lived there, after all. She’d miss the privacy that allowed her to wander around in nothing but her panties, but she’d cope.

She had to.

“I checked your credentials,” a gruff voice said.

She jerked in surprise. The ice tea splashed over the rim of the glass. “Are you stalking me?”

“Hardly,” Winter said with a sniff, then sat down on the lounger next to hers like he had been invited.

“Oh, please, do join me.”

He ignored her sarcastic tone. “You were top of your class and have a perfect safety record.”

“So you are stalking me,” she said.

“Yet with these credentials, you work for your mother.”

“It’s a family-run business. Don’t you work for your brother?”

“That is different.”

“Oh, sure.” She settled back into the lounger, returning her gaze to the ocean.

“We are both shareholders,” he said, almost sounding bitter. “I work for myself, not for Chase.”

Chase. That name rang a bell, but Mari set that aside. “So if you’re not stalking me, why are you checking my credentials?”

He sighed, loudly. Poor, put-upon Winter. “It occurs to me that I do require a pilot.”

“I can give you the info for a great temp agency to hire a pilot.”

“A situation has arisen and we need to return to Corra as soon as possible. I do not have the time.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” she said, turning to face him.

He c****d his head to one side, his ears moving so much he had to be expressing a novel’s worth of body language. The tip of his tail swished across the sand. For some reason, he only wore a pair of low-slung trousers, and she applauded whatever reason inspired him to leave his shirt at home. The moonlight did all sorts of yummy things for him. No one had a right to be that handsome.

She waited.

His ears kept doing that thing, and he continued to look handsome and more than a little arrogant—and damn it, why did she like him?

Sighing dramatically, Mari moved to sit upright. “You have to actually ask me so I can say yes, you know.”

Sitting up, he reached across the distance and reached for her, his thumb brushing the back of her hand. “Come with me to Corra.”

Dang it. There was absolutely no reason for her heart to flutter like that, or her skin to tingle in a way that Tomas never made her tingle.

“As your pilot?” she asked, voice thick.

His eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “As you say.”

“What a wonderfully vague answer.”

“Not only as a pilot. I want more from you.”

He rose, and Mari found herself against him. Moving without thinking, she stretched her arms to wrap them behind his neck. The skin there had a wonderfully downy texture, almost like peach skin. Was the rest of him so deliciously touchable?

“What sort of more?” she asked, having a fair idea.

“Do you miss your former mate?” he asked, countering her question with his own.

Mari blinked, slow to process the question. “Tomas? Stars, no.”

“You have wept.” A thumb brushed her still damp cheek.

“Do you miss your mate,” she countered, rather than answering.

“I do not wish to speak of Rebel,” he replied.

“There you go, but can you answer my first question? What sort of more do you want from me?”

He held her gaze, eyes icy blue without the lenses. She enjoyed seeing that bit of himself that he normally hid away. His hands rubbing up and down her bare arms. The moment stretched out between them, warm and sweet.

“I require a mate,” he said at last.

Her eyebrows hiked right up into her hair. “And you thought you’d get a two-for-one pilot and wife special deal?”

“You are tolerable,” he answered, which was no answer at all. “Zero likes you.”

“I like him too,” she replied, because it was true. She did like Zero. She almost liked Winter when he managed to keep his mouth shut.

“You are attractive.” He paused, as if waiting for her response.

“That’s it? I’m tolerable, attractive, and your kid likes me.”

“Kit,” he corrected.

“Sweet suffering nebulas, really?” Mari took a step back, breaking contact. She needed to think, and she just couldn’t string two words together when he kept touching her. It was unfair and a dirty trick on his part. Zero said his father needed a friend, and Mari could see why. Winter had no people skills. He either held himself back with haughty aloofness or he was all intensity with no middle ground.

“Are those reasons inadequate? My first mate was chosen on a less sincere basis,” he said.

She breathed out, not realizing she had been holding her breath. “Explain that, please.”

“It is not relevant.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that. Now, explain.”

“I will try to be succinct. Rebel is—was—the daughter of a business partner. When the troubles on Talmar began, my father moved our holdings to Corra. He had existing property there, ostensibly because land and production would be cheaper there, but I suspect it was originally meant to be a tax shelter.” His ears twitched, and he sighed. “That does not matter. We were on Corra, and Rebel’s family was desperate to get her off Talmar but the borders had been closed. However, Corra grants citizenship to a spouse.”

“So Rebel married you for a passport?” Mari tried to recall what she knew of Talmar’s civil war. It happened when she was a preteen, or there about, and at an age when she did not pay attention to news worthy interstellar events. Winter couldn’t be much older than her then. Zero said forty-one, right? “How old were you? You had to be a baby.”

“Little more than a kit, but of legal age.”

So his first marriage was not a love match, not that he was proposing a love match now. He had offered a “you’re tolerable, attractive enough, and my son likes you” match. It was insulting when it came down to those terms. She may have been jilted and left at the altar, but she wasn’t so desperate to accept the first guy who came along, even if the way those shorts hung off his hips was scandalous.

Oddly, she found herself not rebuking him and throwing his lukewarm proposal back at him. Instead, she said, “Thank you for sharing that with me. I appreciate that you’re protective of your first wife.”

His ears flicked, but he waited for her to continue.

“I don’t understand why you think you need a wife. Why now?”

He glanced away, then back to her, his gaze hot and intense. How had she ever thought his eyes were cold?

“Zero requires a mother. You are suitable for the task,” he said.

Wow, the romance and poetry of those words.

Mari laughed, the absurdity of the situation overcoming her. “Sorry, sorry. I’m nervous. Ignore me.”

“Impossible.” He had her in his arms again, folding her to him like they had years of practice. “Tell me yes, Marigold.”

Sweet tea and peaches.

“This is too much,” she said. She didn’t know him, but she thought she knew Tomas and look how that turned out. Tomas was out of her heart, yes, but it still hurt. Rushing into the next relationship seemed like inviting more heartache.

But she wanted a change and this is what the universe put in her path.

“I’ll take the job. Just the job,” she said. “We’ll need to route through Olympus Station. I need to pack some things and take care of personal business.”

His hold tightened at her words. If he was disappointed, he kept it to himself. “As you say.”

She tilted her head back, admiring the way the moonlight softened his hard features. They were back to that sweetness that made time pliable, stretching between them. The impossible seemed a little more possible, that two strangers could have an instant connection and decide to make a life together.

He was tolerable—she mentally grinned at the word—and growing more so every day. Attraction? Check. And she liked his son.

Tolerability, attraction, and like. It was more than most had. Love could follow in its own time.

He lowered his face to hers.

Her breath fluttered. This was too soon after Tomas, some distant part of her mind protested, and Winter wanted so much, so soon. The rest of her was completely on board with what was about to happen. Anticipation zipped through her, tingling in a way that no one had ever made her.

“Dad? Did you ask Merry-gold?”

Winter pushed Mari away. The back of her legs bumped into the lounger, and she crashed down with a thump, the wood groaning under her weight. She stared up at him.

His actions were as good as a bucket of cold water.

Just a job, she reminded herself.

Winter“Apologies,” he said, hauling Marigold to her feet. His kit startled him. He had no intention to push her away, but it was a reflex developed to avoid cameras.

She batted at his hands, irritation written on every inch of her. “Back off. Enough.”

He stepped back, missing the loss of her heat. Zero ran up the beach and skidded to a halt.

“If you have changed your mind, I understand,” he said. Whatever this was between them was fragile, and his proposal added undue stress. If she refused him outright, he could not blame her.

She huffed, hands balled at her side. Frustration vibrated through her yet her voice remained perfectly cool as she said, “I’ll see you in the morning for departure.”

Father and son watched her leave. “What did you say?” Zero demanded.

“Regretfully, it is not what I said.” Winter scrubbed a hand over his face, aware that the scent of her perfume lingered on his skin.

“How did you mess up? She liked us! What did you do?” Zero sneezed, loudly and rudely.

“Mind your manners,” he snapped.

He had only intended to offer the pilot’s position to Marigold. What followed, he had no plan for, only the vague sense of wrongness if she left. The lack of a plan—the complete lack of intention, honestly—worried him. His control had slipped. Would she run to the media with his poor excuse of a proposal?

No. Marigold was not like that. While his ability to judge the true intentions of those around him was faulty, Zero had an uncanny ability to spot those with a true and loyal heart.

Patience.

She requested time. He could wait.

“It is done,” he said. “She will come with us to Corra.”

“To stay?”

“No. She did not agree to that.”

“Make her,” Zero demanded, sounding like the young kit he was.

“You cannot force a person to stay. You can only open your heart,” Winter said, half-believing the words. In his experience, people were only interested in him for their gain. They always left in the end. He had yet to find the person who would choose to remain.

No amount of patience helped ease the burden of that truth.

MarigoldCountdown to departure ran like a subroutine in the back of her mind. Six hours, time to get out of bed. Six hours to pack and everything that came at the end of a holiday.

Mari wrapped the bedsheet around herself and hurried across the sand, one hand shading her eyes. The morning sun sat just above the horizon, turning the water into a blinding liquid gold. Gorgeous, sure, but hella hard to navigate her way sit on the sand without bumping into every single lounger. Every. Single. One.

Valerian sat with a blissed-out expression on her face, her legs folded neatly in the lotus position and her hands laid palm-up on her knees. She looked fresh and bright, like she rose before dawn to greet the day, and not, in fact, like she had been out all night with her gentleman friend.

Mari lowered herself onto the sand. Her legs folded neatly in a position that mirrored Valerian’s. She hoped she looked half as good as her mother at her age. As much as Valerian praised the benefits of antioxidants and meditations, Mari figured genetics and quality moisturizer had more to do with it.

“And what time do you call this, young lady? It’s like you don’t respect your curfew at all,” Mari scolded in a teasing tone.

Valerian ignored her entirely and said, “So, you’re going with him, then.”

How did she know? Never mind. Moms always knew.

“It’s a job,” she said casually, with a shrug, like the kiss hadn’t happened. Like he hadn’t asked her to be his mate. “Four weeks to Corra, then I’ll catch a flight back.”

Valerian hummed noncommittally. Mari knew that hum. It was her judging-you-and-found-you-wanting hum.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Valerian said. She rose to her feet and stretched, moving her arms behind her, then above her head. “Don’t just sit there like a lump. Come and greet the day with me. Our bodies were made to move.”

Mari struggled to her feet, tripping over the sheet before fighting her way free of the tangle. She fell into the easy rhythm of a sun salutation, a set of exercises from the ancient Earth practice of yoga. It might have eased the tight muscles in her thigh and hips. Valerian touted the spiritual benefits of yoga, but Mari enjoyed it for the gentle stretching and the quiet.

“Only—” Valerian started. “No. Never mind. You’re an adult.”

The usual quiet, at least.

“What? Just say it,” Mari said.

“His aura is murky, that’s all I’m saying. And I don’t get a sense of calm from him. He’s troubled, but I won’t say more. Only you shouldn’t trust him, and do you want to be alone on a ship with him for four weeks? Anything could happen, but—”

“You won’t say more.”

“Don’t mock me. I’m worried. There are rumors about that man,” Valerian said, irritation breaking through her normally placid demeanor.

Funny, Valerian liked him plenty when she thought he was simply a rich single dad.

“I know about the rumors,” Mari said.

“Do you?”

“I know how to do a search on the network, Mom.”

“Oh, well, then you’re an expert,” Valerian said in a curt tone.

“And you are?” Mari finished her sun salutation, feeling a bit more feisty than usual. “I’ve spent the last few days with him. He’s been nothing but kind to me.” Comforting her when she was a panicky mess on the sailboat and offering her shelter in his home during a storm. She had a hard time reconciling the man portrayed in the media reports with the same man who laughed and joked with his son, with the man who begrudgingly let a stranger intrude on his father-son time.

“You liked him well enough before,” Mari added, keeping quiet on the part that Valerian only liked Winter when she thought he was wealthy and had no other complications.

“He murdered his wife.” Valeria’s words interrupted Mari’s thoughts.

“We don’t know that.”

“Everyone knows that. There’s the fighting to consider too. He has anger issues, Marigold. He’s not a safe man.”

She disagreed. She had never felt safer than when he held her in his arms. Plus, he was a giant cinnamon roll when it came to his kid.

“I know men like that,” Valerian said. “Very well. They wear a mask. They can be charming on the outside, but in private it’s a different matter. The masks come off. Then you aren’t good enough. They wear you down, little insult by little quibble, also pick and picking, until you’re at the point when you think they are all you deserve. That you should be grateful for them.” Valerian took a breath to steady her voice. “You deserve better than a man like him.”

Mari looked away, watching the waves rather than her mother’s face. Valerian hardly ever spoke of Mari’s father, for good reason. Mari had been too young to remember the man when Valerian left him. She remembered Joseph’s father, a kind man with a scratchy beard and a big laugh, and considered that man her true father.

“Winter’s not like that. When has he been charming in public? He’s rude. All the time.” But not in private. When they were alone, when Winter invited her into his home, into the place he felt comfortable, the grumpy mask came off. “You are right about the mask. He’s a grouch in public. It’s… armor, I think. A defense. When he’s with his son, he’s sweet. Patient.”

“I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”

“Mom, the universe is giving me this opportunity and I’m taking it. Maybe the mess with Tomas needed to happen to get me here.” She only half-believed the nonsense that came out of her mouth.

Valerian hummed, this one her I-know-you’re-right-and-I-don’t-like-it hum. So many hums.

“I just can’t go back right now. I can’t,” Mari added.

The words seemed to soften Valerian. “I don’t like this. Be careful. He’s a dangerous man.”

Mari knew Winter was dangerous, but not in the way Valerian thought. He was a danger to her better judgment and her heart.