Chapter 6

Rosemary:

Rosemary had never been impulsive or spontaneous. The most impulsive thing she ever did was dye her hair black when she went through a moody teenager phase. She regretted it immediately. So she was at a loss to explain why she accepted Tani’s offer.

All she had waiting for her back on Earth was an eternity of double-shifts, never seeing her son, and fighting Vince for custody. The idea of working so hard to give Michael the life he deserved and never seeing her honey bunny when he was the thing that got her out of bed in the mornings tore her apart.

Accepting Tani’s offer was the right decision, for her and Michael.

She waited until putting Michael to bed to share her news. Rosemary smoothed the blanket and re-tucked him in.

"Mom, you're acting weird."

"Do you like it here?"

"Yeah, I guess." Uncertainty wavered in his voice. She was acting weird, and it freaked him out.

Rosemary smiled. "Tani offered me a job. I want to accept."

"Oh. Cool." He rolled away from her, tucking his hand under his pillow.

That's it? No questions? No concerns about school or leaving his friends, or even about his toys?

"Are you okay with that? With living here?"

Michael sat up. "Are you going to marry Mene?"

"What? No. No," Rosemary sputtered. "This is a job with the winery, in the Tasting Room. I'm not marrying anyone."

"Aunt Hazel said you would."

Rosemary frowned. "It's not very nice to talk about people behind their backs."

"That's why she said I shouldn't tell you."

A surprised laugh rang out. "You are just the worst little gossip I've ever known."

"She said you'd say that, too."

She pressed a kiss to his forehead and pushed him back down to the pillow. "Go to sleep, honey. We'll talk in the morning."

Morning came. Seeran and Hazel left early. They had a three-day journey to return to his post on the Judgment. Apparently, teleportation and pregnancy did not mix.

After a quick breakfast, Rosemary and Michael inspected their new digs.

The cottage was in good condition, if dusty. She’d expect nothing less from the Rhews. Their home was tasteful and well maintained, with the same level of care showed in every building on the property. The cottage had basic furnishings already in place. Despite being old-fashioned, the furniture was in good condition. She saw no reason to drag her old stuff across the galaxy. Most of her furniture was second-hand or the cheap stuff from discount stores. No family heirlooms, nothing like that.

She did decide to catch her afternoon shuttle to Earth to tie up loose ends. While her furniture wasn't worth saving, she had clothes, Michael's things, pictures and other precious items that could never be replaced. She would also need a set of dishes, pots and pans and the other details of everyday living.

The plan was to go back home, hire movers, get rid of everything else and let her landlord know she was leaving. Breaking the lease, actually. With such short notice, she wouldn't get her deposit back, but her conscience would rest easy. While she was doing all that, Tani would get Michael the immunization shots he'd need to start school. Apparently, the Mahdfel Academy had a blend of interstellar and Mahdfel students. Michael wouldn't be the only human in the school.

Rosemary made quick work of packing up her house. If she wasn't so determined to get back to her son as soon as possible, she might have been depressed about how little she had worth saving. Not even the knickknacks on the bookshelves were worth hauling to another planet. Clothes were packed without question as were Michael's toys. She packed her favorite books but set aside the rest to be donated. She carefully wrapped photo frames and packed them with care. She didn't have any photos of her parents. All those had been destroyed, but she had a metric ton of photos of Hazel and Michael. She'd rather tear her heart out than lose a single picture.

As the day wore on, she cleared out the pantry and kitchen cabinets. Next came closets, which she emptied of shoes, sports equipment, board games, and all the other accumulated junk of everyday life. She decided to keep her curtains and bed linens. That little touch of home would be comforting, if not for Michael, then for her. A small part of her never outgrew the need for the comfort of a favorite blanket.

She folded her favorite blanket, a red-yellow-orange crocheted afghan, and packed it away. The low-quality acrylic yarn showed every rough year. It was hideous—ketchup red, mustard yellow, processed cheese orange—but her mother crocheted the scratchy, ugly mess. It was all she had left. Her only heirloom. She hated it as a child. Her mother let Rosemary pick the colors. She wanted the colors of the sunset. What she got was the colors of hamburger condiments. The only reason Rosemary still had it was because when her mother woke her in the middle of the night to evacuate the house, she wrapped it around herself. She carried it from refugee camp to refugee camp, and finally into an orphanage. Despite its ragged appearance, Rosemary just couldn't part with the afghan. It was the one tiny part of her mother she still had.

The neighbor came to help and offered to take the beds and sofa. The kids from next door carried out boxes of foodstuffs Rosemary no longer needed. She cleaned out the fridge and freezer, saving just enough for immediate meals.

When the moving company arrived the next day, she had her life reduced to a pile of boxes in the living room and a constant ache in her lower back. Once the movers took away the boxes, she had a short shopping list. Hazel wanted chocolate. Not just any chocolate but a specific brand, the German one with the purple wrapper. Apparently, what was available out in the depths of space was not good enough. She also wanted to bring a few bottles of wine. Tani would get a kick out of that. Rosemary thought a few bottles, ranging from terribly cheap to modestly fancy that would do nicely as a gift.

A knock sounded at the door. Before she could answer, Vince let himself in.

He surveyed the empty house. "Moving?"

Sugar pops.

"Seems like you're moving to me."

Double fudging sugar pops.

"You're supposed to be gone for four months," she said. Vince scratched his balls, unconcerned. Rosemary couldn't believe she used to love him, or thought she loved him. He was gross on a fundamental level. Just so, so gross. “You got one of the neighbors spying on me?”

"No, this was just a friendly visit, but it seems like my stopping by was a good idea. I'd hate to have you run out on me and take my boy."

"Please. Save your drama for someone who'll believe it."

"Like a judge?"

He didn't touch her, but she felt the sucker punch land in the middle of her stomach. Yeah. She walked into that one.

"Like some other chump who'll give you money."

"Oh, Rosemary. You're my favorite chump." He managed to stretch favorite into three syllables: fav-or-ite. He wandered over to the table and flicked through the papers. Her throat tightened, and her stomach churned. She gathered together her important documents, birth certificate, identification cards, medical records, and more. The shuttle tickets were sitting right on top of the pile. Vince, the bloodhound of sleaze, found it immediately. "Going off-planet?"

Actually, he was more of a crap hound.

"Since when can you afford to go off-planet?" he asked.

A fucking crap hound of the highest degree. "It's none of your business,” she said.

"It is when my son is involved."

"Please. Like you've given a rat's ass about your son."

"Where is he? Michael!" he yelled. "Michael! Come and see your old man."

"He's not here, so stop yelling."

Vince turned on her, eyes blazing. "Is this where he is? Are you hiding my boy off-planet?" He brandished the shuttle ticket at her. When she didn't deny it, he nodded. "You've gone too far, Rosemary. You can’t keep me away from my son.”

“You don’t care about your son. You only care about your piggy bank!”

"He's my flesh and blood! You'll hear from my lawyer." Vince stormed out, door slamming behind him.

Rosemary ran to the door. "Go crawling back to your family! I’m sure they’ll be super excited to clean up your mess!"

She wanted to sink to the floor, cry, and give up. The situation had been far from ideal but trying to make a better life somehow made everything worse. Vince was involving his family and their endless resources. There would be court hearings and judges and custody. Being an adult was so damn hard, but Michael needed her. Relied on her. The sacrifices she made weren't for her; they were for him.

She would fix this. Had to fix this. Hell would freeze over before she’d let Vince take away her son. The situation was just more complicated, and that was all. She'd call her old lawyer, the one who drew up the custody papers, and see if there was something they could do. Settling custody disputes on another planet had to be mega-expensive. She might have to stay off Earth until the situation was resolved.

She'd figure it out. She always did.

Mene:

"Every weapon has a balance. Feel the weight of the blade."

Michael held the ax in one hand, arm extended, like it was a viper ready to strike him.

This could take some time.

The ax was lightweight, suitable for a young warrior, and the blade had been dulled. A target of soft foam stood a reasonable distance away.

Mene corrected the youth's stance. "Let your arm swing."

Michael swung his arm up and down, grip tight on the handle.

"Keep your arm straight." Mene guided his throwing arm. "When your arm is at the apex, here." He paused to allow Michael to note the position. "Release."

Michael flung the ax. It wobbled through the air and thunked against the target before falling to the ground. "I suck," he said.

"Indeed. How many years are you trained in the art of throwing axes?" Mene rubbed his chin and looked to the sky.

"It's my first day. You know that, jackwagon."

Mene hid his smirk. No sense encouraging backtalk. “So you do not suck. You are merely unpracticed.”

“I guess.”

“Then we practice.” Mene retrieved the ax and placed it back in Michael’s hands. “This time, keep the blade straight. It should not move. And your wrist must also be rigid.”

The youth gave the ax a few test swings before releasing it. It flew straight but bounced off the target.

“Better. Now use force. You are defending your mother! Your family! Your clan!”

Michael nodded. “But I don’t have a clan.”

Mene slapped the boy on the back, and he stumbled a few steps. “You are my family now. You are in my clan.”

A wide grin spread across his beige Terran face. “Cool. Mom is gonna freak when she sees me throwing an ax.”

Rosemary:

It took five days to wrap up her life on Earth. One for travel, three days of packing and shutting down utilities, and another day of travel. If she hadn't been so busy or bone tired, she might have been depressed that her life could be condensed to a pile of boxes.

Settling into a new life on Sangrin happened just as quickly. By the time she returned, the cottage was cleaned, had a fresh coat of paint and was move-in ready. The boxes of all her worldly possessions were delivered two days after she arrived. She and Michael unpacked. Mostly she unpacked and let Michael sort out his own room.

Two days later, she started working in the winery's Tasting Room. She was all nerves her first day, barely understanding the patrons if they spoke too quickly. Her cheap in-ear translator had a hard time keeping up. She smiled and nodded, and no one seemed to care if she misunderstood. Tani was right, though. Patrons would spend a lot of money for the novelty of sharing a drink with a human. The first day she felt a bit like a circus animal, there to perform tricks.

By the second day, she got over herself. It was a decent job in a beautiful environment, with housing included and far away from Vince. She'd wear a costume, juggle, and would even take a pie to the face if Tani asked.

She enrolled Michael in the Mahdfel Academy, but apparently, there was a waiting list. The academy had an interview process, and a non-Mahdfel student needed a sponsor. Evidently having a Council member as a sponsor moved the application along.

The day of the interview, Rosemary wrestled Michael into his best Sunday clothes. The cuffs of the pants floated a good inch over his shoes. "How did you grow so tall? These fit last month."

"Sorry, Mom. Kids grow. It's what we do."

The lavender meanie arrived with a vehicle. Rosemary chided herself for being rude. Mene was doing her a favor. The least she could do was not be catty about it. Moreover, he was the boss’s kid. She couldn’t afford to lose this job, not after such a big move. Play nice. She needed to start a Don’t-be-Mean-to-Mene jar.

Michael climbed into the back without hesitation, chattering about all the cool weapons he wanted to learn how to use. Not on her watch.

"I thought Oran was taking us," Rosemary said as she buckled herself in.

"He was delayed. You must accept my presence."

"I must, huh?" She grinned, but he huffed and fixed his eyes on the road, ignoring her attempt at good humor. Not a morning person. "Coffee? Fresh from Earth." She held out the travel mug.

He sniffed the container and took a cautious sip. "What is this?"

"The extracted juice of boiled beans."

"Terrans like this?"

"We love it. It's a necessary part of our diets."

He set the mug down, and a serious expression settled over his face. "Will your health suffer if you do not have this boiled bean juice? Are you able to gain the nutrients from other sources?"

"Relax. I'm not going to die if I don't get my coffee in the morning." She might feel like it without her daily caffeine fix, but she'd survive.

The Mahdfel Academy was a sprawling complex on the outskirts of the nearby city. She followed their route on the vehicle's navigation system. She'd need to learn how to read the language or get the implant. The in-ear translator worked fine for a tourist but fell short for daily native use.

"So tell me about this school," Rosemary said.

Mene shrugged a massive shoulder. "Many warriors, and others, begin their training there."

"Did you go there?"

He nodded. Big talker, this one.

"Are there Mahdfel schools on every planet?" Was there one on Earth, and she failed to notice? Not that there were a bunch of aliens walking around. Actually, there were, in cities near military bases. She just avoided those areas. The moon base was full of Mahdfel, she knew that, and the old space center on the Florida coast.

"There are several."

"Several. Thanks for the clarification." Talking to him wasn't worth the effort. "Michael, honey, are you excited?"

"I want to sword fight!"

Rosemary twisted in her seat. "Where did that come from?"

Michael's face went pale, and he blinked slowly. She recognized his about-to-tell-a-lie face. "Mene says warriors use swords in space."

"Don't be silly. They have guns." Rosemary saw one of those high-tech guns on Seeran's back not long ago. It shot ammo that was actually some type of plasma, but a gun was a gun, plasma or no plasma.

"It is unwise to use a projectile on a spaceship," Mene said. "One stray shot could breach the hull and lead to depressurization. Melee weapons are preferred when boarding an enemy vessel."

"Right." A bullet in the wrong place could cause serious damage and suck everyone into the vacuum of space. Still, swords seemed primitive. "I think you're a little too young for sword fighting, honey."

"I'm not little," Michael protested.

"You'll always be my little honey bunny." Rosemary reached back to squeeze a cheek. He rolled his eye and pushed her hand away. In her mind, he would never be big enough or old enough to play with swords. Nope. Not on her watch.

The vehicle stopped at a security checkpoint. Rosemary called it a "checkpoint" as a courtesy. Two Mahdfel men with no weapons stood watch at an arched gate. Their pristine white uniforms fitted their frames, leaving little to the imagination. One approached the driver's side window. He looked so young, his face still round with youth. He recognized Mene and waved them through without a word.

"That was a student, wasn't it?"

Mene grunted.

"I'll assume that’s a yes."

The academy was a series of low-slung buildings clustered around a central yard. The buildings themselves were rather bland and utilitarian. Ornamental trees with scarlet leaves lined the courtyard. Walkways were both smooth, wide pavements and smaller winding gravel paths through dormant flower beds. The courtyard, while stark in the winter, would bloom into life in the spring.

Mene lead them to a central building. Once inside, they were ushered into the admission office.

A Sangrin woman waited in the room. She looked up as they entered, surprise on her face. Rose had two thoughts at once. She did not expect a civilian to work at the school, and the woman was rather pretty.

The woman's hand fluttered to her throat before folding elegantly over her stomach. "Enforcer Rhew. I did not expect to see you so soon."

Rosemary narrowed her eyes. This woman knew Mene. Judging from the dark violet flush to her cheeks, she found Mene attractive. Rosemary didn’t know how she felt about that, but she did not like the sour taste in her mouth.

She looked from Mene to the woman and back again. He had no visible reaction to the Sangrin woman. Good.

The Admissions Officer gave Rosemary a long look. Her lips quirked up in a smile as she took in the competition. That was silly, Rosemary told herself. She wasn't competing for Mene. She barely tolerated Mene.

"I did not realize the Council was involved," the woman said.

"I am here in a private capacity."

“And is this Terran important to the Council?”

“This Terran is important to me.” Mene shifted his bulk in the chair next to her. She knew he spoke about Michael, but she couldn’t help the burn of abashment on her cheeks.

The smile vanished from the woman’s face. "I see you had a very fruitful Golau. Congratulations."

Rosemary didn't like the implications of the word fruitful. It suggested they were together. Mated. She also did not like how slow Mene was to correct the misunderstanding. "I'm Rosemary Rovelli. We're here about my son, Michael."

"She is my brother's relation," Mene said at last.

"Your brother." The woman's smile returned, and she tucked a piece of hair behind a horn. "So not your—"

Oh, sweet and sour chicken. She was flirting. With Mene.

"She is family. She is clan," Mene said. If he was affected by the woman’s interest, his expression betrayed nothing.

The woman blinked, taking in his words. Maybe they held more meaning to her than they did to Rosemary. He basically just said they were distant relations, right? “My sister married his brother,” she added for clarification.

"Ah! My name is Charin," the woman said, a bright smile returning to her pretty face. She turned to rummage through some files, all the while babbling about the school.

Rosemary used the moment’s distraction to type out a message on her old phone. Voice calls got expensive off-planet, but text messages remained cheap. She sent the message to Mene. Is she flirting with you?

I do not wish to discuss this, he replied.

Oh my God, she’s totally into you.

His frown intensified, but he didn't deny it. If she thought him capable of awkwardness, she'd say he was uncomfortable with Charin's attention.

Poor little Mene, scared of a flirtatious woman.

You should get her digits, Rosemary wrote.

I have no use for her fingers or any part of her.

Rosemary swallowed her laugh.

Charin paused in her speech. Her gaze shifted from Rosemary to Mene and finally settled on Michael. "How about you? Do speak Sangrin or have a translation chip installed?"

Michael shook his head. "I know how to write a few words."

"Can you write your name?" She perked up with interest and pushed a tablet and stylus toward him. With his tongue between his teeth, Michael carefully made a glyph. Rosemary didn't know the figure, but it looked pretty.

The gentle lavender color drained from Charin's face. "Oh, um..."

"Who taught you that?" Mene asked, grabbing the tablet.

"Uncle Lorran."

Mene pressed his lips together but said nothing.

"What did he write?" Rosemary leaned forward. Mene erased the glyph with a swipe of his hand before she got a good look.

"It, um..." Charin's face went a deep violet. She crossed an arm over her chest.

Rosemary turned her focus to Mene. "Tell me." It had to be rude.

His eyes dropped to her chest.

Oh.

"That's a credit in the Swear Jar, buddy," she told Michael.

"I didn't swear!"

"You wrote a rude word."

"But I didn't say it. The Swear Jar is for saying naughty words. I don't even know what that word means."

Such a little lawyer. "Boobs. And that's another credit for sass."

His eyes went round. "You said it too!"

"And another. Are you done yet or are you going to spend all your allowance talking back to your momma?"

Michael grumbled but didn't argue. "Fine." He stretched the word out, petulant. Seven years old and petulant. Rosemary could not wait until he was a teenager. "Remind me to speak about this to Lorran," she told him.

"Mo-o-om."

"Perhaps we should take a tour of the grounds. You can ask questions as they come up." The woman led them out of the office, hips sashaying with each step.

Yeah. Rosemary might have teased Mene earlier, but now it wasn't funny. This woman was flirting with her Meanie, right in front of her. Rude.

"What about sports?" Michael asked, bouncing alongside Charin.

"We have many sport ball teams."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Rosemary said. She didn't like the idea of her little Michael playing with Mahdfel, kid-sized or not. Even Mahdfel children were big. They'd crush her sweet little honey bunny.

"Mo-o-om," Michael groaned.

"We have many students here, not just Mahdfel. Your son would be placed in a class of similarly-sized youths." That meant the scrawny, fragile kids got their own teams. "We also have several academic tracks. Some warriors serve their clans best as pilots, navigators, medics, engineers, architects and so on."

"Not a lot of demand for poets?" Rosemary asked. The curriculum seemed very science, tech and math focused. She, herself, had always enjoyed history and literature the most in school.

Mene grumbled. "Take this seriously."

"I am," she said. "What if Michael is the next great poet?"

"Mo-o-om." Embarrassment permeated his tone. Rosemary ruffled his blond hair. Just a typical mom, mortifying her kid.

They passed through a library. No one seemed interested except Rosemary. Her fellas were not big readers, apparently. They poked their heads into classrooms in use. Students stared back at them. Rosemary was gratified to see a few human faces mixed in with the purple horns, red skin, and shaggy green-and-white skinned crowd. She had never seen so much variety before.

During the tour, Mene rested his hand on her back to guide her. The first touch took her by surprise. Her initial reaction was to knock it away and snap at him to keep his hands to himself, but the greedy expression on Charin's face made Rosemary bite her tongue. His touch wasn't so bad. It felt nice, even. His large hands made her feel delicate by comparison, and the strength in those hands promised that nothing bad could happen if he were nearby.

Finally, they arrived at a gymnasium. Part of the space had the wooden floor Rosemary associated with the average school gym, complete with lines painted onto the floor. The other half of the floor was sand covered, designed for barefoot sparring and wrestling. Typical gym equipment of balls, nets, baskets lined one wall. The far wall, however, had swords, staffs, axes, maces, and ever smaller daggers designed for throwing. From a distance, Rosemary could tell the weapons were wooden and made for practice, but still. It was a wall of weapons. A literal wall of weapons.

Charin marched straight to a Mahdfel male. His dark violet skin gleamed under the lights. "This is Nals. He is one of the mentors."

The man smiled as his gaze rested on Rosemary. He leaned in, as if to bow, and took a deep breath, tasting the air. Tasting her, she realized. The smile fell marginally, but any interest he held in her vanished. “If it isn’t the Enforcer. What have you brought me today?” The man’s tone was friendly enough on the surface, but Rosemary detected an underlying hostility. He and Mene knew each other, perhaps didn’t like each other too much.

Mene said nothing but nudged Michael forward.

"New student?" His gaze evaluated Michael. "What are you then?"

"Human."

"Scrawny thing, aren't you?"

"I'm big for my age."

Nals glanced at Rosemary. "Are all you humans so small? I guess some males like 'em tiny. Makes them feel adequate." He gave Mene a friendly jab with his elbow.

Mene was not amused.

Flustered at the male's frankness, Rosemary was just about to tell him where he could shove his assumptions when Mene answered. "Michael is the appropriate size for his age and species. You have seen Terrans before or is your memory faulty? Do you require something less taxing in your advancing years?"

Nals’ back went straight, and he took a step toward Mene, nostrils flaring. Mene did not step back as Nals advanced, step by step until their chests nearly touched. All the whispered rumors about the Mahdfel brutality and outbursts of random violence came back to Rosemary. She snaked an arm around Michael, ready to flee if the two Mahdfel came to blows.

A smile cracked across Nals’ face. "You get uglier every year."

"Your sense of humor has not improved."

Nals nudged Mene on the shoulder, and the tension between them vanished.

"That was a joke?" Rosemary asked, heart still fluttering with panic.

"As I said, it has not improved," Mene said.

Right. A bad joke.

Ha freaking ha.

Aliens.

"Nals will be your mentor," Charin said to Michael. "He takes many of our new transfer students."

"Pick one. Show me what you can do." Nals gestured to the weapons rack on the wall.

"Michael can't—" Rosemary started to say. Her little boy could not play with a weapon. That was ridiculous.

Yet somehow her little man walked to the rack of weapons with confidence. He picked up an ax without hesitation.

Her heart stopped. It just stopped. "Michael, honey, be careful."

"Relax, Mom." His tone was just a bit too mature for her tastes. He knew what he was doing. "The edge is dull. It's fine."

Nals set up a target and waited for Michael. The boy tested the ax and swung his arms with practiced ease. Finally ready, he nodded to the older man. Michael walked back from the target, measuring his steps. He turned, flung his arm up, and the ax sailed straight, the dull edge sinking into the target.

Michael spun toward her, eyes alight. "Did you see that, Mom?"

"Good job, honey," she managed to say, heart lodged firmly in her throat. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"Mene taught me." Michael yanked the ax out and returned it to the rack.

"Did he now?"

"Yeah, when you went back to Earth."

"Can I try another?" Michael asked Nals. The older man nodded.

Rosemary grabbed Mene by the wrist. "Can I speak to you outside?"

His eyes drifted down to where they touched. "You can speak to me here."

"Outside. Now." She didn't wait for him to answer.

Outside, the crisp air slapped against her heated face. She wanted to stay calm. This was her boss' son, she reminded herself. Don't say anything you can't take back. Don't say anything that will get you fired.

Easier said than done.

Mene joined her. "I do not know why we have to converse out here. Whatever you wished to say could be conveyed inside. It is too cold for you."

"What the fuck were you thinking?" She started the tab for the Swear Jar as she was about to make a hefty deposit.

His brows furrowed. "I'm thinking it is cold and Terrans are not equipped to—"

"Cut the bullshit. I mean about teaching my son how to throw a fucking ax."

"He asked. I saw no harm."

"No harm? He's seven!"

"I was younger when I began training."

"This isn’t about you." Rosemary pinched the bridge of her nose. She took a deep breath. "I'm only going to say this once, so please listen. You are not Michael's parent. You do not get to make decisions for him."

"He enjoyed himself."

"He could have been hurt!"

"Yet he was not." He ground out the words like he had a right to be upset. It was not his child playing with axes behind his back.

Then again, he clearly didn't have a problem with children playing with sharp objects. He'd probably let Michael run with scissors, too.

He was Mahdfel. What else did she expect? He had probably been born with an ax in either hand.

“Mene—” The words dried up in her mouth from the intensity of his glare. His nostrils flared and he reached for her but pulled back, hands clenched into fists. He was really pissed.

Or really turned on.

Rosemary didn’t know where that idea came from. She didn’t care if Mene was the kind of guy who got turned on from an argument. She wasn’t that kind of woman. He could work himself up until his dick was hard enough to break stone. Not her problem, but she was sure Miss Charin would be happy to help him out.

Rosemary poked him in the chest with her index finger. “No more throwing axes. No more throwing weapons, period. I’m the adult. I make the decisions about my son. Understood?”

“I hear your words.”

Good enough.

He knocked her finger to the side and stepped into her personal space. A growl emanated from his chest. Rosemary's eyes went wide and her traitorous vagina responded to the growl, aching with a deep need to be stretched and filled by him.

So sexy.

She should run. Right? A predator was growling at her, clearly pissed. Or was Mene the type of predator that liked the chase?

He fixed her in place with his gaze. She couldn't run if she wanted to.

"Look, I shouldn't have said all that." Her voice wavered, torn between fear and desire. She didn't understand herself or the way her body just melted from his gaze alone.

She might combust if he actually touched her.

"You are protecting your son," he said. "And that is an admirable quality. Michael is not helpless, and I will never let him come to harm."

"Are you trying to tell me I baby him too much? He's just—"

"A child?"

"Yes." Seven. He was seven years old. Until last year, he still slept with a nightlight and a teddy bear. He was her little boy, and the only person she could count on to keep him safe was herself.

Mene now stood close enough that she felt the heat of his body. She had to tilt her head back to look him in the eyes.

His thumb brushed against her lower lip. Instinctively, her lips parted and her tongue darted out to touch him. His skin had a pleasing taste of salt. The growl intensified and her core clenched in response.

"He is the son of the fiercest female I know. He can only be a great warrior with such a mother."

He leaned in, eyes locked on her lips. He paused, searched her face for permission, and placed a small kiss at the corner of her mouth.

He smelled good. Really, really good. Spice, musk, and soap. Her brain short -circuited as it processed his lips on her, his scent overwhelming her, and how close his body was to hers but not actually touching.

Rosemary gasped. Her fingers immediately went to her lips.

He nodded and went back inside, leaving her in the courtyard with her racing heart.

Damn him. She did not need this complication.