Chapter 9

Nakia:

“If you mean thanks for picking up your dirty underwear, you’re welcome,” Nakia said. Something smelled good, besides her cookies. She sniffed the air and spotted the two containers on the counters, along with a fern. “Is that dinner?”

“You wished to converse. We can do so over a meal,” he said. The containers revealed two veggie omelets over field greens, served with crusty bread and butter.

Rohn plated her portion and pushed it across the counter to her. It tasted as good as it looked, savory and buttery.

“You met with the warlord’s mate today?” he asked, as if they had dinner chit-chat every night.

“Yes. What’d you get up to today?”

“Fires to put out. The usual. Is the meal satisfactory?”

She set down her fork, not willing to play this game. They needed to have a frank and open discussion about the situation between them, not chat about their days. She wasted years with Tim trying to talk around their problems, ignoring the real reason they grew apart.

Not again.

“If it’s not the leg, then what is it?”

Rohn drained his glass and starred at the bottom of the empty vessel. “I wish I had tea.”

Right. Talking to him was about as easy as pulling teeth. “I’ll make coffee.”

“Do not trouble yourself.” He rose from his seat.

“It’s easy.” Pressing a button on the coffee machine, it immediately began to brew. She prepped it earlier, adding water and fresh grounds while the cookies were baking.

“I’m not sure… what is proper.” He shifted from foot to foot, striking Nakia as nervous, a quality she never would have assigned to him. She followed his gaze to the two mugs she set on the counter and remembered reading about the Mahdfel wedding tradition of drinking tea. That was the entire ceremony, adding hot water to leaves and sharing the drink. But he wanted to send her back home, so of course he didn’t want to share a drink with her. Do not trouble yourself.

She felt a small annoyance that he suspected her of tricking him into marriage. They were already married, in a real and legally binding way, tea or no tea. She didn’t need trickery.

“Relax,” she said. “It’s just coffee.”

“Stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Not from this room, from this conversation, or from his life.

He ran a hand through his hair, somehow making it more tousled and appealing. “What I said yesterday, I was wrong. I want you to stay,” he said in a rush. The base of his horn flushed a deeper color, almost like a blush.

“Yeah?” She didn’t know how to process that information. The world shifted and everything she thought—all her feelings of annoyance and frustration—was unfounded.

No, not unfounded, but based on outdated information.

“Adapt or get left behind, Sykes,” she muttered under her breath. Taking her time to pour the coffee, she gathered her thoughts. He wanted her to stay, which stole her thunder as she had steeled herself for a clash of wills, but she’d roll with it.

Still, she had to know, even if approaching the subject would be about as much fun as poking her tongue at a sore tooth, and just as compulsive. “Why did you change your mind?”

“I am too old,” he said, totally not answering her question. He moved to the bed, currently in the upright position. He slipped on a pair of black framed glasses—hello, super-hot—and picked up the pieces of the partially completed spaceship model. Without a word, he assembled the model.

At least he didn’t say she was too young.

“You still take your coffee black?” She loaded hers with sugar, no cream.

“Yes, please.”

She set his mug down carefully before perching on the edge of the bed, one leg folded underneath herself and cradling her own mug.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re too old,” she said.

“I am already gray. I can no longer fly, and I must content myself with watching the younger males do the thing I was made for. Poorly.” His gaze did not lift from the spaceship model as he spoke, his hands busy and demanding his attention.

“They fly poorly, or you watch them poorly?”

He looked up at her sharply. “If that is a jest about my eyes, it is in poor taste.”

Color drained from her face. “Shit. No. That’s not what I meant.” She had been on the receiving end of too many insensitive jokes about her leg and despised that feeling of being the butt of someone’s joke. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, annoyed and embarrassed with herself. “I was just trying to lighten the mood and fucked up. I’m sorry.”

He huffed but his shoulders relaxed, tension draining away. “Do not worry yourself.”

She leaned back and sipped at her coffee, watching him assemble the adorable tentacle kitty spaceship. For a man with such large hands, his fingers were nimble and had no trouble with the precise work.

“This is weird,” she said at length. He turned his gaze to hers, one tawny eye brighter than the other. “We need… If this is going to work, we have to talk to each other without fear of stepping on toes.”

“This will work,” he said, words confident but his tone uncertainty.

“Of course, it’s going to work. I want it to work, and failure is not an option.”

He raised a brow, as if amused.

“Look,” she set her cup down on the low table. “You’re older now. So am I. I’m thirty-two and I know my mind. We make a choice every day to make our marriage stronger, or let it wither.” Her words seemed a bit overly dramatic, but she wanted to drive home the point. “I know from experience.”

His throat bobbed with a swallow, but he continued to work on the model, as if keeping his hands busy soothed him. Nakia could understand that, having clean and baked cookies in a desperate search for comfort.

“You have experience?” The question hung in the air between them, fragile and full of sharp edges.

“I’m divorced. Have been for five years now.”

Rohn set down the model and turned his full attention to her. Nakia squirmed under the intensity of those tawny eyes. “Did he injure you? I will carve out the debt from blood and bone,” he said in a tone that left no room to doubt that he would do exactly as he said.

That was sweet—in a brutally terrifying way.

“No. Tim and I drifted apart, and neither of us tried to fight to make it better.”

“He did not hurt you?” His gaze searched hers.

“Just my pride.” It hurt not being seen as valuable, as worth keeping. Then, because in for a penny, in for a pound, she said, “He cheated on me. The fact that I didn’t care that much was the sign we were over.”

A low and menacing growl eliminated from Rohn’s chest. If she hadn’t been staring directly at him, if she were alone in the dark, the sound would terrify her.

“So, you see, I know what happens when you don’t work at it. I’m not afraid to put in the effort. I’m worth it and so are you,” she said. His tawny eyes flashed at her words. She took that as a positive sign and said, “Besides, I chose you.”

“We do not choose. The match—”

“But I got to choose. I had two matches, both equal, and I picked you.”

“The other male would have been the better choice. Sentimentality should not have influenced your selection.”

She disagreed strongly with that but laid out the facts guiding her choice. “I’m not that infatuated little girl anymore, and I know you’re not the guy I built up in my head. We’ve changed. I get it.” The words dried up on the tongue when she tried to explain what took up all the space in her chest, growing until she felt she would burst. “This situation is… weird. Yesterday, my old life stopped because of a test. I don’t have my job anymore, my apartment. Fuck, I left behind my cat. Who knows if I ever see my family again? I’ll probably never see my friends again, either. And it’s terrifying knowing I had to give up everything, everything, and go marry some guy sight unseen.”

Material possessions were just clutter that she didn’t need, but to be suddenly cut off from everyone she knew without the chance to say goodbye? That hurt. Being thrust into a new stage of her life with no preparation was terrifying, and that’s why she grabbed onto the idea of Rohn so quickly.

“When one of those guys turned out to be you, I jumped at it. Not because I’ve been nursing a crush for sixteen years. Trust me, I’m over that, but because I remember how safe you made me feel. The world was falling apart, a building fell on me, I was so far from home—but I never felt alone because you were there.”

He reached for her hand, turning it over delicately and running his thumb across her palm. The bronze of her skin tone against the warm heathery purple of his made an odd pairing, but she liked it.

“There is no subtlety or room for finer emotions when it comes to the mate matching,” he said. “There is no choice. The test decides. We are given no warning that our female has been found. So rather than make a bungle of not being prepared, as I was,” he waved a hand, as if to indicate the formerly messy single room, “many males choose to live in anticipation. They shape their lives around the idea of a mate who may never arrive. It is a bitter existence, to constantly wait.” He shook his head. “With the old way, before the genetic test, at least you had to look your mate in the eyes.”

“The sniff thing?” She knew the Mahdfel used to do that and many still did, subtly sniffing women for compatibility.

“Yes, and if they had an unpleasant demeanor or you felt no connection, then you could always pretend ignorance.”

She hadn’t thought about the situation from his perspective before. He had as little choice in their arranged marriage as she. Less. All the literature regarding the Mahdfel stressed how devoted they were to their mates, honed by instinct and by generations of genetic engineering designed to exploit that instinct. They cherished their mates, almost compulsively, but from what Rohn said, it didn’t sound like they automatically loved their mates.

“What are your parents like?” she asked, suddenly curious.

“They have been gone for many seasons, but they were fond of each other.” Fond. Not madly in love. Something in her face must have betrayed her thoughts because Rohn added, “I do not think a child ever knows the extent of their parent’s devotion to each other, but my father always had a smile on his face when he spoke of my mother. When she passed, he quickly followed.”

“That’s sweet. My parents are still living, still married, and in the same house I grew up in.” Her parents had been the rock-solid foundation of her life. “I spoke to my mom earlier today. She’s super curious about you.”

“Me?” He sounded genuinely surprised, as if he never expected anyone to notice him, much less be curious.

“Mmhmm. I wouldn’t be surprised if she starts finagling for a visit.”

“To Earth?”

Bless that man and the lost wonder to his voice. “Yes, Earth. Or here, I guess. Is that possible?”

He shook his head. “This is a battlecruiser. We must be prepared for incursions and cannot play host to visitors.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

“We could have a holiday on Sangrin. Visit my mother’s family.”

Nakia perked up at that. “You’ve got non-Mahdfel cousins?”

He nodded. “My mother had several brothers. One of my cousins is the caretaker for the family property and my house.”

“You have a house?”

“Near the ocean. My parents lived there. It is small and I have not been there for several years, but I always planned to move there if I ever retired.”

“Okay, let’s do that. Vacation with my mom on Sangrin in your ocean-front house. Good plan.” She raised her fist and brought it to his, but he looked baffled. Gently, she bumped their fists together. “Go Team Nakrohn.”

“What?”

“You know, Team Nakia and Rohn. Us. Go us!” Another fist bump.

“Team Rokia,” he said—and it was perfect.

“This is good,” Nakia shifted on the futon, “Awkward. There’s no way for this not to be awkward. So maybe we should just get the awkwardness out of the way. Embrace it. Because we’re Team Rokia and there’s nothing we can’t do.”

“Embrace how?” She never heard a voice more dubious.

“Let’s say the awkward things now. Ask the embarrassing questions with the understanding that neither of us will be offended or take it the wrong way.”

He nodded, his tawny gaze catching the light. “I admire the way you have grown.” Immediately he flinched at his words.

“See, out of context, that sounds like you’re some perv who waited until I was of legal age before making a move on me, but we know that’s not the case.” Sixteen years had passed since their brief friendship with no contact, exactly half her life.

“Your physical changes are attractive and aesthetically pleasing,” he said, and Nakia glowed at the praise. “But I admire the growth in your confidence. Before you were unsure, needing attention and affirmation—”

“Validation.”

“Yes, validation. Now, you know your mind and have strong opinions, and that is far more attractive than your figure.”

Did she think she glowed before? Because now she was positively incandescent.

“Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself,” she said, hiding her smile behind the coffee cup. Her turn to say something awkward. She took a deep breath. “I never thought I’d like a silver fox before you,” she said, the words tumbling out.

Rohn tilted his head to one side, as if unsure what to make of her declaration. “A fox is a Terran predator renowned for cunning. Is the silver a reflection of age, that I am particularly clever for surviving to advanced agedness? Or is a commentary on environmental camouflage for the arctic?”

Nakia leaned back and laughed. “No, it’s means you’re hot for an old guy. Fox is slang for an attractive person.”

“And I am a silver fox?” A lock of his iron gray hair fell forward. He pushed it back with one hand and Nakia’s thighs clenched. His hair had that just-rolled-out-of-a-marathon-sex-romp vibe and every time he made it messier, it made him all the more attractive. Plus the glasses.

Not fair. Not fair at all.

He paused, as if he could tell, and grinned. His pink tongue darted to his lower lip.

“Stop milking it.” She landed a playful hit on his arm. “I find you physically attractive too. That’s not a secret. I practically drooled all over you last night.”

Her gaze drifted down to the table and the nearly complete model spaceship with the pink tentacle kitty pilot. Its cuteness was completely at odds with the gruff, grizzled warrior appearance.

“How old are you?” she blurted. “I mean, you’re always going on about your advanced age, blah blah blah, but other than the gray hair, you don’t look different. Maybe I can’t tell Mahdfel ages but, honestly, I really don’t see a difference between you and anyone else. So, give me a number. Give me context.”

“145.”

“Holy fuck. Shit. I mean, fuck that’s old. You said you were old, but that’s like ancient. You’re an antique.” Stop talking. Her cheeks burned. Why couldn’t she stop talking?

“I am not decrepit yet.”

Her gaze drifted over his form, lingering on the solid bulk of his arms, the broad expanse of his chest, and the satisfying thickness of his thighs. Everything about Rohn screamed vitality. “No, I’d say you’re far from decrepit.”

The base of his horns flushed with color. “In truth, I am at an age where I should think about retiring.”

“Not something you want?”

“I want to be of use to my clan.”

“I can understand that.” She picked up her empty mug and frowned, before getting up for a refill. “Want more coffee?”

His tawny eyes tracked her as she walked to the counter and poured herself another cup. “May I see your prosthesis?”

She paused, the spoonful of sugar hovering above the cup. In her dating life, she had random guys hit on her because of her leg. They often didn’t ask before touching, treating her like an object for their curiosity. It was always gross, and while she never hid her prosthesis, she took her time getting to know any potential partners to weed out the amputee fetish creeps. But this was Rohn, he didn’t ping any of those creeper vibes, and she trusted him. “Okay,” she said.

“If you are uncomfortable—”

“It’s fine. I mean, it’s not a secret and you saw it yesterday.”

“I failed to observe properly.”

Too busy shouting at Jaxar. “We had a lot going on.” She stepped around the counter and unbuttoned her trousers as the pant legs were too tight to hike up her calf.

“Nakia! Do not expose yourself.” Rohn shielded his eyes with one hand, the root of his horns flushing a deeper color.

She smiled at his sudden shyness. “We are married, you know.”

“I noticed.”

“At some point you are going to see me in my undies.”

The blush intensified. Was he a chronic blusher? Or did the gray of his hair make it more pronounced? She certainly enjoyed watching him peek at her between his fingers.

She kicked off her trousers and waited for her shy husband to open his eyes.

“Come on, it’s just a body,” she said.

“It is your body.” His throat worked with a swallow. “My control may slip.”

“Is one little piece of fabric all that stands between you and losing control?”

“I cannot say, but I know it is easier when you are clothed.”

Nakia pried his hand off his face. “Look.”

His gaze swept from her feet upwards, lingering at her hips, then back down to her calf. She stuck a dramatic pose with her prosthesis before rotating slowly, letting him see it at all angles.

“Does it—”

“One awkward question at a time,” she said, flinging herself down next to him on the futon. She stretched her legs across his lap. “So, can you scratch yourself with your horns? Like on your shoulders?” She tilted her head down and raised one shoulder to her ear to demonstrate.

His brow furrowed. “Why would I use my horns when I can use my hands?”

“I dunno. What if your hands are full and your shoulder is itchy? Whaddya do then? I got to know.” She wiggled her toes for emphasis.

“Yes,” he said in an authoritative voice. “Then scratching myself with my horns is my only option.”

“I knew it,” she bubbled, happily sipping her coffee. His golden gaze caught hers and he smiled, the easy peace of it melting her into a puddle of goo.

She loved him. The knowledge struck her with such certainty that it rocked her to her core. Different from the infatuation of her youth, she could sense a tender regard that held the same sense of comfort and security, but she could also sense playfulness and confidence. Her confidence. His playfulness. He didn’t treat her like a fragile thing, but as a peer, and fuck if she didn’t love the heat in his tawny eyes.

She licked her bottom lip, aware that his eyes tracked the movement. Those glasses. Her gray wolf. Nothing escaped his notice.

“May I touch your prosthesis?”

Not what she expected him to say, but okay. She nodded.

His hand started at the black cuff of her compression sock, what she wore on her stump to help with circulation. The prosthesis fit over it. His fingers brushed the fabric, then skated down to her ankle. Growing more confident, he held the white plastic limb firmly, before his hand moved back up in a caress. He watched her for her reaction. “Can you feel that?”

“Yes. Mostly the warmth of your hand, but some touch.”

“That seems remarkable to me,” he said.

“It is a very sophisticated piece of tech.” When it worked.

His fingers traced the glowing blue seams down her calf to the turn of her ankle, ending at the sole of her foot. She wiggled her toes just to see his grin.

“Does it pain you?”

“Honestly, sometimes. Mostly I don’t even think about it. It’s just part of me, but sometimes it aches. And taking it off at the end of the day is the best feeling, like taking off your bra but ten times better. That probably wasn’t the best analogy.”

“It paints a picture.” His gaze darted between her foot and her lips and back again. “Can you feel this?” With his index finger, he stroked the sole of her foot.

“Yes.”

“Ticklish?”

“Are you?”

He nodded.

“Seriously? Where?” She had to know.

That grin again, wolfish and playful. Coupled with the warmth in his remarkable eyes, her heart lurched. “Not telling. You’ll have to find out.”

She was a goner. Absolutely gone.

Nakia set her cup down on the table and shifted toward Rohn.

“What are you doing?” His eyes flashed tawny, then gold, as she straddled his lap.

He was solid under her touch, unyielding as she settled into place, and she enjoyed every touch. She felt his hardness against her hip. Clearly, he liked it too.

“I want to see something,” she said.