Chapter 12

Mene:

"The weather is agreeable. Seek your mother's permission."

Michael ran into the house, bellowing at the top of his lungs. Springtime weather was notoriously unreliable. Sunny and warm one day, cold and rainy the next, followed by snow which would only melt the next warm day. Mene had been reluctant to agree to any outdoor plans with Michael. Once Mene mentioned fylle riding as a possible skill Michael would need for the anwynhil, he latched onto it. Every day began with "Is the weather good enough today?" Every evening ended with, "Will the weather be acceptable tomorrow?" Mene knew Rosemary would not agree to the excursion if the weather was less than ideal, so they waited for the perfect, bright and sunny day.

The back door banged shut. He needed to repair that. "Can you explain what my son is babbling about?"

"The weather is good. I will take him fylle riding today." His mate's eyes narrowed as she regarded him with suspicion. The mistrust pained him. One day, he would earn her trust. "It is safe," he added.

"Safe like when you dragged home that giant crab?"

Always with the cranc. Yes, that had been a misjudgment on his part. If he had known how poorly she would react to the creature, he'd have brought the carcass to his mother to be butchered. Mene thanked the stars that he never mentioned the cranc he and Michael hunted had been a juvenile.

"It is similar to your Terran horses," he explained. "They are common domestic animals. Many ride them for pleasure as well as utility."

"Please, Mom," Michael asked, voice climbing in pitch.

"No tricks?"

"How do you mean?"

"I don't know, Mene. You describe something one way, let me make assumptions that this fylle is basically a horse and then it turns out your common domestic animal breathes fire or flies."

Michael's eyes went wide. "Do they?"

"No." Flying fylle. The idea was beyond ridiculous. "You encouraged Michael to play less video games. This activity complies with your request."

The look of mistrust returned. "Something's up. What aren't you telling me?"

He stretched his neck slowly and rolled his shoulders. He did not miss the way her eyes followed the movement or the way her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips. Interesting response. Perhaps reassuring his mate of the safety of the activity was not the best tactic. "Come with us. See for yourself."

"What?" She took a step back.

"That'd be so great. Come with us, Mom."

"You do not work today. Accompany us." The Mahdfel took the safety of their mates and their progeny very seriously. He would never endanger her life, not that fylle were dangerous. Not unless you had the misfortune to ride one in a particularly foul mood.

"I had plans."

"To do what?" His mate worked hard. Too hard. Even on her days of rest, she cleaned and organized the house, she did shopping and often prepared baked goods. Cookies, she called them, which were tiny cakes to be eaten in one hand. His mate had exposed him to many Terran style foods recently. Michael had a fixation for the item called pizza, which was a flatbread based covered in a vegetable puree and melted cheese. Rosemary had prepared it several times with local ingredients to emulate the dish. Mene approved, even though she insisted the puree was made from a vegetable, the tomato, when he knew it was classified as a fruit.

Apparently, fruit puree was not an acceptable substitute.

"Laundry. Dusting. I want to call Hazel. You know, exciting weekend stuff,” she said.

Nothing that could not be delayed.

"Come with us," he repeated.

She pushed back a stray strand of hair behind her ears. "It's like horseback riding? Nothing crazy?"

"Yes. There is a stable not far from here. It will be a pleasant afternoon activity."

"No jumping through rings of fire or over pits of crocodiles?"

"Is Earth so dangerous that you must ask these things?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure, but the rings of fire are for advanced riders. Michael and I are beginners, so go easy, alright?"

Rosemary:

She wanted to be more spontaneous. Honestly. Being a single parent meant she only had herself to rely on to get stuff done. She had all the responsibility. She had to be the one to get up every day and go to work, pay the bills, put food on the table and do the dishes, clean laundry and keep the house in some reasonable order. She had to be the one to keep her child healthy, make sure he got all the vitamins and vegetables he needed, stayed fit, didn't spend all his time playing video games, did his homework and brushed his teeth. No one else did all that. She had to be reliable and dependable. Spontaneous just didn't fit into her schedule.

But she wasn't a single parent anymore, technically. Mene poured attention into Michael's eager hands. For the first time, she didn't have to hound Michael to go into the backyard and kick the ball around. He was already there with Mene. He ate all his vegetables now, to grow up big and strong, and didn't complain about washing his hands or brushing his teeth before bed. Mene had it handled.

It was nice. Better than nice. She had a partner who helped, which meant the laundry was only a small pile, not a mountain, and she could afford to be spontaneous and have a bit of fun.

Fylle, it turned out, were giant ants. Well, large segmented animals with six legs, antennae and a bulbous butt that looked like an ant. If ants were six feet tall and pink. They had an ax-shaped head with large, multi-faceted eyes. No mandibles, thank the stars.

"That's your common domestic animal?"

"They are very gentle." Mene held out a hand for the fylle to sniff, its multifaceted eyes oddly black and empty-looking.

Rosemary shivered.

Mene saddled the creatures with a saddle over the mid-segment. He helped Michael into the seat and gave a quick rundown of commands. Satisfied that Michael could go and stop at will, he mounted the other fylle. He leaned down and extended a hand.

"Where's mine?"

"We ride together."

Rosemary narrowed her eyes. "You didn't mention we'd have to share. That's false advertising, bub."

Mene shifted in the saddle, back straight and radiating confidence. "I can safely oversee one novice rider. I cannot risk having my attention split between two."

"Then let Michael ride with you."

A grin split across his face, dangerous and just a little seductive. "He needs to develop his skill and will not do so if he is riding on my fylle."

The way he said that, riding on his— The wires in her brain short-circuited with a rush of heat. "Um, okay. Let's go for a ride."

Sugar. Did she say that and did he wink?

Double sugar.

With one of her feet in a stirrup, Mene pulled her up and over. He sat her down right in front of himself, snug and secure. He formed a solid wall behind her and wrapped one hand around her waist. The other lazily held the reins. She wiggled in place, trying to ignore the dig of something very hard into her backside. "Are you comfortable?" he asked.

"You're poking me," she whispered.

"Then stop wiggling about."

She refused to blush. His hard-on was not her fault. It wasn't like she was completely unaffected, either. "Then maybe we should get another horse."

"No, I am content." He cued the horse into an easy walk. Michael followed.

"Is he going to be fine?" she asked, eyeing the many-legged fylle.

"That one is gentle and older. Very patient with beginners."

"And this one?"

A laugh rumbled in him. "I suggest you hold on, my prefed."

Fantastic. Now Mene developed a sense of humor.

They rode an easy path down to the river. Birds sang an unfamiliar melody of spring. The breeze held a slight chill, but Mene's solid warmth kept her comfortable. She tried not to think about his thick legs on either side of her or the easy familiarity of his hand resting on her waist. Tension positively crackled between them. The sway of the fylle brought other rhythms to mind.

"I researched horseradish," he said, voice low and meant only for her. His breath puffed against the sensitive shell of her ear. "What part of the horse is it harvested from?" He shifted in the saddle, and there was no mistaking the solid lump pressing into her.

Sugar. She wasn't the only one thinking of other rhythms.

"It's, um, a root vegetable. Not actually from an animal."

"Are you certain? I read that it was potent." He ground against her.

"Are you teasing me?"

"Tempting you," he said with a chuckle.

He was. Stars help her, he really was.

"I find myself fascinated by all things Terran lately," he continued.

She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead. She should ignore him. It was hard... Fudge. Bad choice of words. It was difficult to ignore him when he pressed against her and whispered in her ear with that sexy voice, but they agreed to keep it simple.

Correction. She said no sex. He agreed to wait, but he didn't say how long.

"I guess you're done waiting," she replied, keeping her voice quiet. Michael rode ahead, exclaiming and pointing at everything, oblivious to the adults.

"A hunter is patient."

"Yeah, bringing up horseradishes is super subtle, hunter. I totally didn't see that snare you left there."

"No, that was the crass overture to distract you from noticing that only a few layers of fabric separated our bodies." His hand snaked under her shirt and his warm palm pressed against the bare skin on her stomach.

Damn.

Um, dang. She totally meant dang.

"You are sneaky when you want to be, Meanie."

He hummed a response, tightening his grip on her waist and pulling her firm against him. She didn't mind at all.