Page 78 of The Alien Reindeer's Bounty
Odessa
Dawn had just broken. The snow seemed to sparkle in the clear morning light, adding an element of wonder to the world. Her throat felt raw and bruised, her body ached, and everything in her was grateful for another day.
“What time is it? You know, never mind. What day is it?” She moved Ruby into the cabin of Mads’ truck and buckled her in. She moved stiffly, her muscles tight and promising that she’d feel groggy and sore for days to come. She loathed the prospect of losing days to Karl.
“Tuesday morning, the 24th,” he said.
“Christmas Eve.”
Ruby stirred, murmuring and blinking groggily. Odessa climbed in and wrapped an arm around to soothe her. “Shh. Mads came to get us and take us home.”
“I don’t feel good,” Ruby muttered.
Odessa gave Mads a frantic look.
“A headache. It will pass,” he said.
They went directly to Odessa’s home. While Mads arranged for a tow truck to retrieve her car and deliver it to the tire shop the next town over, she put Ruby to bed. She sat at the edge of the bed, stroking her daughter’s hair and taking comfort from her sleepy breathing.
“She’ll bounce back,” Mads said.
“I just need to be here.” To hear her breathing, to know her daughter was okay, and to keep the monsters away.
“You’re running on empty. Have a shower before you pass out.”
She didn’t protest as he led her into the bathroom. Mads’ sooty clothes fell into a pile on the floor. Hers quickly joined his. “We should put them in the wash, but I think I want to throw them out,” she said.
“I’ll buy you more clothes. I’ll get you a new wardrobe if you like.” He turned the water on and let it run, the pink-tiled bathroom filling with steam.
The hot water eased the tension in her. They took turns lathering each other. Carefully, she rinsed the burn on his back and the partially closed wound on his shoulder. The water ran dark with soot and soapy bubbles. Every touch from Mads replaced the memory of Karl grabbing her and choking her. He took the terror of the day—had it only been one night?—away. By the time he worked conditioner into her hair, she felt relaxed and ready to sleep for ages.
His touch grew heated, the efficient contact becoming caresses. She leaned into him, giving the hard ridges of his abdomen a stroke. “Mads, make me forget,” she whispered.
“If you are certain,” he said.
“God, yes. I need to feel you.”
He hoisted her up, her legs wrapped around his waist, and he pushed into her. They moved together, the hot water of the shower pounded his back and splashed in her face. If the water grew cooler, she didn’t notice. All she felt was Mads inside her and holding her. He whispered in her ear, words she recognized as Reilendeer but understanding their meaning of devotion and happiness. Together, they drove away the shadows and the lingering fear.
Out of the shower, she slathered on a thick layer of antibiotic ointment to his back and shoulder. Applying gauze and tape, she said, “You really should get this checked out.”
“It is not a problem. I heal quickly,” he said.
“What if it becomes infected?” She couldn’t imagine the stress of finding a doctor who could handle Mads’ alien biology and keep that secret.
“Do not worry. The same part of my physiology that lets me shift allows my body to repair itself quickly on a cellular level.”
“But what if you get sick and need a doctor?”
“Have you ever known me to catch a cold or the flu?”
“No,” she admitted. Her nose might have always been dripping when they were kids, but Mads remained perfectly healthy. “I just worry.”
“Because you love.” He grinned, entirely too full of himself.
Odessa poked him in the side. “Yes, because I love you, and I’m serious. What do we do if your appendix bursts?”
“I don’t have an appendix,” he said, running his hand through his wet hair. “I think. If we had to, we’d contact Svallin.”
