Page 45 of Tail, Dark and Handsome: Celestial Mates
“Smiling. I do not trust it.”
An inelegant bark of mirth escaped her. The pure, unfiltered delight of it somehow wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed. Rebel had been refined, too refined to laugh, except at the expense of others. He sensed that Marigold laughed at herself more than anything else.
“This is wrong,” he announced, before pulling her down into his lap. She wiggled and squirmed, laughing even as she demanded to be released. “No. Remain still.”
She stilled, her back pressed to his chest. Her head leaned back, exposing the delicate column of her throat, yielding. Her dark hair tickled his nose. He enjoyed this, the way her tailless bottom fit against him.
Then she elbowed him in the gut, springing out of his lap. Calmly, she sat in a chair and stirred a spoonful of sweetener into her tea. “I find you very attractive, Winter, but—”
He dreaded the rest of her statement, so he finished it for her. “But no?”
“I need time.”
Not a rejection. Not what he wanted to hear, but not an outright rejection.
“How much time?” He calculated the four weeks to Corra. It was hardly any time at all, yet she had snuck past his defenses in a handful of days.
She waved a hand. “It’s not something I can quantify. When I feel more in control of my life. When I’m not worried about bills.”
“Bills?” His ears perked. The family fortune came with so many strings and complications that he almost resented his wealth, but he could use it to help.
“There are always bills to be paid. The furniture will be sold. My mother and brother will put everything else in storage.” She drained her cup, then headed to the sleeping chamber. “I’m going to pack a bag for our trip and bring anything I can’t live without.”
He eyed the wilting plant. “Bring this one,” he said. It was not correct to neglect a living being, even a plant.
“Sure.” She disappeared through the doorway to the sleeping chamber. A moment later, she returned. “Is there a dress code on your ship? Not to be rude, but you seem like the kind of guy who makes the staff wear uniforms.”
He snorted. “There is no uniform. Wear what you prefer.” He considered the flimsy, floaty dress she wore on the sailboat and how the sea spray made it cling to her figure. “Within reason,” he added.
She disappeared back into the room. Only the sounds of the circulating air filled the room. He rinsed and washed the mugs, dried them, and placed them back in the cabinets. Curious, he opened the other cupboard doors. If she caught him investigating, he would claim he searched for a snack.
Four plates. Four glasses. Four bowls. A complete set.
The next cabinet held a variety of dry goods, mostly human food. None of it looked appetizing.
He found an additional box of the rainbow berry tea and placed it on the counter. No sense in wasting a perfectly tolerable tea. He had the distant idea that he should restock his ship. Corra waited at the end of a four-week journey. They required fuel, sustenance, and the other necessities. He should use his time effectively and order those items to be delivered and they could depart quickly. Instead, he opened boxes of tea with ridiculous names and sniffed.
The front door opened. A human male walked in, carrying a paper bag in one hand and holding a bottle of wine in the other. He strode in without announcing his presence, like he belonged here.
“Who are you?” the male had the nerve to ask.
This had to be the false mate. He had an enviable amount of nerve to return with wine, like nothing had happened, like he had not walked away from a worthy female. The male probably imagined that he could beg forgiveness, and Marigold would, because she had a kind heart, even if it was shortsighted. Then she would no longer need or want her fresh start and his ship would be empty.
Again.
His kit considered the female a friend, and his kit had distressingly few friends. If he returned to the ship without the female, not only would he need to find a new pilot, his kit would accuse him of driving away the female, as he had done the others.
Yes, he could not disappoint Zero. It had nothing to do with a desire to keep the female close to him. Nothing.
Winter tackled the male.
Marigold
Joseph was screaming. Not good.
She ran out of the bedroom to find Winter and Joseph tumbling on the floor. No. Winter growled and slashed with his claws fully extended. Joseph blocked and squirmed. He pushed Winter off, barely scrambled to his feet, then the Tal male pounced, pinning him back to the ground.
“What are you doing! Stop!”
