Page 28 of Tail, Dark and Handsome: Celestial Mates
“Father, that was rude.”
Rude?
Winter paused, fingers clenched into a fist. “What is rude,” he snarled, his temper finally getting the better of him, “is speaking of Rebel as if they know her. They do not! How dare that female speak as if she knew her. How dare she.”
He paced, repeating the phrase. Claws out, he itched to sink them into something pliant and rip. Cloth or flesh, he did not care, so long as it was destructive.
“Dad. Dad. Winter.” Zero repeated his name, each call growing frustrated and frantic. “This is stupid. You’re not the only one who loved her!”
Winter paused. He flexed his fingers, and his claws retracted marginally, not much but enough for him to regain control of himself.
“It is not that,” he said.
“I know you’re protective and stuff, but you can’t erase Mama’s memory. I like it when people talk about her. They miss her. I miss her.” The naked longing in Zero’s voice pierced through his fury, bursting it like a bubble.
His kit was in pain.
Would that he could erase every memory of Rebel and the pain she caused…
“As you say,” he said with a sigh. “There is nothing wrong with missing your mother.”
The transport vehicle pulled up to the curb. Winter felt reluctant to return to their ship. What had been their home for years now felt confining.
“There is no point in continuing my work with faulty equipment,” he said. “Tomorrow, we should take the day off and have an adventure.” What adventure, exactly, he could not say, but something enjoyable.
Zero perked, ears up. “Yes! I know exactly what I want to do. Can I bring a friend?”
Winter suspected the identity of the friend, but acquiesced. If he argued, Zero would wear him down. His kit was skilled at manipulation, which he learned from his mother.
Chapter 5
Rebel Cayne delivers an underwhelming performance at a fundraiser for displaced Talmar refugees.
-Tal Tattler
Marigold
A figure stood between her and the sun, casting a shadow over her. A sea breeze fluttered the brim of her hat, and the sand radiated with a comfortable warmth. The ocean created the perfect soundtrack to her lounging.
“I like you.” Zero slung himself into the lounge chair next to Mari, limbs sprawling everywhere in that sullen, boneless way that only teenagers managed.
“Okay? I like you, too.”
“Which is why I need your help.”
She set down her tablet and removed her sunglasses to get a better look at the kit. Reading in the sunshine was not going to happen.
Two quiet days had passed since dinner with Zero and his thoroughly unpleasant father. She had done a network search on the singer Rebel and her reclusive mate, Winter Cayne.
Researching publicly available information was not stalking, and it wasn’t weird.
Stop judging her.
With all the attention Winter’s antics generated, everyone seemed to be in the know except Mari, so she educated herself. Apparently, Rebel was a one-hit-wonder pop star just as the Talmar civil war heated up. Critics called her the voice of a generation and an advocate for the refugees who fled the violence on Talmar. According to the dates, Rebel was scarcely older than a child herself when she was the media’s darling. Her rockstar behavior of partying and making a spectacle of herself only seemed to charm.
Her quick rise to fame was followed by a string of disappointments. Her sophomore release was universally panned by the critics, and sales tanked. Rebel, the voice of her lost generation, vanished. Her antics no longer charmed.
Gallons of digital ink had been spilled about Rebel and her mate, Winter. Rumors swirled about infidelity, jealousy and public arguments. Mari found photo after photo of Rebel, always smiling and gorgeous for the camera. Sometimes, she was on the arm of the scowling man she met. Usually, it was a different man.
