Page 80 of 20% Stud 80% Muffin
My com port dinged with a message.
Bonic: Talk to Geo and prepare him.
That didn’t help one bit. My deliberation paused when Geo returned. His presence eased my jumbled nerves. He tucked a few packages under the table, and one of the chicks Ginger had brought from Earth at Geo’s request pecked at the strings tied around the parcels.
The chicks had caused quite the stir, running freely, but once they were determined to be no threat, the enforcers’ entrepreneurial side had taken over, and they charged for handfuls of graneth seed that could be strewn across the floor to feed them. TeyTey and Sully’s boys were their best customers.
Geo stood behind me. “Wait until those chickens are old enough to lay eggs, then we’ll see some profits, and I can buy the High Lord Tuniga whatever he desires.” His warm palms spread across my shoulders, and he dug his thumbs into my tense muscles. The wonderful contact turned my insides to mush.
Geo had never mentioned my position before, or that I might be the one left wanting in our relationship. Doesn’t he know I don’t care about money? I just wanted him to stay.
I looked over my shoulder. “You have been everything I desire from the moment you followed me into the wastelands. I don’t require more than that.”
He blushed, staring at his boots as if they were made of sul, Lorne’s most precious metal.
Ayla Rowtee’s presence returned my attention to the table of items before me. She stood fascinated, white feathers fluttering, staring at our goods. “That’s lovely.” She pointed at Ginger’s creation.
Ginger demonstrated the holder she’d worked on between customers throughout the rotation. “If I may.” She approached Tarik, Ayla’s husband, with a long swath of fur. “You want to loop the opening around your shoulder and place the baby in the little pocket. Fur side would be best for this weather, but in the summer, the fur side out will be cooler.” Ginger gestured for Ayla to place her youngling in the fur wrap hanging around Tarik’s neck. The happy youngling nestled in and promptly fell asleep, and the proud father was sold.
“We’ll take it,” said Tarik.
“Wonderful,” Ginger exclaimed. “I’ll make you your very own sling. This one’s a gift for Makir’s new nephew.” She smiled at me.
My heart hiccuped. “Not even my parents would criticize such a fine gift. Thank you, Ginger.”
She straightened her already straight bangs with her palm. “You’re welcome.”
Tarik’s beak clacked, and the youngling stirred in the holder, picking up on her father’s agitation.
I spread a few furs in front of the new father. “Tarik, you must select the best linobee for your sling,” I soothed, sensing Tarik’s frustration.
Ayla tipped her head my way in gratitude as I smoothed Tarik’s ruffled feathers. It wasn’t just Lornian fathers who coveted what they felt their younglings needed. The only saving grace was that I happened to be close enough with the Rowtees to have been at their youngling’s naming ceremony. I could get away with anything after helping Geo install lamar openings for their nursery.
The market’s busy hum quieted as the day came to an end and we stacked packages of dried mantu skewers and bottles of hiscus wine onto the back of my trailer. At the same time, Ginger compiled all the custom orders she’d collected after we sold out. While securing the packages with straps, I silently debated whether Geo should stay or if he should come. He was not prepared to meet my parents.
I’m not, either.
By the time evening came around, I’d succumbed to emotional exhaustion.
“Come here, little lion,” Geo rumbled from my nest, though, with each passing rotation, our nest seemed more appropriate. He lay on top of the furs in the second-skin shorts he wore as underclothes. I loved that he didn’t suck in his belly anymore.
I stripped off the jumpsuit I wore every rotation even though I hadn’t been in my hovery much this week and climbed in beside him, forcing away visions of the stuffy formal clothing I’d soon be in. The ones I’d left behind forever. I purred as I ran my fingers through the coarse fur on his chest and the trail on his relaxed belly.
“You’re tired, Makir,” Geo growled low.
The effects of my purr prickled his skin with goose bumps, and I soon drowned in his pheromones. He slipped his arm under my side and grasped my ass, effortlessly positioning me on top of him like a blanket. I luxuriated in his heat as his calloused palm smoothed up and down my spine and tail, lulling me to sleep.
27
My mouth watered asMakir’s house filled with the dark, bitter aroma of my favorite coffee. I mentally thanked Ginger for the case every time I took a sip. She’d saved me from the sludgy javae.
Over steaming mugs, she reassured me that everything was under control. “Of course you have to be with Makir for his visit home.” She reached over the table to rest her hand on mine. “You’ll only be gone a few days. It’s fine. Quit worrying.”
Makir needed to be my main focus, one that would continue forever if I had any say in the matter. I predicted that the arrival of High Regent Tuniga’s shuttle would not allow for a leisurely sleep-in this morning, but I hoped luck would be on our side and we’d be the only passengers on board to ease Makir’s worries.
A loud knock rattled the front door, drawing my eye. Ginger opened it, revealing two alpha males, marked by their wide stances, confident bearings and my desire to slam the door in their pretty faces.
A Lornian, no taller than me, clicked the heels of his tall laced-up boots together. “We’ve come to escort High Lord Tuniga home.”
