Page 50 of 20% Stud 80% Muffin
JayJay’s orzfoam sloshed onto my elbow and startled me from my daydream. His deep rumble vibrated through my elbow where it touched mine since we were so crammed together.
With the tab paid, I forced my way out of the pub through a chorus of goodbyes with a bottle of hiscus wine. I had a favor to ask from my favorite blue Lornian.
I zipped up my hoodie and braced for the cool evening air. No one knew how the Fires That Cleansemight have affected the seasons. Nevertheless, my gut told me that summer was nearing its end. A temperate climate had been highlighted in the brochure the mayor had produced to recruit newcomers, but I worried over what a cold winter might present for the unsuspecting.
The tightness of the tether relaxed as I neared Makir’s home. Two days with no Makir, and I was about to jump out of my skin. I tripped under the stars’ dim light.
I practiced what I would say to Makir as I walked. How are alphas meant to act? Can you get pregnant? Despite the heaviness in my stomach, I wouldn’t fail this time.
The knocker on Makir’s door was cold against my sweaty palm. Tap, tap, tap.
“Come in the side entrance. I’m out back.”
I growled at his response. The whole point of the goddamn peephole was so he would know who stood there, not so he could invite a potential stranger straight to him. Or worse, his creeper neighbor.
“Makir!” I barked as I walked over the paving stones to his pool. “What if I was Raz? Where’s your sense of self-preservation? Be sure it’s safe before you let someone in, for crying out loud.” My hands landed on my hips, and my too-tight shirt stretched across my chest.
Makir’s eyes peeked over the tablet he read from, and his tail whipped softly. The fronds from the tropical-looking plants beside his lounge chair jostled when his long legs stretched out.
“And hi to you too, Archbuilder.” Makir’s quiet voice drew me in. I couldn’t quite get a read on him, but he smelled delicious. I inhaled the sharp gingersnap and juniper fragrance that I couldn’t get enough of. My arms dropped to my sides, and tension eased from my shoulders.
“To what do I owe this honor?” Makir placed his tablet on the lounge chair beside him, sat up and shivered.
“Here, this is for you.” I shoved the bottle of wine toward him. “We’re moving to the fire pit. You’re chilly.” I clasped his long blue fingers in mine and tugged him toward me. The contact sent a heady warmth through my body. “Why don’t I start a fire? I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
The lavender of his eyes swirled.
One of the enforcers had a side business selling graneth husks compressed into pellets that could be burned, and a covered nook housed a neat stack.
“Geo, I’m fine. I just put on a sweater less than a moon ago.” Then, as if he sensed my need to be busy, he changed his tune. “However, a fire does sound rather nice. I’ll grab us a couple of containers while you get it started.”
Don’t be a blockhead caveman. Stick to the plan.
My hands clenched as I crouched to light the fire. I hated how I became a bossy grouch every time I got near Makir. I couldn’t live here permanently if I lost control every time I got close to Makir.
Makir’s chair scraped over the paving stones as he dragged it alongside mine in front of the fire. “You might like this.” He passed me an amber-colored drink that warmed my toes and tasted remarkably like whiskey.
I guessed he’d picked up on my dislike of hiscus wine. “This is terrific.” I leaned back in my chair, and my muscles relaxed further. My eyes found his, drawn to the blaze-orange flames reflected in his dark pupils. My mouth watered at the endless possibilities lurking beyond the reflection.
“It’s from my brother’s collection back on Lorne. A farewell gift.” His voice sounded a little distant, but his slight purr called to me on a base level. My chairjerked loudly, scraping over the stone, and I backed away before I jumped Makir like a wild beast.
“Well, thank you for sharing.” I cleared my throat and stood.
My lungs expanded on a deep inhale, and a button popped off the shirt I’d purchased from the market. I polished off my drink in one final gulp and slammed the glass down. “Dang it, nothing fits right. I can’t wait until Ginger gets here.”
Makir stiffened in his chair as he passed me my button. “Well, I’m not sure who Ginger is, but I can fix a button. I’m good with my hands.”
And his tail. I gulped.
Makir’s loose, liquid sway as he walked toward me left my mouth watering. His tail flicked out and brushed the back of my calf. A second later, he unbuttoned my shirt with his long, nimble fingers, his delicious aroma making my knees go soft.
“She’s my best friend.” I coughed, frozen by Makir’s actions. If he shifted any closer, he’d be touching me, but his fingers didn’t even graze me as one button after another came undone. I sucked in my belly.
“Quit that.” Makir purred, patting my belly as he undid the last button and gently pulled my shirt free. My breaths came so hard that I must have sounded like a freight train. “It will only take me a minute to fix this for you.” He turned around and moved toward the kitchen, my shirt in one hand. His tail swayed in sync with his hips as they rocked in a slow saunter, beckoning me.
The bright kitchen light broke my trance. “Makir, if you have no plans for tomorrow, can I ask for a favor?” I blurted.
His gaze rose from my belly before he deftly stitched my button back onto my shirt. The tip of his tail tapped the floor in concentration.
