Cosmic Castaway (Cosmic Romances #3)

11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Fighting boredom is a full-time job.

I realized fairly quickly that Mindy didn’t handle being injured well. The pain he handled fine; it was remaining in one place, not doing much, that he struggled with. His tail was always flicking, and he was constantly readjusting or snagging me close to rub his forehead on me. Apparently boredom and Serlotminden didn’t get along, and after a couple of days in the cramped space with nowhere to go and nothing to do, he was a mass of antsy energy.

Giving him another nutrition bar, I sat next to him. He munched on the offering, mumbling under his breath. He was talking in his own language, but I was certain it was complaints. Mindy didn’t enjoy the nutrition bars, but I didn’t think they were so bad. Agk had fed us crap that was far worse. While mainly flavorless, they weren’t chalk in my mouth and they didn’t taste like dirt. All bonuses.

The second he finished, he dragged me to his side, arms loosely wound around my waist. I didn’t even react; it was too normal now. Like if he hadn’t grabbed me, I would’ve been more freaked out. The second Mindy stopped being cuddly, I would know he was dying.

“I’m bored,” Mindy cried.

I shoved the rest of my bar into my mouth, then took a single water cube to wash it down before licking my chapped lips. “Okay.”

“Bartholomew,” he moaned from deep in his throat.

He really shouldn’t call my name like that; it did things to me—uncomfortable things.

“We should do something,” he said.

“Like what?”

Serlotminden wasn’t well enough to sit in the cockpit and work. He’d tried, but I’d rejected that plan almost instantly because he’d been wincing and gasping. He needed to heal. Hell, he barely made it to the cargo bay and back when we took our daily walk to help strengthen his muscles and stretch his wings.

“I don’t know. Something.”

I fought a sigh. He was like a giant kid who needed to be entertained. I didn’t really mind, but I didn’t know what we were supposed to do. It wasn’t like I had a phone to whip out for him to play on. God, a phone with numerous games would be beyond helpful right now. It would entertain him for hours upon hours.

When I started to turn around, he grumbled, his arms tightening around me. I tapped on one. “Let me go.”

Instantly, he released me.

I shifted, facing him, and started to gather him close. Serlotminden pressed into my hold, not fighting as I helped him sit up. His nose found its way to the crook of my neck, as it often did, and I didn’t bother to react. He liked smelling me; it was what it was.

Once he was seated and no longer panting, I leaned back. “Let's play a game.”

Mindy perked up, tail wriggling. “A game?”

I grabbed his hands and turned them, palm up, then I placed my own hands above his. He cocked his head, hair tumbling over his broad shoulder. He moved to grab me, and I slapped his palms.

Mindy blinked, expression showing his hurt.

“The point is for you to slap the top of my hands, not enough to hurt, before I pull away. It’s easy,” I said.

He stared at me like I was speaking nonsense, but he moved to tap my hands, and I jerked away.

“You have to be faster than that,” I teased.

Serlotminden grinned, and my own smile threatened to grow. His smiles were infectious. It was hard for me to resist him. He was a magnet that drew me in; I couldn’t help it, and if I was honest, I didn’t want to. I enjoyed being close to him, and I adored being the one who put that smile on his face. It was addicting.

He moved faster this time, but I still pulled away, but not by much. He was quicker than me—I was sure of it—but he was either too injured or, more likely, too afraid of hurting me.

Our hands returned to in between us, and we started again. He moved so fast that I didn’t have a chance to draw away, allowing him to smack my knuckles.

He smirked. “I got you.”

“You did. My turn.” We switched positions, but no matter how many times I tried, Mindy was too quick. He always got away, cackling like an evil witch in a cartoon and making me smile.

When he couldn’t sit any longer, I helped him lie down and settled beside him because he reached for me immediately.

“What should we do now?” he asked, fingers tracing my spine.

“Maybe you can take a nap?” I suggested. Serlotminden needed more sleep to heal.

He tightened his arms around me. “I want to spend time with you.”

“Okay.” Whatever worked. It was his choice.

“Do you have any other games?”

We could play I Spy , but there wasn’t really much around us, and I had zero interest in teaching him 20 Questions . If he learned that, I would never get him to stop, and I didn’t feel like answering tons of questions right now.

“No,” I replied. “Do you?”

“Most Drakcon games are more physical than I can do at the moment.”

I frowned. “‘Drakcon?’ I thought you were a drakcol.”

“I am. Drakcon is…” He paused. “I am unsure of how to explain it in English. We use it as something belonging to our culture. Drakcon technology, Drakcon books, Drakcon games. Things like that.”

“Ah.”

Serlotminden asked, “So no games?”

“No,” I replied. “You could tell me a story.”

“Or you can tell me one.”

I frowned, but in his defense, Mindy wasn’t fluent in English and he was hurt; I was supposed to be entertaining him, not the other way around.

“When I was a kid, my mom Charity started calling me ‘Ferdinand.’”

“Why? What does it mean?”

“I have no idea what the name means, but there’s a book called The Story of Ferdinand that she used to read to me, and she said I was like that bull.”

“What’s a bull?”

“A big, horned animal. Fuzzy. Fierce. Some people make them fight, which I don’t agree with.” Fuck, I wasn’t describing this well, especially without getting into animal rights issues.

“Why?”

“It’s complicated. Anyway, in the story, there's a bull who doesn't play or fight with the others, but sits and smells the flowers.”

“You like flowers? My brother Zoltilvoxfyn likes flowers. Sometimes we call him ‘Bloom.’”

“Interesting, and yes, I like flowers, but that’s not the point. The point was he was calm and liked to enjoy the slowness of life. That was me, even as a child. I was calm and liked to watch everything around me, so she called me Ferdinand. My other mom, Isabella, thought it was adorable. They called me that for a long time, as well as calling me Teddy.”

Mindy lifted my chin. “Are you like that even now? Calm and enjoying life?”

“I’m calm. It’s who I am. But I haven’t enjoyed life in a while.” What was there to enjoy? I’d tried to do things for Vince’s sake. He’d needed hope; I hadn’t. I, for the most part, had been fine with dying. Hell, it was probably what I deserved. My stomach churned as the scent of burning flesh and frantic screams haunted me.

“I will change that, Bartholomew. I will make sure you are happy and that you can sit and smell the flowers. I promise. You will be calm and happy one day. I will make sure of it.”

I swallowed at the emotions creeping up my spine and settling behind my eyes. I didn’t know if I believed him, but part of me wanted to. I wanted to believe that whatever he promised was better than what I’d left behind, that I was truly safe, and that the past wasn’t unbreakable chains dragging me down. But doubts lingered. I feared Serlotminden would get tired of me, or that he would learn about what I’d done and hate me for it, or that he’d forget all about me and this odd friendship we’d made when we were rescued. If that happened, I would never save Vince and I would never be safe again.

What I wouldn’t give to feel safe enough to simply watch the life around me and smell the flowers.

Bartholomew had fallen asleep against my side in the middle of another story about when his family had gone to the woods again. I already knew from his first story that he had two younger sisters and two mothers.

In this one, I’d learned how much he loved them. His moms were deeply in love, and his younger sisters drove him mad, though he was fiercely protective of them. He’d also mentioned that he didn’t live near them. Why? I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t think it was for negative reasons. He spoke too fondly of them for it to be bad. Though, even before he’d been abducted, he hadn’t seen them in cycles.

It was impossible to imagine going cycles without seeing my parents, brothers, and cousin. Bartholomew’s family didn’t even know what had become of him and that he was alive. While I wished there was some way to tell them, I loathed the idea of being separated from him. Bartholomew was my friend, and I wanted the best thing for him, which was obviously staying right beside me. I would take care of him far better than anyone else.

But was it enough? Or once we were rescued, would he return to Earth? Would he abandon me?

I trailed my fingers over his face, lingering on his lips. Every once in a while, they quirked in amusement. He wasn’t very expressive, my Bartholomew, but then again, life had been far too unkind to him of late. He needed more moments to exist and observe the world, and I planned to give it to him.

Well, as soon as I recovered.

He grunted, throwing a leg over mine, and I slid a hand lower, resting right above the slight swell of his butt, to hold him close to me. I took a deep inhale and grinned when I scented myself on him. But it wasn’t enough. My instincts demanded more.

I rubbed my scent onto him, and it soothed the remaining tension from my body. His hand slid down my chest, lying over the injury to my gut. His light touch sent shards of glass through me, and I bit back a hiss of pain, teeth catching on my lip ring. I moved his hand over my soul, interlacing our fingers.

The feel of his palm against mine made me groan. I understood why humans and my brothers did this with their mates. It was nice. I lifted his hand and rested it against my mouth, enjoying the smoothness of his skin against the sensitive scales of my lips.

I wanted to kiss his knuckles, to trace the prominent bumps with my lips and then with my tongue. That was not allowed. To avoid the almost overwhelming temptation, I pulled his hand away, lowering it to my chest, right over my racing soul.

Kissing his knuckles was not enough. Not even close. My lips needed to press right against his. His breath on me, his tongue touching mine, and any noise he made mine to swallow. I craved it; I needed it, and I didn’t understand why.

We were friends. Weren’t we?

Perhaps I was in need of physical comfort? But Bartholomew didn’t want that. I drew his palm back to my mouth, unable to help myself. This, whatever this was, felt stronger than anything I’d ever experienced before. It was disconcerting. Of course, I’d never rescued anyone like this before. He was mine to take care of.

My thoughts latched onto the word ‘mine.’ I liked it. A lot.

Taking a deep inhale of Bartholomew’s earthy fragrance, I wished my brothers were here to talk to. They would help me through whatever was going on. Of course, if they were here, I would be competing for Bartholomew’s attention, which I did not like the thought of.

Perhaps it was best we were alone. Once we were rescued, I would know how to keep his attention fixed on me. Completely and totally on me, where it belonged. I smiled, gathering him close, and fell asleep with his form pressed against my side.