3
Hannah
“Why does my mouth taste so bad?”
I can’t help but rub my toes on the luxurious fur.
No wonder I dreamed I was nestled in a hotel bed after months of living on a bus.
These furs must be real animal skins because they lack the chemical residue on fake fur.
Is my host wearing a suit made of fur? Like real animal fur? He’s incredibly soft. I must remember there’s a man inside the suit or I’ll stroke the fur for comfort.
“You must eat.
Fish broth goes right through a body, but I didn’t know how to make your jaw chew.”
“Is that it?”
I point to the stone bowl of grey water.
The steam is inviting, but the smell and consistency remind me of the sludge when my sink backs up.
An involuntary gag pushes up my throat.
I can’t be so rude to my rescuer, but I’m glad I wasn’t conscious during feeding time.
“It’s okay, I’m the worst cook in my clan.
Everyone laughs at me for it, but then gives me lessons.
Well, they did…until they migrated south without me.”
“Because of me?”
Prickles dance down my spine as he nods.
Why would he miss his group’s migration to take care of me? I’m more curious than frightened because the juxtaposition of a survivalist furry is too great.
If he were a kidnapper, he would have taken me further.
The roaring sea is as loud as our conversation, so my group should be just outside. “Um, how long have I been asleep in your bed?”
“Only a couple of days, you’re strong and fought the fever before it took root.”
“My Mars is in Leo, so I have a warrior’s constitution.
I’m never sick,”
I reply with a dismissive wave of my hand.
Never calling in sick with Ms.
Greene is how I earned my job.
I’m just one of her army of nannies but I proved the most reliable.
“Where is your Mars? I’ve never met someone with a Mars and I know a lot of warriors.
How would I know if I was one as well?”
“Everyone has a Mars—oh! I’m talking about astrology.
Your Mars is the planet’s position when you were born.
When I was born the sun was in the Gemini constellation, the moon was in the Scorpio constellation, and the planet Mars was in the Leo constellation.”
I search his fursona face for condemnation.
Ridiculous that I should worry about judgment from a guy in a fur suit, but I’m used to the rejection from non-believers.
Just because someone is part of a marginalized group doesn’t mean they are sympathetic to astrologists.
His all-too-realistic fangs poke out of his small smile. Why does he hold his lips to make them appear smaller?
Aww, he probably doesn’t want to scare me.
I burrow closer to him, and he wraps his arm around my shoulder because it has nowhere else to go…right? I’m not cozying up to my host when I’m in a serious relationship with someone else.
I’m using his body heat to get warm as I recover…then I will find Jack…Jack who I met through my business and truly believes in the power of the star’s messages.
“You know the stars,”
Gleb says in awe.
“Oh yes, my online business is calculating astrological charts for clients.
I help people understand themselves and how they fit into the Universe’s plans.”
I can’t help but blush with his easy acceptance.
Good thing I’m nestled under his arm like a girlfriend, and he can’t see my face.
“Oh.”
One word.
Does he believe, or think I’m scamming people? It’s not a tirade or lecture…but I’m still hurt.
Why do I want this stranger’s approval so badly? Maybe because I’m starved for support.
After my parents dumped me off at college without as much as a wave goodbye, I’m a little messed up.
They refused to accept my decision when I dropped out to start my business.
It’s not about money—they gave me plenty to stay out of their lives. Their laughter haunted my dreams for months. My therapist said the trauma makes me a people pleaser and to stop seeking external validation for my choices…before Jack convinced me to stop going to therapy.
I can’t remember why I agreed with him, something about privacy.
“You’re probably rearranging your words so you can ask me if my business supports me without offending me.
I’ll save you the trouble.
Just ask yourself—would I be a summer nanny in the Arctic if my business was flourishing?”
I ball my fists in the blanket to stop from rubbing a man I don’t know.
For some reason, I can’t stop pouring my heart out to him.
At least I can vomit out my feelings without stroking him like a lover.
Why doesn’t he push me away? Men.
“I wasn’t thinking any of those thoughts,”
He replies, rubbing the back of my neck.
His far arm folds behind his head when he catches me watching.
“I think seeking guidance from the stars is an important skill.”
“Really? You aren’t just saying that because I’m in your bed?”
I raise my red eyebrow in suspicion, but my fists loosen their death grip on the covers.
“I wouldn’t pretend to understand half the words you said and tell you pretty half-truths.
Many other males in my clans tried that with their—err—the females and it didn’t work out for them.
Hannah, I don’t know what a nanny is or how something is profitable or not.
All I know is that you have a valuable skill that any clan would appreciate. Anyone with half a brain could tell you that, no matter where you sat.”
Clans, males, and females? He lives in another world, or maybe he’s trapped in an imaginary world by some past trauma.
Or…could he be a twin flame? I adjust myself to glance at his profile.
Yes, there it is—the telltale flutter of recognition in my belly.
I bet he’s a twin flame, put on my life path to teach me a lesson. If I hadn’t met Jack, I may believe Gleb is my soulmate. What if I have two soulmates? How ridiculous! My intuition is ringing alarm bells in my ears and releasing butterflies in my belly because Gleb is a twin flame.
Our meeting is fated…but not romantic.
Nothing more than a lesson…be cause I’m not a cheater…or a furry handler.
No offense to furry handlers, but it’s not my scene.
I love sharing conventions with them, but I don’t find the anthropomorphicism sexy.
My host does have arresting blue eyes…and razor-sharp facial features under the fur…nope, not going there.
“Now it’s my turn to understand half of what you say.
Is the clan your furry group or maybe a group of locals? A nanny is someone who cares for another’s baby—oh! Madison! I bet Ms.
Greene will be furious.
Not only did she lose a day of shooting to the accident, but another to my sleeping here. I better go.”
Without thinking, I swing a leg over his waist.
I’ve boosted myself to straddle him before I know it.
Where did my boundaries go? Cuddling in bed and now climbing over him to get out? What’s wrong with me? The heat of my pussy embarrasses me as it slides over his groin.
His hard bar of arousal rubs my thigh as I slide from one side of the bed to the other.
He tips his chin upward to avoid my face, but my button nose rubs the underside of it.
There’s no seam where a headpiece should be attached.
This suit must cost more than my month’s rent in California.
Despite his humble home, this guy is probably richer than my parents. If I’ve one thing I learned about rich people, I don’t mix well with them. I have nothing against Ms. Greene, Gleb, and the rest of the billionaires. Their world raised me, but somehow, I never fit into the rat race of keeping up appearances.
This is why I gravitate to peasants and weirdos.
Was I born an outsider? When my parents dropped me off at college, they couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.
They didn’t care about my major or how I would provide for myself once they drove away.
With a large settlement, they emancipated me—a fancy word for dumping me off—and that’s before I became a joke to all their snooty, Hollywood friends.
No matter how nice Gleb seems, I will grate on his nerves, eventually.
Few people can tolerate my daily astrological worries, forecasts, and musings.
It’s best if I make a clean break…while the rescue crews are still at the beach…and Ms.
Greene isn’t too pissed to keep me. I only took the job, so I’d have somewhere to be over the summer. Adventure. Family. It seemed too good to be true…until Jack inserted himself and made things awkward between Ms. Greene and me.
“If you could help me find my jacket and boots…and my tour group…I must get back before I lose my job…”
I land as gracefully as a reindeer on her feet, not losing momentum as I search his bedroom for my cold weather gear.
All those years of ballet academy paid off…not! My parents demanded my lessons because their friends had perfect little ballerinas in the academy.
I was so terrible my parents accused little five-year-old me of failing on purpose.
“No,”
he growls.
I freeze before turning to glare at him in slow motion.
“No? I’m sorry I forgot what I asked you.
My head’s still a little fuzzy and I got lost in my memories.
I’d say I’m not usually this rude, but I’m told I am.”
“I can’t let you go.”
His eyes bounce around as if asking the spirits in the room to give him a good reason to keep me here.
“Everyone left, and it’s snowing.
We can’t travel on foot, and I don’t have a vehicle.”
“They left me behind?”
The words suck the wind from my sails.
I sit cross-legged in the middle of the floor because my legs refuse to hold me up anymore.
My disappearance must have been the last straw for Ms.
Greene. She needs those photos for the magazine, so I know she didn’t leave the Arctic. She must have decided Jack and I weren’t worth the aggravation. Why did he argue with her at every turn? I played peacekeeper as best I could…but I guess it wasn’t enough.
Maybe I’m wrong for blaming Ms.
Greene’s abandonment on him, but I grew attached to Madison—just like Jack said I would.
He must be worried sick about me.
I thought he was going to propose a few nights ago when I first saw the Northern Lights, but it turned out his bum knee acted up .
“It’s okay,”
Gleb whispers, his bare hand warm on my back.
I jump because I don’t remember him moving from the bed.
“You are safe, warm, fed, and with me.
I won’t leave you on the Tundra. I understand how fragile you are, and I know a little about surviving out here.”
I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of a man dressed in a fur suit knowing just a little about surviving the Arctic.
Things could be much worse.
As soon as I find someone with a phone or Wi-Fi, I can charter a helicopter or private plane to collect me.
The funds my parents gave me before their final farewell are squirreled away in a bank account in case of emergency.
Stranded on the Canadian tundra sounds like an emergency to me.
“You’re right and I’m ungrateful.
Why did you drag me from the ocean, save my friends, and then nurse me to health? A total stranger?”
“I wouldn’t call you a stranger.
You’re Hannah and I’m Gleb.”
“But I was a stranger when you rescued me,”
I say slowly, scooting away from his giant body.
“Am I a prisoner? Did you kidnap me? Did they leave me behind because they think I’m dead?”
He opens his mouth and closes it a few times.
His fingers fidget.
I wouldn’t notice if I didn’t have the same nervous tick.
Everything rational tells me I should be afraid he’s a serial killer, but the finger-twisting… My intuition trumps anything rational and says I can trust him because he’s my twin flame.
“When were you born? Can I ask? You don’t have to answer.
I know how sensitive these things are when you know I’m an astrologer.
Your secrets are safe with me.”
“I was born the first snow of the zima season over twenty sun cycles ago,”
he says, puffing with pride.
Has he forgotten how calendars work? Last time someone talked of Zima, they offered to buy me a drink and I refused.
He’s either incredibly dense or pulling one over on me.
“First snow? We’re inside the Arctic Circle.
Isn’t the weather constant snow and the landscape barren snow for miles and miles?”
“No, svet karmina , the land is beautiful in the niibin season with berries, flowers, and fragrant herbs.
This is the time of year when we make mint jam.
We collect herbs for winter teas and enjoy the days of endless sunshine.”
“You have freshly made jam and chose to feed me fish broth?”
We share a sheepish chuckle that I hope would relax us again.
Instead, he pats my knee and collects my boots from a walk-in closet.
I peek inside because my host isn’t forthcoming about his background.
If he can’t answer about his birth date, there’s no point asking him anything else.
He talks of a clan and friends but drops his chin in sadness as if they’re estranged. He’s a mirror to my soul in this regard, for my parents wouldn’t recognize me if we met on the street.
Holy Toledo, he’s a neat freak! Bags of every color stand sentry on labeled shelves.
Baskets, also wearing labels, ring the top.
On the joists holding up the shelves, various equipment hangs—from shovels to fishing nets.
Everything is pristine, without a speck of dust. How often must he dust those baskets? How did he get that net so white without an electric washing machine?
That solves the mystery of Gleb.
He’s a Virgo.