Chapter Eight
Betrys forced herself to relax, and she must’ve done a decent job of it because Leo’s breathing deepened. Despite being tired herself, her brain wouldn’t stop jogging around her problems.
What was she going to do? If she were honest, there was one option open to her. She knew it, she kept coming back to it, even as her mind rejected the choice. She needed to find Iseult her next lover, and she couldn’t take one of the men who worked in the resort because of the family vibe.
Leo—despite the odds—had managed to survive and had suffered enough.
She had to figure out some other way.
Leo turned onto his side, and she took the opportunity to escape. She snatched up the green robe and tiptoed until she was safely outside.
If only she could take her son and disappear, but Iseult was too clever for her, always one step ahead. She never let Betrys go out alone with Ricci. There was no chance for real quality time because her interactions with her son were monitored.
She walked over to a broken wall and sat on the cold stone. An intense longing to see her son and hold him filled her, the wave of pain so sharp she almost cried out. Instead, she screwed her eyes shut and swallowed hard. Crying wouldn’t help.
“Mother?”
Now she was cracking up—her mind imagining her son’s presence. Impossible since he was at Spiderus Mansion on Dalcon.
“Mother, why are you crying?”
Betrys blinked to clear her vision. “Ricci? Ricci, what are you doing here? How did you get here?”
Her son’s somber face creased into a frown. He glanced to his left and his right. “I don’t know. Where are we?”
“We’re on the planet Tiraq,” she said, her mind racing. She could take Ricci and leave. It would mean leaving her nest egg, but that was a small price to pay. “What have you been doing since I left?”
“Iseult is grumpy. She made me stay in my room.” He frowned again. “Iseult doesn’t look well. She’s not pretty anymore.”
A sliver of panic struck Betrys. “She hasn’t hurt you?”
“No, I obeyed her orders like you told me to.”
Betrys wrapped her arms around her son and fought to act normal despite her lack of understanding. “Good boy,” she murmured against his straight brown hair.
“Mother, you’re holding me too tight.”
“I’m sorry, son.” Betrys forced herself to relax her grip on Ricci.
“I’m hungry,” her son said. “Do you have any food?”
They needed to go now, before Leo woke. She doubted the man would help them, not after what she’d done. She peered into the darkness. With no idea of their location and no food, she couldn’t just leave. It was too dangerous, which left her no better off than she’d been before.
The door to the old cottage opened, and Leo stood in the illumination that spilled outside. “Betrys? Betrys, where are you? It’s dangerous out here, woman.”
“Who’s he?” Ricci whispered. “He looks awful grouchy.”
The overloud whisper carried on the night air, and Leo’s gaze settled on them, hard and implacable.
“Who’s the kid and where did he come from?” Leo asked.
“This is my son, Ricci.”
Another dreamscape. It had to be. Somehow, she’d fallen asleep and hadn’t realized. Maybe stress was getting to her. Maybe Leo wouldn’t remember or he’d think the dream was crazy or maybe…
No, that wouldn’t work. One of the things she enjoyed about him was his intelligence.
“Your son?” Leo stalked closer, and Betrys glared at him.
“Put on some clothes.”
Leo glanced down and blinked, as if surprised by his nakedness. “Come inside,” he said, his tone less belligerent. “It’s cold out here, and the boy will catch a chill.”
Betrys gave a curt nod, and Leo acknowledged her agreement by turning and striding back inside.
“Who is that, Mother?”
“That’s Leo Mitchell. He’s a…ah…a friend,” she decided. “We have food inside, maybe even some of your favorites.”
“Do you think there will be sweets?”
She held out her hand, and her son clasped her fingers and followed her into the old stone building.
Outside, the dwelling appeared dilapidated and uninhabitable, while the interior was a direct contrast of stylish comfort.
She wondered if the Mitchells had done this on purpose and decided they had. It made a perfect getaway.
“Would you like a hot drink?” Leo asked.
He was making it for her? She nodded in dumb shock and watched him make a pot of the tea, the drink a lot of the resort guests drank. She’d never drunk the beverage until her visit to Ione Island.
“What about your son?”
“I want to drink what you’re having,” Ricci piped up.
Betrys frowned. “Will it hurt him?”
“No, my brothers and sister and I all drank tea from an early age. I’ll make some ham and cheese sandwiches too.”
Now Betrys stared harder. “You’re doing women’s work.”
“Preparing food isn’t a woman’s job,” Leo said, his hands busy as he spoke. “Who said it was? I’m hungry and enjoy eating. My mother taught all of us to cook. I’m a better cook than my sister.”
“What’s a sandwich?” Ricci asked. “Mother, is that an alien food?”
“On Petros, the women make food.” Betrys placed her hand on her son’s shoulder in a request for silence. “Our tasks are—were—distinct and defined so everyone knew their place.”
“Not on Earth. Women undertake lots of jobs that used to be the male domain.”
“I want to learn how to cook.” Ricci’s face was earnest as he stared at Leo—now wearing a green robe.
“What’s your name?” Leo asked.
“My name is Ricci,” her son said.
Leo shot her a look then studied her son. “Where do you live?”
“Spiderus Mansion.” Ricci moved closer to Leo. “It’s good there but I don’t see Mother very much.”
Leo cast her another quick glance, this one considering, and she could almost see his mind shuffling the facts Ricci had innocently leaked.
“Ricci, don’t get in Leo’s way.” She spoke before he started to ask questions.
“He’s not in the way.”
“What is this stuff?” Ricci asked, his chatter and curiosity providing a barrier between her and Leo’s questions.
“That’s bread,” Leo said. “You can help me make the sandwiches.”
Betrys stood back and let Leo guide Ricci in the making of what Leo called toasted sandwiches.
She’d never heard of them either, but Leo grabbed her attention as he interacted with her son.
He didn’t talk down to Ricci, didn’t growl at him when her son became too enthusiastic and dropped fillings on the floor, didn’t treat him as the enemy.
Leo handed her tea in a beautiful cup that sat on a matching saucer. “Go and sit. Relax. Ricci and I have this under control.”
She found herself accepting the beverage and retreating—a sort of out-of-body experience.
“I thought you would enjoy interacting with your son,” a masculine voice said.
Betrys started, her cup rattling on its saucer as she whirled to face the stranger. A tiny squeak escaped her before she registered the man’s non-threatening manner.
“Don’t worry. This is our host,” Leo said. “He and his people are incorporeal and own the village.” Leo returned to his task, his voice low while he spoke with her son.
“I’m sorry I scared you.” The well-dressed man sprawled in a chair. Black trews encased his legs, and he wore a frilly white shirt. He reminded her of a sexually satiated male with his relaxed demeanor and his sleepy-eyed gaze. “I mean you no harm.”
“Incorporeal?”
“Yes.” His grin was languid and satisfied. “Your lovemaking with Leo tasted rather piquant. You have fed us well.”
“Pardon?” She knew she was gaping, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “I don’t understand.”
“My race feeds on sexual energy. Since the Mitchell family arrived on Ione we have fed more often. Our race is thriving again.”
“Um, that’s good,” she said in understatement. She thought of what she and Leo had done together on the bed, and heat surged to her cheeks. They’d watched them have sex?
“You don’t need to feel embarrassed,” the man added with a broad smile. “Sex is a natural thing.”
“Um, yes. What should I call you?”
“You can call me Caspar.”
“My name is Betrys. How did Ricci get here? Did you have something to do with it? Am I dreaming?”
“Your son has the power to create dreamscapes, but he hasn’t harnessed his talent yet. I aided his journey and escorted him here. As an incorporeal, I have to power to create illusions. I’m able to pluck wishes from minds and make them come true.”
“So all of this,” she made a sweeping motion with her hand, “isn’t real.”
“It’s real enough. The items we conjure last for as long as the recipient requires them. That’s the simplest explanation. We gift those who please us with our largesse.”
Betrys thought about that for a moment and scowled. “So Ricci will disappear.”
“When he wakes.”
Ah, she knew his appearance was too easy, too convenient. “I wanted to see my son so much.”
“I know,” Caspar said, his smile fading. “You are in a difficult position. You should tell Leo. He is a good man, and despite appearances, he likes you.”
Betrys glanced over at Leo, who was listening to something her son was saying. “I can’t. No matter what I do, I’m stuck in Iseult’s trap.”
“Sharing a problem is a good way to find new alternatives.”
“The sandwiches are ready,” Ricci announced.
“Set them on…” Betrys glanced around for a suitable place and gasped when a table appeared out of thin air. “There.”
“I must go. I will be back to guide Ricci through the dreamscape. He will arrive back at Spiderus Mansion without any problems.”
“Thank you,” Betrys said.
Caspar smiled. “Love well.” Seconds later, he and his chair disappeared.
“Leo promised we can have a special dessert after our sandwiches. He said it’s a pav-pav—” He broke off and glanced at Leo. “What is it, Leo?”
The hero worship in her son brought a sting to the back of her eyes. She swallowed hard. Once. Twice. Do not weep. Do not.
Leo ruffled Ricci’s hair. “A pavlova. It’s my favorite dessert, and my mother always made one for my birthday every year. In my family, the birthday person always got to choose what they wanted to eat for their birthday meal. Of course, some years we’d have parties.”