Chapter Nineteen #2
It’s a lab. Microscopes, which I recognize from books, sleek off-white machines that I don’t recognize and several computers.
A fume hood, I believe, and a long stainless steel table.
On it are circular dishes with some kind of pink goo in the bottom.
I turn and look at Ben, my eyes wide. A smile softens his stern face and he raises an arm to rub at the back of his neck, his wings shaking out and folding back in.
“I heard you telling Arch you brew beer. So you’re a microbiologist.”
I frown, “No, I’m not a scientist...”
“Ah,” his face lights up, “But you are! If you are training your own yeast strands for your beer, and standardizing your alcohol content, you most certainly are!” He smiles, looking more animated than I’ve seen. “I thought you might enjoy seeing some of my work.”
I stand in the middle of the lab, nude, and smile at him. “Sure.”
BEN SPENDS ABOUT AN hour with me in his lab, explaining the purposes of the machines, showing me how he plates a growing medium, and suggesting that I collect some wild yeast to grow on the petri dishes he lets me help make.
It’s so odd and kind that I manage not to consider it much at all until we leave the lab.
But it’s then I realize that he really told me nothing of his personal research and that rings alarm bells in my head.
Of course not, because I’m his sex toy. His baby-maker.
He locks the door behind us and I turn and point down the hall where there is only one door. “Is that Arch’s office?” I ask.
“No, the stairs,” he answers easily, putting a hand on my lower back to steer me to the kitchen. He speaks quietly, his body close to mine in the long hallway. “I wanted to tell you... I lost my parents young too. So I think perhaps—”
I cut him off, his musky, smokey scent in my nostrils distracting, “Don’t you even dare say that you understand me.”
His mouth snaps shut and I glare.
But part of me wonders at his loss. Both parents? What could kill two grown, settled gargoyles? We reach the open main room.
Theo is stretched out on the couch, a glass of wine on the table near him and a book in hand. He sits up when he hears us.
“Ah, there you are. Come here sweetling.”
He’s not asking, he’s telling. I frown but make myself walk to him. He stands and holds out a cloth.
No, not a cloth, a robe. It looks like it will fall to mid-thigh and is a rich purple, lined with some soft material. He puts it on me, dressing me like a doll. I drop my gaze, I will not fuck this up with my anger and have it taken away before it’s even on me.
Theo ties it and says, “There now, bride. Will you help me start the bread for tomorrow?”
I blink, surprised. “The bread?” I repeat, like a moron.
Theo flashes his wide smile. “Yes. Four grown beings, I imagine we’ll go through a loaf a day, easily. I also need to go check on Sally and Molly, if you’d like to help.”
“Who?” I ask bewildered.
Ben answers, “Our goats. That’s where we get our milk and cheese. We buy our butter, as we don’t have a cow.”
Theo jumps in, “I think we might want to speak with our neighbor with a ram about getting Sally and Molly pregnant with kids again, if we’re adding to our home with our bride, and perhaps a wingling sometime in the future.”
I completely ignore the comment about me joining the home and the idea of a babe. “I thought... I thought gargoyles purchased all, or most, of their produce.”
Theo frowns. “Where did you get that idea, sweetling?”
I open my mouth to answer, but I pause. I’m not sure, exactly. Some of the goyles I’ve killed had small farm animals, but not all.
Ben’s face is suspicious but he’s silent.
“I...I think my parents. Or other adults when I was younger.” I frown, remembering our children' s lessons within the Rebels.
Rena and my mother taught us bushcraft. It was often games, how long can you hide, how well can you cover your path, that sort of thing. History was with Barnabas, his long beard dragging on the table. Weaponry was rotating, any adult on hand would teach us what they knew.
“We buy some things, of course,” Ben responds, “And younger alphas, unbonded ones, or betas that chose to live solitary lives, often do more of the farming and hunting than ones with busy jobs or younglings to raise. But that makes sense, does it not?”
Theo places a bowl in front of me and a wooden spoon and turns to measure out flour. I stand and walk to the sink for hot water from the tap. Such a luxury.
Ben offers me a stoneware jar with a spoon.
I peer into the heavy jar and realize it’s dark maple syrup. I smile.
“Do you sugarbush here?” I ask.
They exchange a glance and shake their heads.
Theo offers, “No, none of us know how. We’ve been meaning to have someone in to teach us, the last few springs, but... things are busy.” A pause. “Do you know how?”
I nod, smiling.
Ben’s face is excited, “Would you teach us? We can get whatever equipment you’ll need.”
I open my mouth, but pause.
Both their faces fall and they exchange another heavy look.
“You’ll be here for spring, flower,” Ben says softly.
“Of course. Yeah, I’ll teach you.” I try to smile but quickly turn to focus on stirring the bread dough.
Soon enough, it’s set to rise, a towel over the bowl as it rests on the stove.
Theo comes around the island and turns me gently in the chair, his hands falling to touch my thighs, where the robe has hitched up. His touch is delicate, his heavy stone hands and long nails careful on my flesh. I catch a whiff of citrus.
“Now.” He clears his throat, “Are you in need?”
I blink, trying to figure out what he means.
In need of a sharp object to shove in his femoral artery? Why yes, thank you, I am in need.
His nails trace small circles on my thighs, raising goosebumps.
Oh.
“Um, no, not as such.” I say in a quiet voice. I see the two of them exchange glances.
Should I still be seed-drunk? I wonder.
Ben suggests, “Hungry then? Cold?”
“No and a bit, but I think the robe is helping. Thank you, by the way, I didn’t say that earlier.”
“Tired?” Theo asks.
Of your shit.
“Yes, actually. I... don’t think I’ve been sleeping well.”
Theo turns. “Ebenezer, can she rest in your bed?”
“Of course, of course,” he says kindly, coming around and scooping me up without another word.
As they both tuck me into Ben’s bed, Theo’s hand lingers over my lower belly just a second too long.
Oh fuck me. They think they may have put a baby in me already. Ha, no chance of that you overgrown bats. Nann’s injections last a minimum of nine months.
They leave, shutting the door gently.
Well good, let me use this tenderness to my advantage too. I sit up, throwing back the covers.
My eyes land on the window.