Chapter 11
Hestia
After coming to terms with my first emergency call, everything has gone smoothly as I settle into life at the station.
I’m learning a lot under the guidance of my teammates, helping with their routine activities and answering emergency calls. Nothing has been as precarious as that first day, so I’ve built up my confidence again in dealing with patients.
And if I was still worried, I found a shiny new taser and mace tucked into my work bag. I don’t plan to use them though. I know Silas had no ill intentions, he was just hurt and scared. I can handle that. But if I ever come across someone with bad intentions, I’m covered.
We heard from the rangers that investigated The Hole. It turned out to be a shaft to some old mining tunnels that weren’t registered with the county like they should have been. They’re on file now, and the entrances have been covered with secure doors.
With that mystery solved, all that remains to be seen is if I can learn to use the hiss on command.
And the answer is—no. I can’t.
At least so far.
I read everything I could find about the ability, every report and study. There’s so little information about it, which isn’t surprising given the odds of using it are less than 0.01%.
I presumed that since I did it once, it’s possible to do it again. I hoped to develop my hiss enough that I could use it as a last resort.
I experimented for days. Charm caught me one time, red-faced and staring at a bookshelf.
I’m not sure why I was using the library as my testing ground, it’s not like the hiss extends to inanimate objects.
I was trying to conjure the feeling of pushing my thoughts outward though, and that setting made the most sense.
After I explained what I was doing, Charm politely didn’t laugh at my experiment technique and offered himself up as my test subject. I was worried about doing a live trial, but he assured me it was safe.
Those tests didn’t fare any better.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t convince him to even twitch a finger. Charm was a good sport about it, sitting quietly sometimes for hours at a time while I stared at him and tried to connect my mind to his. He even coached me on how bonds work, since he has experience with that aspect.
At least it was a pleasant change of pace. Charm’s face is much nicer to look at than book spines (sorry, books).
I’ve given up on that avenue, at least for now. I made no progress and at a certain point it’s just embarrassing to keep shoving my mind at him.
Before I know it, I’ve been here for almost two weeks. When a call comes in, I’m heading for the garage on autopilot, the habit already ingrained.
In some ways, it feels like I’ve always been here. It’s so easy living with the guys, I fit right into their routines.
They’ve made it easy for me, they barely let me do any chores.
I don’t know if it’s because I was such a menace in the kitchen that first time that they no longer trust me to do household tasks, or if they’re so used to doing everything themselves, they didn’t feel the need to divvy things up.
Whatever the case, I haven’t been able to convince them to let me do much cooking or cleaning.
As thankful as I am that I was assigned to such a good team, the one thing I never considered was that I would struggle to behave professionally.
When Orion told me they were having a new air filter system installed, I thought that would solve my problem. As faint as their scents are, they still seem to stick in my nose, following me around, trying to distract me.
So I was thrilled when the new system was installed. I thought surely that would be good enough to completely wipe their scents away. Then I’d only have to worry about not ogling them, and controlling my eyes sounds easier than controlling my nose.
Sure, they’re attractive men, but there are plenty of attractive people out there.
I’ve never had trouble staying focused before, so I assumed it must be the combination of their scents and looks (and personalities, now that I know them better) that has me thinking about my bosses turning me into a pretzel.
But nooooo.
The new air filter isn’t any better than the old one.
So I have to keep exercising my self-control and steer my thoughts away from lustful ideas and ignore my nose.
When scent is one of my favorite senses!
Scents set the scene, they’re the first thing I notice wherever I go.
And now, all the scents are horny, at least according to what my nose and pussy are saying.
Even in my rooms, I can smell them.
I’ve tried to pretend it’s just the scents of the season. It helps that Henri and Magnus cut down evergreen branches and made wreaths and garlands to decorate the station. However, it’s also resulted in intense food cravings for cookies and cake and chocolate.
And Cato, walking around in his gray sweatpants…
Orion told me again that if Cato’s fashion choices bother me, he’ll tell him to wear a shirt. I assured him it’s fine. I’m not going to make my wandering eyes their problem. Being hot and bothered is my issue to deal with.
I’m certainly not going to blame someone’s outfit for my less than professional thoughts.
I keep reminding myself that my bosses are taken, that they have their own omega waiting for them.
We’re coming up on our time off, so I’m sure they’ll go see their omega then, and I’ll have some alone time to get myself under control.
For this afternoon at least, I don’t have to avoid looking at Cato’s muscular torso since I’m helping Magnus in the greenhouse.
This is the first time Magnus has stayed in here while I work. Normally he gives me a few instructions and leaves shortly thereafter. I almost gave up on trying to garden with him because it still feels like he’s avoiding me.
I’m glad I kept trying, because now he’s here working alongside me, his spicy-sweet gingerbread scent mixing with the earthy, herbal scents of the greenhouse.
Magnus always helps me when we’re in the field, but when we’re at the station, he avoids being near me.
It’s hard to read him, but I don’t think he hates me.
I can only assume he’s slow to open up to someone new, so I’ve been trying to make it easy to get to know me.
I don’t want to pester him, but making myself available to help in the garden seemed like a good way to do that.
Plus, I enjoy gardening, so even when he’s not in here, I have a good time.
Except for a few comments about what we’re working on, it’s been silent in the greenhouse, but it’s progress.
While I repot some seedlings, I muster up the courage to make small talk.
Magnus obviously loves gardening, so that’s an easy in.
The few times I’ve watched him work, I’ve seen how carefully he handles the plants, gently moving leaves or untangling roots. He has such graceful hands, despite the fact that one of his hands is bigger than my face.
I take a deep breath and ask him about the differences in gardening at high altitudes.
My bait works, and I keep Magnus talking by asking more questions until we’ve been out here for so long the sun sets behind the mountain. The automatic lights kick on so we’re not totally in the dark, but it suddenly feels more intimate than before.
I’ve been alone with them plenty of times before, so I don’t know why I’m nervous. Maybe it’s because the little lantern lights remind me of fairy lights, which are so common in nests.
I didn’t think I’d have trouble keeping my thoughts professional while getting dirty.
Magnus has stopped talking, and I was so distracted by my wandering thoughts that I haven’t come up with another question.
“Do you usually finger them to see if they’re wet?” I say the first thing that comes to mind.
Magnus pauses what he’s doing, but doesn’t reply.
Is he that secretive about his watering techniques? I should have asked about something else.
I nervously stick my fingers in the pot I just picked up, testing to see if it needs water.
I squeal when the dirt pokes me back and yank my hand out.
A pair of tiny eyes in a small, grumpy face pops out of the dirt. I jerk backward, almost falling off the bench, but Magnus saves me. He lifts me off the bench and sets me behind him.
“What is it?” he asks, scanning the table.
“Don’t you see it?? There’s something in there looking at me!” I say, clutching his shirt and pressing against his back.
Magnus leans down to look.
“Don’t get too close!” I warn him.
“You mean in the peppermint pot? That’s just Pete,” Magnus says calmly.
“Pete? What’s a Pete??”
How can he be so calm? I’ve never even heard of a Pete. Are they dangerous? Are they poisonous?? I touched it!
“Pete is a rain frog. He’s been living in our garden for years and loves to bury himself in the dirt. I should have warned you to keep an eye out for him. I always feel around the soil to see if he’s in there before I repot anything,” Magnus says.
“It’s a frog?” I ask suspiciously, working up the courage to see for myself.
I slowly edge around Magnus’s side, keeping my hands safely anchored in his shirt. He lifts his arm so I can walk under it while staying plastered to his hard, muscular body for safety.
I peek at the pot where those little yellow slit-pupil eyes peer up at me disdainfully.
Now that I’m not panicking, I can see that he’s a frog. A very angry frog. It’s not like I meant to disturb his nest.
I glare right back. He should know not to startle people.
“You’re sure he’s not dangerous?” I ask doubtfully.
“Rain frogs are venomous, but they’re not likely to bite humans. Pete has never been aggressive with people. He does a great job of protecting our garden from pests though,” Magnus says.
“Venomous!” I recoil.
Magnus tucks me under his arm. “He’s not going to hurt you.”
“But he’s staring at me,” I say, pouting and keeping an eye on him.
“You just startled him. He recognizes the rest of us, but you’re new. I’m sure he’s just as wary of you as you are of him,” Magnus says calmly.
I suppose that’s possible. Pete hasn’t moved since I accidentally jostled his dirt nest. If someone entered my nest unprompted and started messing with it, I’d probably have already bitten them.
“What should I do? Do I let him smell my hand?” I say.
Magnus makes a choked noise, body vibrating.
“What? Is that bad??” I ask, looking up at him.
“I don’t think Pete is interested in smelling people,” he eventually says.
“So how do I let him know I’m safe? Should I just avoid wherever he’s hanging out?”
“Sit,” Magnus says.
I drop immediately, fortunately landing on the bench. I didn’t even think to look before following his command.
Magnus gently brushes the soil off Pete’s back. Pete swipes one of his hands across his face, wiping off the specks of dirt.
He holds his hand out flat in front of Pete, and I tense, preparing to pull Magnus away if it looks like he’s going to attack.
Pete slowly waddles over on his short legs until he’s in Magnus’s palm.
Magnus holds Pete up in front of me and says, “See, he’s harmless to humans. Pete usually comes out when I’m around, but he was probably nervous with you here and got startled when you touched his pot.”
He is less scary now that he’s dwarfed by Magnus’s hand. Pete is like 98% body, tiny legs tucked in close, really just a blob with eyes.
Pete stares at me.
I suppose Magnus is right, there’s no reason to be afraid. Pete moves so slowly and he’s so small and round, I doubt he can even jump. I’m sure I’d be able to outrun him.
“You can pet him to show you’re friendly,” Magnus offers.
I look at him incredulously, but he seems serious.
Pete’s mouth is tiny too, so he probably couldn’t bite me even if he wanted to…
I slowly reach for his back. When he doesn’t react, I carefully put one finger on him and stroke a few times before snatching my hand back.
Pete hasn’t moved, and I don’t know if that enamored me to him or not.
“Are you sure Pete is okay with people?” I say.
“Of course. The only creatures that need to worry about Pete are garden pests like stinkbugs and rats,” Magnus says.
“Rats!”
“Small rats.” Magnus nods.
Pete blinks in silent agreement.
Small rats. What the hell. Pete is like the size of a golf ball, how is he eating rats?
“Wait, why do you call him Pete?”
“It seemed like a fitting name,” Magnus says.
“You named him?” I can’t help the smile creeping over my face.
“Yes.”
I look down at Pete to hide my smile. It’s so cute that Magnus named this tiny frog blob, but I’m not sure either of them would appreciate me giggling about it.
“It’s a good name,” I say.
Magnus puts Pete back in his pot, and we resume our work while Pete lords over us as we tend to his garden.