8. Clair #2
“Really? I figured you'd argue with me for twenty minutes about this part.”
“A Kindred male would normally pursue the female he wished to mate,” Kaelus said. “It will make more sense if we claim I pursued you.”
“All right.” Clair nodded. “So what did you do?”
He stared at her.
“What do you mean?”
She sighed.
“I mean, how did you pursue me?”
Kaelus looked genuinely alarmed.
“I do not know.”
Clair gave him an impatient frown.
“You can't just say, ‘I pursued her.’ We need a story. This whole thing is one big story and it has to fit together and be believable!”
He frowned back.
“Then invent one. Whatever you say I will adhere to.”
Clair tapped her stylus thoughtfully against her lips.
“Hmm. Maybe you brought me flowers.”
“No.”
His immediate refusal surprised her.
“What? Why not?”
He shook his head.
“Because I would not bring a Xenobotanist dead plants as a romantic offering.”
Clair looked at him in surprise.
“Okay, that's actually a good point,” she admitted.
“I might, however, bring you a living specimen,” Kaelus continued. “Something beautiful—something that would interest and excite you.”
Clair felt a wave of warmth move through her at his words.
“A rare plant or flower?” she suggested. “One I'd been looking for?”
Kaelus nodded.
“Yes—exactly. I would bring you such a plant to show my interest and to let you know that I know what you like, and I can provide it for you.”
Clair stared at him.
“That would actually be really romantic,” she murmured.
Kaelus shifted in his seat and his cheeks got slightly red.
“It would be practical.”
“Sure, sweetie-pie.” Clair smiled. “We'll call it practical.”
She typed for a moment and then moved on.
“Favorite food. What's mine?”
“Blue pasta from the Gri’lla Café with the spice blend that resembles the Earth dish you call chicken curry.”
The answer came so quickly that Clair stopped typing.
“How do you know that?”
He shrugged.
“You order it frequently.”
“What about my favorite snack?” she challenged.
“The little candy-covered chocolate human confection you keep in the lower drawer of your workstation—you eat it when you become frustrated.”
Clair's mouth fell open.
“You know about my emergency M&Ms?”
He gave her a look.
“You are not subtle.”
“I hide them!” Clair protested. In fact, she even tried to hide her little addiction from herself. She knew it was bad to be stress-eating M&Ms when her research wasn’t going well, but some days she just couldn’t help it.
“You hide them in a drawer you open approximately six to nine times on difficult days,” Kaelus pointed out.
Clair stared at him. So he not only knew she ate M&Ms when she was stressed—he knew how many times she went to the snack drawer when things got rough. How closely had he been watching her that past six months?
“Huh,” she said.
Kaelus glanced over.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She looked down at her tablet again. “All right, moving on—how do I take my coffee?”
“With an excessive amount of cream and sugar.”
“How much?” she challenged.
“Approximately one-third of the cup must be cream while the other two thirds is coffee with two heaping spoonfuls of sugar,” he said promptly.
Clair slowly lowered the tablet.
“You know the exact amount?”
He nodded.
“Of course. I have prepared it for you.”
“Once.”
“Several times.”
Clair frowned.
“No, you haven't.”
He nodded.
“I have. You do not always arrive before I do.”
She stared at him.
“You've been making my coffee?”
He shrugged.
“Occasionally.”
“And you never told me?”
“You drank it,” he pointed out.
“Well, yes,” Clair said defensively. “But I thought I'd made it and forgotten.”
Come to think of it, it had seemed strange lately that the mornings when she dived right into her research there was already a hot mug of coffee at her elbow.
But she’d always assumed that she’d made it herself while she was distracted with work.
It was humbling to realize that it had been Kaelus fixing her a mug of her favorite brew exactly to her specifications.
And he didn’t even ask for any praise, she thought.
If James ever did anything nice for her at all from making her a drink to loading the top rack of the dishwasher, he expected endless thanks and acknowledgement of what a “great guy” he was.
But the big Hybrid had never asked for any of that—he just quietly made her a cup of coffee and put it where she would find it.
“Well…thank you,” she said at last and cleared her throat. “All right, my turn to learn about you. What's your favorite food?”
“Grilled thurin with root mash.”
Clair frowned.
“What's a thurin?”
“A herd animal raised on Tranq Prime,” he said promptly. “They have long, shaggy coats to enable them to withstand the intense cold and their meat is richly marbled with fat. It goes well with the root mash, which has a creamy texture when prepared correctly.”
“So basically alien steak and mashed potatoes,” Clair said, making a note.
He frowned.
“No.”
“Well it sounds like steak and mashed potatoes,” she pointed out.
“It is nutritionally superior to your human food,” Kaelus said.
“Of course it is.” Clair grinned. “All right, what do you eat for breakfast? I never see you eat in the morning at the lab.”
“Because I get up early to work out and I prepare my own First Meal,” he rumbled. “Usually it consists of six fluval eggs, a portion of roasted meat, and a large bowl of grain porridge with starflower honey and fruit.”
Clair stared.
“You eat all of that for breakfast?”
He shrugged.
“Yes.”
She shook her head.
“No wonder you're the size of a refrigerator.”
Kaelus frowned.
“I am not familiar with that comparison.”
“Trust me, it's accurate,” Clair said dryly. She typed his answer into the tablet. “Okay…what time do you wake up?”
“0500,” he said promptly.
Clair groaned.
“Ugh—that's obscenely early.”
He shrugged.
“It is an efficient hour.”
She shook her head firmly.
“There is nothing efficient about being conscious at five in the morning.”
“You wake at approximately 0700.”
Clair gave him a sharp look.
“How can you possibly know that?”
“You normally arrive in the laboratory shortly after 0800 hours,” Kaelus said.
“Your hair is dry and you are reasonably organized. When you oversleep, you arrive closer to 0830, your hair is damp, your bag is hanging incorrectly from your shoulder, and you are generally carrying your first cup of coffee because you did not have time to drink it in your suite.”
Clair just stared at him.
Kaelus glanced over and seemed to take in her expression.
“What? Have I answered incorrectly?”
“No—you were correct. Maybe too correct. Everything you said is extremely specific.”
He shrugged.
“I am observant.”
“Yes, I guess you are.”
Clair looked at his profile as he turned back toward the controls. His nose was strong, his jaw square beneath the dark stubble he hadn't bothered shaving that morning, and his thick black hair was getting long—he clearly didn’t want to take time off from his research to go get a haircut.
The big Hybrid looked every inch the absentminded professor but wasn’t absentminded at all—he had been watching her. Not occasionally and not casually—no, he’d been watching closely enough to know whether she'd overslept by looking at her hair.
That was slightly disconcerting.
Clair cleared her throat and tried to push the thought out of her mind.
“Okay. Next question. Which side of the bed do you sleep on?” she asked.
Kaelus gripped the steering yoke harder.
“The bed?” he asked.
“Yes.” Clair nodded impatiently. “Which side of it do you sleep on?”
He frowned.
“Why would that matter?”
She blew out a breath in irritation.
“We've already covered this. Married people know these things.”
“Very well. I generally sleep in the center,” he growled.
Clair laughed because she could picture it in her mind—the big Hybrid sprawled out diagonally across one of the huge Kindred beds, taking up the whole thing with his muscular bulk.
“You take up the whole bed, don't you?” she said.
He looked slightly offended.
“What if I do? My sleeping platform is designed for a male of my size. Why should I not utilize all of it?”
“Well, being a bed-hog is going to be a problem if they expect us to share,” Clair pointed out.
Kaelus turned his head sharply.
“What? No one said anything about sharing a sleeping platform.”
“We're pretending to be mated, Kaelus,” she said patiently. “I think separate bedrooms might raise some eyebrows.”
His golden eyes narrowed.
“If they attempt to force us to engage in intimate behavior—”
The idea made Clair’s heart race for some reason, but she kept her face calm.
“I didn't say intimate behavior. I said sleep,” she said soothingly.
He raised his eyebrows at her.
“So…you will be sleeping beside me?”
“That's generally how sharing a bed works. I mean, as long as you don’t hog the whole bed and steal all the covers,” Clair pointed out.
His jaw clenched again. Though he said nothing, Clair found his reaction strangely amusing.
“Don't worry, big fella. I don't bite,” she said, laughing.
Kaelus gave her a half-lidded look, his golden eyes burning.
“I do,” he growled. “If I were truly your mate, I would bite you often to inject my essence and give you sexual pleasure.”
As he spoke, his white fangs flashed, and Clair gave a little shiver.
Did they look longer than usual? She thought maybe they did.
She’d heard of Blood Kindred biting their mates during sex—it was part of their Bonding ritual and apparently caused instant orgasms. Then again, she’d also heard about how Beast Kindred Bonded with their mates—how they had a “mating fist” or “bonding knot” at the base of their cock…
No—stop thinking about that!
But once the thought had entered her head, it was really hard to get rid of. She couldn’t help picturing Kaelus covering her with his big body, thrusting his massive shaft deep in her pussy as he bit the side of her neck while he growled that she was his now…his forever…
No, stop it—stop it now! she ordered herself sternly.